She dangled her legs in the ocean, working on a piece of driftwood. Her knife came back and forth, cutting rotten wood away as she tried to bring out the shape she pictured. The piece of wood felt slimy and diseased in her hands. The ocean splashed into her lap. She tsked and stood, letting the water drain off.
The sun filtered around popcorn clouds, casting circular shadows over her, her lifeboat, and the complex it was connected to. Plastic domes ranged over her head, and walk-way tubes split off around her. A fish jumped, splashing more water on her. She waved the piece of wood in the air to dry it off, grumbling. The only sounds were the ocean against the bulkhead and the repetitious scratch of her knife against the wood.
She heard the door behind her being pulled open with a sound like a wet kiss. She didn't look. "Hello brother."
"Lady Alex," the monk said. "May I join you?"
"Yeah." The monk, in his brown robe, sat on the other end of the inflatable lifeboat. Alex continued to whittle. "I'm being careful."
"I said nothing to disagree."
"You were thinking it though." Alex ran a foot through the water. "It took me weeks to find this piece; I'm not going to ruin it by getting blood all over it."
"I'm glad," the monk said. He shaded his eyes and gazed out over the placid water. "Have you seen any land?"
"Nothing," Alex said. She was lying on her back with her face toward the sky. She whittled for a bit. "Are you sure you should be out here, brother? Your head could burn."
"A touch of sun never hurt anyone," the monk replied. "It seems your hair has gotten a shade or two lighter from all your time out here. It's starting to look like a strawberry."
"Guh." Alex blew a bang out of the way. "Why don't you just put me in a cheerleading outfit and give me pom-poms." She found the monk gazing at her quizzically. "Right. You don't know about that."
"No. But I remember your hair when I first arrived." The monk laced his fingers. "Pink hair. Of all things, that was the strangest. What are you whittling now?"
"It's supposed to be a person," Alex said. "A woman. She's supposed to look proud." Alex closed her knife. "But this wood is too wet. It comes apart too easily. I didn't let it dry out long enough." She held it up for the monk. "How's it look?"
The monk cleared his throat. "I can't say it looks much like a woman, proud or otherwise."
Alex got to her feet. "I haven't ruined it though, so I can let it dry out more." She pushed open the door to the interior.
The monk entered after her, pushing the door shut with a wet sound. "Mstislav says we may have a new visitor today."
"Are you serious?" Alex asked. "Why didn't you tell me that earlier?" She took off toward Mstislav and the center of the floating complex with the monk's brown robe swishing after her. They strode down the plastic hallway, passing portholes that contained dark and light blue halves. The hallway buckled with a small swell in the ocean; neither seemed to notice.
"Terri!" Alex shouted when she entered the central hub of the complex. "Rowland says we're getting another person?!"
"Mstislav," the man answered. "Why do you call me Terri all the time? Mstislav!"
"Can't pronounce it!" Alex shouted back. The room's center, a tall white pylon with glass orbs at the top and a monitor at the bottom, sat silent. "Is he right? Are we getting another person?"
"Should!" Mstislav said. "Screen says yes, Pylon says no." He pointed at the pillar. "Is not turning on like normal. You know, the blue inside the balls."
Alex laughed. "Yeah, I know all about blue balls. You mean the energy isn't inside there?" She pointed at the glass orbs. Mstislav nodded.
"Can you fix it?"
"What? God no! I couldn't even change the oil in my car; I just made my dad do it!"
Mstislav and Rowland exchanged glances. "God!" Alex shouted. "I wish for once we get someone that's from after me so I don't have to explain everything!"
"You can't even pronounce my name," Mstislav muttered. "Alexandra."
"Perhaps Sir Kensing could assist," Rowland said. "He's told me quite a lot about the machines he worked with."
"I'll get him," Alex said. "I need to drop this off anyway." Alex lifted the piece of wood over her head and walked out before the men could respond.
She wound her way through the empty white plastic halls until she got to her room, one of many identical personal bubbles connected to the hallways. She gazed out the porthole for a second, then set the piece of wood on the shelf under it in the sun.
"Hey, brainiac," she said, entering his room without knocking. She saw him quickly put something under his pillow. "Ooh, what ya got there? Porn?"
"Er, no, I don't think so," Kensing said. "I don't know what that is."
Alex explained, complete with motions, gleefully watching Kensing turn red. "Gracious, no. It's a picture . . . my fiancée." He removed it. "It was with me when I came here. I was supposed to marry her."
"Duh." Alex sat on the bed next to the man. "That's what 'fiancée' means. Lemme see."
Kensing handed her the picture somewhat reluctantly. It looked like the picture was from the late nineteenth century, and showed a woman in a long dress, with a hat and umbrella. Her hair was in a long braid, and she looked up and perpendicular to the camera's direction.
"Whatever," Alex said. She let the picture drop on Kensing's lap. "Terri needs your help at the pylon. He's says it's broken or something."
"The pylon?" Kensing said, placing the picture carefully under his pillow. "I don't know anything about that. Electricity was just being developed when I was taken. It's so far beyond me . . . I doubt I'd be any help."
"Well, more help than me." Alex pushed open the door to the hallway. "We're supposed to be getting someone today."
"What? Oh, of course!" Kensing looked around his room, then shook his head and followed Alex into the hallway. "You should have told me that first, of course I want to help fix it!"
"You seem pretty positive, smart guy," Alex said. "What makes you so certain that you're going back?" She asked over her shoulder.
"I can't say for sure." Kensing looked out the passing portholes at the ocean. "I just feel like it's my time."
"Sure, and I'm the queen of Siam," Alex said. "I got here before you, what makes you think you get to go back next?"
Kensing shrugged. "It's hard to explain. It feels like a charge in the air."
Alex blew a bang out of the way. "Stupid."
They reached the center area, and found the rest of the floating complex's inhabitants present. Along with Mstislav and Rowland the monk were an Aztec woman named Citlali, a Scottish warrior named Edan, and an older woman from the tip of Africa named Sulaila.
"Got him," Alex said, jerking a thumb at Kensing. "Get to work, poindexter."
"The monitors say the new person should be coming soon," Mstislav said. "Can you see anything?" He asked Kensing.
"I don't know. It's quite complicated," Kensing said, peering up. He adjusted his glasses. "Though that piece there -- it looks somewhat loose."
Alex wandered away. She stood next to Edan. "'Sup, Highlander. Where's your sword?"
Edan scowled at her. "Good morning, lass. Is it true?"
"That we're getting another person? Sure. Kensing's pretty convinced he's the one going back, too."
"He well deserves. I remember when he first arrived. Angry."
"Right, and you weren't angry, Mr. Tried-to-Stab-the-Pylon-with-Your-Sword?"
"I was. He was angry at more than just this place." Edan looked around the white bubble they stood in. "He was angry at everything. Mostly the woman he was to marry."
"I just saw a picture of her."
"I've seen the same. A fine beauty. Kensing told me about some of the things he would say to her, but now . . . Now he just wants to see her again. He misses her like a fish would miss the water."
Alex watched Kensing and the Russian discuss the Pylon.
"Why do you think he deserves to go back?"
"The Gods are testing us," Citlali interrupted. "They want us to learn. They bring us here; a safe place where we can find ways to improve."
"What? That's-"
"Kensing didn't respect his woman before, but now, if he sees her again, I'm sure he would never lift a hand to her again."
Alex scoffed. "Why did I need to get brought here, then? I'm a hard worker, I don't get angry. What about you, Cit? Or Sully?"
"Of course we don't see our own faults," Sulaila said. "I can't say I know why I'm here, but I'm sure there's a reason."
"That's so stupid!" Alex shouted. "Other than the fact that you're all so uptight, there's no good reason for this!" She gestured at large, taking in the complex they lived in, adrift on an unknown ocean without anything else in sight. "Rowland's a monk for God's sake! You really think he deserves to be here?"
"I didn't join the church because I'm perfect, Alex," Rowland said behind her. "Quite the opposite."
"Still, though! What did Cit ever do to deserve this? Or Alona?" Alex asked, mentioning the woman that Sulaila had replaced. "She was sweet!"
"You're the only one who knew her," Citlali said.
"This is dumb. I can't believe you all believe this," Alex looked back at the two men working on the Pylon. Without another word, she walked behind Mstislav. "Any ideas yet, Terri? Tell me some good news, please."
"Mis-ti-slav," the man said.
"Can't do it!"
"The Pylon is powered from the sky, It isn't getting power right now. Some of the material is coming loose. Kensing is trying to reattach it now."
