. . Continued from part 2
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Breakfast had ended hours ago. Kat was dozing on the bed while Jal sat with his head
resting on his knees. The temperature outside had risen dramatically- people had gone
indoors to escape the heat. Jal sits in front of the window, a rectangle of sunlight in front
of him. A dark memory courses through his soul- an ancient, buried memory of a language
he no longer knows.
He becomes aware of the sweat running down his bare back, dripping slowly from his
arms onto the floor. Running his hands over the short stubble that covers his head, he
gets up and walks over to the water basin on the other side of the room. The water is
tepid as he splashes it over his face, but it feels good.
Kat stirs in the bed, face glistening. Her eyes open halfway, and she sees Jal staring past
her into middle distance.
“Jal? Jaldeja?”
He looks confused for a moment, then focuses on her. “I was thinking about Torpah.” He
walks over and sits on the edge of the bed.
“What about him?”
“I hit him today.”
Katya smiles and breathes out a short laugh. “You hit Torpah? Are you all right?” She
runs her hands over her smooth scalp. “Why did you hit him?”
“You know. He was asking questions - questions about us and the Steppe.”
“I still don’t know why that bothers you.”
“I’ve told you- I know we’ve met before, in different times- but what was our relationship? I
have a feeling . . .” He stares at the rectangle of light on the floor, dust motes moving
slowly through the beam of sunlight. He shudders and turns away.
“Torpah’s afraid. He thinks there’s something he can learn from you, that’s all.”
“He doesn’t know- doesn’t understand- not anything.”
Katya looks annoyed. “He never said he did- and what is it you think you understand?
Torpah’s been through a lot- his experience with the Delpini group mind left him more
uncertain than he was before he got involved with them.”
“How do you know that?”
“He told me. You should talk to him more- you two could probably help each other.”
Jal begins pacing. “He assumes that it gives us some kind of advantage- crossing over
together. I’m not sure it’s a good thing at all- I’m not sure what we’ll be getting each other
into.”
Katya looks concerned. “Go out and talk to him.”
Jal nods, heading for the door.
“Jal?” Katya says. “How soon? I don’t think waiting is doing us any good.”
Jal pauses for a moment in the doorway before heading down the stairs.
People are in the common room talking quietly among themselves, sipping cool dark tea
and iced coffee. They look up he as moves among them, smiling nervously, heading for
the exit. Moving the door aside, he steps outside, the heat and dampness of afternoon
washing over him. Crossing the empty courtyard, he walks over to the building where
Torpah lives.
The door is scored by weather and age, but it’s still attached to the frame. He raises his
hand to knock, hesitates, then simply opens the door, the handle almost scorching his
hand.
It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light. Sitting in the dimness is Torpah, his
dark eyes distant and unreadable.
“Can I come in?” asks Jal.
“Please, yes,” says Torpah. “I was hoping you would. Will you have a drink?”
Jal smiles and sits down next to him. “If it’s cold.”
Reaching over, Torpah opens a trap door in floor next to him. Milky white vapor seeps
out of it, snaking along the floor and through the air, feeling cool against Jal’s face.
Grabbing a bottle out, Torpah pulls the top off and sets the bottle down next to Jal. “You
might want to let that warm up a bit.”
Leaning back against the wall, Torpah smiles and points. “You brought your weapon
with you.”
“Hmm? Ah- yes- I didn’t notice.” Jal looks up to see Torpah still smiling. “No, really.”
Torpah regards him with unblinking eyes. “May I see it?”
Hesitating for a moment, Jal slowly draws the revolver out of its holster, handing it butt
first over to Torpah, who examines it carefully before handing it back. “Simple.” He says
as he does so. “Very practical.”
Jal shrugs. “I’m not good with complicated machines.”
“Perhaps it’s just weapons that don’t interest you. Katya is different, though. What is it
that she carries?”
“It uses an electro-magnetic field to fire small needles of metal. It needs a lot of care, but
she doesn’t seem to mind. I prefer philosophy, myself.”
“Hmmm. I wonder what ends up being more dangerous, in the end.”
They sit in silence, sipping their drinks. As Jal’s eyes adjust to the light, he notices other
weapons placed around the room, only a few of which he can identify.
“It’s strange to think we all have so much in common,” says Torpah.
“How do you mean?”
“All the people gathered here- we do the things that people have always done. We
drink, carry weapons, fight, fall in love, ask the same questions we’ve always asked.
Even what we fear- the steppe, the outback, the dead, the collective unconscious,
heaven, hell- whatever you want to call what exists outside the city- we have that in
common, too.”
Getting up, Jal walks over to the window, opening the shutters to look out into the still
courtyard. “We’re also all waiting,” he says.
“Some are,” says Torpah. “You saw one of them dying out in the street today. Everyone
else is preparing in some way.”
Jal shook his head. “It can’t be prepared for. I’m certain of that- all you can do is cross
the threshold.”
“That might be true for you, but everyone’s different in that respect. Perhaps you
weren't meant to be here long- perhaps you should go soon. Have you looked out into
the steppe?”
Jal shuts the window and sits down, hugging himself. “Not for very long.”