by Dima Zales
The ball lightning takes a sharp turn and flies right at Felix’s face.
Felix gasps, eyes widening, but the projectile dissipates right before it would’ve singed his unibrow.
“Fine.” Itzel walks over to a corner, and I realize they’ve dressed a mannequin in the gray-green spacesuit. “Let’s do the test.”
They put me into the body portion of the suit—a process eerily reminiscent of getting inside a straightjacket. The helmet goes on next, and it smells chemical-y, like the box from a new phone.
I patiently wait while they fasten everything together. The whole process takes longer than I expected.
Itzel then picks up a small microphone from the table, presses a button on the suit, and says, “Can you hear me?”
The sound is sharp and crisp, as though played through a high-end surround sound system.
“Yes, I can hear you.” I cautiously move my arms and legs.
Whoa. This is going to be an adjustment. Assuming any of it works, that is.
“Good,” Itzel says and presses something on my back. “Turning on.”
Before I can ask how an article of clothing can be turned on, a digital display appears inside the spherical visor, as though it were a screen.
I guess it is a screen. Stats such as air pressure, gravitational pull, oxygen content, toxicity, radiation measurement, and temperature are listed in my peripheral vision.
“I’m pretty sure this isn’t standard spacesuit functionality.” I grin. “I feel like Master Chief or Samus Aran, not an astronaut.”
“Cosmonaut,” Felix corrects me. He then looks at Itzel and explains, “Master Chief is a hero from an Earth video game named Halo, and Samus Aran is a heroine from another game called Metroid.”
“I had to modify the primitive tech I was provided, or the test would be useless,” Itzel says to me, pointedly ignoring Felix. “The sorry excuse for a space program on this world is pitifully backward—especially when it comes to sending actual people into space.”
Felix groans. “Not this again. Can we focus on the test, please?”
“Right.” Itzel waves her arms and looks at me. “Do that.”
I do as she orders.
More movements and gestures follow.
“Good, now let’s go to the hub room,” Itzel says, and we walk out of the lab.
When we arrive in the hub, I look down at the mirrored floor.
Yep. I look like a spacewoman, with my face completely hidden by the gold-tinted visor.
“The test is simplicity itself,” Itzel says when we approach the yellow gate we’ll need to take. “See a vision of yourself walking in, pay attention to the monitoring equipment, and tell us what you saw when the vision is over.”
I recall my last vision and cringe. “Couldn’t you have put together a robot rover instead of making me experience a possibly traumatic event? A gizmo that goes in, takes the readings you need, and then automatically backs out of the gate?”
“The gates don’t allow that,” Itzel says with obvious disappointment.
Felix nods. “The gate makers probably worried about one Otherland sending a world-buster bomb to another and made sure unmanned technology can’t arrive on the other side.”
The idea of something going into the gates and not coming out is a scary one. I wonder if there are conditions that would make a Cognizant disappear as well?
“Wrong,” Itzel says in a condescending tone. “You can strap any bomb you wish onto a useless Cognizant.” She looks him up and down. “After that, you can push him in and voila—world blown up. My guess is that gate makers actually feared human technology or that of my kind—who, even then, were close to unlocking the secret of putting a gnome mind inside a robotic body.”
“Robot gnomes?” I turn my helmeted head toward Felix, then look back at Itzel. “Did I hear that right?”
“Leaving biology behind is a milestone for true space exploration,” Itzel says. “Gnomes have a bigger vision than the rest of the Cognizant kind. Yes, the gate makers made many habitable worlds accessible to all, but what about the whole universes that surround those worlds? We want to reach for the stars and—”
“The test,” Felix says. “Let’s get to it before the establishment of the Gnome Federation.” He smirks at Itzel. “Or is it the Gnome Empire?”
Itzel narrows her large hazel eyes at him. “Remind me why you’re here?”
Felix glares back at her. “I got the spacesuit parts. And did you forget who put together the backend for the helmet UI?”