Alex looked at the other man, fifteen feet above her. His black shoes were hooked around metal bars of the Pylon as he tried to reattach the material Mstislav had pointed to. It looked soft and yielding.
After a few more minutes Kensing laboriously climbed down. "I think it's reattached. It isn't actually a connection, it seems to be an insulator, so energy doesn't flow down it. As far as I can tell, it's working again."
Alex saw the blue energy Mstislav had spoken of beginning to radiate inside the glass orbs at the top of the Pylon, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "How long until we get a trade?" She asked. Mstislav looked at the screen.
"It says fifteen minutes. Everyone is here?" He looked around. "Good."
Kensing smiled sheepishly as the complex's other inhabitants gathered around him. Edan clamped his shoulder and Sulaila hugged him. Alex watched, incredulous, removed from the group. She watched with a sneer as Rowland prayed over Kensing. Time passed and the screen counted down. The orbs filled with blue energy.
Alex watched the material that Kensing had replaced. It still looked like it was hanging loose. Eventually she went up to Kensing.
"If it is you going back, good job, I guess." She crossed her arms.
"Thank you, Alex. I'll miss you."
The orbs over their heads sparked. Alex looked up and found them filled. Everyone else stepped away from Kensing, leaving him in the center, and Alex followed. Blue light started spreading around the room. A hum from nowhere cut through the smaller noises of the ocean, and the blue light grew brighter.
The contained energy flashed bright blue, forcing them to shield their eyes. The room grew hotter.
Suddenly, Kensing stiffened. "My picture! It's still under my pillow!"
Mstislav turned and looked at Alex. "His picture, Alex, quick!"
"What?! Me? Why do I have to do it?" Alex said. The light was growing brighter.
"Just go! We still have some time!"
Alex snarled and spun on her heel, hurrying to Kensing's room. She reached it in a minute and dug under the white pillow for the picture. She took a moment to study it again, then headed out the door.
When she returned to the center of the complex, the light had grown white-hot around Kensing. He was fading. She went forward carefully, holding the picture out in front of her like a shield. The picture's edges began to curl as she got closer.
"It's all right Alex!" Kensing said, shouting as if from a great distance. "I'm going to see her again! I won't need a picture!" He smiled.
"Thank God," Alex muttered, backing away.
"Treat her like you treated the picture, young man!" Sulaila shouted. "Treat her like a treasure!"
"I will!" He shouted back. "Thank you, everyone!" He became transparent, sliding away back to where and when he'd come from. "Goodbye! Perhaps I will see one of you again!" His words faded away and his body disappeared.
The burning light persisted. Where Kensing had stood, another body began to materialize. At first just a shadow; the person began to take form. When he fully appeared, the white-blue radiance died slowly. Eventually those present opened their eyes and saw their new companion.
"Well," Alex said, smiling. "Things just got interesting."
"Where . . ." The boy looked around. "What happened? Where am I?" A yellow mullet spilled down his tan neck. "Who are you people?" He said in an Australian accent. Alex's heart leapt.
"My name is Mstislav," Mstislav said. "You've been brought here just like the rest of us. What is your name?"
"F-Flynn. Flynn Scotts." Flynn looked at the Pylon, the now-empty orbs at the ceiling, and the white plastic bubble that surrounded him.
"Scotts, when are you from?" Edan asked.
"When?" Flynn looked at each other person in the room with a shocked expression, and Alex wanted to think he lingered on her for a moment. "Is it not the same year?"
"I came from the year 1621," Edan said. "Mstislav came from 1899." He held a hand in Citlali's direction. "This woman came from hundreds of years before settlers landed on the new world."
Flynn whistled. It seemed to be the only thing he was capable of doing.
"So?" Alex said. "When are you from?"
"Oh . . . 1986. New Wales."
"He's from Australia," Alex said. "I'm Alex. I came from 2005."
"Yeah?" Flynn smiled at her. "Doesn't seem like much of a change compared to the rest."
Other introductions were made. Afterward, Flynn asked the question they all ask: "So where am I now? When am I?" He looked out the porthole near him. "What ocean is this? Is this even Earth?"
"It is Earth," Sulaila said. "It has to be. The stars are the same. We think it's the Pacific Ocean. We've floated in here for weeks and haven't seen anything, man or beast. It could be the beginning of time for all we can tell."
"Blugh," Flynn uttered.
"Alex was the first here out of all of us. She's been here a few months," Rowland said. "She knows just as much as you do."
Flynn looked at Alex and she flashed a wide smile. Rowland continued. "Every time one of us leaves, another joins us. We aren't sure why we're brought here, but perhaps it could be a way to get us to understand our faults, and repair them." The monk shrugged. "So some of us think."
"Why don't I take you around the place?" Alex said, taking Flynn's hand. "I can show you the sights."
"Come find us in the cafeteria when you're done," Mstislav said. He, and the others, left through one of the connected hallways.
"What's there to see?" Flynn asked Alex.
"Oh, so much," Alex said. "I'll make sure to be very thorough."
"What's that?"
Alex looked at the where Flynn pointed, finding Kensing's picture -- edges curled from the heat -- still clutched in her hand. "Nothing," Alex said, throwing it away. "Come on."
"So there isn't really much here," Flynn said, after being led through the empty halls and dead-end bubbles, some of which held chairs or sofas, others had soft mats, and still others were empty.
"I might have hyped it up a little bit," Alex admitted. "But I suppose you're right, it sure can get lonely here." She pooched out her lip and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes.
"How do you eat?" Flynn asked, fluffing his hair.
"We're there now," Alex said, leading him into the cafeteria. "The complex provides food. It never changes, but it doesn't taste too bad, and I think it's healthy." Inside there was a single white table, at which the rest of the inhabitants were seated, slurping soup out of bowls. "Soup, or cooked meat, or veggies, anytime you want." Alex pointed. "You get it over there. Just hit the button. Water, too." She scowled. "Only water."
"Fair dinkum loss," Flynn said.
"None of that either," Alex said. "Just the water." She hit the button for soup. A panel in the wall opened, revealing a bowl of chicken noodle. "Go on."
Flynn hit the button for meat, and a plate with a piece of cooked beef was given. He glared at it, then hit the button for water and followed Alex to the table, where the other inhabitants sat.
"No silverware," Alex said. "You'll have to eat with your hands."
Flynn watched Edan tear a hunk out of his beef. "Like being back home," the Scottsman said.
"You know that movie Highlander?" Alex asked Flynn. She nodded in Edan's direction.
"I told you before!" Edan shouted. "I'm from the Lowlands!" He uttered a phrase in Gaelic and went back to his meat.
"Citlali is a Mayan-"
"Nahuatl," Citlali corrected.
"-and Sulaila is from Africa."
"She's got that right, at least," The woman said, eating a salad. "Not to hard to tell, though." Her black forehead wrinkled as she grinned.
"This meat isn't my bowl of rice," Flynn said. He tried gnawing on it again. "Should have gotten the soup."
"You can just go get more," Alex said. "We can eat anytime."
"I'll stick with it. What's to do around here?"
"Not much, I'm afraid," Rowland answered. "Little is provided other than food and private rooms. We each have our time wasters."
"I whittle driftwood," Alex said. "I had a knife with me when I was taken here."
"A knife! Could you lend me it? This meat's bloody hard."
"Oh, uh, I don't have it with me," Alex lied. "It's in my room."
"Bugger."
Alex giggled. Flynn took a big bite of meat and strained his neck trying to clip it off; Alex found herself staring at the cords on his shoulders.
"Have you picked a room yet, Flynn?" Rowland asked. Flynn opened his full mouth, but Alex cut him off.
"The room next to mine." Flynn looked at her, then nodded.
After a little while of idle conversation, the lunchroom cleared out. Alex took Flynn to his room, fifteen feet from hers.
"They aren't much," Alex admitted, letting the door swing open. Inside was a long, narrow bed, empty shelves, and a dresser. Flynn opened it to find clean white shirts, pants, and underwear. "Put those in the chute outside your door," Alex said. "And you'll get clean ones. The sheets and pillows, too, in case you're a dirty boy at night." Alex smiled. Things were going so well. "Bathroom and shower connected."
Flynn looked out the circular porthole, rubbing his chest. "No waves. That monk, he's got a face like a dropped pie, yeah?"
"What?"
"Ugly man, I mean." Flynn crossed to the dresser and opened it a few times.
"I guess he's sort of ugly," Alex said hesitantly.
"But you!" Flynn smiled at her. "A beaut bluey. Gonna miss me mates, but at least I got you."
