Elliot peered around. It was dark and he couldn’t remember leaving the Ilious. The ship protruded halfway through the threshold of a sandstone barrier with a ring of cleaved slabs pressed upward, denting its hull with black sand collecting around its puncture ring. The instruments on the Ilious had said interstellar space was below the ground he walked on now. That would have to mean something strange. Like he stood on the outer shell of something. A strange gravity as if of being tugged by something unimaginably distant made him feel as if he was standing on the outer shell of the universe.
A long passageway trapped him. To his left and right, the top of sandstone walls loomed. The dark-gray walls resembled the monoliths of Stonehenge. Their eroded texture, pit marks and cleaved fractures marked their age. A ways ahead the passage bent sharply at a right angle. Black sand and silver ash covered the ground with violent gusts rushing between the walls and patches of ash sailing up, floating and holding in suspended animation. High above, a dark ceiling stretched in all directions.
A radiant creature approached Elliot.
Elliot flinched and yelled, somehow not feeling his throat or his lips.
Elliot, is that you?
What? Your thoughts. They’re inside my head. He turned. Sheila, is that you? You’re beautiful.
I am? Thin fluttering wisps of blue cocooned her inner form. The wisps resembled the surface of a clean mountain stream, shining their hues. Elliot marveled how her cobalt had been unleashed from the filmy iris of her eyes and channeled throughout. Her meticulously sculpted figure glowed through her borderlands and white light emitted from below her smooth, glassy surface. The intricate ridges, fillets and contours of her inner form were an artistry that would have made Michelangelo weep in shame of David.
Elliot raised his hand before his eyes. Maybe we’re all... a morphing blue and orange aura concealed his hand. He moved his hand to his forearm, invading his aura but stopping without a sensation of touch.
Something approached from around the corner of the passageway, Elliot? A tall, thin frame slinked like an ebony, bipedal spider. Small spikes, like trails of teeth, swam below its skin. The spikes radiated faint rings of brown and swamp green. The black head had no eyes, like the ghost of a tar-covered skull. Its sensing stabbed at him. The whole skin was an eye:
Isn’t it great? Vance telepathed as he neared, the black tar of his head undulating with his words. What do I look like? Sheila, you’re amazing! How do I look?
Sheila turned to Elliot. What is he?
I don’t know. Maybe that’s what math geniuses look like here. He has some sort of... gravity? Like he’s pulling on us.
Are we dead? Sheila suggested. Is this what our souls look like?
I don’t know, Elliot replied. It’s bizarre.
Sheila walked toward a rough sandstone wall. We’re not talking to each other... are we? We’re thinking. She ran her aura-covered hand across it. The wall stops my hand but I can’t feel. What is this place?
Vance’s tarred head flowed, I’ve figured it out for us. We crossed the edge of the universe. Physical space ended. Thoughts are all that’s left outside physical space. That’s why all we can do is see and think. His shoulders rose. It’s simple! Everything around us is a thought. We’re just our thoughts. The Ilious sticking through the ground, it’s not really there. We see it but it only represents the choice to go back to the physical.
How the hell do you know that? Sheila asked.
I know, Vance telepathed.
Elliot admitted the strangest part was not feeling anything. No queasiness of the stomach or dizziness or pressure on his skin. Gravity no longer pulled, though something held him down. The others seemed more like characters in a dream or objects imagined in the mind’s eye.
How can I know I’m not dreaming this separately? Sheila asked.
Why didn’t you have the surgery to remove your scar? Elliot asked.
I was used to the way people looked at me and treated me.
That felt independent, somehow. Elliot walked toward her. It’s bad logic but—
All this—it sounds... Sheila turned to the Ilious. It’s philosophy. We can’t prove it. She arched her neck to the dark ceiling, high above. We could be hallucinating. The Ilious could have messed-up our brains when it reformed us.
Don’t we agree this is real? Elliot stared at the black sand. Even if it’s based on nothing more than intuition.
I’m not agreeing, Sheila replied, You’ve always wanted something like this to happen, Elliot—to experience something no one else has, but I don’t want this. We should go back inside.
Elliot raised his open palms. What? Sheila. We can’t fix that ship. I want to go back, too. I promise you I do. But go back to where and to what?
Everything is different. Vance raised his hand and curled his fingers. I feel alive, without distractions. My mind is free, finally.
So, what—what should we do? Sheila asked.
Tell me... Vance interrupted. How do I look? If I look nearly as amazing as I feel, it must be impressive. It must be! Elliot, you tell me.
Sheila walked from the wall and turned toward the Ilious.
Vance darted toward him. What are you thinking? You’re hiding something from me—both of you. I understand. You’re envious. I’m the most intelligent, so now I’m the strongest—the most beautiful. You envy me.
Elliot tried to look around the corner of the passageway ahead.
You won’t tell me how I look. I don’t know what it is. Maybe I’m opposite to both of you. But I feel it! I could suck you both inside of me. Maybe you should describe my appearance—
Elliot interrupted. We have to decide what we’re going to do.
And how can we ever do that? Sheila replied.
Elliot began, Hear that wind? Sounds like it’s going somewhere. We should follow it.
Something watched them at the end of the passageway. He barely glimpsed it before it darted out of sight behind the left wall and his quick look discerned little more than it stood as a person.
Look! Elliot pointed to the empty passageway.
What? Sheila asked.
I don’t know. Maybe... maybe nothing.
This place is one last test. Vance’s black tar flowed. I’ll get what’s been owed me all this time—after they made Mensel—Mensel!—a Laureate. Huh! Mensel a Laureate in Topology and here I am, the true crosser of frontiers. I’ll follow this wind. My mind will find its escape. You can leach off me for a while if you want but don’t get confused. The old rules and the old games are over, here in this place.
As they walked, their feet did not disturb the black sand.
Sheila edged around another corner. It’s some kind of labyrinth.
They traveled far before stopping at an upcoming intersection of the passageway. The wind... Elliot raised his hand. It presses us forward. He looked at the two passages of the intersection, It’s getting harder to tell.
Just—Just shut-up! Vance flowed. Both of you. You’re pissing me off. He turned his head left, then right. If I concentrate, I’ll determine the travel of the wind. He walked ahead of them.