Across the Universe (2 page)

Chapter Two

              I am a swarming gray cloud of smoke with no end and no beginning. My hands change first, turning to vapor before my eyes. I fight against my molecules as I panic over the transformation. Once altered my body is sucked into the orb, and I’m no longer in The House, but flying, sliding, careening through a vast blackness spattered with sparkling stars and galaxies that paint the universe with muted colors of purple and orange and gold.

              At first I spiral out of control, lost in the metamorphosis and terrified I will never change back, but after a time the sensation of being ripped apart ebbs and I float seamlessly through the beautiful beyond. I pass by planets made of swirling waters and jagged rock, methane-infused air and raging storms. Finally I gather the will to focus and I plummet down, down, onto a hot and barren landscape made of salted earth and stone cliffs that jut out at perilous angles.

              The air is thin here and smells of gas, but I can still breathe. All members of The House can, no matter where they are. It’s a trait we covet so that we can travel across worlds.

              “Hello?” I call out into the emptiness. No one answers. Above me, two red stars loom in the distance, casting a boiling heat across the land. I find it hard to believe any life form can survive here, but still I seek them out. I search under rocks and in caves, admiring the crevices and whistling winds surrounding me.

              This place is nothing like The House, where I’m stuck inside with no escape. I have never been to a place with open air and a ground and a sky, and I find it fascinating until the truth sets in: I am alone, completely and unequivocally, and the idea stomps out my courage and sends me back into a whirling wisp of smoke.

              I fly up and out of the atmosphere, shooting back among the stars and out of the galaxy. I swim through the blackness, my disembodied stomach filled with a nervous excitement that turns me queasy. Then I see another smatter of spiraling color among the night. It is beautiful—a sea of muted colors that swirl before me—and I dive into it headfirst. I span the distance of light years in seconds, closing in on time and space and finding a place to land on a red planet covered in desert sands and a haunting cold.

              I wrap my hands across my arms and bend into the wind as sand whips at my skin and hair. Rocks dig into the soles of my sandals, jutting into the soft flesh of my feet. For the first time I feel pain, and it is both horrible and beautiful all at once.

              Craters and long-dormant volcanoes spatter the landscape. I walk for hours, across rocks and over dunes, fighting against the air current and dipping my hand to the earth to let particles from the ground sift through my delicate fingers.

              “Is anyone there?” I shout.

              No one and nothing replies. I am alone again, and devastated because of it. Part of me is angry with Nim for not giving me more guidance, and also for not gracing me with a universe that contains more life. Existing as a lone entity, even in a world full of splendor, still strikes me with melancholy. If only my mentor had told me where to go, what to do. Instead she sent me off in no direction whatsoever, and now I am lost.

              I bite my lip and struggle to think of home, panicking when my body remains solid and I don’t find myself in the marble halls of The House. I try to think of only Nim and the chamber with the drawers and the wooden doors with splintered frames, but the back of my mind screams about the wonder around me, and I cannot silence it.

              I sigh, look up through the sand, and see stars. A speck of light stands out from the rest. It is a pale blue color, shimmering far out in the distance and beckoning me closer. Before I can even command it I am smoke again, swirling toward the beacon of hope, through stars and around meteors and into the darkness.

              When I break through the planet’s atmosphere I find myself in a wide world of light and color. Below me is a stretch of water so vast and large I wonder where it ends. As I circle overhead I see a landmass, large and looming, and I dive toward it. As I near the ground the sights become larger: structures erected along roads, pruned trees and foliage, and—the best part—wildlife streaming around. Animals of all shapes and sizes, people who look like me only slightly different: tinted hair and colored eyes, wearing more than just a white sheath and sandals like me.

              It’s all too much as I go swirling by and for a moment I lose myself. The wind catches me up and draws me away until I regain my composure and coalesce on a sandy beach. A lake stretches out at the edge of the land, clear and deep, and boats travel across the water. I recognize the landmarks from the ancient texts in the archives of The House, but they’re so much bigger than the pictures contained within the pages of books.