“I was just keeping you out of my hair.” She touches the tallest spike on her head. “In the time it took you to write that code, I—”
“Guys, please,” I say. “This getup is very uncomfortable.”
“Sorry.” Itzel demonstratively turns her back on Felix.
“Right, let’s do this,” Felix says. “Start your vision and try to remember all the readings.”
“Hopefully, you won’t die this time,” Itzel chimes in. “Or if you do die, let’s hope you don’t die so fast that you can’t gather the data.”
“So we want me to die slowly?” I take a shuffling step toward the gate and do my best to convince myself that I’m about to enter it for real. “That sounds like a blast. Unless I die of a blast—that would be too fast.”
“Actually, since the suit is—”
I’ll never know what Felix was going to say because Itzel pinches his shoulder and he yelps.
I can guess what he was going to say, though. The suit is fireproof, so even an explosion should make my vision death long and painful.
Great. Can’t wait.
Evening out my breathing, I launch myself into Headspace.
The shapes that surround me aren’t scary enough for the “painful death scenario.”
Maybe the suit is flawless?
Encouraged, I eagerly reach out with my ethereal wisp and start the vision.
Chapter Thirteen
I’m standing in the hub wearing a spacesuit.
“Phew,” Felix says. “I thought she’d never leave.”
The vision stops, and I find myself back in the real hub.
“Well?” Itzel asks eagerly.
“Don’t get your hopes up.” I turn away from the gate. “No painful death for me yet. I just saw Felix here, outside the gate. I don’t think you were there in my vision. Maybe—”
“Of course.” Itzel smacks herself on the forehead. “If your vision is supposed to start with you standing here in the hub, I have to leave before the test starts.”
“You do?” I look down at her.
“Our immunity to Cognizant powers extends even to your kind,” she explains. “A seer can’t have a vision of a gnome’s future, so if I stay, you’ll have trouble seeing this hub.”
“Wow,” I say. “You weren’t kidding. Gnomes are a force to be reckoned with.”
“You should go so that the test can commence,” Felix tells Itzel. “We’ll come find you in the lab when we’re done.”
She walks away slowly, and as soon as she’s gone, Felix says, “Phew. I thought she’d never leave.”
So much for Felix’s free will. Even his intonation is the same as in the vision I just had.
Gathering my focus, I leap into Headspace again.
This time, the shapes that surround me play music that would make a good score for a horror movie.
My wisp metaphysically quivering, I touch the nearest vision shape.
I lumber into the bright yellow shimmer of the gate.
The other side looks the same as when I saw it last: like a large theme park on Jupiter that had been nuked a few thousand years ago.
I take a step and say, “That's one small step for a woman, but one giant leap for Cognizant kind.”
No one replies.
The ground under my feet is again cracked and covered with multicolored slime—as is the jagged half left of the Ferris wheel in the distance. Same with the ruins of the other rollercoaste
rs.
Carefully, I suck in spacesuit oxygen.
The strange odor is there, but otherwise, I’m fine.
The stats in my peripheral view are going berserk. This place is radioactive as hell, and the air pressure is almost nonexistent.
Remembering my destination gate, I walk in its direction.
I make it halfway when the stomach pain begins.
It’s not as severe as when I died here in my vision, but similar.
I rush for my destination—and trip over a slime-covered plastic container.
It’s heart-warming to know that trash can survive whatever Armageddon happened on this world.
Faceplanting on the ground, I curse the future for its attachment to certain patterns.
The fall knocks all air out of my lungs, and like in my previous vision, the pain explodes into fireworks.
Doing my best not to let the agony make my mind go blank, I watch the stat readings—
I come back to the hub and almost step into the gate when a hand grabs me from behind.
“Does that mean the test was a success?” Felix asks me.
“No.” I turn to face him. “The suit needs more work.”
“Then why did you almost walk in?” He glances at the gate behind me.
