Hollow World

by Michael J. Sullivan

  “A what?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Besides, the ISP has made everyone in Hollow World immune to germs. And people don’t die anymore, so this whole idea of a better afterlife is just…well…silly.” Bob frowned.

  “So why are you here?”

  “To be special—to be like you and Ren. You’re just so—I want you to know how much I admire you. We all do. Ren explains that to be like you, we need to build character. Can’t be an individual without character. He says it’s through pain and struggle that we grow as people and become unique. We need to be rocks like the two of you instead of what we are, dandelion puffs blown in the wind.”

  “Ren called you that?”

  Bob smiled. “No—my own thought. Nice, don’t you think?”

  “Very poetic.”

  Bob threw the latch on the barn and pulled the big doors open. Inside was a dark, manure-scented cave defined only by white slices of light cutting between vertical boards. “Everyone needs to be responsible for themselves. No free rides. If you can’t cut it, you don’t deserve to live. It’s that simple.”

  Ellis grinned, hearing Warren’s words spilling out of Bob’s mouth. In his head, Ellis imagined a giant clown getting out of a tiny car.

  “Survival of the fittest,” Bob said. “That’s the Darwins’ creed, isn’t it?”

  “That was Charles Darwin’s theory of natural selection—which traditionally hasn’t coexisted all that comfortably with Christianity.”

  Standing before the row of cows, Bob paused, looking at Ellis with a puzzled expression. “I don’t know about such things, but”—Bob held out the buckets—“Ren said you’d want to contribute for your breakfast.”

  “Oh, right, of course. No free lunch.” Ellis smiled and took the pails. “You’ll need to show me.”

  Ellis expected milking a cow would be a complicated thing. It always was in movies, but, then again, according to Hollywood grown men, who could build highways and clean out putrid city-sewer tunnels, couldn’t manage to change a baby’s diaper without rubber gloves and a gas mask. The process was remarkably easy once he formed a rhythm and was assured he wasn’t hurting the cow by tugging. The hardest part was avoiding the swish of the manure-coated tail while sitting on the little stool and holding the bucket between his knees.

  Bob watched until satisfied that Ellis was doing okay, then went about feeding and watering the barn’s other residents.

  “How long have you been here—at this farm?” Ellis asked over the jet of milk hitting the side of the pail.

  “Little less than half a year.”

  Ellis couldn’t see Bob, who was on the other side of the cow that had been introduced as Olivia. “And you like it better than Hollow World?”

  “Oh—much!” Ellis heard the scrape of a shovel. “I didn’t think I would, and I didn’t at first. Life in the forest must have been hard. Only Ren could appreciate that challenge. Too advanced for the rest of us. But here it’s much—well, it’s a lot easier.”

  “Don’t you find it boring? Even a little stupid—I mean, struggling when you don’t have to?”

  “That’s the point. It’s unpleasant living here—especially when you don’t feel well and you have to go out in a cold rain. I’ll stand at the door sometimes just looking out and wonder what the bleez I’m doing. Then I force myself, and a funny thing happens. I get the work done, hating all of it, but afterward I feel great. I mean, I’m exhausted and filthy, but I know I did something. We call it Ren’s magic. It’s like a delectation that you can get all by yourself. You don’t need a device to feel pleasure, and the good feeling lasts for days. I never really felt that back in Hollow World. Nothing anyone does really seems to matter there. That’s another part of character building—a sense of pride.”

  By the time Ellis finished filling the four buckets, he had sore hands, and, as inclined as he was to ridicule Warren’s patchwork of philosophies, he had to admit it did feel good to do something worth doing. Everyone in the house would appreciate the milk, and the cows appeared to appreciate being relieved of their bloat. In all his years of ten- and twelve-hour days filled with thousands of hours of meetings, he had never felt that sort of pride or accomplishment. Somewhere along the way people had traded the virtues of work for a steady paycheck.

  “It makes the food taste better when you’ve a hand in making it,” Bob explained, picking up two of the pails and leading the way back to the house, each of them sloshing buckets of steaming milk.