I look around and find the stretch of sand empty but for a boy sitting near the surf, his knees drawn into his chest as he jots down words in a pocket-sized notebook.

              I blink back surprise. The first day inside my assigned universe, and I’ve found life. I can’t wait to tell Nim, to see the smile on her face when I explain to her the wondrous new world I’ve uncovered. Part of me wants to return to The House now just to tell her, but the curious side of me wishes to stay.

              I shuffle through the sand, the warm earth mingling in between my toes as I walk. When I reach the boy he snaps his neck up to look at me in surprise.

              He has a handsome face, hidden behind thick, black-rimmed spectacles. His brown hair falls onto his forehead in a mess of brown curls. A square jaw accentuates his thin lips and tan skin. Compared to my paleness, he looks as if he’s on fire.

              “Where’d you come from?” he asks.

              “The House,” I say.

He scrunches up his nose and adjusts his glasses, waiting for me to say more, but when I don’t, he replies. “Where’s that at? Do you live off the beach? I’m sorry if you do. I didn’t mean to trespass. This is just a good place for writing, is all.”

I lean my head to the side and hold my hand out for his notebook. He draws it away from me, sliding it into the pocket of his pants. His clothes are colorful—reds and blues and navies—and my eyes hurt from staring at them.

“Is writing what you do?” I ask.

The boy smirks. “Going to school is what I do. I’m seventeen. It’s what everyone my age does. Don’t you?”

“What’s school?

He blinks. “You know—the place you go to learn. So you can get a job, a life, a car.” I knit my brow, and when he sees my confusion, he stands and brushes the sand off the back of his pants. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Are you lost? Do you need help getting home?”

I point up at the sky. “Home is far away, but I can get there once I focus right. What is it you’re writing?”

“Poems,” the boy says. “What’s your name?”

“Amara.”

Another long pause goes by before he responds. “Hi, Amara. I’m Noah. It’s nice to meet you, but—erm—I better get going now.”

He turns to leave, but I wrap my hand around his arm. His skin is warm underneath my fingers. My touch halts him and he turns back, his deep brown eyes curious as he looks over me.

“I’d like to read your poems,” I say.

He grimaces. “I don’t let anyone read them. Why would I let you?”

He says it defensively, like he’s hiding behind his words, but his demeanor comes off more shy than anything else. He draws his shoulders into his body, hunching his back and leaning away from me as if he’s scared I’ll grab him again.

“Because I like words,” I reply.

Reluctantly, Noah extracts the notebook from his pocket and slips it into my hand. When his fingers brush mine he says, “Your skin’s cold. Do you need a jacket or something?”

For the first time, I notice the wind whipping at my hair and churning the waves. I recognize the chill but am unbothered by it. “I’m fine,” I say, and flip to a page in the middle of the notebook.

His words are beautiful and flow over my tongue like liquid. As I read them aloud Noah cringes like I’m punching him. His cheeks turn a deep shade of red that spreads over his neck and up to his ears.

“You look nervous,” I tell him, “but I don’t know why. The words you write are lovely.”

“Thanks,” is all he says as he takes back the notebook and shoves it back into his pocket. “So—about school—where do you go to around here?”

“The House,” I repeat.

“The House,” Noah plays back. “Okay, then. Where in the world is this house?”

“Not in the world. Outside of it.”

Noah’s eyes go wide and he opens his mouth to respond, but a voice calling from the edge of the beach cuts him off.

“Dinner’s ready!” someone says in a squeaky tone.

I look around him and see a tiny girl stumbling through the sand toward Noah, her bare feet sliding over the loose silt and her arms flailing in front of her. A pair of shoes rests on a patch of grass across the beach line. She’s dressed in pink ruffles and her hair is tied up in bows. By the time she reaches us she’s huffing and puffing, riddled with exhaustion.

