*
The ship’s command center has floor-to-ceiling windows, and Jane was right: The views are extraordinary. A vast purple ocean of space, across which tiny, bright spaceships zip now and then, twinkling like silver and gold fireflies. Beyond, a faint metallic line that must be the “mainland” in this planetless, floating, human community. Far, far beyond that, a single point of light, tiny, but so bright that it’s painful to look at.
“Do you recognize that star?” says UD17 first Mrs. Thrash. “It’s the sun.”
“The sun!” Jane says in astonishment. “But it’s so small!”
“We’re much, much farther from ours than you are from yours, my dear.”
How is it possible that this morning Jane woke up in her ordinary life, yet now she’s experiencing what the sun would look like from the edges of the solar system?
“Come,” says UD17 first Mrs. Thrash. “I’ll show you the house’s security measures.”
She brings Jane to a holographic projection of the house that spins, or splits open, or magnifies its parts, based on the voice command of the ship’s captain, who is, unsurprisingly, Mrs. Vanders. Or, Captain Vanders, here. She’s got wheels on her feet and is zipping around the holograph, while wearing a chartreuse ball gown replete with shimmering sequins.
Captain Vanders and UD17 first Mrs. Thrash have a rapid exchange about the details of the ship’s current defense system, the majority of which Jane can hardly believe. It seems the ship can sense when a person has ill intentions toward one of its parts, and, like some sort of haunted fairy-tale forest, can turn parts of its floors to strange, boglike mouths, or twist the walls so that doors are inaccessible, or push books off the library shelves.
“You realize you’re suggesting that the ship is conscious?” Jane says, interrupting Captain Vanders, who has just predicted the ship’s willingness and ability to pitch a pirate over a balustrade into the atrium.
“Indeed,” says Captain Vanders grimly. “It’s a recent development, regrettably inconsistent, but observable as a phenomenon. Patrick and Ravi got into some sort of scuffle the other day. We found them both snagged on light fixtures in the Mercury Sitting Room.”
“Aren’t Patrick and Ravi friends here?”
“Oh, they’re wonderful friends,” says UD17 first Mrs. Thrash. “But Karen and Patrick are newly married, and Karen’s pregnant with twins, and Ravi’s planned some off-world adventure that coincides with the expected birth, and Patrick got all indignant and protective of Karen. He thinks Ravi should want to be around when his sister’s babies are born.”
“Of course he should!” Jane says. “Ravi isn’t that selfish, is he? And Kiran is married to Patrick here? How did that happen?”
“You keep forgetting,” says UD17 first Mrs. Thrash. “This is not your world. You can’t know what any of us are bound to be like.”
“Can’t I? When there are so many similarities?”
“The tiniest stone dropped in the water ripples far in every direction,” she says. “You should like that metaphor, coming from an Earth with water covering seventy percent of its surface.”
“Wait,” Jane says. “Kiran—Karen—is pregnant with twins, yet you’re criticizing her for not having gusto? And a brilliant career?”
“Oh, she’s only eleven weeks,” says UD17 first Mrs. Thrash. “She just sits around. Ravi makes appalling decisions, don’t mistake me, but at least he has gusto!”
“I see,” Jane says, feeling very sorry indeed for UD17 Karen, whose body is creating two brand-new humans with what some people consider to be insufficient gusto. Or is she happy for UD17 Karen? Isn’t it a good thing that this Kiran/Karen is married to her Patrick? Especially a Patrick who gets indignant on her behalf?
“Oh, honestly,” says Captain Vanders. “Could we please focus on the matter at hand?”
“Yes,” Jane says. “How can a ship change into a conscious entity?”
“She’s from a Limited Dimension, Captain Vandy,” says UD17 first Mrs. Thrash apologetically.
“Nevertheless,” Captain Vanders says bleakly, “it’s a valid question. I’m afraid I don’t understand it myself; it’s caught all of us unawares. I’m of the strong opinion that Anita should be looking to other dimensions for the explanation—and the solution.”
“Do you think there is a solution?” Jane asks.
“The universe is infinitely vast,” says UD17 first Mrs. Thrash huffily. “Of course there’s a solution. Maybe we need an architectural psychologist, or someone who specializes in imbuing inanimate objects with power. I’ve wondered if our own Ivy might have some potential on that front.”
“Ivy!” Jane says.
“I’m just not convinced the ship has a problem that needs solving,” UD17 first Mrs. Thrash adds.
“Because you’ve traveled so much that you’ve lost perspective on what’s normal in your own world,” says Captain Vanders. “And I’ll ask you to leave Ivy be, she has enough on her plate. You’d make more progress consulting the second Mrs. Thrash. Though unfortunately,” Captain Vanders tells Jane, “the second Mrs. Thrash left us just around the time the phenomenon began. She is a spaceship whisperer.”
“A spacesh—” Jane begins, then stops as a new person enters the command center. It’s Ivy, instantly recognizable, but also obviously not the same. Jane can’t put a finger on the difference but feels that it’s something to do with the particular balance of tension in this Ivy’s face. Jane’s Ivy could look like that. But she doesn’t.
Immediately UD17 Ivy notices Jane, begins to grin, then stops. Puzzlement furrows her brow. “Sorry,” says UD17 Ivy. “Have we met?”
“No,” Jane says. “I’m from Limited Dimension something-or-other.”
“Ah!” she says. “That explains it.” Her smile is warm and extremely Ivy-like. Her dark hair is streaked with ice-blue highlights, shortish and wispy, spiked like a star around her head. It probably should have been the first thing Jane noticed about her, but it wasn’t, maybe because it feels right somehow. Jane finds herself smiling back.
“Do you—” Jane begins, suddenly wanting to ask if this Ivy knows, or knew, an Aunt Magnolia. Then she stops. She’s not ready for the answer, whatever it is.
Suddenly the house holograph goes haywire and everyone in the room is crowding around it. The holographic roof of the east wing is flashing, bulging, and wrinkling. Captain Vanders runs to a nearby console and reads the words and symbols flying across it.
“Two intruders!” she cries out. “In two separate ships. They’ve landed, 02 level portside! They’re cutting through the hull!”
“Pirates!” says UD17 first Mrs. Thrash. “Pirates with a nefarious transdimensional scheme! I’m sure of it!”
“Well then,” says Captain Vanders, “get going! Intercept them!” She takes Jane by the shoulders and gazes earnestly into her face. “Stab them with those pointy things you’re carrying!” she says, which is a reference, of course, to Jane’s umbrellas.
*
As Jane is running back down the eastern third-floor corridor with UD17 first Mrs. Thrash, feeling utterly unprepared to intercept pirates, a version of Ravi comes whizzing toward her on sparkly blue roller skates with red stars.
The version I’m sleeping with, Jane thinks to herself, then understands that there is no way to prepare herself for such a Ravi. Her face burns. She hopes he’ll pass her by. Instead, he rolls right up to her, grabs her arms, and says, “Hey. Are you okay?”
“I’m not who you think I am,” Jane says.
“What? But you’re dressed exactly the same,” he says, stepping back and examining Jane from top to bottom. He’s very tall, perched on those skates. “You’re carrying those same umbrellas. My mother didn’t send you through? She told me she tricked you so she could prove the existence of the multiverse!”