Seeing this, Noble moves swiftly. He catches Lorellina’s eye, then ducks behind the scaly silver horse, keeping as low as possible. Yestin is dragged along with him. The siren is still screeching. Eee-aw-eee-aw-eee-aw. The red light is still flashing. The guards are still shouting as Sangred swings at them. Though his Tritus isn’t shape-shifting, it works well enough as a big, metal bar, cracking a skull here, an elbow there.
Everyone else is looking stunned. Confused by the noise and disarray, most of the people in Noble’s vicinity cower like whipped dogs, mute and motionless. Only Yestin and Lorellina keep moving as they pursue Noble toward the nearest exit, their heads low, their shoulders hunched.
Noble has no real plan. He’s hoping that his swipe card might work in one of the elevators, or that the door up ahead might be unlocked. Before he can reach the door, however, it suddenly bangs open—and Noble catches his breath in horror.
There, framed in the wide doorway, stands a familiar vehicle. Its tinted windows are reflecting the flash-flash-flash of the pulsing red light. Its engine is idling away at a steady rumble, like the sound of an approaching avalanche.
It’s the white van, and it advances slowly into the room, nudging aside a few dazed musicians as it loses speed. The double doors swing shut behind it.
Noble can’t believe his eyes. How can the AV be here, in Rufus’s computer? It doesn’t make sense—unless this van only looks the same as the other one. Perhaps this is a different AV, in an identical van. Perhaps all computers have AVs. Or perhaps it isn’t an AV driving the van at all.
But it has to be, Noble reasons. Because the guards are talking about malware, and the AV in Mikey’s computer was called in to fight malware.
For a split second, Noble wonders if he himself is now malware. After all, he just gave Sangred a new and disruptive idea. Could that be how it works? It’s certainly the kind of thing Rufus would have done, back when he and Noble were still running around in Mikey’s computer.
But after a moment’s disquiet, Noble quickly dismisses the thought. He doesn’t have time to reflect on such matters. He has too much else to worry about.
I’ve got to get out of here, he decides.
Dropping to his haunches, he shields himself behind a clump of cleaning ladies, whose buckets and mops add bulk to the screen provided by their stick-thin legs. Yestin and Lorellina follow his example. Noble can’t talk to them because of the siren’s blare, but he knows that they’ve seen the white van; he can tell by their fearful expressions. When he catches the princess’s eye, Noble puts a finger to his lips. Otherwise, he remains absolutely still while the van rolls past.
Finally, it lurches to a halt. The squeal of its brakes is audible even through the clamor of the alarm. At the same instant, a memory flashes into Noble’s head. It’s an image of Rufus leaning into another van and saying, “He took his keys with him. Pity. An AV’s keys would have got us into pretty much every part of this computer.”
The keys, Noble thinks. If that van belongs to the AV, then we need his keys.
By this time, the shouts and clangs and roars of battle have almost overwhelmed the noise of the siren. Everyone’s attention is riveted to the booth where Sangred is fighting off at least a dozen uniformed guards. No one seems interested in the bland-faced, white-coated person who’s just clambered out of the stationary vehicle.
No one, that is, except Noble, Yestin, and Lorellina.
“Ssst!” The princess nudges Noble, who nods. It’s the AV, all right. But like almost everyone else, the AV has turned his gaze toward the fight across the room.
For a moment, he stands there, watching fists fly and bodies collide. Then he passes in front of his van, heading for the source of the commotion. From where he’s crouched, Noble has a clear view of the vehicle’s rear end. He can see that the driver’s door has been left open, though he can’t see inside the van. Not that he’s expecting anyone else to be lurking in there. Experience tells him that the AV works alone, calling in reinforcements only after his preliminary inspection.
And this, without doubt, is a preliminary inspection. Why else would the AV be plucking a small black book from the pocket of his white coat? Why else would he be tapping an injured guard on the shoulder?
