A Quill Ladder (13 page)

The understanding hit Abbey with a jolt: the limiting factor in space travel for years.
“
Gravity,
”
she said.
“
There
’
s less gravity.
”

“
Way less. But it
’
s also more variable. The space station is here because this very spot is one of the lowest gravity areas in the Midwest. This causeway is simulating the level of gravity you
’
re used to. All of the pathways, roads, and floors on this hillside and in town have special gravitational fields.
”

Abbey tried to process this. Had the Earth gotten smaller, or had it just lost mass? Was this the missing mass Caleb had referred to? Was the Earth, once filled with ferrous metals that accounted for its mass, now a piece of Swiss cheese? But why put in gravitational fields? It didn
’
t make any sense.

She looked back at Sylvain.
“
But why can
’
t I go off the causeway? How low could it be?
”

“
It
’
s 2.7,
”
Sylvain said.
“
I know, I know. You
’
re thinking that you wouldn
’
t float away. But there were a whole bunch of other problems caused by low gravitational pull, like injuries when you land after being able to jump so much higher. The government decided that this was just a more practical solution. Going off the causeway onto the dirt is illegal.
”

“
But
—”

Sylvain
’
s smile seemed a bit thin and one of his eyes twitched.
“
I would be happy to discuss the specifics of gravity with you later, but right now aren
’
t we in a hurry to find your brother? You should probably retrieve your charge.
”

Abbey looked around for Mark. She spotted his broad frame moving down the causeway, holding one of the map sheets out in front of him, pausing every few seconds to look over the guardrail at the clustered dwellings dug into the dirt.

She jogged after him.
“
Mark, where are you going? We
’
re going to the mirrored building, not this direction.
”

Mark stopped and extended his finger in the direction of the Stairway Mountain range where the Granton Dam blocked the flow of the Moon River in their world. These Stairway Mountains
—
if they
were
the Stairway Mountains
—
looked weathered and scoured, more rounded and red than they had been before. Mark and Abbey weren
’
t quite at a vantage point where they could see the dam, but they could see the Moon River, if it was the Moon River, snaking through the city in loops and curls. This was quite unlike the Moon River of Abbey
’
s present, which ran through the city in a straight line, fed by channelized tributaries that coursed under the streets and green spaces of Coventry, only seeing the sky in special parks where trails had been constructed around the rushing water.

“
Is that
…
is that the Moon River, do you think?
”
Abbey said. She spoke cautiously. She was never quite sure how to address Mark.

Mark nodded.

“
What would make it loop like that?
”

Mark didn
’
t say anything for a few seconds, and Abbey started to wonder if he had understood her question. But then he abruptly turned away from the rail so his back was to her.
“
A flood,
”
he said.
“
Followed by a significant decline in river flow, and areas of greater soil subsidence and erosion.
”

“
What would cause that?
”

Mark shook his head, but she couldn
’
t be sure if it was because he didn
’
t know, or he just didn
’
t want to say.

“
Sylvain says we have to go into town to look for Caleb,
”
she said.

Mark nodded, placed the map file in his satchel, and fell into step behind her.

*****

Mark nose breathed as he, the bad man, and Abbey boarded the vertical train that would apparently take them into town. He would have preferred to have stayed up on the causeway to study the landscape and compare it to the maps in the file that Dr. Ford had given him. But apparently the plan was to go into town, and Mark didn
’
t like to get into arguments with the bad man. He also didn
’
t like the prospect of the train and all the exposure to germs it required. But he had decided that this was the lesser of the two evils and that he could get through it with some nose breathing and potentially some counting.

The train was relatively deserted, save for a few men in strange jumpsuits and a teenager with a jade-green uniform. Mark tried to feel calm in a public space. He had felt safe, relatively speaking, on his recent excursions with Abbey, Caleb, and Simon. So when Abbey had told him he had to come, he
’
d felt obligated.

Abbey
’
s green eyes were very twitchy and nervous-looking, kind of like those of a mouse or a rat, or maybe more like a rabbit, and she gestured a lot in a very dramatic fashion. But despite the terrifyingly rapid movement of her eyes, she seemed kind. (And he was pleased that she used metric, as working with maps, and thinking in general, in his opinion, was much easier in metric). He was more comfortable with Simon, but still, he felt generally okay with Abbey.

Right now she was talking to the bad man about places Caleb might go and asking a lot of questions. Why might Caleb have come here? Why was there no gravity? Why did nobody other than her seem concerned about these divided futures?

Mark decided that Abbey asked the question
why
a lot, and none of the adults seemed able to answer that question. Or maybe they just didn
’
t want to.

The train descended rapidly and smoothly into the city, and Mark watched the features of the red clay hill rush past. He looked for a deeper gully, for an indentation that suggested it may once have been a stream. But the hillside was moving past too quickly.