I shrug. “I must’ve done too good of a job convincing myself I have to walk in there.”
He frowns. “Good thing I was here to stop you. Let’s go tell Her Nerd Highness.”
“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black,” I mutter as we start walking.
“I know,” Itzel says crisply inside my helmet. “And His Highness forgets I can hear everything from your helmet.”
“I knew she heard,” Felix whispers defensively, but he doesn’t insult the gnome for the rest of our walk back.
When we reach the lab, they take off my gear, and I do my best to explain the different readings I saw throughout my misadventure.
“At least her blood didn’t boil this time,” Itzel muses and writes something on a notepad in front of her. “We’re close, but we might as well be on a different planet given the tech limitations I have to—”
“Hold on,” Felix says. “Blood boil?”
“The pressure in that world is low.” Itzel waves at her notes. “That moves the boiling point of fluids in her body below—”
“If you expect me to convince myself to walk into that gate ever again, you might want to stop there,” I cut in.
“Assuming you have anything to test,” Itzel says. “As I was trying to say, based on these readings, this test is a huge letdown. I think we pushed this primitive technology to its limits. It would take gnome-powered tech to survive in that world.”
“And if only we could somehow locate a gnome for that,” Felix says sarcastically. “Unless you’re saying we need a better gnome?”
“You don’t understand.” Itzel looks at me. “Gnome tech requires a gnome to power it over time.” She produces another ball lightning between her palms, looks at Felix as though considering tossing it in his face, then makes it fizzle away. “It would mean I’d have to join your expedition, and as much as I like to explore, I have a huge debt I need to focus on repaying and—”
“Please, Itzel.” I step toward her. “It’s not like I’m going exploring for the fun of it. This is all so that I can meet my biological father. It’s the only way I can get to him.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to put my debt first,” Itzel says, not unkindly. “Kit only paid me enough to—”
“Is your debt in cc?” Felix cuts in. Seeing my confused stare, he explains, “That’s what they call their crypto cash on Gomorrah.”
“You’re from Gomorrah?” I look at Itzel with renewed curiosity.
“I don’t live there permanently, as that would strip me of my power, but I do spend a lot of time there. A lot of my kind do, on the account of the cool tech.” Itzel spikes up her hair.
“Is that how you met Kit?” I ask.
“Yes,” Itzel says. “I’m a consultant at Tranquility rehab. They’re trying to replicate parts of their famous dream walk therapy using virtual reality, and I need the money.”
Felix walks to the table, takes a pen and a piece of paper, and writes something.
“How about this?” He hands the paper to Itzel. “Would that be enough to help us?”
The gnome’s eyes threaten to jump out and roll around. “Oh, yes, that would cover my debt and leave me with a good amount of spare cash.” She stares at the paper reverently. “So many toys I’d be able to buy, so much—”
“So we have a deal?” Felix asks.
“You’ll have to prove to me you actually have that much cc.” She unglues her gaze from the paper and looks at Felix as though for the first time.
He puffs up like a peacock. “I can do one better. I can put the money into a quantum escrow for you. How does that sound?”
She looks at the paper again, then at each of us. “I don’t think you know what this would mean for me. The debt—”
“It’s our pleasure.” Felix looks vaguely uncomfortable. “When do you think we can do the next test?”
“I can have the beta suit done tomorrow,” she says eagerly.
“Tomorrow isn’t a good day for Sasha to test anything.” Felix darts me a pitying glance. “We’re going to a funeral.”
My heart sinks. Somehow, I’ve blocked that factoid from my mind, and the reminder catches me like a gut punch.
“Just come back when you can.” Itzel gives me a sympathetic glance. “I’ll use the extra time to design my own suit, now that I’m going.”
