Part 7 (1/2)

They walked to the front door and stopped, each of them staring uncertainly at the door.

”What do we do?” asked Simon.

”We go in,” announced Caleb.

”We don't have that much time. We have to get back to Elijah,” said Simon. But he said the words slowly, as if he was thinking about it.

”But there could be clues in here,” said Caleb, ”about where we are.”

Abbey's lunch jumped hurdles in her stomach. She willed it to settle down. ”We could get into trouble. What if the place isn't open to the public?”

Caleb gave his customary shrug of arms and eyebrows. ”We say we made a mistake and leave.” He put his hand on the door handle, as if they'd already made the decision.

”But we still have the problem that someone here seems to know who we are, and we don't know who they are,” Abbey said.

”Exactly,” said Caleb. ”That's why we need to go in.”

Simon was looking at Abbey strangely. ”You all right, Ab? You're really pale.”

Abbey gave a weak laugh. ”Just hungry, maybe.” Or about to vomit, she thought.

”Here-put my toque on. Hide your hair. If you do look like Dr. Livingstone, we don't need any more comments.”

Abbey pulled the toque low over her brow. She looked at the tree again. It had a maze-like feel, for mazes and trees shared the same mathematical base, and mazes, when stretched, became trees. But her mind wouldn't stop trying to trace the branches, and it was making her dizzy.

She followed her brothers through the door, which closed with a slight rush of air behind them. The light level didn't change when they entered, and Abbey realized there was no solid roof to the building, only the same epidermal layer that covered the entire city, slightly more opaque but still allowing for sufficient natural light that no other lighting was required. A narrow hallway ran directly away from the door and came to a T-junction, branching right and left several steps away from the entrance.

Caleb and Simon headed down the hallway, their runners padding softly on the carpeted floor. Abbey's drenched feet were starting to hurt in her rubber boots, and her palms were growing similarly damp. They turned right at the T-junction and followed the new white hallway, which branched again into two more white hallways. At the third empty hallway, they stopped.

”This is bizarre,” said Simon. ”Where are the offices?”

Abbey leaned against the wall-very slightly, so her brothers wouldn't notice-and tried not to sink to the floor. The amplitude of oscillation of her knees reminded her of a vibrating saw she'd once seen played as a musical instrument. Could she be sick from the theoretical time travel, or coming down with some terrible local illness to which she had no antibodies?

”We should go back and go left,” Abbey managed to mutter.

”Why?” said Caleb.

”The building is a maze, I think. The tree on the sign is a symbol. We should go left.” Why was she saying this? She had no evidence, other than a feeling, and feelings weren't reliable.

”Say what?” Caleb asked.

”In a simply connected maze you can follow the left-hand rule. Walk forward and keep your left hand on the wall at all times.”

Simon looked at her strangely; she wondered if he could see the sweat on her brow. ”What makes you think this is a maze?”

”It's just a guess. I think it's the security system and part of the building design. Don't ask me why. I just have a feeling...” She trailed off. ”Even if I'm wrong, going left is just as good as going right. We have no idea where we're going, and this way we'll be able to find our way out.” She felt vaguely relieved at having dredged up a rational basis for acting on her feeling.

”All right, works for me.” Caleb returned to their starting point and went down the left hall, his hand lightly tracing the wall. Turn after turn took them one way and then the other. Although she had tried to keep track, Abbey found herself turned around with no idea which direction they were facing, or whether they were moving deeper into the heart of the building, or skirting its edges. Then, abruptly, they stopped being offered choices of path, but the narrow halls continued to twist and turn them in and then out. The maze had become a labyrinth. Labyrinths, Abbey knew, had been created to focus the mind and produce a meditative state as one approached the center. She'd always thought she would feel impatient in a labyrinth, resenting each step that took her away rather than toward her destination, even if it was the only way to get to the destination. But the farther she walked, the more the churning in her stomach calmed, and the room began to right itself again.

By the time they came to the final corner, Abbey felt almost tranquil. She knew they must be near the center. The light falling on the walls was different, and there was the hum of voices and computer equipment. When they rounded the bend, they saw rows on rows of offices, lab tables, and cubicles filled with people at work. Some bent over computer desks, others poured solutions into beakers and Petri dishes, while still others bent over microscopes. In the center of the room, in an atrium, stood the most beautiful tree Abbey had ever seen. The structure of the tree matched the one on the sign, but this one had lush, thick green leaves. Peeling red paper bark adorned the oddly twisting trunk. It ascended skyward in a lazy, almost lopsided fas.h.i.+on. It was the same kind of tree-Abbey realized with a slight jolt-that marked the stones in their forest.

They gawked for a few seconds before they realized they were standing in front of a reception desk, where a red-lipped woman in a low-cut tunic smiled expectantly at them.

”Welcome to the Madrone section of Livingstone Labs. Are you here for the testing?”

”Um,” Caleb said. ”We're here for an appointment. With, with...Dr. Livingstone.”

The red-lipped woman's eyebrows scrunched together. ”He or she?” she asked, turning to her laptop. A rainbow of nail polish bottles was lined up on her desk. Her nails matched her lips.

”Um. She?” Caleb offered the woman a tentative grin.

The woman c.o.c.ked her head. ”She's just left for the day.”

”Oh, then-he.” Caleb smiled broadly.

The red-lipped woman scrutinized them.

Abbey tried to shrink into the toque.

”Dr. Livingstone is booked for the afternoon. Are you sure you have an appointment?”

Simon stepped in. ”We emailed him about our findings about heat-sensitive organisms.” He smiled and, to Abbey's surprise, managed to appear somewhat handsome and charming rather than scary.

Sabrina-Abbey now saw the woman's nameplate on the desk-pursed her lips into a candied pout. She leaned forward, exposing a smooth expanse of cleavage. She inhaled, causing her bosom to swell further, and then let her breath out in a slight huff through her nose. ”And who exactly are you, and where are you from?”

Simon's eyes widened slightly. ”Ummm. I'm Roger, and these are my a.s.sistants, Amy and John. We're from Sinclair Labs.”

”Never heard of it.” Sabrina leaned back in her seat.

”We're new.”

”Aren't you a little young?”

Caleb interjected. ”We have a product line that contributes to youthful vigor and appearance.” He lowered his voice. ”It's based on the proteins.”

Sabrina looked them up and down once more. ”I suppose you could speak to our head of heat-sensitive organism proteins. Sit in the waiting room and I'll check.” She gestured toward a bench that lay within a room made of the same epidermal material as the ceiling.

They closed the solid door behind them. The waiting room looked out onto the courtyard and tree. It was silent in the room, the epidermal walls more soundproof than they looked.

”Your a.s.sistants, huh?” Caleb asked. ”Why do we always have to be the a.s.sistants?”

”Because you're short,” Simon said. ”What was I supposed to say?”