"You . . . got me?"
"Bluey, you've been perving me since I got here. Don't lie."
"What?" Alex sneered. "I haven't!"
"Yeah?" Flynn flexed, curling his arms down into circles. His pecs bulged. A dot of drool landed on Alex's collar. "I know I look good. Me mates think I'm an ocker and a figjam, but I know I'm a spunk, love."
"I didn't understand any of that," Alex said. Her embarrassment vanished when Flynn came a little closer. "Whatever. Say something that means sex and let's get this started."
Flynn thought for a second. "Time to get ya end wet."
"It'd better be."
The next morning Alex sat in her lifeboat and worked on the piece of wood, still too wet to be much use. Flynn laid next to her with an arm over his eyes. She watched his chest rise and fall as he napped and swallowed to keep from drooling again. Little bits of wood fell into the ocean.
Their night had been wild, but Alex had found it lacking. Flynn was more concerned with himself than her, stopping just as she was getting going. They made a few starts and then slept the night off. She struck at the piece of wood, aggravated.
Flynn woke up to her hacking. She saw him eyeing her from under the shadow of his arm.
"Nice piece of wood, bluey," he said.
"Yeah, but it's too soft," she replied. "Familiar?"
"Don't say that love. You sounded all right." He stretched his arms over his head and tousled his hair. "Give the old fella another try." He got to his knees and hunched over her. She tried to push him away and the lifeboat swayed.
"Don't!" She said. She quickly shut her knife and put it away. He pressed himself on her. "This lifeboat isn't secured, it could-!"
They fell into the salty water. Alex scrabbled for the overturned boat and caught it with one arm. She brought her head above the ocean and found Flynn smirking, his hair drenched and running down his back like a dog's tail. "Jerk," Alex said, splashing him. She righted the boat. "It's a good thing it's still connected."
"I'm an ace swimmer. I wouldn't have let you go."
Alex paused for a moment. "Whatever." She climbed into the lifeboat and opened the door, climbing into the complex. She shut the door on Flynn and squelched to her room, changing into dry clothes. In a few minutes Flynn was at her room.
"Beat it," she said. "I've had enough dealing with wood for one morning." She straightened and looked around. "My wood!"
Flynn held it out to her. "You left it in the raft." She snatched it from his hand. "What's it supposed to be?"
"Why didn't you tell me? Do you know how long I had to look for this?" She inspected it. "A woman," Alex said, setting the piece of wood under the window. "And now it's too wet for me to do anything for days." She picked it off the ledge and swung it wildly, trying to get the water out. Flynn laughed and covered his face.
"Oi! Don't get off your bike, bluey!" He wiped water from his eye.
"Say something in English for once!" Alex yelled, before pushing past him and following the hallways to the center of the complex with the Pylon. Mstislav was there, checking the attached monitor.
"Alex," the man said, "it's a surprise to see you here at this hour."
"Yeah, well, I guess I didn't want to be the ocean anymore." She wandered up to the Russian "What are you doing here?"
"Just checking for new arrivals." Mstislav shrugged. "So soon after one, it's rare. But I check it anyway."
"Why?"
"Because we'd need to say goodbye."
"Oh," Alex looked at the blank screen. "Right."
Alex walked away and found Flynn coming into the center area. She sighed and turned around. "Great."
Mstislav say Flynn. "Good morning, Flynn. How did you sleep?"
"Wasn't used to the motion," Flynn said, smiling. "Not bad, though."
"The ocean can make it difficult sometimes. Just be glad we weren't in a storm. The complex is rarely damaged, but the waves make sleeping impossible. Up and down, on and on. Endless." Mstislav returned to the screen for a moment, during which Flynn winked at Alex. "Nothing happening here. Sulaila wanted to have a story time before lunch. Will you join us for this one?"
Alex groaned. "What d'you do?" Flynn asked.
"We tell stories about ourselves, sometimes fables from our cultures. You would be welcome, I'm sure."
"Sounds like it's going off. I'll go," Flynn said. Alex crossed her arms.
Mstislav regarded her. "Alex?"
She took a moment of thought. "Fine. Wood has to dry anyway."
The three began leaving, but Flynn seemed to remember something, and told the others to go on. As Alex and Mstislav left, Flynn crouched and picked something up, then followed their voices. After he left, words appeared on the monitor attached to the Pylon.
Alex, Flynn, and Mstislav entered just as Rowland finished a tale. "Alex. This is a surprise," the monk said. He looked sleepy and happy in the light. The bubble they were in was at one end of the complex, getting the full brunt of the hot morning sun.
"Nothing else to do," Alex groused. She plopped in one of the hard white chairs. "Might as well."
The stories began again. Edan told a tale about the Seonaidh, a fairy-like creature that men would give ale and, in return, be given bountiful crops. Mstislav told a story called The Sea King's Daughter, and Citlali told a legend about people from many people being snatched up and taken away to a castle in the sky, where some would die and some would live at the behest of the castle's ruler. The listeners shifted on their chairs as the story ended.
"Flynn," Edan said. "You should tell a story."
"I will," Flynn said. "But I think someone should explain this."
He held up the picture that Alex had tried to return to Kensing as he disappeared. "I found it on the ground by the center. Seems like it could be important."
Mstislav stood from his chair and took the picture from Flynn, frowning. Alex watched him appraise it. When he finished he looked sidelong at Alex. She looked away.
"Alex." Mstislav lowered the picture. "Is this what Kensing asked you to get from his room?"
It took her a few seconds. "Yeah."
"Where did you find it, Flynn?" Mstislav asked in a low voice.
"On the floor in the center bubble," Flynn answered. "Alex had it when I got here, and she ditched it."
"Alex!" Citlali said. "How could you do such a thing?"
"He was gone!" Alex said. "He didn't need it! he was going back to her!" She crossed her arms and sat back in her chair. "It doesn't matter anymore!"
"It was his treasure!" Edan shouted, standing. "To cast it away-" He sat, veins bursting on his arms.
"It's just a picture! Kensing isn't here anymore!"
"You're right, he isn't," Mstislav said. He handed the picture to Rowland, who took it carefully. "But that doesn't matter. You would have done the same thing had he been here."
Even with the hot sunlight coming in, the room seemed to grow dark. "You don't care about us. You've been here longer than any of us and you know nothing about us."
"I know plenty!"
"Like how I'm from the Lowlands?" Edan asked.
"My people?" Citlali said.
"You can't pronounce my name," Mstislav finished. "Won't even try."
"You're from hundreds of years before me; of course I don't know about you! I know about Flynn!"
"Just so you could get him on his back," Edan growled. Alex bared her teeth.
"Everyone, please, calm down," Rowland said. "Alex has done little to deserve this anger." The monk stood and went to Alex, who edged away from him. "We are all flawed."
Rowland found Alex glaring at him. "We are all like her."
Mstislav scowled at Alex as she curled in her chair. "Tell me my last name."
Alex went cold. "What?"
"My. Last. Name." Mstislav set his mouth. Alex gaped.
"I don't even know how to pronounce your first name!"
"Edan's, then!" Mstislav shouted. "Sulaila's!" He jabbed a finger at her. "Rowland's!"
Alex's mouth opened and closed. Mstislav sent a dirty look down on her.
"You don't know. You don't even care," the Russian said. He turned and left the room. Alex was left staring at the beam of light on the ground. Slowly, the other people in the room left, with Flynn and Rowland leaving last.
Alex went to her room and sat on her bed, watching the roving sun dry her solitary piece of wood. Late at night she left to eat, managing to avoid everyone else. She returned to her room and slept.
The next morning she sat on her bed and looked out the window. There were clouds covering the sky; she wasn't sure what time it was, but she was hungry. Just as she was getting the courage to get up there was a knock at the door. "What?" Alex said. The door opened and Rowland entered.
"I thought you would like something to eat," the monk said. He set a plate of lettuce and cucumbers on the dresser. "I know you enjoy your greens in the morning."
Alex kept looking out the window, drained. Rowland sat on the edge of the bed, and asked: "How are you?"
She stayed quiet. After a few seconds she shook her head. Rowland nodded.
"Hambard."
That got her attention. "What?"
"My last name is Hambard. I don't blame you for not remembering; I believe you've only heard it once, when I arrived."
Alex let out a long, tired sigh. "I didn't realize what I was doing," she said. "Everything I do . . ."
Rowland let her stay silent. He could nearly see the words fall into place one-by-one.
"Terri is right."
"I'm afraid he is . . . but it's good that you think so yourself. I've always said, stating you have a problem is the first step to solving it. You can't ignore what you're doing to others."
