The segment ended with a quote from someone born well after everyone Ellis had ever known was dead: “Adaptation is the greatest ability of any living creature. Humanity’s ability to adapt is proven, but our true talent is in our ability to make our environment adapt to us, and to be able to jump highest when the ground falls out from under our feet.”
Ellis fell asleep before the start of the second episode. This being just his second day in Hollow World his body still hadn’t recovered from time-machine lag and dehydration, not to mention the unprecedented stress of having killed someone. That night he had a dream about a tornado that plucked him up from his garage in Detroit—which looked more like Kansas—and dropped him in a cave filled with giant super bugs. His little dog got in the way, and he accidentally shot it. Only it wasn’t a dog—it was Pax, whose bowler hat was covered in blood. Peggy was crying, but Warren said, “I’d have done the same thing, you know. Any man would.”
Chapter Seven
Sign of the Times
Ellis woke to the familiar wheezing congestion in his chest and this time found the rain-forest bathroom without Alva’s help. Breakfast consisted of “something special” Alva whipped up. Eggs. The omelet not only tasted like eggs, but it looked and had the texture of eggs. The dish also had chunks of ham, green pepper, onions, cheese, and a little sprinkling of paprika on top. The only difference between it and a classic western omelet was that Ellis had never eaten eggs this good, which made him suspect he wasn’t eating anything that had come out of a chicken—that and the fact it had emerged from a device that looked similar to a microwave.
Alva called it a Maker and had instructed Ellis to place a bag of rocks in it. The rocks came from a chute dispenser next to the machine that reminded Ellis of the bulk food dispensers they used to have at his Kroger supermarket. The chute was transparent, ran up through the ceiling, and was filled with coffee-bean-sized pebbles. He just needed to hold the bag to the mouth and rotate a lever to fill the bag. The rocks slid down and were replaced from wherever the chute originated, causing Ellis to think about the advances of hot and cold running gravel.
Alva instructed him to place the rocks, along with the bag, in the Maker. There looked to be a means to do a direct feed into the machine from the chute, but it wasn’t connected. Then Alva told him not to touch anything and let her handle the “cooking.” The machine hummed, and there was light. Then Ellis laughed as he heard the exact same bing that his own microwave made when it was done. Opening the door, he found the piping-hot omelet.
“It’s an old pattern,” Alva explained, “but I thought you might like it.”
Ellis had been hesitant to eat rocks, no matter what magic trick had been done. After three bites he was a convert. “How can rock become food? Wouldn’t you need organic material?”
“Everything in the universe is made of the same thing when you break the components down far enough,” Alva explained. “Then it’s all in the way you rebuild and recombine aspects that make them organic, inorganic, liquid, and solid. Humans, after all, are made from the same material as stars.”
“Interesting. So if I put more rocks in, can I get coffee?”
“Sure! Classic, sweet, chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, guava, Tantuary, cinnamon-honey, maple, blackberry, latte, core-style, litho-roast—”
“Classic—black.”
“Use one of the small bags.”
He drew one out of the drop-down dispenser. Extremely thin, the bags were see-through and plastic-like. He placed the opening over the chute mouth and noticed the drink symbol on the lever. A quick tap and the bag filled with about a cup of the gravel, consisting of different types of uniformly distributed rocks. A bing later and he had his coffee, complete with a white ceramic mug.
The house was quiet, and Ellis took his meal to the social room. As Alva had predicted, he loved the balcony and continued to be mesmerized by the view. The quality of light was constantly changing, perpetually altering and revealing new, previously hidden surprises. That morning the sky was a pale pink, blending toward a yellow sun that had yet to show its face. The predawn light worked like a shadow play, creating silhouettes out of the trees and rock formations that were obviously designed to be seen as such. Ellis spotted a shadow-puppet tiger and across from it a bird. As the sun rose, the outlines changed so that the tiger crept forward, inching up on the unsuspecting prey.
Ellis pulled over one of the soft chairs and sipped his coffee as he watched this sliver of Hollow World waking. The coffee, unlike the omelet, did not thrill him. He liked his coffee strong, and this tasted like hot coffee-scented water. Maybe he should have gone with core-style or litho-roast.
Distant voices echoed from below, and he peered over the rail to see a group of early risers starting to play a game of some kind on the open lawn of the garden. A moment later Ellis heard music and thought it might be coming from one of the other homes, but then he discovered a quartet playing in a sheltered grove across from where the others were setting up their game. The music was soft, gentle—rising strings growing steadily stronger, plainly illustrating the rising of the sun.
Ellis saw others appear on the walking paths below, some alone and others in pairs. Two different walkers had dogs. They were the first pets he’d seen, and he was pleased to know man’s best friend had survived the years. Across the open expanse, he saw others like himself on balconies with steaming cups, faces turned toward the light. Below, the music grew louder and louder, a beautiful melody. The game players paused to watch the rising sun, as if it were a flag raising and the little quartet was playing the national anthem.
As the yellow ball peeked above the horizon and spilled its first rays of golden light, the outline of the tiger leapt for the bird, but the bird had flown away. As the falselight sun rose and the atrium illuminated, Ellis saw that the bird and tiger were only fountains, tree branches, and the edge of the cliff. Illusions given life for those few seconds, a secret show provided by the artists for those knowing where and when to look. Ellis wondered how many other Easter eggs were hidden, and if they were different for balconies with other views.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Ellis turned to find Pax behind him, the glow of the morning sun bathing the familiar face. He had expected a robe or something, but like him Pax was dressed in the same set of clothes as the night before, only this suit failed to show a wrinkle, so Pax must have more than one.
“Gorgeous.”
“Maybe you can understand now why we value our artists so much.” Pax sat beside him. “And I see you’ve been introduced to the Maker.”
“Alva showed me. The omelet was great. This coffee on the other hand…” He made a face.
“I drink Frizlana—it’s a pattern of tea, but I know a great many people who like litho-roast.”
Ellis could hear the faint shouts as the game began. Several of those on balconies leaned over to watch.
“Mezos are playing the Brills this morning,” Pax said. “Each section of the community has its own team. I used to play on the Mezos about…sixty years ago, I guess. We were never very good. Lost almost every game. People still cheered for us.” Pax sighed. “I’m sorry I abandoned you last night. I felt awful. Didn’t get much sleep.”
“I’m sorry I upset you.”
Pax stared at him with that same bewildered expression. “You are just so…”
Ellis braced himself. He was expecting irritating or frustrating. Those were the words Peggy and his mother had used most often, and Warren had dubbed him an asshole most of the time and a prick on occasion.
“…just so amazing. I wish I could be like you.”