“Dinner’s ready,” the girl says again. “Mom wants you home.”

“Yeah, yeah, Lizzie. I’m coming,” Noah tells her.

Lizzie scans over me with an innocent curiosity. “What are you?” she asks.

Noah looks mortified. I just shrug and say, “A member of The House.”

“Go home,” he tells the little girl. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Fine,” Lizzie replies, and then sticks out her tongue. Then, as she skips off back to her shoes, she says in a singsong voice, “Noah and weird girl, sittin’ in a tree, K—I—S—S—I—”

“Shut up, Lizzie!”

She giggles as she stuffs her feet back into her shoes and bounds away.

“Am I weird?” I ask.

Noah ruffles the hair on the back of his head with one hand. “Just a little. Don’t mind Lizzie. She’s a little freak herself.”

“I should go. Nim’s waiting for me.”

I turn to leave, but it’s Noah’s turn to grab me this time. His fingers close around my wrist and send a shock I’ve never felt before coursing up my arm. It makes my knees go weak and my neck flush.

“Wait. Will you be back here later?” he asks.

“Maybe one day,” I answer as I gently slip my arm from his grasp.

Then I focus on The House, on its marble halls and walls and rooms, and as I turn to smoke and float away, Noah’s face goes slack from shock and he stumbles backward, falling to the ground.

“How was it?” Nim asks when I return to The House. I sit cross-legged next to her, like I never left. The crystal ball holding my universe floats above the basin in front of us.

“I met a boy,” I tell her. “He’s nice. His name is Noah.”

“You shouldn’t talk to the lives you come across in your universe,” she scolds me. “You’re there to watch, not interact.”

I know I’m in trouble, but I can’t help but smile.

“What?” Nim says, furrowing her brow in confusion.

“The first universe may have the least life contained within it,” I say, “but it’s the best life of them all.”

Chapter Three

              The House is quiet but for the sound of my footsteps as I make my way to the Archives Room. This is the first opportunity I’ve had away from the prying eyes of Nim, who disapproves of my curiosity. Watchers are named to oversee things, not understand how they work—but after landing on the blue planet and seeing the life there, I need to know more.

              It takes an hour of weaving down corridors and turning corners before I find what I’m looking for: a battered door with a gold knob and a blazing star carved into the wood. I run my fingers over the etching and admire the design before wrapping my palm around the handle. The metal is warm against my skin in a way that spreads through my veins and into my heart. Every time I come here the same thing happens, and I’m convinced it’s the knowledge stocked on the other side of the door seeping into my body and filling me up before I even step foot in the room.

              I walk across the threshold and take a deep breath, reveling in the smell of musty parchment and ink. The Archives Room stretches out before me as dozens of arching tunnels with shelves recessed into the walls that hold nothing but books. Even the sloping ceiling is filled with them, though I’ve long since wondered how it is that gravity keeps them there.

              The main chamber the tunnels branch off of is circular and looming, lit by torches lodged in crevices in the marble. Muffled noises fill the space—pages being turned, bindings being cracked, whispers of those reading aloud—and the sound reverberates across the expanse like a soothing bedtime story.

              I feel at home here in the Archives Room, where all the worlds’ knowledge seems to be kept. The fact that I didn’t choose to become an Archiver surprised Nim greatly, and sometimes even I question my path as a Watcher, but the truth is I have a love for both learning and adventure, and the latter is far more exciting than the former.

              In the center of the circular chamber is a desk, carved from the same swirling marble as the rest of The House. Stacks of wrinkled, yellowing paper cover the surface, and I can just make out a head of long blonde hair from behind one of the piles. I clear my throat and the head bobs in my direction. A hand wedges itself in between two stacks of parchment and pushes them to the side, revealing the amicable face of Elli, lead Archiver for The House.

              “If it isn’t the newest Watcher of The House herself!” she says, leaning her elbows on the desk and blowing a tangled strand of hair from her forehead.

