Few people were in the lobby, and Ellis didn’t see any desk or clerk. Pax walked directly to a blank wall and tapped on the polished marble. A touchscreen appeared, and Pax moved through a few menus until finding Pol-789. Underneath this was a list of names, and Ellis was surprised to see Ellis Rogers on it alongside Pax-43246018. Pax tapped their names, and a portal appeared beside them.
Stepping through, they entered a tiny office. Circular in shape, all the walls appeared to be glass, letting in the falselight and providing panoramic views of the city now far below. In the center was a beautiful round table etched with a detailed map that might have been a projected flat version of the Hollow World interior, while the table’s centerpiece was a rotating replica of the giant globe Ellis had seen on the building.
“Welcome,” a very pleasant woman’s voice—a vox—greeted. “My name is Balmore. Chief Councilor Pol will be with you shortly. Please have a seat.”
Ellis and Pax sat in two of the four chairs. Pax sat very straight, adjusting the frock coat and resetting the angle of the bowler hat, only to adjust it again a moment later.
“You don’t come here often, do you?” Ellis asked, discovering he was feeling quite at ease by virtue of lacking any preconceived impressions. If this had been the Oval Office, or a palace, he might have been intimidated. Instead, this was just a room with a fancy table, and Ellis had seen more impressive principals’ offices.
“I’ve only been to Wegener once, a long time ago, and I’ve never been inside the GWC, much less the Chief Councilor’s office.”
When the door opened, Pax jumped up, standing like a soldier at attention. Not familiar with protocol, Ellis followed suit.
The person who entered was another identical copy of Pax. That’s how Ellis saw everyone, even though he understood that, at only a few hundred years old, Pax was far younger than everyone else. Full names, he guessed, were an indication. Like Delaware license plates, or online user names, the lower numbers must indicate age of creation and perhaps social status. Ellis considered the numbers might also just show the popularity of that name, but the fact that a geomancer was called Geo made him think otherwise. Geo-24 was probably very old—only twenty-three Geos had come before—while Pol-789 would be younger, and Pax-43246018 would be a baby in comparison.
“Wonderful—you’re here,” their host greeted them. “I’m Chief Councilor Pol. So nice to meet you. Please sit down.”
Pol wore clothes, too, but had stolen fashions far older than Pax’s or Vin’s. The Chief Councilor was dressed in a bright-orange, Grecian-style toga, which was fastened at the shoulder by an ornate gold clasp in the shape of the tectonic world. Just as bald and dark skinned as the rest, Pol was the first to look normal to Ellis’s eyes, appearing as any of the Tibetan monks that he had seen on television or the cover of National Geographic magazine. Pol greeted them formally, standing straight, with one hand in the fold of his robes like Napoleon.
“Thank you for seeing us,” Pax said, sitting down. Ellis did the same, his eyes still taking in the views.
Pol was equally fascinated by Ellis, even bending to see what parts of him were hidden beneath the table. “Wonderful. Simply wonderful.”
“Ellis Rogers is a real gift,” Pax agreed. “The only one of his kind. As I explained in the memo, Ellis Rogers is here from the early twenty-first century, long before the ISP was formed, before the first excavations of Hollow World, and even before Monsanto started the first subterranean farms. His world still ran on fossil fuel, ate slaughtered animals, and lived every day on the grass at the mercy of the weather.”
Ellis hadn’t heard Pax speak like this before—so formal and filled with admiration. It surprised him.
“A true Darwin,” Pol said, nodding. “And you traveled in a time machine like H. G. Wells—one of your own making?”
“I built it in my garage. It wasn’t that hard. A guy named Hoffmann did all the real work. He figured out how to do it.”
“Can you return to your time? Are you just visiting?”
“No. It’s a one-way thing. I’m here permanently, although I won’t be here long.”
“No?”
“Well, you see—I have a medical condition that—”
Pol held up a palm. “Pax explained about that in the message sent to me along with an accounting of your role in helping to stop a murderer, who had killed one of our beloved geomancers. Trust me, all of Hollow World is in your debt, and we will see to it that any defect you have is corrected. You’re a treasure to us, and a hero—not that you needed to be. Those at the ISP love this sort of challenge, and to work with a true Darwin, well…” Pol appeared at a loss for words.
Pol reached out and squeezed Ellis’s hand. “We’ll take great care of you.” Pol then turned to Pax. “Thank you for bringing Ellis Rogers to us, and for your role in solving the murders as well. You’ve performed an invaluable service to Hollow World, Pax. I’ll see to it that you’re remembered for this.”
Pol tapped the brooch at the shoulder of the tunic, and the portal reappeared behind their chairs. “And you can trust that I’ll take very good care of Ellis Rogers.”
A moment of silence hung. Pax stood slowly, eyes cast low.
“Thank you again, Pax,” Pol said.
The time for saying goodbye was at hand again, and while Ellis was pleased to discover he’d earned a free medical procedure, he felt awful once more. What else could he do? What else did he expect? How long had he even known Pax? Ellis couldn’t understand his own feelings. All he knew was that he enjoyed being around Pax, and the idea of never meeting again was so unpleasant he dropped into depression.
He put his game face on. Ellis was going to suck it up and be manly. He watched as Pax hesitated, then turned back to face Pol with serious, troubled eyes. “Who is Ren?”
Pol’s smile vanished at the sound of the word. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Pax’s expression shifted to sharp concern. “I asked who Ren is.”
“I have no idea.”
Pax continued to stare at the Chief Councilor, who looked increasingly nervous.
“What were you talking with Geo-24 about?”
Pol struggled to ignite that smile again. “I think it’s time for you to leave us, Pax.”
Ellis watched as Pax’s expression shifted from concern to terror. “You’re not Pol-789.”
Pol replied with an artificial laugh that even Ellis didn’t buy. “Of course I am. I wouldn’t be able to enter this office unless I was.”
“You could if you had Pol’s chip.” Pax stood up, and, reaching across the table, pulled the toga off the Chief Councilor’s left shoulder. There, in the otherwise unblemished tawny skin, was a scar: well healed, but clearly visible, similar to the one Ellis had seen on Geo-24’s impostor. The assault startled Pol, who reached out with both hands to cover up. As the Chief Councilor did, they both noticed Pol was missing a pinky and ring finger on one hand.
Pax gasped. “Who are you?”
All pretenses fell away. Pol tapped the brooch again, and some of the windows changed to what appeared to be a television screen. Only the show that was playing was the back of a person’s head.
“Gar?” Pol said, and the person on the screen turned. “I need your help up here right away. We have a security problem.”
Pax shoved the fancy table forward, striking Pol in the stomach and knocking the Chief Councilor’s chair over.
The portal was still open behind them.
“Go!” Pax shouted.
Ellis never bothered to think. He dove through the opening and found himself back in the lobby. Behind him, through the portal, he could see Pol’s mouth shouting a silent, Stop!
Before he’d had a chance to reorient himself, Pax had hold of his hand and was pulling him toward the exit doors. “We have to get outside so I can open a portal,” Pax said, already digging the device out of the frock coat.
“What’s going on? Why are they after you?”
“They don’t care about me—it’s you they want.”