by Carlos Bueno
“But Tinker said—”
“Forget Tinker for a minute,” Winsome said. “How did you get lost in the first place?”
“I had a fight with my mom,” Laurie said. “Mom wants me to go to school over the summer, but I don’t even need to!”
“Maybe summer school is a good thing. I heard that kids in other countries—”
“I don’t care! I don’t want to waste the whole summer in school with people I don’t even know!”
“Okay, that’s fair. So then what happened?”
“I took a walk in the woods to calm down a little, but I was so mad that I forgot to watch where I was going, and I got lost, and I spent a long time walking in circles,” said Laurie, her eyes filling with tears. “Then I was attacked by those Jargon things, and I ran and ran until I came here, but then I made a Jargon myself because I didn’t know the rules, and no one here has even heard of Hamilton, or dollars, or anything! And I don’t understand why I need a password, and now I’m going to an island that’s not even on the map and—”
“Hey, slow down—” Winsome said.
“—now I’m lost all over again and . . . and . . .” Laurie started sobbing.
“Wait, don’t, oh man . . .”
Winsome knew how to handle the nastiest people you’d never want to meet, but a crying girl was something else. She gave Laurie an awkward hug until the noise stopped.
“You done?”
“Yeah.” Laurie sniffled.
“Good. I thought you were going to sink the boat,” said Winsome. “Why don’t you go below and get some rest? And think about something before you fall asleep.”
“Think about what?”
“Making your own map.”
Chapter 14. In the Abstract
“Laurie, wake up.”
“Mrfl.” Laurie just rolled over. It felt way too early to wake up!
“Come on. Wake up.”
“Mom?” Laurie heard water splashing. The bath?
“We’re here, girl. Help me tidy up the boat.”
“The . . . boat? What b—” she opened her eyes. The walls were made of wood, and it was Winsome, not Laurie’s mother, who wanted her to wake up. Of course—Laurie was still on the Doppelganger.
Laurie went above deck and got her first look at Abstract Island. The Doppelganger was tied up at the end of the main pier. The little harbor was a perfect half-moon. All around the docks, people were fishing or fussing around on identical boats. On land, identical houses and shops were scattered among trees and hilly parks.
“Hey, Winsome, why do all of the buildings look the same?” Laurie asked. “And the trees, too!”
“That’s how they do things here. First they talk endlessly about what makes a building, or a street, or a pigeon. Once they find the perfect abstract design, they make a bunch of copies. Let’s go get some breakfast and then deliver these letters.”
Winsome lifted a huge mail bag and headed down the pier. Laurie had to hurry to keep up.
There were many restaurants around the harbor. The Philosopher’s Diner was packed with old people wearing togas, and at Random Slice Pizza you never knew what toppings you’d get. It was too early for pizza, though.
They took a booth at the Push & Pop Café and ordered full stacks of pancakes. Instead of cutting through the whole pile of pancakes, Winsome ate them off the top of the stack, one by one.
Mystified, Laurie watched Winsome until she could no longer contain her curiosity. “Why are you eating your pancakes funny?”
“I’m not eating them funny. You’re eating them funny.”
Laurie didn’t push the question, but instead tried another. “What should I do about my map?” she asked between bites.
“Beats me, girl.” Winsome said. “So let’s play a game that will help us figure it out.”
“What game?”
“It’s called Five Whys. It’s a game to play when you get stuck.”
“How do you play?”
“I ask you a Why question, and you answer, and then I ask you another, until we find the reason you got stuck,” Winsome said.
“For example?”
“For example,” Winsome began, pausing to swallow her last bite of pancake, “why do you want to follow that map?”
“It’s the one Hugh Rustic made for me with his ants,” Laurie said. “He found a short-enough path through all of the towns.”
“So why did you want to find a short-enough path?”
“Because there are blippity-million paths through Userland, and Tinker didn’t know how to find the shortest one,” Laurie said.