Suddenly, the siren stops wailing. The red light is extinguished. “Must be one of them terrorists,” observes a small, bandy-legged cleaning lady in a green head scarf. The other ladies nod and cluck as the AV starts to take notes.
Seeing the AV turn away from him, Noble seizes his chance. He grabs Lorellina, who grabs Yestin. Together, they scurry toward the parked van. No one tries to stop them. No one says a word. Only Yestin utters a low protest when Noble pauses to stick his head into the front seat.
“What are you doing?” Yestin mutters.
Noble is searching for a key. At first, he’s confused by all the buttons and sticks and dials in front of him. But then, as he shifts his weight, the van rocks slightly, causing a small, dangling, silver object to catch his eye.
It’s a little silver disk attached to something that looks like the top of a key. Unfortunately, the key is wedged into a kind of axle or shaft that’s supporting a large wheel.
When Noble yanks at it, however, the key slides smoothly out of its keyhole.
“Wait!” Yestin whispers, from his post near Noble’s elbow. “Leave it in there! We can drive away!”
“What?”
“If we’ve got the ignition key, we can turn the engine back on!”
Noble hesitates. It’s a good idea. But just as it occurs to him that he wouldn’t know how to steer the van, let alone adjust its speed, the AV catches sight of him through the van window.
“Hey! You!”
Noble yanks his head out of the cabin and bolts. He throws himself at the door up ahead, hoping that it might lead to some sort of escape route.
But it’s locked.
“The key! Use the key!” shrieks Lorellina, skidding into him from behind, Yestin at her heels. Noble is aware that the guards are converging on the three of them like crows on a carcass. He shoves the AV’s key into a keyhole.
As the tumblers click and the door swings open, he steps aside to let his friends pass through ahead of him. Already the wailing siren has been switched back on; the red light is flashing again. Noble turns to defend himself against any guards who might be in pursuit, then flinches in horror. An entire herd of gray uniforms is bearing down on him. He’s looking at a sea of gaping mouths and bulging eyes.
“Quick!” Yestin screams.
Noble stumbles backward through the door. It slams shut in the face of a guard who nearly loses the tip of his nose. “Lock it! Hurry!” Lorellina shouts, wedging herself against the handle. As Noble wields his stolen key again, bodies thump against the other side of the doors, making them tremble.
“Where are we?” the princess demands.
They’re at the end of a long corridor—a very long corridor. It stretches out before them, dead straight and unadorned, as far as the eye can see. Its floor is shiny and gray. Its ceiling is dotted with glowing tubes that recede toward a distant vanishing point. Its walls are lined with black doors, each of them firmly closed, each bearing a printed sign.
“Which way?” Lorellina flings out an arm, indicating the nearest black door. “Through there?”
“Not that one,” Yestin quavers. “That’s a sandbox.”
“A sandbox?” Noble echoes. And Lorellina adds, “Quicksand, you mean?”
“No,” Yestin replies, shaking his head. “It’s a security mechanism. It’s for executing untested code in a controlled environment—”
“What about that one?” Noble interrupts, waving at the door next to it. “What does that say?”
“Umm …” Yestin cautiously advances for a better look. “Cookie jar,” he reads aloud.
Noble blinks. “Cookie jar?”
“For storing Web cookies. That’s no good.”
“And this one?” asks Lorellina. She squi
nts at another door. “What is a … a spooler?”
“It’s for putting things in queues. We don’t want to get stuck in a queue.”
“We have to decide! Right now!” Noble insists. “If we’re still in this passage when they break through—”
“That one!” Lorellina exclaims. She surges forward, jabbing at the third door on the right with an outstretched finger. But Yestin grabs her gown.
“Wait,” he says.
“We have to keep moving!” she snaps.
“Yes, but where to? What’s our destination?” Yestin turns to address Noble as Lorellina yanks her skirt out of his hand. “Do we still want to post that message?”
“Of course,” Noble confirms. “And go home afterward.”
