“Okay—okay, so that explains why English survived, but why is it still so—I mean, people in the Middle Ages didn’t talk the way I do, even though they spoke English.”
“That’s because the Middle Ages didn’t coexist with a post-globalization environment. Most linguistic changes are the result of assimilating other languages or because isolation causes the independent evolution of a dialect. By 2090, the impact of variations had been reduced to negligible levels as non-English languages were abandoned—wiped out by lack of use. If you wanted to compete economically, you adjusted to the language of commerce. Sure, there are fads and fancies, but the sheer size of the consistent user base and the tendency of humans to prefer familiarity led to a relatively stable form of communication. The longer life spans of humans also reduced trends of change.”
Ellis wondered if all that wasn’t a pleasant way of saying that Hollow World had a militant Ministry of Grammar Nazis.
“Alva, I have another question.”
“I would suspect you have more than one, but go ahead, dear.”
“Is this Pax’s home?”
“Yes. Beautiful, isn’t it? You need to go out on the balcony. Everyone loves the balcony. I’m so glad Pax brought you here. I’m sure Pax is just as happy. Pax loves old stuff.”
“Is anyone else here?”
“Just you and me, honey. Pax and Vin went out—but don’t be upset. They expected you’d be asleep longer, and they’ll be back soon. I’ve already told them you’re awake. Besides, I’m here. Is there anything you’d like? They pumped you full of liquids, but I was told to keep you drinking. Would you like tea? Lemonade, Cistrin? Vistune red or white?”
While Ellis was curious as to how a disembodied computer-voice might go about handing him a drink, he had more pressing concerns. “Actually, I could use a bathroom. I need to ah…urinate and would love a shower or a chance to brush my teeth.”
“Urinate! But of course.” A light went on inside a small archway he hadn’t noticed before. “Right this way, Ellis Rogers.”
Ellis pulled his pants on. They were clean, no stain of blood. He grabbed his pack and the rest of his clothing, and passed through the archway. Inside was a rain forest. Massive trees, covered in fragrant flowers and draped with vines, rose from lush vegetation where butterflies fluttered. He spotted a spring-fed basin formed from a sink-shaped rock jutting out from a cliff.
“Past the vines,” he heard Alva say.
Passing through a curtain similar to what an explorer might machete through, he found a waterfall that cascaded into a beautiful lagoon.
“Sheesh,” he blurted out.
“What was that, dear?”
“Nothing,” Ellis said. “Just talking to myself.”
“Why do that when I’m here?”
“Is this water always running?”
“Of course not. I turned it on for you. The waterfall is at forty degrees. Let me know if you’d like it hotter or colder.”
Forty? Ellis touched the water, found it pleasantly hot, and shrugged.
There was no door to this wilderness space, and, feeling it best to get things taken care of before company arrived, Ellis used the artsy-looking toilet shaped like a tree stump. There was no water in its base, and he was shocked to discover that his urine vanished as it fell. He thought about his toothbrush and realized he’d forgotten one. With a sigh, he undressed and stepped into the lagoon.
“The water can come out at any speed, texture, or angle you like,” Alva said, her voice slightly different in the lagoon, where the sounds of birds and the rush of water competed for his attention.
Ellis didn’t reply and was pleased she hadn’t felt the need to chat while he was using the toilet. He also had to wonder at the income level of an arbitrator. Maybe the profession was like a lawyer.
He waded into the pool and moved under the falling river. The water—hot and soothing—relaxed him. A hot shower always seemed so decadent, and there was something vaguely sexual about a bath. An atomized mist jetted out from the walls, turning the jungle steamy.
“Is there soap?” he asked.
Like a car wash, the water pouring out turned sudsy, but this flow smelled vaguely like lilacs. Ellis wondered what might happen if he asked for wax. That brought a smile, and he pushed his face into the stream. Ellis lingered in the water longer than he had planned. From the instant he’d discovered Warren’s letters until this moment, Ellis had been overwhelmed. Too much had happened too quickly. Even lying in the bed, trying to mentally process everything, had been taxing. He hadn’t allowed himself time to think, but bathing made him reflective.
Everything he knew was gone. He no longer had a house with its huge monthly mortgage. No cars needed inspections, oil changes, or new tires. He was free of everything—free of Warren and Peggy, his cheating wife and his bitter friend who had betrayed him. That life was over—buried by time, a lot of time.
In its place was something amazing. He’d achieved a version of his life’s dream and survived the effort. He’d finally done something—something important. By the sound of things, Ellis was somehow the first person to travel through time. Everything had worked out perfectly, and yet while standing in the hot stream from the sudsy waterfall, Ellis began to cry.
He couldn’t control himself, couldn’t understand why he was sobbing. He should be happy, and it didn’t make sense that after risking everything and winning, he should feel so miserable.
Although his marriage never reflected the kind of relationships idealized in movies, Peggy had been part of his life for thirty-five years, and he’d discarded her with less thought than he gave to a dubiously dated container of cottage cheese. He’d known Warren even longer. His old friend had always looked after and defended him, and he, too, went in the trash. Maybe they had an explanation…maybe if he’d just…but it was too late.
If it hadn’t already been erased by time, Ellis would have torn down his garage. It was the symbolic sum of all his mistakes, from his son’s death, to the erosion of his marriage, and finally the realization that running away was the height of selfishness. He hadn’t even left a note, and Peggy would spend the rest of her life with too many questions and no answers.
He pushed his face into the spill and let it blend with his tears. He didn’t know how long he stood there. He didn’t care. He had no pressing appointments.
“How do I turn it off?” he finally asked.
An instant later the waterfall stopped, the pool drained, the mist faded, and hot, dry air began to blow. He was dry in just a minute or two, and put his clothes back on.
Passing back the way he had come, Ellis dropped his pack next to the bed before setting off to explore. The wonders of the bedroom and bath were nothing compared with the rest of Pax’s home.
“This is the social room,” Alva said with a note of pride as he entered a large chamber with a vaulted ceiling.
A cross between a Gothic palace and a Rainforest Cafe the large chamber combined the two motifs until the whole appeared as a beautiful ruin invaded by plants and giant trees. The walls were carved stone with intricate arches and ornamentation that framed more murals mimicking the Renaissance masters.