“Why did you ask Tinker for the shortest path?”
“Because Eponymous said that the Wandering Salesman’s algorithm—well, she didn’t say ‘algorithm,’ I figured that out later—she said his algorithm wasn’t sensible.”
“Why did you want to use the Salesman’s algorithm?”
“Because that’s how he finds his way home.”
“Why did you think his algorithm made sense for you?”
“Because I . . .” Laurie hadn’t thought about it. “I don’t know.”
“You were lost and scared, and he seemed to know what he was doing, right?” Winsome asked.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Sweetie, the Wandering Salesman is a salesman. He has to visit many places to buy and sell,” Winsome said. “And it’s his job to convince people.”
“Eponymous said that it made sense, though.”
“The Salesman’s algorithm makes sense for him, but maybe not for you. It’s tempting to jump on the first answer that comes along. But a lot of the time, it’s not the best. That’s why you have to keep your head on.”
“Why didn’t anybody say anything?” Laurie asked.
“Because it’s up to you to ask the right questions,” Winsome replied. “No one is going to live your life for you, girl.”
“But I asked everyone how to get home!”
“No, it sounds like you drifted away from your real goal. By the time you got to Rustic, you didn’t ask how to find Hamilton. You asked him how to find a short path through all the towns in Userland.”
“Wow, you’re right.” Laurie looked down at her lap. “I feel really stupid now.”
“Nah, don’t feel bad. Everyone makes that kind of mistake.”
“They do?”
“You have no idea,” said Winsome. “Algorithms don’t just happen in turtles and ants and coins. They also happen inside your head, and those are the hardest to get right.”
“I still don’t know how I’m going to get home.”
“Neither do I. But asking the right question is a good start. And as long as you’re here, you might as well be useful.” Winsome pointed out the window to a tall white tower on a hill. “Do you see that lighthouse?”
“What about it?”
“Would you like to go up to the top? The view is amazing.”
“Well . . . sure! That sounds like fun,” Laurie said.
“Great. Take this.” Winsome handed her a heavy wooden box. “I need you to deliver it to the lighthouse keeper.”
“What is it?”
“It’s very expensive. And fragile.”
“But—”
“Go on, he’s waiting. I’ll meet you back at the boat.”
Laurie’s climb up the hill was exhausting, so she stopped at the base of the lighthouse to rest a moment before checking for a doorbell or someone to let her in. There was no sign of either on the ground floor, so she shouted at the tower.
“Hello! Hello up there! Anyone?”
A voice came floating down. “Yes! Come up! The door is open.”
Round and round up the staircase, Laurie huffed and puffed with the unwieldy box, Xor perched on her shoulder. Finally she reached the lighthouse keeper’s room at the top of the tower, completely out of breath. The lighthouse keeper had his back to her, scanning the horizon with binoculars.
“Oh, good,” he murmured. “Put
it down carefully.”
Laurie heaved the box onto a bench and took a look around. The room had no walls to speak of; it was made almost entirely of glass. Laurie stood next to the lighthouse keeper to get a better look out the windows. To one side was the wide blue water. She could barely see a bump on the horizon—maybe that was Userland. To the other side, all of Abstract Island was laid out like, well, like a map. On the coast were the port and the Doppelganger. Two people in togas were arguing in front of the Philosopher’s Diner. From above, the island looked even more neat and organized.
“Wow! You can see everything from here!” Laurie exclaimed.
“Yes.” The lighthouse keeper just kept his eyes glued to the scenery outside.
“So . . . that’s it?”
“That’s it,” said the lighthouse keeper. “Oh, er, thank you.”
* * *
Walking downhill, without the box, was a lot easier than going up.
“What was in that box, anyway?” Laurie wondered out loud on her way back to the Doppelganger.
Xor poked his head out of her pocket. “My guess is light-bulbs. Something boring,” he chimed in. “Adults are always making a fuss over boring things.”
