Michael Sullivan - Hollow World

“I don’t really know.” Pax wiped the tears away. “You understand we’re breaking new ground here. There’s no procedure.” Standing up, Pax adjusted the frock coat and vest, then paused. “Vox?”

No answer.

Pax walked down the hall, opened a door, and went inside.

Ellis stood up and was about to follow Pax when he heard a shuffle, then a click.

“Vox?” Pax called returning to Ellis in the hall.

The baseboard lighting flickered on once more, brighter now to compensate for the fading falselight.

“Vox?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, what is your name?”

“Abernathy. I—Oh my! What happened?”

“You were switched off, then I was attacked. Ellis Rogers saved my life by…by killing Geo-24’s murderer.”

“Either of you injured?”

“No.” Pax’s head shook, and again Ellis wondered at the visual capability of voxes or if that was just habitual body language. “Abernathy, why were you required to ask questions when Geo-24 returned?”

“I was not informed.”

“Did Geo-24 ask you to send that message to me—to me personally, or just to any arbitrator?”

“To you specifically.”

“You and Geo-24 weren’t friends?” Ellis asked Pax.

“Of course not.” Pax looked stunned. “Despite your impression of me, I’m not fortunate enough to socialize with geomancers. Abernathy, do you know where Geo-24 went?”

“My records show Geo-24 went to the grass on the North American Plate.”

“Had Geo-24 been doing anything odd recently?”

“Define odd.”

“Different, unusual, inconsistent with normal activities?”

“Geo-24 suspended working on the garden, but that, of course, is not doing, rather than doing something odd. There was also the research on Pol-789.”

“Research?”

“Geo-24 was scanning datagrams on Pol-789, which I define as unusual, because Geo-24’s pursuits were always rocks and never people. Well, almost never. Geo-24 once conducted a similar investigation on you.”

“Me? When?”

“About a year ago.”

Pax paused, thinking.

“Who’s Pol?” Ellis asked.

“Pol-789 is the present chief of the Grand Council.”

“How important is that?” he asked, looking at Pax. Ellis wasn’t certain how voxes worked, but they must be able to “see” somehow and able to read body language to some degree, because Abernathy was silent.

“In your day Pol would be like a prime minister or president,” Pax explained. “Only government is nothing like what you’re familiar with. It really only consists of fifty-two people.”

“And they control everything?” Ellis asked, but it wasn’t really a question. Dystopias in books and movies were always set up with a handful of men consolidating power through the control of technology.

“They make decisions on our behalf. People don’t want to take the time to study every issue needed to make the right choices, so the Council serves as a dedicated group to do just that. It’s a terrible imposition, which is why every two years there’s a draft.”

“A draft? To be in charge?”

Pax nodded with a miserable look. “Everyone has to submit their bio and fill out a questionnaire. Why the interest in Pol-789?” Pax looked up before asking the question, and Ellis realized this was always done when speaking to voxes, as if they inhabited the ceilings of homes.

“Pol-789 contacted Geo-24 a month ago, and the two have had several communications. I’ve actually gotten on quite well with Balmore, Pol-789’s vox, as a result of arranging meetings.”

“But you don’t know what they spoke about?”

“No.”

“All right. I guess that’s it then.” Pax took a breath and shrugged. “Abernathy, please contact the Dexworth office at the ISP. Tell them what happened. They’ll send some people to remove the body. They should be getting pretty good at it by now.”

“Will they clean the carpet?”

“You can ask.”

Is there any way to get that much blood out of a white carpet ? Ellis wondered. “Do you need to report this to your boss?”

“ Boss ? That’s another one of your old-fashioned words, isn’t it?”

“It means your supervisor,” Ellis explained. “The person at your job who tells you what to do. The one in charge of hiring the employees.”

Pax stared at him intently, head slowly shaking. “No one tells me what to do.”

“How did you become an arbitrator?”

“I started speaking to people and realized I could help them, so I do—but okay, that’s just me. Most people do take the aptitude test to help them.”

“You don’t work for a business or organization—the government?”

“I’m not sure what you mean by work , Ellis Rogers. Nowadays that term means to do something hard, or to do something you don’t really like but have to.”

“Yeah—that’s pretty much it.”

Pax looked puzzled. “But you talk as if it’s something a person would do a lot of.”

Ellis nodded. “Most people—most adults—worked eight or more hours a day—five, six, and sometimes even seven days a week. So yeah, you work a lot. Usually you have a boss who tells you what to do, and you get paid in return.”

Pax had a sad look, as if just learning that Ellis had been the victim of some terrible crime. “No one here tells anyone else what to do. People do what they like for as long as it pleases them. When it doesn’t, they do something else.”

“You’re not making sense. How do things get done—how do you get food to eat and furniture for the houses? Who makes the portal things?”

“Oh.” Pax waved a hand at him. “The Maker takes care of everything.”

The Maker? Ellis didn’t like the sound of that. He imagined a world where everything was provided by some being who demanded human sacrifices. “Who is the Maker?”

Pax smiled, and Ellis thought there might have been a laugh if they were somewhere else at some other time. “The Maker isn’t a person. It’s a device, one of the Three Miracles. I’ll show you when we get back home. I’ve got five of them, though technically three are Vin’s.”

“Dexworth has people coming,” Abernathy announced.

Pax wandered back down the hallway and reentered the bloodstained room. The body lay faceup, eyes looking at the ceiling. Only a small hole was visible in the chest. A larger exit wound must have been on the other side and the source of the blood spray, but Ellis couldn’t see it and didn’t care to.

Pax stooped and picked up the necklace that had been thrown. On it was a small device like an iPod shuffle. “It’s Geo-24’s. Why would anyone want to kill a geomancer of all people?”

“To impersonate him,” Ellis offered.

“Him?” Pax smiled.

“Whatever.” Ellis was flustered, standing in the room with the person he’d killed. Pax, who earlier had been far more upset, now appeared more at ease. “I’m just saying impersonation appears to have been the point of this.”

Pax stared at the little portal device. “Okay, but why?”

“Well, what are geomancers? They don’t appear to live very lavishly, but you talk as if they’re rock stars.”

“Rock stars?”

“Forget it—they’re someone to be envied, right?”

“Geomancers are beloved and respected. Highly educated—they spend centuries studying, and they work selflessly in terrible conditions to protect Hollow World.”

Ellis was working his way nearer to the garden window, away from the bloodstains. The last of the day’s light was fading; night was on its way. “Protect it from what? What do they do?”