“Did you see anything?”
“No- just the grassland and the hills beyond- maybe a distortion sometimes.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing I could see. It’s more of a feeling.” He looks up at Torpah, who says nothing. “A
hunger. A rush of adrenaline, a feeling of focus, clarity- something beyond the hills-”
Torpah, looking perplexed, interrupts. “That’s very unusual. People usually see faces, or
different landscapes- I sometimes see people I’ve known from past lives who have gone
over before me- some beckon me in, others- well, others seem to be trying to tell me to
stay away.” He pauses, taking a drink. “The problem is- they’re rarely consistent. They’ll
change from bliss to agony in an instant. But you say you don’t see anybody?”
“Never. But there’s a presence I can’t see- far away, at the center of the steppe.
Sometimes it feels like it will stretch me out like an arrow and fire me towards itself. At that
moment, all I am is a projectile that wants to find its target. When I snap out of it, I’m
surprised to still find myself there.”
“Kat’s never with you when look out into the steppe, is she?”
“No- if she was, I think I would have gone long before now.”
“Why haven’t you? Why not just bring her there with you and be done with it?”
“Why are you getting angry?”
“I’ve never heard anyone so certain- so eager to enter the Steppe- you’re not afraid of it at
all, are you?”
“N-no, I-“
Torpah stands up, shattering his bottle against the floor. “Then go! Go now! And take
Katya with you this time!”
Jal, still seated, backs against a wall. “You don’t understand. I’m afraid of what I’m going
to do once I’m there. The flaw-“
Torpah’s black eyes grow wider as he slowly backs away.
“Torpah? What is it?”
“A Crossover. It’s above you right now. What’s it telling you?”
Jaldeja closes his eyes. “Not telling. It’s showing me.”
Torpah, shaking, tentatively steps forward, whispers, “Showing you what?”
Jal’s eyes open, streaked with tears, showing both fear and terrible resolve. “A puzzle- a
finished puzzle. A portrait. Me. It’s not a flaw- it’s all I am. What I lived all these lives to
become. It’s all finished now. You’re right- I should go.”
Torpah cautiously steps back. “What about Katya?”
“She’ll come with me- there’s no choice. What happens to us doesn’t matter.”
He holds his hands out to Torpah. “I’m going-“ Jal, crying openly now, whispers, “I’m so
sorry.”
When Torpah doesn’t approach, Jal lets his arms hang down next to his side. Turning, he
opens the door, shutting it gently behind him.
*
It’s night now, and quiet- or it seems quiet. If Jaldeja concentrates, the quiet fades and he
can hear the factories. There’s no moon, but the stars can be seen dimly through the dull
luminosities that play about the city- Crossovers, Sanskari, directed dreamers, or the
alien, the dead, and the living, in that order, thinks Jal.
The glow from the Crossover still clings to him, giving the room a soft light. Kat sits on the
bed, staring at him with a neutral animal gaze.
“When?” she asks.
“As soon as possible- tomorrow? Yes, tomorrow will be good- we’ll leave tomorrow.”
“Why would a Crossover visit you, I wonder?”
Jal lay down on the floor, staring up at a crack that breaks the pale white surface of the
ceiling. “Who can know? From what I’ve learned, this is the only place people have ever
encountered them- here, in the city, or out there, on the steppe- people have seen them
there. In the whole history of humankind, no one’s ever encountered them in the waking
world- or if they have, no one’s said anything.”
“They must have some interest in you, though, to take the trouble to come here.”
“Assuming it’s any trouble for them at all.”
“What?”
Jal turns his head to meet Kat’s gaze. “Yes, I suppose they do have some interest.”
“Tomorrow, then?”
“Yes.”
“Come to bed now. Let’s get some sleep.”
Jal crawls into bed and soon they are both breathing softly- pale light, wind, the sound of
distant factories.
. . Continued from part 3
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