* * *
Back at the boat, Winsome was getting ready to sail again.
“Good work, girl. Thanks,” she said as Laurie came aboard.
“You’re welcome. He didn’t talk much.”
“That’s how some people get, living in a tower all the time,” Winsome said. “Other people start to talk a lot.”
“They do?”
“You’ll see. So what are you going to do now?”
“I thought about it,” Laurie said. “Userland is just one island. This island is . . . nice, but I asked around, and no one here has heard of Hamilton either.”
“Well,” said Winsome, “do you want to be my assistant?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re looking for a way home, right? The Doppelganger goes just about everywhere. You can help me make deliveries, and you’ll be able to look for answers in a lot more places than you could by walking. Or swimming.”
“Isn’t that the same as you telling me where to go?”
Winsome smiled. “You’re getting smarter by the minute. But don’t get too smart. Sail with me for a while. I need the help. If you don’t like it, I’ll drop you off wherever you want. No hard feelings.”
Laurie thought a moment, biting her lip. “Okay,” she said, “you’ve got yourself a deal!”
Chapter 15. Cleverness When It Counts
Travelling with Winsome on the Doppelganger was lots of fun. Laurie got to see so many strange places and people that sometimes she forgot she was trying to find her way back to Hamilton. But her job wasn’t easy.
Whenever they arrived at an island, Winsome would take a huge bag of letters into town and deliver them. She would return a few hours later with a new load of letters to take from that island to somewhere else.
Laurie’s job was to deliver the “interesting” packages. (Winsome kept using that word. Laurie didn’t think it meant what Winsome thought it meant.) “Interesting” customers lived in tall towers in the middle of nowhere, over shaky, scary bridges, on top of high hills, or on the sides of cliffs. The packages were heavy (and fragile . . . and expensive), and the directions for their destinations were often bizarre and incomplete. Just to make it there and back in one piece, Laurie had to be clever about her work.
Unclear directions were bad enough, but this time, the package Laurie was supposed to deliver didn’t have a proper address at all. It just said FIRST, FOLLOW THE BYZANTINE PROCESS. Winsome had gone off somewhere, so Laurie couldn’t even ask her for help.
“What is the Byzantine Process? I don’t even know what it looks like. How can I follow it?” she wondered aloud.
“We’re on the Island of Byzantium,” said Xor, “so the Process must be the name of the main road. Or a river. Or a road beside the river. It’s only logical.”
“You have no idea, do you, Xor?”
“Sure I do! My stepsister is an Atlasaurus!”
“What’s an Atlas . . . never mind. I don’t want to know.”
Where to begin was no mystery, at least. The entrance to Byzantium was blocked by an enormous stone building. All Deliveries Enter Here, a sign read. A long red carpet led inside to a semantic turnstile with two guards, just like in Symbol. The guards seemed to be in the middle of an argument.
“. . . that makes no sense, Anton!”
“It makes perfect sense, Basil. If you only—”
“Excuse me,” said Laurie. “I’d like to pass through.”
“Sorry, miss. For that, you must have a Pass signed by the Junior Officer of the Watch—” began Anton.
“—and countersigned by the Senior Officer of the Watch,” Basil finished.
“Who are they?” she asked.
“We are.”
“Oh, good.”
“Lieutenant Basil is the Junior Officer of the Watch, and I am the Senior Officer of the Watch—” said Anton.
“—but only on even-numbered days,” said Basil. “On odd-numbered days, I’m the Senior Officer and Lieutenant Anton is the Junior.”
“What day is it today?”
“That’s what we were discussing before you interrupted,” Anton said. “Yesterday was the Thirtieth of Pentember. I think we all agree that thirty is an even number, and so I was the Senior Officer.”
“That means today is the Zeroth of Hectember,” said Basil.
The Zeroth of . . . ? Well, everything has to start somewhere, Laurie thought. “So Anton should be Junior today, and Basil should be Senior, right?”