“Then we can’t just run around like faulty robots.” Yestin’s voice is high and unsteady. “We have to find out if Rufus is using this computer right now. And if he is, we have to find out what he’s doing on it.”
“So we can make contact,” Noble finishes, thinking hard.
“Exactly.” Yestin nods. “If Rufus is playing a game, and we get into it, we can maybe—I dunno—write our message on a wall? Or make one of the avatars repeat it to him?”
Thump-thump-thump. The double doors strain against an unseen pressure. Even if the hinges don’t break, someone’s bound to find another key soon.
Lorellina is dancing impatiently from foot to foot. “Wherever we go, we have to do it now!” she warns.
“We need to find some sort of directory.” Yestin is chewing at a thumbnail, his eyes flitting about, his tone distracted. “An instruction address register would be good. Or even a task list …”
“Come on, then.” Noble begins to move down the corridor, glancing from left to right. “We have a key. We just have to find a good lock.”
“What about this one?” Lorellina suggests, indicating a random door.
“Nuh,” says Yestin, after a quick glance at it. “That’s a spam trap.”
She tries again. “This one?”
Yestin shakes his head. “Flag storage,” he replies breathlessly. “And that one’s full of packet sniffers. We don’t want that, either.” He’s struggling to match Noble’s long, vigorous stride. “These doors are all security related. It figures. We’re still too close to the firewall.”
“Then let’s keep going,” Noble declares. With one hand clamped around his stolen key and the other around his swipe card, he hurries along, his ears pricked for the CRASH of a door giving way behind him.
Lorellina manages to keep up, despite her trailing skirts. It’s Yestin who lags behind.
“How are we going to get home?” the princess asks.
“We have to work that out,” Noble replies shortly.
“Maybe we should ask Rufus to help us,” she remarks. “Not our Rufus. I mean the other one.”
Noble pauses, struck by the cleverness of this idea. “We could,” he agrees. “We could do that, couldn’t we, Yestin? We could ask Rufus to send us home.”
But Yestin isn’t paying attention. He’s more interested in the surrounding doors. “This is good,” he says. “We’ve reached the device drivers. There’s the local bus. And there’s a scanner. And a network card …”
“Yestin?” Noble prods the boy with his key. “What do you think?”
“Huh?”
“Do you think we should ask Rufus to send us home?”
Before Yestin can respond, the princess lifts her hand. “Shh!” she says. “Do you hear that?”
Noble listens. Sure enough, mingling with the thump of heavy bodies behind them is a distant rumble from somewhere up ahead.
He identifies it instantly.
“That’s an engine!” Yestin squeaks.
“And it’s getting closer,” growls Noble.
“There it is!” Lorellina clutches his wrist, pointing. “Can you see?”
Noble can see. It’s just a pale dot in the distance. But it grows bigger as he tries to judge its speed.
“Which door?” the princess cries. “Which one?”
“Um … uh …”
“Hurry, Yestin.” Noble shoots a glance over his shoulder. No escape there. And when he checks the advancing vehicle again, his heart sinks.
It’s another white van.
“Oh!” Yestin exclaims. “Is that … does that say WEBCAM?” He takes a step forward. “It does! It’s the webcam!”
“You have to choose!” Lorellina wails. “Right now!”
“This one!” Yestin seizes a door handle, but it won’t budge.
Noble inserts his key into the lock and turns it; when the door swings open, he feels almost dizzy with relief.
There’s a solid stone floor across the threshold, as well as a flight of stairs. The space is dim but unoccupied. It looks safe.
“Come on!” Noble snaps. “Quickly!”
He can hear brakes squealing as he bangs the door shut behind Yestin and Lorellina.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Noble hastily relocks the thick steel door, which is painted red on the inside. He then twists and jerks at the door handle until it breaks, trying his best to damage the lock. He knows that whoever is on the other side of the door probably has a key that’s identical to the one in his hand.
“Where are we?” Lorellina asks.
“It—it’s supposed to be the webcam …,” stammers Yestin.
“The webcam?” she echoes.