Alex said nothing, so Rowland continued. "Our faults don't make us. They keep us from being the person we want to be. It can be very difficult to change what's wrong with us; I know that. Nobody is expecting you to change overnight."
"What do I say to them?" Alex asked. "How do I let them know that I understand?"
"The first step is, traditionally, apology," Rowland said. "They might still be in the dining room. Unless you'd like to make the apologies more personal."
"No, I can't do that. I'll get them over with all at once. Just . . . give me a minute."
Rowland nodded and stood. When he left, she ate a few pieces of lettuce and sat on the edge of her bed, thinking. After a minute, she got up and went to the dining room, where indeed the rest of the inhabitants remained. Alex stood silent for a few seconds with them watching her. She took a breath.
"So maybe I don't know your names . . . or how to pronounce them, or things like that, but that doesn't mean I don't like you . . . I just don't remember things."
Standing behind the others, Rowland made a motion for her to keep going.
"And, uh . . . I'm sorry if the things I've done made you upset, but I was just doing what I thought was right." Rowland put a hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry if you didn't like my actions." Alex paused. "Rowland's last name is Humbund."
"Well, thank you, Alex," Mstislav said. "You've clearly demonstrated how much you mean to us. Maybe next time you'll actually manage to apologize." He got up and left, not looking at her as he walked by. She watched him go with a pit in her stomach. When she looked back at the rest of them none could meet her gaze.
They all started leaving. Sulaila put a wrinkled hand on her shoulder before going past, and Flynn looked at her with a mix of understanding and disapproval. When they had all gone down the plastic hallway to other parts of the complex, Rowland stood next to her. Alex scowled after the departed people.
"It's a start, at least," Rowland told her. "Do you know what you need to do next?"
Anger rose, and was replaced by weariness. "No," Alex said.
"You have to act out your apology. Listen to them, care about them, remember them. Treat them the way you would want to be treated."
"I want to go home."
"So do we all. But being around people that love you will make the time you spend here all the more enjoyable and easy."
It seems so tiring, Alex thought as she walked back to her room. Listening to people and knowing them like that. How am I supposed to do that?
She opened her door and found Flynn sitting on her bed. He stood when she entered. His mullet looked limp and stringy. "Alex."
"Not now, Flynn," she said. "I can't take it right now."
"No, not that . . . Rowland talked to me privately before you got to the dining room, and told me how you felt."
"I tried to tell everyone. I don't know what happened."
"It's alright. Listen: my name's Flynn Scotts. I got a younger brother and sister."
He talked about his childhood. He talked about his parents, his dad a bricklayer and his mom raising them. He talked about the first time he "had a belly full of piss and chundered all over the walk," and the first girl he'd loved. Eventually, he ran out of things, and looked at her.
"Now tell me about your life. You got siblings?"
Alex slowly pieced together her life. She came from a big family, and sat at the bottom of the heap, trying to claw her way out of the shadow of her older brothers and sisters. She told him about the ways she tried to make herself known: wild hair and piercings. She told him about the pink hair she had for a few weeks after arriving at the complex before it drained out. She told him about the hamster her family had that helped her feel better when she was alone, and how she'd eventually taken up whittling. She looked at the single piece of driftwood she'd been able to find since coming to the complex.
Flynn listened through the entire story, nodding along as she talked. When she finished, they sat with their backs to the wall on her bed.
"Everything I told you is just as real as everything you told me. Do you know what that means?"
"No."
"It means the emotions you've felt your entire life happened to me too. They happened to everybody." Alex said nothing. "So imagine what it must be like to have you say the things you say, or do the things you do."
Beaten, Alex stared at her linked hands. Flynn rested a hand on her shoulder.
After a few minutes, Alex spoke up. "You aren't using as much slang as you did earlier."
Flynn chuckled. "I did that because you seemed to like it."
"Really." Alex stared into the distant corners of her room. "Just because I liked it."
"Yeah."
Alex put her arm around him, and they sat that way for several minutes. A knock at the door stirred them. "Come in," Alex said, and Rowland entered.
"We're going to have a visitor."
They found Mstislav high up on the Pylon, wrestling with the same material that Kensing had dealt with. The monitor showed an hour.
"Mstislav!" Flynn shouted. "What are you doing up there?"
"Trying to get this material to fit in again!" The Russian shouted. "The man you replaced did it last time, but I don't know if I've done it right!" Mstislav started climbing down. "Another person! I don't think we've ever had two this quickly before!"
"Who do you think will be going back?" Rowland asked.
"I don't know." Mstislav looked at the monitor at the Pylon's base. "It could be nearly any of us. I'm afraid I don't think it could be you, Flynn." He looked at Alex and then back to the screen.
"Why don't we go get the others," Rowland said. "Flynn, you can get Sulaila, she's probably napping in the story room. Alex, would you find Citlali? I'll gather Edan."
They split up, each finding their respective person. When Alex and Citlali got back to the center bubble, everyone else was already there. Mstislav was glaring up at the material high up on the pylon, which had become detached again. The monitor read forty-five minutes.
"I'll have to go up again, otherwise there's no switch," Mstislav explained. He put one hand on the Pylon. "Would somebody please watch the monitor? Staying up there too long will be dangerous." Citlali moved to the screen as Mstislav started to climb.
He worked with the long piece of material for some time, every once in a while asking how much time was left. At thirty minutes he leaned away from the Pylon. "I've done all I can for now!" He called. "Hopefully that will be-"
A sudden blast of blue energy made them all duck their heads. When they looked up, they found Mstislav, smoking, hanging on with one hand and fingers slipping. Edan ran forward and started clambering up the Pylon, reaching the Russian just as his hand slipped off. Edan grabbed his shirt, and slowly lowered him down to the waiting Rowland.
"Is he all right?" Alex asked as the monk laid him on the ground.
"Probably electrocuted," Flynn said. He pointed at burns.
"Is he alive?" Citlali asked. Flynn nodded. Mstislav groaned lightly.
"What do we do?" Alex asked.
"Look!" Edan shouted, pointing at the Pylon. They all raised their heads and saw crackling blue energy spinning in a storm around the top. The material that had been giving them the trouble was shredded and torn. "If it isn't fixed, we're stuck here! And who knows what will happen to the person meant to replace the one leaving!"
"What did that piece do?" Flynn asked.
"Kensing said something about it being an 'insulator.'" Rowland said. "But I'm afraid I don't know what that means."
"Can it be fixed?" Sulaila asked. Rowland didn't answer, instead bending to Mstislav.
"Citlali! How much time is left on the monitor?" Alex asked. She glanced at the glass orbs around the ceiling, devoid of blue energy.
"It says twenty-five!"
"Okay." Alex got up and ran to her room, grabbing her knife and hunk of half-carved wood, dry now from all the time spent in the sun. She ran back to the center.
"Twenty minutes now," Citlali told her. Alex nodded and put a hand on the Pylon, gripped hard, and started making her way up.
"Alex, it's too dangerous!" Flynn said. Alex ignored him. In a minute she'd reached the shredded material, and picked it off. It fell to the ground and she eyed to gap that it had bridged. She hooked an arm around a rung on the Pylon and started hacking at her piece of wood, chopping the thing that was supposed to be a proud woman down to size. After several minutes, one end came off. She measured again and clipped more off, then began to wedge it into the gap.
Blue energy surged past her and started to fill up the orbs just over her head. A blink of energy crackled by her, searing part of her cheek. The people on the ground gasped. She climbed down and collapsed, legs weak and hand on her cheek. Flynn crouched by her. "You did it!" He said over the Pylon's hum. "And look! You've got your pink hair back!"
Alex didn't understand until he pinched a lock and brought it in front of her face. Instead of the reddish-blonde, the strands were a vibrant pink, standing out from her head. She smoothed it back and felt a spark. "You fixed it!"
"Yeah," Alex said. She crawled to Mstislav.
"Only five minutes!" Citlali said. She joined the others. A glow had materialized around Mstislav.
"You're going back," Rowland said. "You're going back home."
Mstislav stared up at their faces as the glow began to cover him, just as it had Kensing. The others began to say goodbye. Alex was the last person.
"I'm going to miss you M- . . . Mistislav."
"Thank you, Alex," the man said.
Everyone backed away from the prone figure as the glow and the heat grew stronger. They covered their eyes, and Mstislav slowly faded away, replaced by a small figure.
When the light died, they found a young Indian girl looking around fearfully. Alex approached her first.