  Breakfast was better than dinner, consisting of unburned blueberry muffins and omelets. After the meal, Warren abandoned him and disappeared upstairs with Pol and Dex. Ellis didn’t mind; he didn’t know exactly when Pax would return and preferred they meet alone. He helped Yal with dishes, then walked out the front door and down Firestone Lane, figuring Pax would port in about where they had separated the day before.

  What am I going to say?

  Hig was out cutting hay, and Ellis marveled at the ingenuity of the mowing machine. Circling the field in a clockwise manner, the two big horses—Noah and Webster—pulled the device, which appeared to be little more than two big wagon wheels and a seat. A crankshaft and connecting rod transformed the rotary power of the axle into the reciprocating motion of the saw blade that sliced back and forth between triangle ledger plates as they combed through the grass. The whole thing was just a larger version of hair clippers, but what Ellis found fascinating was how it was powered by the rotating wheels. It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise; he’d seen the same concept in a push lawn mower. This just worked so much better cutting a wide swath with each pass as Hig drove the horses from the seat between the wheels.

  The smell of cut grass filled the air. Ellis sighed.

  What am I going to say?

  He didn’t really know.

  Warren had invited him to be part of his little village. Life at Firestone might be harder than he was used to, and for Dex, Yal, Hig, and Bob, this might be a pretend life, like dude ranching used to be, some sort of rugged vacation or spiritual retreat. But for Warren and himself, who didn’t have a natural place in Hollow World, this could be home. He was a bit too old to be hauling bales of hay, but it was familiar and felt real, and he liked the idea of building something. Having faced death with nothing to show for it, he had discovered such things mattered.

  But then there was Pax.

  Ellis found he was anxious for Pax’s return, and surprised to find he was trembling as he waited at the fence. He couldn’t help thinking how great it would be if Pax would join them at Firestone. They could share a house, farm the land, create their own food, and read around the stove in winter. Living with Pax would be different from how it had been with Peggy. What had attracted him to her was sex. When it dried up, and it had all too quickly, all they shared was their child. At Isley’s passing, all that had remained was convenience. It would be different with Pax. He felt—

  I thought maybe you were going native, walking on the other side of the road, so to speak.

  Warren was nuts. He liked Pax—that was all. Who wouldn’t like Pax? The two of them just sort of clicked, like old friends who’d just met. Friends-at-first-sight, if there was such a thing. Pax made him feel better about himself, made him feel like he was someone important. Pax had a strange way of making him feel happy. That’s what good friends were supposed to do, right? Maybe he just never had a really good friend before. Maybe that was why…Ellis watched Hig orbit the field, wondering if it was possible to fall in love with someone—just someone—not a woman, not a man—just a person. What is love anyway?

  Ellis shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. What the hell am I thinking?

  He was starting to feel a little light-headed. His hands felt a bit numb as well.

  “Ellis Rogers.”

  There hadn’t been a flash or pop, but when he turned he saw the familiar bowler hat and silver vest. Pax’s face was rich with joy—beaming with a wide smile.

  P
ax ran the distance between them and without warning hugged Ellis tight. “I was worried. I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  “I missed you too,” he said, noticing how Pax smelled like cinnamon, like the room he’d first awakened in.

  Pax drew back and shot a quick glance over Ellis’s shoulder at the house and another at Hig and his horse team. “Can we go? Alva misses you too.”

  “What about Vin?”

  “Vin can kiss my hairless butt.”

  Ellis couldn’t help laughing, which made Pax laugh, and he was surprised how much he enjoyed that sound and seeing Pax happy. “C’mon.” Pax formed a portal just behind them, and once more Ellis could see the dining room. “Alva has a hot-chocolate pattern for you to try.”

  “Hot chocolate, eh?”

  “With something called marshmallows—although Alva won’t tell me what they are. Every time I ask about food from your time she says, ‘You don’t want to know.’”