              I smile, the warmth lingering in my heart swelling up again from the sight of her. Elli is my favorite Archiver and—though I’d never tell Nim this—also my favorite member of The House.

              “Where were you during my induction?” I ask, padding up to the edge of the desk.

              “So sorry, my dear Amara. I lost track of time while cataloguing and didn’t make it. How did it go?”

              “I got assigned to the first universe.”

              Elli shoots me a beaming smile. “That’s the best one. All the life in the first is modeled after us. I remember the day it was created, with a big bang and a woosh. Then it was there, resting in its drawer, and so far it’s outlasted all the others.”

              “I think they assigned me to it because it has the least amount of life. Less for me to mess up,” I reply.

              The smile slides off Elli’s face. “Sounds like they don’t appreciate your abilities. Maybe it’s not too late for me to steal you away and switch your path to Archiver. Is that why you’re here? You’ve decided to join me at last?”

              Her tone is hopeful, desperate, and I struggle to keep a grin from playing across my lips. Elli’s the only person in The House that doesn’t just tolerate me; she actually wants me around. “I can’t change my mind now, not when I’ve already explored the universe. That’s why I’m here, actually. I found life while I was there, and I want to know more about it.”

              “Oh, but Amara,” Elli says, straightening her posture and doing her best impression of Nim, “Watchers don’t need to know. They only need to see.”

              I giggle and lean into the desk, lowering my tone to a whisper. “Then what Nim doesn’t see can’t hurt her.”

              Elli releases the tension in her shoulders, slouching forward over the stacks of parchment again, and sighs. “I suppose you’re right. What is it, exactly, that you want to learn about?”

              “The planet I visited. It was big and blue and beautiful. Just like you said, the life there looks like us, only more colorful. I met one—a boy. He knows how to write, just like us, and his words are amazing.”

              “Well, I don’t have a book on a boy, but I do recognize the place you’re describing and I remember where the texts about it are. It’s a long walk away, through many tunnels and into the dark. Are you up for an adventure?”

              The sparkle in my eyes reflects back at me through the silver gleam of her irises. “Always.”

              Elli rounds the desk and takes my hand, leading me into a tunnel on the right. Her pace is quicker than mine and I drag behind her. In the dim lighting I can just make out the unkempt hair stringing down the back of her neck and the smudges of ink coating her dress.

              Dust motes swirl in the air around us while we stride down the hall. The number of torches dwindles as we move deeper into the Archive tunnel, and soon I can barely see Elli at all. Shadows dance across my outstretched arm and the back of her ankles as we race forth, the echoes of our laughter trailing behind us.

              We turn down so many different corridors and pass by so many shelves that I lose track of where we are or how deep we’ve gone into the bowels of the Archives Room. My feet begin feeling sore when Elli pulls me into a final tunnel—one that dead ends into a wall of recessed marble with even more shelves.

              “This is it,” she tells me. “The beginning of everything. The first universe that came to be. The information you’re looking for.”

              I squint into the darkness, but my eyesight still fails to see more than blurry bindings and dusty parchment. I let go of Elli’s hand and walk over to a nook in the wall, pulling a torch from its sconce and using the flame to light the titles scrawled across the leather bound volumes.

              “Where do the books on my blue planet stop and the next begin?” I ask.

              Elli gestures around, spinning in a grand circle. “This whole tunnel is dedicated to the one you speak of, as is the next one over. It’s the most extensive collection The House keeps.”

              I frown. “Nim didn’t tell me that.”

              “She probably didn’t want you to perform duties outside your scope. Research is an Archiver’s job, after all.”

              My fingers dangle over the spine of one of the books, but Elli gently wraps her hand around mine and stretches my finger out so that I point to the shelves high above me.

              “The best volumes are up top,” she says. I wiggle my hand free as she steps over to a rolling ladder and slides it toward me. I stop it with one foot before it collides with my side, struggling to keep the torch upright as I do so.

              “Aren’t you going to stay here and help?” I ask.