"I'm Alex. What's your name?"
"Malini," the girl said.
"I'd better get to know you fast, Malini," Alex said, smiling. There was a charge in the air.
The sun filtered around popcorn clouds, casting circular shadows over her, her lifeboat, and the complex it was connected to. Plastic domes ranged over her head, and walk-way tubes split off around her. A fish jumped, splashing more water on her. She waved the piece of wood in the air to dry it off, grumbling. The only sounds were the ocean against the bulkhead and the repetitious scratch of her knife against the wood.
She heard the door behind her being pulled open with a sound like a wet kiss. She didn't look. "Hello brother."
"Lady Alex," the monk said. "May I join you?"
"Yeah." The monk, in his brown robe, sat on the other end of the inflatable lifeboat. Alex continued to whittle. "I'm being careful."
"I said nothing to disagree."
"You were thinking it though." Alex ran a foot through the water. "It took me weeks to find this piece; I'm not going to ruin it by getting blood all over it."
"I'm glad," the monk said. He shaded his eyes and gazed out over the placid water. "Have you seen any land?"
"Nothing," Alex said. She was lying on her back with her face toward the sky. She whittled for a bit. "Are you sure you should be out here, brother? Your head could burn."
"A touch of sun never hurt anyone," the monk replied. "It seems your hair has gotten a shade or two lighter from all your time out here. It's starting to look like a strawberry."
"Guh." Alex blew a bang out of the way. "Why don't you just put me in a cheerleading outfit and give me pom-poms." She found the monk gazing at her quizzically. "Right. You don't know about that."
"No. But I remember your hair when I first arrived." The monk laced his fingers. "Pink hair. Of all things, that was the strangest. What are you whittling now?"
"It's supposed to be a person," Alex said. "A woman. She's supposed to look proud." Alex closed her knife. "But this wood is too wet. It comes apart too easily. I didn't let it dry out long enough." She held it up for the monk. "How's it look?"
The monk cleared his throat. "I can't say it looks much like a woman, proud or otherwise."
Alex got to her feet. "I haven't ruined it though, so I can let it dry out more." She pushed open the door to the interior.
The monk entered after her, pushing the door shut with a wet sound. "Mstislav says we may have a new visitor today."
"Are you serious?" Alex asked. "Why didn't you tell me that earlier?" She took off toward Mstislav and the center of the floating complex with the monk's brown robe swishing after her. They strode down the plastic hallway, passing portholes that contained dark and light blue halves. The hallway buckled with a small swell in the ocean; neither seemed to notice.
"Terri!" Alex shouted when she entered the central hub of the complex. "Rowland says we're getting another person?!"
"Mstislav," the man answered. "Why do you call me Terri all the time? Mstislav!"
"Can't pronounce it!" Alex shouted back. The room's center, a tall white pylon with glass orbs at the top and a monitor at the bottom, sat silent. "Is he right? Are we getting another person?"
"Should!" Mstislav said. "Screen says yes, Pylon says no." He pointed at the pillar. "Is not turning on like normal. You know, the blue inside the balls."
Alex laughed. "Yeah, I know all about blue balls. You mean the energy isn't inside there?" She pointed at the glass orbs. Mstislav nodded.
"Can you fix it?"
"What? God no! I couldn't even change the oil in my car; I just made my dad do it!"
Mstislav and Rowland exchanged glances. "God!" Alex shouted. "I wish for once we get someone that's from after me so I don't have to explain everything!"
"You can't even pronounce my name," Mstislav muttered. "Alexandra."
"Perhaps Sir Kensing could assist," Rowland said. "He's told me quite a lot about the machines he worked with."
"I'll get him," Alex said. "I need to drop this off anyway." Alex lifted the piece of wood over her head and walked out before the men could respond.
She wound her way through the empty white plastic halls until she got to her room, one of many identical personal bubbles connected to the hallways. She gazed out the porthole for a second, then set the piece of wood on the shelf under it in the sun.
"Hey, brainiac," she said, entering his room without knocking. She saw him quickly put something under his pillow. "Ooh, what ya got there? Porn?"
"Er, no, I don't think so," Kensing said. "I don't know what that is."
Alex explained, complete with motions, gleefully watching Kensing turn red. "Gracious, no. It's a picture . . . my fiancée." He removed it. "It was with me when I came here. I was supposed to marry her."
"Duh." Alex sat on the bed next to the man. "That's what 'fiancée' means. Lemme see."
Kensing handed her the picture somewhat reluctantly. It looked like the picture was from the late nineteenth century, and showed a woman in a long dress, with a hat and umbrella. Her hair was in a long braid, and she looked up and perpendicular to the camera's direction.
"Whatever," Alex said. She let the picture drop on Kensing's lap. "Terri needs your help at the pylon. He's says it's broken or something."
"The pylon?" Kensing said, placing the picture carefully under his pillow. "I don't know anything about that. Electricity was just being developed when I was taken. It's so far beyond me . . . I doubt I'd be any help."
"Well, more help than me." Alex pushed open the door to the hallway. "We're supposed to be getting someone today."
"What? Oh, of course!" Kensing looked around his room, then shook his head and followed Alex into the hallway. "You should have told me that first, of course I want to help fix it!"
"You seem pretty positive, smart guy," Alex said. "What makes you so certain that you're going back?" She asked over her shoulder.
"I can't say for sure." Kensing looked out the passing portholes at the ocean. "I just feel like it's my time."
"Sure, and I'm the queen of Siam," Alex said. "I got here before you, what makes you think you get to go back next?"
Kensing shrugged. "It's hard to explain. It feels like a charge in the air."
Alex blew a bang out of the way. "Stupid."
They reached the center area, and found the rest of the floating complex's inhabitants present. Along with Mstislav and Rowland the monk were an Aztec woman named Citlali, a Scottish warrior named Edan, and an older woman from the tip of Africa named Sulaila.
"Got him," Alex said, jerking a thumb at Kensing. "Get to work, poindexter."
"The monitors say the new person should be coming soon," Mstislav said. "Can you see anything?" He asked Kensing.
"I don't know. It's quite complicated," Kensing said, peering up. He adjusted his glasses. "Though that piece there -- it looks somewhat loose."
Alex wandered away. She stood next to Edan. "'Sup, Highlander. Where's your sword?"
Edan scowled at her. "Good morning, lass. Is it true?"
"That we're getting another person? Sure. Kensing's pretty convinced he's the one going back, too."
"He well deserves. I remember when he first arrived. Angry."
"Right, and you weren't angry, Mr. Tried-to-Stab-the-Pylon-with-Your-Sword?"
"I was. He was angry at more than just this place." Edan looked around the white bubble they stood in. "He was angry at everything. Mostly the woman he was to marry."
"I just saw a picture of her."
"I've seen the same. A fine beauty. Kensing told me about some of the things he would say to her, but now . . . Now he just wants to see her again. He misses her like a fish would miss the water."
Alex watched Kensing and the Russian discuss the Pylon.
"Why do you think he deserves to go back?"
"The Gods are testing us," Citlali interrupted. "They want us to learn. They bring us here; a safe place where we can find ways to improve."
"What? That's-"
"Kensing didn't respect his woman before, but now, if he sees her again, I'm sure he would never lift a hand to her again."
Alex scoffed. "Why did I need to get brought here, then? I'm a hard worker, I don't get angry. What about you, Cit? Or Sully?"
"Of course we don't see our own faults," Sulaila said. "I can't say I know why I'm here, but I'm sure there's a reason."
"That's so stupid!" Alex shouted. "Other than the fact that you're all so uptight, there's no good reason for this!" She gestured at large, taking in the complex they lived in, adrift on an unknown ocean without anything else in sight. "Rowland's a monk for God's sake! You really think he deserves to be here?"
"I didn't join the church because I'm perfect, Alex," Rowland said behind her. "Quite the opposite."
"Still, though! What did Cit ever do to deserve this? Or Alona?" Alex asked, mentioning the woman that Sulaila had replaced. "She was sweet!"
"You're the only one who knew her," Citlali said.
"This is dumb. I can't believe you all believe this," Alex looked back at the two men working on the Pylon. Without another word, she walked behind Mstislav. "Any ideas yet, Terri? Tell me some good news, please."
"Mis-ti-slav," the man said.
"Can't do it!"
"The Pylon is powered from the sky, It isn't getting power right now. Some of the material is coming loose. Kensing is trying to reattach it now."
Alex looked at the other man, fifteen feet above her. His black shoes were hooked around metal bars of the Pylon as he tried to reattach the material Mstislav had pointed to. It looked soft and yielding.