  Ellis hesitated. He wanted to go. But…

  You hear about guys that go to prison and figure they got no choice, you know?

  “Pax,” Ellis began, “I don’t think I can.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The dining room looked so inviting, and yet…You two trying out some new-age sex toys?

  “I think I’m going to stay here.”

  “What?” The word was spoken in a barely audible whisper that killed the smile.

  Ellis felt horrible. “I don’t really belong in Hollow World, but I was thinking that maybe you might consider staying here, too—with me.”

  “What are you talking about? Everyone belongs in Hollow World. That’s the world. People aren’t meant to live on the surface.”

  “But what would I do there?”

  “Live, like everyone else.”

  “But I’m not like everyone else.”

  “I know. Don’t you think I know that? But…” Pax looked again toward the house. “This place, these people, that Ren—they’re…bad. They’re…evil.”

  “Warren is like my brother.” Ellis sighed, realizing how useless it was to describe that kind of bond to someone who had never been part of a family. “He and I are very close. We’ve been through a lot together. He’s always been there when I needed him—always.”

  “You have to listen to me, Ellis Rogers. We didn’t solve all the mysteries concerning the murder of Geo-24. Something else is going on. Geo-24 was killed for a reason. The real Pol-789 was killed for a reason, and Ren is behind all of it. Ren said they came to this farm a year ago. Well, a year ago was when the first murder took place, and it was then that protests against the Hive Project became more organized and vocal. Protests against something that isn’t even possible. They’re up to something, something horrible, and if you stay here…”

  “What? I’ll become evil too?”

  Pax looked down at his pistol, still strapped to his hip. Wearing it had become a habit.

  “Of course not—you could never be. That’s why they’ll have to kill you. They will kill you, take your gun, and then kill others. Come back with me, please.”

  “But you still can’t tell me why—why you think any of this?”

  Pax looked away. “Can’t you just trust me?”

  “Pol told me about your past—some of it, at least. Why Vin lives with you.”

  Pax sucked in a breath and quivered. Tears formed. One slipped down, leaving a glistening trail. “That was personal, confidential. The real Pol would never tell anyone.”

  “Pol was just trying to help.”

  “Help Ren, you mean. Ren’s not your friend. They want you for something. Something they need. Something they can’t get on their own. I wish you could just believe me. I’ve never lied to you.”

  Ellis felt horrible. He hated the look on Pax’s face, knowing he had put it there. Pax had been so happy, and now…“I don’t think it’s a matter of lying. Maybe it’s just that you don’t know the difference.”

  Again Pax stared at him, injured. “Because—because I’m crazy?”

  “No—I didn’t say that.”

  “But you think there’s something wrong with me.”

  “This isn’t about you. It’s about taking responsibility for one’s self. It’s about doing something worthwhile. And…think about it for a second. I’ve known you for what? Three days? I’ve known Warren since I was fourteen. We share a history, a life, a world. I understand him. He understands me, but I barely know you.”

  “I understand you, Ellis Rogers, whether you believe it or not. I also know that if you stay here, they’ll use you. They’ll take your gun and—”

  “Here.” Ellis unbuckled the holster and pressed it into Pax’s hands. “Space it if it makes you feel better. Do like we did to your chip. Destroy it. I don’t care. I’m going to stay here. Warren traveled two thousand years to find me. I can’t just abandon him to go drink hot chocolate. He needs me—more than he knows, because he’s got some really stupid ideas that I’m going to have to straighten out. We’re going to try and build a future, a real future in a real world with real people.”

  “Real people?”

  “I—I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “How did you mean it?”

  “I meant…”

  “You meant people like you—Darwins.”

  “Well—yeah. Warren thinks we can get the ISP to provide access to some female patterns, then we can restart a natural population here.”

  Pax didn’t say anything.

  “Pax, I’m going to stay. You might not understand it, but I belong here, I think. I was actually hoping that maybe you could join us.”