              “Of course not. I’m the lead Archiver. I have better things to do than sit around and read dusty old books all day.” Elli winks at me, smiles, and disappears down the tunnel. I blink into the silence, scared to move or breathe for a moment, before she yells back, “I’ll come get you in a while and lead you back so you don’t get lost.”

              Her footsteps recede into the darkness and I am alone with the knowledge held within the Archives Room. I start at the top like Elli told me to, climbing up the wooden rungs of the ladder and balancing precariously on my toes as I stretch up to read the bindings. I pick the simplest label first, which reads “Earth” in big, flowery letters down the spine.

              Pulling the weight of the book into my chest, I jump down from the ladder and sit cross-legged on the floor. When I set the volume on my lap and crack open the pages, a cloud of dust kicks up into my face. I wave it away with one hand and begin to read.

              The words tell of protozoa and dinosaurs, of extinction and evolution. Pictures adorn the parchment, the colorful ink cracked and faded over time: beasts larger than The House is high, transforming page by page until they take on the form of man.

              I read stories about civilization and religion, science and philosophy, magic and technology. The torchlight flickers over the ink and yellowing paper, sending shadows that dance over the pictures in a way that makes them appear to come alive. I sit there for hours, learning, taking in the knowledge of the first world that came to be, and all the answers I get only lead to more questions.

              Frustrated, I flip to the back of the book. I’m about to slam the cover shut when I see two words scrawled in nearly illegible print in the margin: “The Key?” The question mark that comes after the note makes it seem like more of an inquiry than a statement, and I’m left wondering what it all means when Elli’s voice echoes back through the tunnel.

              “Time to go, Amara!”

              She pops her head around the corner and beckons to me. Rubbing my sore neck as I reshelf the book, I turn and chase her down the maze of Archive corridors back to the circular entry room with the desk.

              I didn’t think it was possible, but even more parchment paper is stacked on the surface than before. Elli’s eyes have gone foggy, and I can tell she’s frazzled from all the work she needs to get done, so I leave her to sort through the piles.

              I lean against the marble wall outside the door to the Archives Room and think about those two words scrawled on the page. Out of everything I read, that’s really the only part that seems to matter now.

              My eyes slide over the door across from me, and maybe it’s just my train of thought, but for the first time I notice a keyhole drilled into the wood below the knob. I stride across the hall to inspect it, recalling that I’ve never seen anyone come or go from this particular room. In all my time visiting Elli, there’s never been another member of The House entering or exiting through this door.

              I jiggle the handle, but find it locked tight. The discovery alarms me. As far as I know, no other door in The House is locked; that feature is reserved only for the drawers that hold universes.

              The key dangling from the chain around my neck presses against my heart as I force my weight into the wood. When the door doesn’t budge, I try a new tactic, pulling my key out from under the collar of my dress and attempting to jam it into the lock. It doesn’t fit.

              “What is it that you’re trying to accomplish?” Nim’s voice rings out, making me jump from surprise. My mentor walks down the hall to meet me, a stern expression clouding her face. Her arms are folded tight across her chest and her lips are pursed.

              “The door’s locked,” I say.

              “Locks are there for a reason,” she replies. “It means it’s a place you shouldn’t enter.”

              “Why? What’s in there?”

              Nim gives me a look that makes me scrunch into my shoulders and lean away. “You needn’t know.”

              “Yes, Nim.”

              Seeing my nervousness, she unfolds her arms and allows her features to soften. “I’ve been searching for you for quite a while. Have you been here this whole time?”

              “I was visiting Elli in the Archives Room.” I conveniently leave out the part where she let me peruse the books on Earth, knowing it will only make Nim revert to her previous disapproval.

              “You’ve bothered her enough by now. It’s time for you to perform your duties as Watcher. Come along.”

              Nim turns and I follow, but my heart doesn’t come with me. It stays behind by the locked door across from the Archives Room, begging to be let in and know what exists on the other side.