After a few more minutes Kensing laboriously climbed down. "I think it's reattached. It isn't actually a connection, it seems to be an insulator, so energy doesn't flow down it. As far as I can tell, it's working again."
Alex saw the blue energy Mstislav had spoken of beginning to radiate inside the glass orbs at the top of the Pylon, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "How long until we get a trade?" She asked. Mstislav looked at the screen.
"It says fifteen minutes. Everyone is here?" He looked around. "Good."
Kensing smiled sheepishly as the complex's other inhabitants gathered around him. Edan clamped his shoulder and Sulaila hugged him. Alex watched, incredulous, removed from the group. She watched with a sneer as Rowland prayed over Kensing. Time passed and the screen counted down. The orbs filled with blue energy.
Alex watched the material that Kensing had replaced. It still looked like it was hanging loose. Eventually she went up to Kensing.
"If it is you going back, good job, I guess." She crossed her arms.
"Thank you, Alex. I'll miss you."
The orbs over their heads sparked. Alex looked up and found them filled. Everyone else stepped away from Kensing, leaving him in the center, and Alex followed. Blue light started spreading around the room. A hum from nowhere cut through the smaller noises of the ocean, and the blue light grew brighter.
The contained energy flashed bright blue, forcing them to shield their eyes. The room grew hotter.
Suddenly, Kensing stiffened. "My picture! It's still under my pillow!"
Mstislav turned and looked at Alex. "His picture, Alex, quick!"
"What?! Me? Why do I have to do it?" Alex said. The light was growing brighter.
"Just go! We still have some time!"
Alex snarled and spun on her heel, hurrying to Kensing's room. She reached it in a minute and dug under the white pillow for the picture. She took a moment to study it again, then headed out the door.
When she returned to the center of the complex, the light had grown white-hot around Kensing. He was fading. She went forward carefully, holding the picture out in front of her like a shield. The picture's edges began to curl as she got closer.
"It's all right Alex!" Kensing said, shouting as if from a great distance. "I'm going to see her again! I won't need a picture!" He smiled.
"Thank God," Alex muttered, backing away.
"Treat her like you treated the picture, young man!" Sulaila shouted. "Treat her like a treasure!"
"I will!" He shouted back. "Thank you, everyone!" He became transparent, sliding away back to where and when he'd come from. "Goodbye! Perhaps I will see one of you again!" His words faded away and his body disappeared.
The burning light persisted. Where Kensing had stood, another body began to materialize. At first just a shadow; the person began to take form. When he fully appeared, the white-blue radiance died slowly. Eventually those present opened their eyes and saw their new companion.
"Well," Alex said, smiling. "Things just got interesting."
"Where . . ." The boy looked around. "What happened? Where am I?" A yellow mullet spilled down his tan neck. "Who are you people?" He said in an Australian accent. Alex's heart leapt.
"My name is Mstislav," Mstislav said. "You've been brought here just like the rest of us. What is your name?"
"F-Flynn. Flynn Scotts." Flynn looked at the Pylon, the now-empty orbs at the ceiling, and the white plastic bubble that surrounded him.
"Scotts, when are you from?" Edan asked.
"When?" Flynn looked at each other person in the room with a shocked expression, and Alex wanted to think he lingered on her for a moment. "Is it not the same year?"
"I came from the year 1621," Edan said. "Mstislav came from 1899." He held a hand in Citlali's direction. "This woman came from hundreds of years before settlers landed on the new world."
Flynn whistled. It seemed to be the only thing he was capable of doing.
"So?" Alex said. "When are you from?"
"Oh . . . 1986. New Wales."
"He's from Australia," Alex said. "I'm Alex. I came from 2005."
"Yeah?" Flynn smiled at her. "Doesn't seem like much of a change compared to the rest."
Other introductions were made. Afterward, Flynn asked the question they all ask: "So where am I now? When am I?" He looked out the porthole near him. "What ocean is this? Is this even Earth?"
"It is Earth," Sulaila said. "It has to be. The stars are the same. We think it's the Pacific Ocean. We've floated in here for weeks and haven't seen anything, man or beast. It could be the beginning of time for all we can tell."
"Blugh," Flynn uttered.
"Alex was the first here out of all of us. She's been here a few months," Rowland said. "She knows just as much as you do."
Flynn looked at Alex and she flashed a wide smile. Rowland continued. "Every time one of us leaves, another joins us. We aren't sure why we're brought here, but perhaps it could be a way to get us to understand our faults, and repair them." The monk shrugged. "So some of us think."
"Why don't I take you around the place?" Alex said, taking Flynn's hand. "I can show you the sights."
"Come find us in the cafeteria when you're done," Mstislav said. He, and the others, left through one of the connected hallways.
"What's there to see?" Flynn asked Alex.
"Oh, so much," Alex said. "I'll make sure to be very thorough."
"What's that?"
Alex looked at the where Flynn pointed, finding Kensing's picture -- edges curled from the heat -- still clutched in her hand. "Nothing," Alex said, throwing it away. "Come on."
"So there isn't really much here," Flynn said, after being led through the empty halls and dead-end bubbles, some of which held chairs or sofas, others had soft mats, and still others were empty.
"I might have hyped it up a little bit," Alex admitted. "But I suppose you're right, it sure can get lonely here." She pooched out her lip and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes.
"How do you eat?" Flynn asked, fluffing his hair.
"We're there now," Alex said, leading him into the cafeteria. "The complex provides food. It never changes, but it doesn't taste too bad, and I think it's healthy." Inside there was a single white table, at which the rest of the inhabitants were seated, slurping soup out of bowls. "Soup, or cooked meat, or veggies, anytime you want." Alex pointed. "You get it over there. Just hit the button. Water, too." She scowled. "Only water."
"Fair dinkum loss," Flynn said.
"None of that either," Alex said. "Just the water." She hit the button for soup. A panel in the wall opened, revealing a bowl of chicken noodle. "Go on."
Flynn hit the button for meat, and a plate with a piece of cooked beef was given. He glared at it, then hit the button for water and followed Alex to the table, where the other inhabitants sat.
"No silverware," Alex said. "You'll have to eat with your hands."
Flynn watched Edan tear a hunk out of his beef. "Like being back home," the Scottsman said.
"You know that movie Highlander?" Alex asked Flynn. She nodded in Edan's direction.
"I told you before!" Edan shouted. "I'm from the Lowlands!" He uttered a phrase in Gaelic and went back to his meat.
"Citlali is a Mayan-"
"Nahuatl," Citlali corrected.
"-and Sulaila is from Africa."
"She's got that right, at least," The woman said, eating a salad. "Not to hard to tell, though." Her black forehead wrinkled as she grinned.
"This meat isn't my bowl of rice," Flynn said. He tried gnawing on it again. "Should have gotten the soup."
"You can just go get more," Alex said. "We can eat anytime."
"I'll stick with it. What's to do around here?"
"Not much, I'm afraid," Rowland answered. "Little is provided other than food and private rooms. We each have our time wasters."
"I whittle driftwood," Alex said. "I had a knife with me when I was taken here."
"A knife! Could you lend me it? This meat's bloody hard."
"Oh, uh, I don't have it with me," Alex lied. "It's in my room."
"Bugger."
Alex giggled. Flynn took a big bite of meat and strained his neck trying to clip it off; Alex found herself staring at the cords on his shoulders.
"Have you picked a room yet, Flynn?" Rowland asked. Flynn opened his full mouth, but Alex cut him off.
"The room next to mine." Flynn looked at her, then nodded.
After a little while of idle conversation, the lunchroom cleared out. Alex took Flynn to his room, fifteen feet from hers.
"They aren't much," Alex admitted, letting the door swing open. Inside was a long, narrow bed, empty shelves, and a dresser. Flynn opened it to find clean white shirts, pants, and underwear. "Put those in the chute outside your door," Alex said. "And you'll get clean ones. The sheets and pillows, too, in case you're a dirty boy at night." Alex smiled. Things were going so well. "Bathroom and shower connected."
Flynn looked out the circular porthole, rubbing his chest. "No waves. That monk, he's got a face like a dropped pie, yeah?"
"What?"
"Ugly man, I mean." Flynn crossed to the dresser and opened it a few times.
"I guess he's sort of ugly," Alex said hesitantly.
"But you!" Flynn smiled at her. "A beaut bluey. Gonna miss me mates, but at least I got you."
"You . . . got me?"
"Bluey, you've been perving me since I got here. Don't lie."
"What?" Alex sneered. "I haven't!"
