MirrorWorld

“No idea. We’re all kept pretty separate. My expertise is memory, but I don’t think that’s high on our management’s priority list. I’m pretty far out of the inner circle.”

“You knew who I was,” I point out.

“My predecessor is the one who…” She taps my head. “I’ve studied your file. What they did to you. Your photo was in it.”

“When did you look at the file?” I ask.

“They gave it to me a week ago.”

“Why?”

She pauses, unsure about whether she either can or should reply. “They wanted to know if it could be undone.”

The idea of having my memory returned has never occurred to me. Sure, I’ve daydreamed about it. Wondered who I was. But, realistically, I thought memories, once lost, couldn’t be regained. The trouble is, I’m not sure I want to remember. Seems like all I knew was pain, anger, and death. “Can it?”

“I don’t know. My access was pulled two days ago. I was given a new assignment…” She lowers her voice like someone is listening, which could be the case. “But I think the answer they were hoping for is no.”

Huh, I think, and then the elevator stops.

“So there is no way to access that file now?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Not for me, but all my results were inconclusive. You wouldn’t learn much about yourself that you don’t already know.”

“You might be surprised,” I say.

“Right.” A sheepish smile emerges. “No memory.”

The doors slide open. I take a step toward the waiting hallway and stop. “You seem like a good person. Not afraid to look where you want. Didn’t lose your mind when I fell through the ceiling.”

“And the floor.”

“I respect that. We friends?”

“You available?” she asks.

“Married,” I say. “Not that I can remember it.”

“Then yes,” she says. “We’re friends.”

I lean closer to her. “Then as your friend: get the hell out of here. I don’t think it’s going to be a safe place to be for much longer.”

“O — okay…”

“Now.”

She takes off her white lab coat and hands it to me.

“I don’t think it will fit,” I say.

“Tie it around your waist.”

I do as instructed, making myself a little more appropriate, and step backward out of the elevator. She gives a wave, and the doors close.

Alone in the hallway, I turn toward the sound of voices. A door before the Documentum room is open. I pad my way over, bare feet silent on the floor. It’s a security center. Everyone from the lab, minus Cobb, is there, huddled together, backs to me. Monitors display images of the inside and outside of the building. But a large screen at the center of the display shows an angry mob. They’re watching the news?

“Hey,” I say.

The group turns around as though one entity with a unified mind.

“Where were you?” Winters asks. She sounds genuinely concerned.

“Sixth floor. Then fifth.” I turn to Lyons. “You were right about the laws of physics. They definitely work the same on the other side.”

“You fell two floors down?” Allenby asks.

“One at a time,” I say. “But yes.”

“Awesome.” Dearborn grins. “Our very own demigod.”

“Hardly,” I say, and point at the monitors cycling through images of the building’s interior. Stephanie appears on screen, talking to some people, a smile on her face. Probably joking about me. “You should have seen me on the screens.”

“We were distracted.” Katzman sounds tense. A little angry, which is nothing new, but you’d think he’d also be impressed. I did just fall through a solid floor. He motions to the angry mob on the big screen. Like the march in Manchester, I see protest signs, masks, and weapons. The people in whatever city this is plan to get violent.

“Where is this?” I ask, thinking it must be somewhere in New Hampshire. Concord or Nashua, maybe.

Lyons, red-faced, eyes like an angry bull’s, rounds on me. “This is right outside our doors! In the parking lot!” He leans toward me. “What didn’t you tell me?”

29

I’m about to explain that I came across pugs in the colony to the south and that the Dread understand English. Probably all human languages if they’ve been around for as long as Lyons thinks. But when a security guard enters, pale with fear, freckled face dripping sweat, I don’t need to.

“They’re here!” the man shouts. He’s hysterical. A real mess. Right up until the moment I punch him in the face. He drops to the floor, out cold.

“Whoa!” Dearborn says, raising his hands and stepping away, like he might be next.

“Hey!” Katzman yells, shoving me out of the way as he assesses the damage.

“Josef,” Allenby says. “You promised!”

She’s right. I did promise her I wouldn’t knock anyone out. But the guard isn’t just a guard.

“You have a security problem,” I say to Lyons.

“No kidding,” Katzman says, glaring up at me. He turns to Lyons. “He’s out of control.”