  “Join you? You aren’t hearing me, Ellis Rogers. These people are murderers. They killed Geo-24. They killed Pol-789, and they’re planning on doing something much, much worse. They—”

  “I know you are afraid of them, and you were right about Geo-24, but they didn’t have anything to do with that killing. Well, one of them did, but it wasn’t sanctioned. They didn’t know what that person was up to. That’s why the killer assumed Geo-24’s identity; they weren’t allowed to come back here. Warren wouldn’t forgive a murderer. Believe me, Warren has always been pro death penalty. And Pol isn’t an impostor. You’re just seeing things. You’re letting your imagination get away from you. You’re just being—” Ellis stopped himself.

  Pax stood rigid, staring, shivering as if it were midwinter. “Paranoid? That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it? And that’s just another way of saying I’m crazy.”

  The door to the house slapped. Ellis could hear the crack echo behind him.

  “Please,” was all Pax said, the word spoken in a whisper, another tear falling.

  Ellis looked over his shoulder. Warren, Pol, and Dex were on the porch, looking their way. “Maybe you should go.”

  The look on Pax’s face broke Ellis’s heart.

  As Pax walked through the portal, as the opening to that homey space in Hollow World closed, he felt oddly drunk, dizzy even. Ellis reached out to steady himself with the fence but couldn’t feel the wood. His whole arm was numb. Then the pain exploded in his chest. No warning. A truck just hit him. Ellis collapsed, bouncing off the fence and landing on his back.

  The last sight he saw was the blue sky. His last thoughts weren’t of Peggy or Isley, but of Pax, a woodstove, and maybe a dog. Yes, they definitely should have had a dog.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS

  When Ellis woke, the blue sky was gone, replaced by a white luminescence. He was on his back. A bed. Thin mattress, thin pillow, thin blanket, with what looked like white porcelain safety rails. He was naked but warm. Maybe the mattress was heated. Maybe he didn’t need heat anymore. From somewhere came the sound of an ocean’s surf. Not loud, not harsh, but soft, gentle, relaxing.

  “Welcome, Ellis Rogers,” a feminine voice said. No one around. The voice came from everywhere. “How are you feeling?”

  “Feeling? I’m not feeling anything.
”

  “Wonderful,” said the soothing voice.

  Stillness—total stillness, and white light, and the undulating roll of waves.

  “Did I die?”

  “Yes.”

  While not completely unexpected, the answer still surprised him.

  So this is death? Not so bad. Could have been a lot worse. Death is a lot like a spa.

  He was still breathing. Maybe he only thought he was. Residual memory or something. Maybe dying had a decompression process, a PTSD cooldown. If this was death, life was certainly cause for all kinds of stress disorders. He had to be dead. He could breathe perfectly. He took in deep breaths the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in years.

  “Are you God?” he finally asked, already thinking that the feminists and goddess worshipers had it right all along.

  “I’m Maude.”

  “Maude?”

  “Yes.”

  Ellis wasn’t sure what to make of that. All he could think of was the 1970s television show staring Bea Arthur. The thought of Bea Arthur as God was a bit disturbing, and yet he could see it in a weird way. Only the soft voice wasn’t that of the Maude from the television show. This voice was serene, gentle. More like a voice from a meditation CD. Still, Ellis had a bigger question he needed answered. He hadn’t smelled any brimstone, but he might not have reached the penthouse either. “Where am I exactly?”

  “Recovery Room 234-A, Level 17, Replacements Central Wing, Institute for Species Preservation, Wegener, Kerguelen micro continent, Antarctic Plate, Hollow World, Earth.”

  “Hollow World?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maude?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you a vox?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not dead then, am I?”

  “No, not dead. You only died.”

  A portal opened and someone entered the room. Ellis had no idea who. The individual was naked, with no distinguishing marks. All Ellis knew was that it wasn’t Pax, Pol, or anyone else from the farm. This person had all their fingers. That narrowed the possibilities to only several million. Ellis actually had no idea about the population of Hollow World but imagined it to be significantly less than the billions that had roamed the continents back in the days of China and India.