"Yeah?" Flynn flexed, curling his arms down into circles. His pecs bulged. A dot of drool landed on Alex's collar. "I know I look good. Me mates think I'm an ocker and a figjam, but I know I'm a spunk, love."
"I didn't understand any of that," Alex said. Her embarrassment vanished when Flynn came a little closer. "Whatever. Say something that means sex and let's get this started."
Flynn thought for a second. "Time to get ya end wet."
"It'd better be."
The next morning Alex sat in her lifeboat and worked on the piece of wood, still too wet to be much use. Flynn laid next to her with an arm over his eyes. She watched his chest rise and fall as he napped and swallowed to keep from drooling again. Little bits of wood fell into the ocean.
Their night had been wild, but Alex had found it lacking. Flynn was more concerned with himself than her, stopping just as she was getting going. They made a few starts and then slept the night off. She struck at the piece of wood, aggravated.
Flynn woke up to her hacking. She saw him eyeing her from under the shadow of his arm.
"Nice piece of wood, bluey," he said.
"Yeah, but it's too soft," she replied. "Familiar?"
"Don't say that love. You sounded all right." He stretched his arms over his head and tousled his hair. "Give the old fella another try." He got to his knees and hunched over her. She tried to push him away and the lifeboat swayed.
"Don't!" She said. She quickly shut her knife and put it away. He pressed himself on her. "This lifeboat isn't secured, it could-!"
They fell into the salty water. Alex scrabbled for the overturned boat and caught it with one arm. She brought her head above the ocean and found Flynn smirking, his hair drenched and running down his back like a dog's tail. "Jerk," Alex said, splashing him. She righted the boat. "It's a good thing it's still connected."
"I'm an ace swimmer. I wouldn't have let you go."
Alex paused for a moment. "Whatever." She climbed into the lifeboat and opened the door, climbing into the complex. She shut the door on Flynn and squelched to her room, changing into dry clothes. In a few minutes Flynn was at her room.
"Beat it," she said. "I've had enough dealing with wood for one morning." She straightened and looked around. "My wood!"
Flynn held it out to her. "You left it in the raft." She snatched it from his hand. "What's it supposed to be?"
"Why didn't you tell me? Do you know how long I had to look for this?" She inspected it. "A woman," Alex said, setting the piece of wood under the window. "And now it's too wet for me to do anything for days." She picked it off the ledge and swung it wildly, trying to get the water out. Flynn laughed and covered his face.
"Oi! Don't get off your bike, bluey!" He wiped water from his eye.
"Say something in English for once!" Alex yelled, before pushing past him and following the hallways to the center of the complex with the Pylon. Mstislav was there, checking the attached monitor.
"Alex," the man said, "it's a surprise to see you here at this hour."
"Yeah, well, I guess I didn't want to be the ocean anymore." She wandered up to the Russian "What are you doing here?"
"Just checking for new arrivals." Mstislav shrugged. "So soon after one, it's rare. But I check it anyway."
"Why?"
"Because we'd need to say goodbye."
"Oh," Alex looked at the blank screen. "Right."
Alex walked away and found Flynn coming into the center area. She sighed and turned around. "Great."
Mstislav say Flynn. "Good morning, Flynn. How did you sleep?"
"Wasn't used to the motion," Flynn said, smiling. "Not bad, though."
"The ocean can make it difficult sometimes. Just be glad we weren't in a storm. The complex is rarely damaged, but the waves make sleeping impossible. Up and down, on and on. Endless." Mstislav returned to the screen for a moment, during which Flynn winked at Alex. "Nothing happening here. Sulaila wanted to have a story time before lunch. Will you join us for this one?"
Alex groaned. "What d'you do?" Flynn asked.
"We tell stories about ourselves, sometimes fables from our cultures. You would be welcome, I'm sure."
"Sounds like it's going off. I'll go," Flynn said. Alex crossed her arms.
Mstislav regarded her. "Alex?"
She took a moment of thought. "Fine. Wood has to dry anyway."
The three began leaving, but Flynn seemed to remember something, and told the others to go on. As Alex and Mstislav left, Flynn crouched and picked something up, then followed their voices. After he left, words appeared on the monitor attached to the Pylon.
Alex, Flynn, and Mstislav entered just as Rowland finished a tale. "Alex. This is a surprise," the monk said. He looked sleepy and happy in the light. The bubble they were in was at one end of the complex, getting the full brunt of the hot morning sun.
"Nothing else to do," Alex groused. She plopped in one of the hard white chairs. "Might as well."
The stories began again. Edan told a tale about the Seonaidh, a fairy-like creature that men would give ale and, in return, be given bountiful crops. Mstislav told a story called The Sea King's Daughter, and Citlali told a legend about people from many people being snatched up and taken away to a castle in the sky, where some would die and some would live at the behest of the castle's ruler. The listeners shifted on their chairs as the story ended.
"Flynn," Edan said. "You should tell a story."
"I will," Flynn said. "But I think someone should explain this."
He held up the picture that Alex had tried to return to Kensing as he disappeared. "I found it on the ground by the center. Seems like it could be important."
Mstislav stood from his chair and took the picture from Flynn, frowning. Alex watched him appraise it. When he finished he looked sidelong at Alex. She looked away.
"Alex." Mstislav lowered the picture. "Is this what Kensing asked you to get from his room?"
It took her a few seconds. "Yeah."
"Where did you find it, Flynn?" Mstislav asked in a low voice.
"On the floor in the center bubble," Flynn answered. "Alex had it when I got here, and she ditched it."
"Alex!" Citlali said. "How could you do such a thing?"
"He was gone!" Alex said. "He didn't need it! he was going back to her!" She crossed her arms and sat back in her chair. "It doesn't matter anymore!"
"It was his treasure!" Edan shouted, standing. "To cast it away-" He sat, veins bursting on his arms.
"It's just a picture! Kensing isn't here anymore!"
"You're right, he isn't," Mstislav said. He handed the picture to Rowland, who took it carefully. "But that doesn't matter. You would have done the same thing had he been here."
Even with the hot sunlight coming in, the room seemed to grow dark. "You don't care about us. You've been here longer than any of us and you know nothing about us."
"I know plenty!"
"Like how I'm from the Lowlands?" Edan asked.
"My people?" Citlali said.
"You can't pronounce my name," Mstislav finished. "Won't even try."
"You're from hundreds of years before me; of course I don't know about you! I know about Flynn!"
"Just so you could get him on his back," Edan growled. Alex bared her teeth.
"Everyone, please, calm down," Rowland said. "Alex has done little to deserve this anger." The monk stood and went to Alex, who edged away from him. "We are all flawed."
Rowland found Alex glaring at him. "We are all like her."
Mstislav scowled at Alex as she curled in her chair. "Tell me my last name."
Alex went cold. "What?"
"My. Last. Name." Mstislav set his mouth. Alex gaped.
"I don't even know how to pronounce your first name!"
"Edan's, then!" Mstislav shouted. "Sulaila's!" He jabbed a finger at her. "Rowland's!"
Alex's mouth opened and closed. Mstislav sent a dirty look down on her.
"You don't know. You don't even care," the Russian said. He turned and left the room. Alex was left staring at the beam of light on the ground. Slowly, the other people in the room left, with Flynn and Rowland leaving last.
Alex went to her room and sat on her bed, watching the roving sun dry her solitary piece of wood. Late at night she left to eat, managing to avoid everyone else. She returned to her room and slept.
The next morning she sat on her bed and looked out the window. There were clouds covering the sky; she wasn't sure what time it was, but she was hungry. Just as she was getting the courage to get up there was a knock at the door. "What?" Alex said. The door opened and Rowland entered.
"I thought you would like something to eat," the monk said. He set a plate of lettuce and cucumbers on the dresser. "I know you enjoy your greens in the morning."
Alex kept looking out the window, drained. Rowland sat on the edge of the bed, and asked: "How are you?"
She stayed quiet. After a few seconds she shook her head. Rowland nodded.
"Hambard."
That got her attention. "What?"
"My last name is Hambard. I don't blame you for not remembering; I believe you've only heard it once, when I arrived."
Alex let out a long, tired sigh. "I didn't realize what I was doing," she said. "Everything I do . . ."
Rowland let her stay silent. He could nearly see the words fall into place one-by-one.
"Terri is right."
"I'm afraid he is . . . but it's good that you think so yourself. I've always said, stating you have a problem is the first step to solving it. You can't ignore what you're doing to others."