“It must be here somewhere.” Yestin peers around eagerly, but there’s nothing much to see. He and his friends are standing at the bottom of a round tower, which contains a circular staircase winding around a central core. The only visible window is a mere slit in the wall, admitting a narrow finger of light.
Noble heads for the stairs. “Come on,” he says. “Hurry.”
“Where are we going?” asks the princess.
“I don’t know. But there’s no other way out.”
“There should be a camera!” Yestin wails. “This can’t be right!”
Noble doesn’t comment. He simply grits his teeth and starts to climb, acutely conscious that every turn in the stairs could bring him face-to-face with an armed guard, or a dragon, or an AV. He can’t see what lies ahead. And Yestin is babbling away hysterically three or four steps below him, making it very hard to concentrate.
“The sign said WEBCAM! There must be a camera! And if it’s turned on, we should be able to see Rufus!” When no one responds, Yestin adds shrilly, “I’m talking about the real Rufus! The one we need to talk to! If he’s on the computer, he’ll be facing his webcam. So we might be able to figure out what program he’s running.…”
“Shh.” Noble says. “Can you hear anything? Are they following us?”
“I don’t think so.” Lorellina already sounds winded. She’s bringing up the rear, hidden from Noble’s view by the curve of the staircase.
“It has to be at the top,” Yestin insists, panting. “It has to be.”
Noble is beginning to wonder if the staircase will ever end. It goes up and up, around and around, making his head spin and his knees tremble. The ascent is so punishing that it finally defeats Yestin; Noble has to lift the boy onto his back. Then Lorellina flags, slowing their pace even more. Noble is concerned that the AV might catch up with them.
“Come on,” he pleads. “We can’t stop. Not here.”
“How much longer?” the princess wheezes.
“I don’t know.”
“We must be close,” she says, gasping. And she’s right. When Noble rounds the next curve in the stair, his head suddenly pops through a large hole cut in a steel-plate floor. The floor belongs to a kind of glass-walled turret, or dome. And framed in every enormous window surrounding him is a dazzling glimpse of infinite space.
There’s also an open door, but Noble doesn’t throw himself through that. Not at first, anyway. Instead, he allows Yestin to slide off his shoulders, before they both peer around, trying to get their bearings. The first thing Noble s
ees is an enormous machine made of glass and steel sitting on a platform in the middle of the circular room. There are also several smaller machines sprouting cables and microphones and switches, none of them especially dangerous-looking.
It’s not the machines that worry Noble. It’s the endless void outside.
“Stay here,” he tells Lorellina. Then he advances a few more steps until he reaches the door. From there, he can see only wheeling hawks against a cloudless sky, but as he emerges into the sunlight—drawing closer to the low white parapet in front of him—he spots the darker line of the sea against the horizon.
Soon, he finds himself peering over a balustrade, down to a distant shoreline at the foot of a cliff.
To Noble, the cliff looks as high as a mountain. The tower looks even higher than that. He feels as if he’s miles up in the air. All around him lies a spreading vista of bays and hills and islands. Colored specks on the water appear to be boats. Gulls drift past below his feet. Shorelines and mountain ranges recede into a shining haze.
“Noble?” says Lorellina. Wrenching his gaze away from the view, Noble turns to see her huddled in the doorway with Yestin. “Where are we?” she inquires. “Is it safe?”
Noble opens his mouth, but no sound emerges. Safe? The top of the tower is just a narrow walkway encircling the turret. There’s only one staircase. There’s only one door. The entire circumference of the area can’t be more than twenty paces.
And they’re suspended above a drop that makes Noble cringe.
“Is there a camera?” Yestin asks. “Can you see a camera anywhere?”
Noble shrugs helplessly. As he spreads his hands, Lorellina stumbles into the full light of day—and flinches at the sight that greets her.
“Oh …” She shades her eyes. “Oh, no.”
“I’m sorry.” Noble doesn’t know what else to say.
“Is there …?”