“It’s not as simple as that, miss!” said Anton.
“There is the question of whether zero is even or odd,” said Basil.
“Oh.” Laurie had never thought of zero that way. Now she was curious. “So which is it? Even or odd?”
“Zero is even!” said Anton. “It evenly divides by two. Zero divided by two is zero.”
“That doesn’t prove a thing,” said Basil. “Zero divided by any number is zero. More to the point, if zero is even, then Anton would have two days in a row as Senior Officer, and I won’t stand for that!”
“Even more to the point,” said Anton, “if zero is odd, then Basil would be Senior both today and tomorrow, the First of Hectember. I won’t sit still for that!”
“You see, miss, when it comes to important questions, where you stand depends on where you sit,” Basil said.
“But—” Laurie started.
“Anyway, you need to have your Pass Approval Request Form approved first.”
“My Pass Approval Request Form? I don’t understand.”
“Oh, we don’t have the Passes here, of course,” said Basil. “That would be bad security!”
“You have to get your Pass Approval Request approved by General Case. If he says you can pass, then we say you can pass,” said Anton.
“He’s down the hall to the right,” added Basil. “Now see here, Anton: If you add two odd numbers together you get an even, right? And zero plus zero is zero. So if zero is even like you insist, then it must also be odd at the same time . . .”
Laurie walked down an endless hall until she came to a slightly open door marked General Constantin Case, Office of Perimeter Security. She knocked lightly and stepped inside the room.
“Hello, Mister General, sir? I’m looking for a Pass to go through the gate.”
“Hmm.” General Case looked up from his papers for a moment. “And what is your business?”
“I’m delivering a package.”
“Hmm. How many fenceposts do I need for 100 feet of fence?”
“Excuse me?”
“Fenceposts, child. I want to put a fencepost every 10 feet for 100 feet of fence. How many do I need?”
“Uh, 10?”
“That’s what I thought, too,” he said, “but we’re running short. I suspect the en
emy is stealing them.”
Laurie had no idea what he was talking about. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but about that Pass . . .”
“Take this to General Darius down the hall, in the Office of Logistics,” said Case, handing her a blank Pass Approval Request Form. “If he approves it, I’ll approve it.”
“Thank you!” Laurie said brightly.
“Hmm.” He turned back to his fencepost problem, leaving Laurie to find General Darius on her own.
* * *
General Damien Darius was also busy with a stack of paperwork. Laurie noticed a large map of a river on his desk; the map was covered in scribbles and arrows.
“General Darius? I need a Pass,” said Laurie, handing him the Pass Approval Request Form she’d gotten from Case.
“Are you here about the mandelbroccoli?”
“Uh, mandelbroccoli? No, sir.”
“Then you have information regarding the wolf.”
“The wolf?”
“Yes, the wolf,” said Darius. “One of my men is trying to move a wolf, a goat, and a load of mandelbroccoli across the Concurrent Streams. The boat is only big enough for him and one other thing.”
“Can’t he take one at a time?” she asked.
“No good. If he takes the wolf and leaves the goat alone with the broccoli, she’ll eat it. If he takes the broccoli and leaves the wolf with the goat, the wolf will eat her.”
“So take the goat first,” said Laurie, doing a pantomime in her head. “And then take . . . oh.”
“Yes. No matter what he takes next, he has the same problem on the other side.” Darius said.
“That’s terrible news, but I’m actually asking about a Pass,” Laurie replied.
“And I don’t have time for civilian chit-chat. Take whatever this is to General Euripides in the Office of Records,” Darius said, handing back Laurie’s Form. “If he approves it, I’ll approve it.”
Down the hall Laurie went.
* * *
Euripides had his hands full with a problem of his own. People were crowded around huge record books lying on tables in the Office of Records. Some people were trying to read long strings of numbers from the books. Others wanted to write new numbers in the books. The readers and writers were thrashing about, getting in each other’s way. It looked like a fight could start at any time.