Alex said nothing, so Rowland continued. "Our faults don't make us. They keep us from being the person we want to be. It can be very difficult to change what's wrong with us; I know that. Nobody is expecting you to change overnight."
"What do I say to them?" Alex asked. "How do I let them know that I understand?"
"The first step is, traditionally, apology," Rowland said. "They might still be in the dining room. Unless you'd like to make the apologies more personal."
"No, I can't do that. I'll get them over with all at once. Just . . . give me a minute."
Rowland nodded and stood. When he left, she ate a few pieces of lettuce and sat on the edge of her bed, thinking. After a minute, she got up and went to the dining room, where indeed the rest of the inhabitants remained. Alex stood silent for a few seconds with them watching her. She took a breath.
"So maybe I don't know your names . . . or how to pronounce them, or things like that, but that doesn't mean I don't like you . . . I just don't remember things."
Standing behind the others, Rowland made a motion for her to keep going.
"And, uh . . . I'm sorry if the things I've done made you upset, but I was just doing what I thought was right." Rowland put a hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry if you didn't like my actions." Alex paused. "Rowland's last name is Humbund."
"Well, thank you, Alex," Mstislav said. "You've clearly demonstrated how much you mean to us. Maybe next time you'll actually manage to apologize." He got up and left, not looking at her as he walked by. She watched him go with a pit in her stomach. When she looked back at the rest of them none could meet her gaze.
They all started leaving. Sulaila put a wrinkled hand on her shoulder before going past, and Flynn looked at her with a mix of understanding and disapproval. When they had all gone down the plastic hallway to other parts of the complex, Rowland stood next to her. Alex scowled after the departed people.
"It's a start, at least," Rowland told her. "Do you know what you need to do next?"
Anger rose, and was replaced by weariness. "No," Alex said.
"You have to act out your apology. Listen to them, care about them, remember them. Treat them the way you would want to be treated."
"I want to go home."
"So do we all. But being around people that love you will make the time you spend here all the more enjoyable and easy."
It seems so tiring, Alex thought as she walked back to her room. Listening to people and knowing them like that. How am I supposed to do that?
She opened her door and found Flynn sitting on her bed. He stood when she entered. His mullet looked limp and stringy. "Alex."
"Not now, Flynn," she said. "I can't take it right now."
"No, not that . . . Rowland talked to me privately before you got to the dining room, and told me how you felt."
"I tried to tell everyone. I don't know what happened."
"It's alright. Listen: my name's Flynn Scotts. I got a younger brother and sister."
He talked about his childhood. He talked about his parents, his dad a bricklayer and his mom raising them. He talked about the first time he "had a belly full of piss and chundered all over the walk," and the first girl he'd loved. Eventually, he ran out of things, and looked at her.
"Now tell me about your life. You got siblings?"
Alex slowly pieced together her life. She came from a big family, and sat at the bottom of the heap, trying to claw her way out of the shadow of her older brothers and sisters. She told him about the ways she tried to make herself known: wild hair and piercings. She told him about the pink hair she had for a few weeks after arriving at the complex before it drained out. She told him about the hamster her family had that helped her feel better when she was alone, and how she'd eventually taken up whittling. She looked at the single piece of driftwood she'd been able to find since coming to the complex.
Flynn listened through the entire story, nodding along as she talked. When she finished, they sat with their backs to the wall on her bed.
"Everything I told you is just as real as everything you told me. Do you know what that means?"
"No."
"It means the emotions you've felt your entire life happened to me too. They happened to everybody." Alex said nothing. "So imagine what it must be like to have you say the things you say, or do the things you do."
Beaten, Alex stared at her linked hands. Flynn rested a hand on her shoulder.
After a few minutes, Alex spoke up. "You aren't using as much slang as you did earlier."
Flynn chuckled. "I did that because you seemed to like it."
"Really." Alex stared into the distant corners of her room. "Just because I liked it."
"Yeah."
Alex put her arm around him, and they sat that way for several minutes. A knock at the door stirred them. "Come in," Alex said, and Rowland entered.
"We're going to have a visitor."
They found Mstislav high up on the Pylon, wrestling with the same material that Kensing had dealt with. The monitor showed an hour.
"Mstislav!" Flynn shouted. "What are you doing up there?"
"Trying to get this material to fit in again!" The Russian shouted. "The man you replaced did it last time, but I don't know if I've done it right!" Mstislav started climbing down. "Another person! I don't think we've ever had two this quickly before!"
"Who do you think will be going back?" Rowland asked.
"I don't know." Mstislav looked at the monitor at the Pylon's base. "It could be nearly any of us. I'm afraid I don't think it could be you, Flynn." He looked at Alex and then back to the screen.
"Why don't we go get the others," Rowland said. "Flynn, you can get Sulaila, she's probably napping in the story room. Alex, would you find Citlali? I'll gather Edan."
They split up, each finding their respective person. When Alex and Citlali got back to the center bubble, everyone else was already there. Mstislav was glaring up at the material high up on the pylon, which had become detached again. The monitor read forty-five minutes.
"I'll have to go up again, otherwise there's no switch," Mstislav explained. He put one hand on the Pylon. "Would somebody please watch the monitor? Staying up there too long will be dangerous." Citlali moved to the screen as Mstislav started to climb.
He worked with the long piece of material for some time, every once in a while asking how much time was left. At thirty minutes he leaned away from the Pylon. "I've done all I can for now!" He called. "Hopefully that will be-"
A sudden blast of blue energy made them all duck their heads. When they looked up, they found Mstislav, smoking, hanging on with one hand and fingers slipping. Edan ran forward and started clambering up the Pylon, reaching the Russian just as his hand slipped off. Edan grabbed his shirt, and slowly lowered him down to the waiting Rowland.
"Is he all right?" Alex asked as the monk laid him on the ground.
"Probably electrocuted," Flynn said. He pointed at burns.
"Is he alive?" Citlali asked. Flynn nodded. Mstislav groaned lightly.
"What do we do?" Alex asked.
"Look!" Edan shouted, pointing at the Pylon. They all raised their heads and saw crackling blue energy spinning in a storm around the top. The material that had been giving them the trouble was shredded and torn. "If it isn't fixed, we're stuck here! And who knows what will happen to the person meant to replace the one leaving!"
"What did that piece do?" Flynn asked.
"Kensing said something about it being an 'insulator.'" Rowland said. "But I'm afraid I don't know what that means."
"Can it be fixed?" Sulaila asked. Rowland didn't answer, instead bending to Mstislav.
"Citlali! How much time is left on the monitor?" Alex asked. She glanced at the glass orbs around the ceiling, devoid of blue energy.
"It says twenty-five!"
"Okay." Alex got up and ran to her room, grabbing her knife and hunk of half-carved wood, dry now from all the time spent in the sun. She ran back to the center.
"Twenty minutes now," Citlali told her. Alex nodded and put a hand on the Pylon, gripped hard, and started making her way up.
"Alex, it's too dangerous!" Flynn said. Alex ignored him. In a minute she'd reached the shredded material, and picked it off. It fell to the ground and she eyed to gap that it had bridged. She hooked an arm around a rung on the Pylon and started hacking at her piece of wood, chopping the thing that was supposed to be a proud woman down to size. After several minutes, one end came off. She measured again and clipped more off, then began to wedge it into the gap.
Blue energy surged past her and started to fill up the orbs just over her head. A blink of energy crackled by her, searing part of her cheek. The people on the ground gasped. She climbed down and collapsed, legs weak and hand on her cheek. Flynn crouched by her. "You did it!" He said over the Pylon's hum. "And look! You've got your pink hair back!"
Alex didn't understand until he pinched a lock and brought it in front of her face. Instead of the reddish-blonde, the strands were a vibrant pink, standing out from her head. She smoothed it back and felt a spark. "You fixed it!"
"Yeah," Alex said. She crawled to Mstislav.
"Only five minutes!" Citlali said. She joined the others. A glow had materialized around Mstislav.
"You're going back," Rowland said. "You're going back home."
Mstislav stared up at their faces as the glow began to cover him, just as it had Kensing. The others began to say goodbye. Alex was the last person.
"I'm going to miss you M- . . . Mistislav."
"Thank you, Alex," the man said.
Everyone backed away from the prone figure as the glow and the heat grew stronger. They covered their eyes, and Mstislav slowly faded away, replaced by a small figure.
When the light died, they found a young Indian girl looking around fearfully. Alex approached her first.
"I'm Alex. What's your name?"
"Malini," the girl said.
"I'd better get to know you fast, Malini," Alex said, smiling. There was a charge in the air.