He wondered if Dr. Ford knew what he had given Mark. Had he just thought the stack of maps was too old to be of use or interest? Or had Dr. Ford given Mark the maps on purpose?

You never could tell with adults, Mark decided.

*****

The train station hummed with what looked like evening commuter activity, and trains headed out in all directions like the spokes of a wheel. Everyone wore jumpsuits like the one Max had worn. Abbey had already peeled off her jacket and sweater in the faintly oppressive heat.

Sylvain pushed them into a room in the station lined with small lockers. He withdrew a ring of keys, selected one, inserted it into of the lockers, and extracted three navy jumpsuits. He passed one to Abbey.

“
Give me your jacket and go to the bathroom and put this on. I
’
ll manage Mark.
”

“
What?
”

“
This is what everyone wears to work and in public settings around here. This society aims to be less consumptive than ours always was, and spending money on clothing is frowned upon. The uniforms were meant to equalize everyone. But of course that kind of thing seldom works out exactly as intended. The color of the jumpsuit indicates the type of work you do. Navy means government and health care worker, and relatively speaking, that
’
s a higher-ranked job than most, which means that by wearing them we can move more easily through certain locations. People can wear what they want in their homes, although the more distinctive and individual clothing of our day is relatively unavailable here, so wearing it marks you as an outsider. That
’
s okay at the space station, but less so in town, and without ID tags for you, it
’
s not like we need any unwanted conversations with the authorities.
”
Sylvain removed a plastic card from the locker and placed it around his neck.

“
How long are we staying? What if Caleb has already gone home?
”

Sylvain shook his head.
“
No doorbell.
”

Abbey passed over her jacket and took the jumpsuit, and Sylvain turned the key in the lock. Abbey glanced at the locker. The number on the front read 309. She stared at it for a few seconds before heading off to the women
’
s bathroom.

It had to be just a coincidence. Ian wouldn
’
t have been able to put the next lesson in witchcraft into Sylvain
’
s locker in the future. Or would he? Was that part of the test? Abbey had no idea anymore.

The jumpsuit was way too big, and Abbey had to roll up the sleeves and pant legs in order to be able to walk. Mark seemed unhappy about the change of attire. His face was scrunched in a scowl and the jumpsuit gaped across his generous girth, but he followed Sylvain back into the common area outside the bathrooms.

On the way out of the station, Sylvain paused for a few seconds in front of a digital billboard that read,
“
Lester Edwards for Mayor. Paid for by the Green Party
”
under a photo of a staid bald man with a receding chin. Sylvain shook his head in a skittish sort of way, exited the train station, turned right and started walking rapidly down the street.

He led them through a bustling downtown area. The streets were narrow and occupied by people on bicycles and scooters. Broad pedestrian walkways lined both sides of the street, taking them past rows of small domed shops nestled deep into the ground, their roofs at eye level. Stairs descended down to the doorway of each shop.

Sylvain seemed to be heading toward a large, cube-shaped, glass building, much like the one up by the causeway, except that this one had a heavy thatched grass roof, and Abbey could see goats leaping about on top of it. It was evident that Sylvain knew where he was going, that he had been here before, and yet still he darted his head about, examining every landmark, every building, every twig, his movements sharp. Then he would press his fingers against his mouth as if in deep concentration. He almost seemed to have forgotten that Abbey and Mark were there.

The walkway ran alongside the river in parts, and Mark stopped often to gaze at the swirling murky water, and then to dart a suspicious glance at the Stairway Mountains, in the direction of the Granton Dam, which wasn
’
t visible from the city. Abbey alternately tried to hustle Mark along and keep up with Sylvain
’
s lengthy stride, while still peering into the shops that they passed to determine the types of goods for sale, and potentially catch sight of a newspaper, anything to give her more information about where and when they were. But most of the shops sold food, not clothes or knickknacks or appliances or any sort of things that she could see. Just food and, strangely, paintings and sculptures.

She observed people reading tablets in caf
é
s. Perhaps newspapers no longer existed. Perhaps nothing existed except food and art. But the children in the street rode bikes and scooters. Caf
é
s contained tables and chairs. Were all goods sold in box stores out of town? Or had 3D printers changed the way everything was made?

She put on a burst of speed and caught up to Sylvain.

“
Where exactly are we going?
”

Sylvain gestured at the glass cube building.
“
I thought maybe we
’
d start with the library,
”
he said.

Abbey tried to imagine Caleb
’
s red hair moving up and down the rows in the stacks of a quiet and dusty library.
“
Why?
”

“
Well, I suspect that your brother came here looking for information. So I
’
m thinking maybe he went to the library, where they have public Internet access.
”

Abbey shook her head.
“
I don
’
t know if Caleb
’
s a library kind of guy. I don
’
t even know if he
’
d think of it as a place to get on the Internet. I mean, he
’
s pretty social. I could see him just walking into a caf
é
and starting to ask questions. He could be on a spaceship to Mars for all we know.
”