“I bet.”
Ellis was angry—too angry. Sure, he thought Vin was a pretentious prick, and he didn’t like the idea of losing his only real friend because of such a tool. But Ellis actually wanted to punch Vin—hard. That was far too extreme an emotion for the situation. He wouldn’t have felt that way if Warren had told him he couldn’t hang out anymore because his girlfriend disapproved. He wouldn’t have wanted to punch Marcia if she’d come between them, and he’d been friends with Warren for more than forty years. Granted, Marcia was a petite blonde with big blue eyes, and it would have been like beating up on a fawn. While Vin, on the other hand, was a pompous, melodramatic, diva, picking on the little ingénue who—
“We should go see Pol,” Pax said. “I’ll get your bag.” Pax offered a courageous smile that Ellis knew was forced.
By the time Pax returned, Vin had stepped out of one of the doors into the social room and stopped abruptly. The mask had been left behind, and Vin was wearing just the eighteenth-century suit. Vin looked identical to Pax. Ellis’s eyes shifted between them, his mind locking up like some computer asked to calculate the highest number or the absolute value of pi. If Vin put on a bowler hat…
“Why is Ellis Rogers still here?”
Pax crossed the room and pulled Ellis away.
Maybe Pax thought he might shoot Vin. The thought had crossed his mind. They didn’t seem to have any penalty for murder. He could offer the excuse that he was merely a product of his times. Pax pulled harder, shoved Ellis’s backpack at him, then drew out the iPortal. Ellis heard the now familiar snap and hiss as an opening was made. Looking through it, Ellis saw a circular pool surrounded by trees, lawns, and stone walkways.
“Please,” Pax begged him with a frightened face and motioned to the portal.
Ellis stared back, surprised at the emotion in Pax’s voice. Maybe Ellis wasn’t the only one to see things. He felt ashamed.
The portal shimmered, a perfect window into another reality that he just had to step through, but to Ellis it was another box of milk crates, another escape to a foreign place. He sighed and stepped through.
The first thing Ellis noticed was the gurgling sound of the fountain in the middle of the bowl-shaped pool that shot water up a good sixty feet. Tens of thousands of years had passed since humanity had escaped primeval forests, and there was still something about splashing water that had caused mankind to bring the babbling brook with them. Something soothing there, something embedded in the collective psyche—fountains were the clocks in puppies’ beds, simulating the heartbeat of a missing mother.
The second thing he noticed was all the people. Ellis hadn’t experienced a public space in Hollow World yet. He’d only looked down on the gardens below Pax’s balcony. Some gathered in groups, some walked with purpose, but none noticed him—yet. With childlike logic, he avoided looking at anyone, as if this would render him invisible. Besides, he didn’t need to see their faces—they were all the same.
The third thing Ellis noticed was the city. He was in a small park surrounded by massive buildings. Each was unusual, few had sharp angles—not a single “box” in the bunch—and all were works of art. Shrunken down, they would be marvels on pedestals in any museum. But at dozens of stories tall, they were breathtaking. Most appeared carved from solid rock, free-flowing organic sculptures. The interplay of metals—copper, brass, gold, and silver—created designs inlaid as decorations on the buildings and in the plazas and walkways. Art deco met tribal expressionism; nature living in harmony with high-industry; the soft and the sharp, made and grown, all blending into something new. Above it all remained the blue sky, this one streaked by thin clouds.
The last thing Ellis noticed was that Pax had followed him through.
Turning, he revealed his wide-eyed surprise.
“How could you think I was going to abandon you?” Pax chastised him and displayed an irritated look so pointed that Ellis knew it was artificial. “Do you know where Pol’s office is? Would you know how to find it?”
“In the past I just appeared where I was going.”
Pax smirked. “You can’t just port into the GWC. I’m sure you couldn’t just port into the palace of the Prime Minister of the United States without announcing yourself first either. Not that Pol, or anyone else in the Grand World Council, has the power to execute people on a whim like people did in your day, but still—it’s not polite.”
Ellis couldn’t help smiling. He was so happy Pax was with him that he overlooked the errors in history. Yet as they began crossing the park, Ellis remembered the history-grams and wondered if they really were errors. Two thousand years was a very long time. Perhaps at some point the United States did have a prime minister who ordered executions.
Pax led the way across the open plaza on which huge burnished metal shapes were embedded. Ellis guessed they must make some clever design that was indiscernible from the ground but would be lovely from the windows of the buildings. As they walked, Ellis saw a large river snaking in the distance and weaving between buildings. On the water were all sorts of boats, from traditional sailing ships to more exotic vessels which looked like they were powered by glass sails. No freighters, however, no barges hauling goods the way he’d seen on the Detroit River. Everything in this world was for enjoyment, as if every inhabitant was on permanent vacation. Where were the factories? Where were the men with jackhammers fixing the streets? For that matter, where were the streets?
Seconds after he appeared, people began noticing him. Heads turned. Individuals halted and just stared. Once they started walking, eyes grew wide, and those watching moved out of their way. Some mouths opened as if to speak, but Pax did not stop, and together they marched on. Ellis decided not to look back but heard mutterings and imagined a gathering there, swirls of people drawn close, eddying in their wake.
Finding the Grand World Council was easier than Pax had led him to believe, because it stood out dramatically like other capitols. In this case the building was center stage and topped by a giant sculpture of the earth made of gold and copper. The Hollow World globe didn’t depict the continents on its shell, but rather the tectonic plates. Divisions of land and sea were lightly etched into the surface of the massive plate cutouts, appearing as ghostly afterthoughts, no more than spots on a dog. Europe and Asia shared a plate, but the Arabian Peninsula had its own. North America, South America, and Africa all had their own plates, but they were much larger than the continents themselves, because they included a portion of the ocean as well. Ellis noticed several others he couldn’t place. Some were quite small, like one just off the coast of the American Northwest, and another near the Antarctic. Ellis wondered if that’s where he was at that moment, on the tiny chip at the bottom of the world between the tip of what had once been Argentina and the Cape of Good Hope.
Inside, the building was bright and airy despite walls of glassy, black marble. Sculptures and mosaics filled the space. The largest spelled out HOLLOW WORLD in cleverly pieced-together shapes. Ellis thought the place looked more like an art museum than a government building—and a top-notch one at that. The temperature was the same inside as out, which spared him a coughing attack. Ellis reminded himself he wasn’t entering from the outdoors, just moving between rooms.