“Let me know if you need me to bring any parts from Gomorrah to make this easier,” Felix says. “I’ve—”
“No!” She grabs Felix’s forearm. “If someone catches you smuggling, you’ll be questioned—and they’ll know I was involved. I can’t partake in anything that could get me banned from Gomorrah. You don’t have enough money for that—not to mention ccs are useless outside Gomorrah.”
“No parts from Gomorrah. Got it.” Felix pulls his arm away and rubs the place she grabbed.
“If you don’t need me, I’m going to head out,” I say.
“I’ve got this,” Itzel says.
“Do svidaniya,” Felix tells me.
I repeat his Russian farewell, finding it easy to match his pronunciation.
“Ne volnujsja,” Itzel says to me. “Vsjo budet sdelano.”
“That’s ‘don’t worry—everything will be done,’” Felix translates.
“I know,” I say indignantly. My Russian may not be as good as his yet, but it’s getting closer with every sleepless night.
“Your Russian is fluent,” Felix says grudgingly to Itzel. “The legendary gnome knack for languages must be true.”
“It’s probably better than my English,” she says, still in Russian, then picks up a book in Russian written by Konstantin Tsiolkovsky. “If I didn’t already know Russian, I would’ve learned it just to read this.”
“Now you’re just showing off,” Felix says, switching back to English.
Figuring I already said my goodbyes, I leave them to bicker and head out.
Thalia drives me back to the city.
When I get home, I update Fluffster on everything that’s transpired and dive into my vision-assisted Russian studies—which culminate in me reading a short book I buy on Ozon.ru, Russia’s online book superstore.
As I read, I barely have to look up any words. Either this book targets early grade reading level, or I’m making even more progress than I thought.
When it gets late, I don’t even try to sleep, opting to rehearse the eulogy until I can’t take it anymore, and then I switch back to Russian and start War and Peace in its original language. This time, I do have to look up some words—and yawning gets to be a real problem as the night goes on.
I finally drift off to sleep around five in the morning, only for my alarm to wake me in what feels like the blink of an eye. My head aches, a
nd my eyes burn with grittiness as I throw on a robe and stumble to the bathroom to wash up.
At breakfast, Felix and Kit are as gloomy as I am.
“Are you going to wear the camera?” Fluffster asks Felix when we’re almost done eating. “I don’t want to miss Rose’s funeral, but I don’t want to force anyone to carry me.”
I don’t need Nero’s powers to tell that my domovoi is lying through his rodent teeth. The reality is that he’s been reluctant to even talk about leaving the apartment after the trip to Baba Yaga’s restaurant, when she’d nearly killed him in the process of jolting his memory.
“It’s all set up,” Felix says solemnly. “I’ll stream the live feed for you on the big TV, and it will be in Ultra HD. You’ll feel as though you’re there.”
“Thank you,” Fluffster says sheepishly. “I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it,” Felix says and leaves the kitchen, with the rest of us on his tail.
When I get to my room, I dress in all black. Coming out, I see that my friends are also wearing somber colors.
No one talks much on the way down to the limo, but a huge surprise is waiting for us downstairs.
Ariel.
She’s standing next to the building, and even in her funeral clothes, she looks ready to shine in a Hollywood movie—or jump onto a runway.
“Sasha, Felix,” she exclaims. “I missed you guys!”
Wow. She not only looks but sounds better.
When she gives me a huge hug, some tension in my chest eases, and for a moment, I almost forget what day it is.
Felix, on the other hand, turns beet red after his hug—Ariel’s décolletage strikes again.
Releasing Felix, Ariel starts toward Thalia.
The nun steps back and shakes her head. She probably swore off hugs and kisses when she gave up speaking.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Ariel after she gives Kit a much more hesitant hug and steps back.
“I figured I’d ride with you.” Her forehead creases. “You didn’t think I’d miss Rose’s funeral, did you?”
Thalia demonstratively gets behind the wheel, and we all climb into the car as I say, “I didn’t know what to think. I just know Rose would’ve understood if you didn’t show. She’d want you to focus on getting well.”