by Stucky, Pam
Doethine said nothing.
“No?”
No response.
“Yes?”
No response.
Emma kicked her heels against the bench. This was going nowhere. “You’re Eve’s Great Aunt, right?” she said, not sure what else to say.
Doethine smiled broadly. This question she would answer. “Yes.”
Relieved not to be the only one talking anymore, Emma returned Doethine’s smile. “You discovered the elevators?”
Doethine nodded. “I did indeed.”
“That’s cool,” said Emma. She studied Doethine, trying to decide if she could see through her or if it was just a trick of the light. That thought prompted another: where did the light here come from, anyway? She couldn’t see a sun, but it could be behind the clouds. In the whole time she’d been on the planet, though—how long? Minutes? Days?—the light hadn’t changed. It hadn’t gotten brighter; it hadn’t gotten darker. The steady unchanging light simply existed as a permanent fixture of the planet, like the benches, like Doethine, like eternity.
“Do you know where I can find an elevator here?” said Emma, trying again. “Being here has been really interesting, but I need to get home.” She didn’t mention that she wouldn’t have a clue what to do once in the elevator. She just knew she needed to get away.
“Do you know how to use one, then?” asked Doethine, echoing Emma’s thoughts.
“No.” Emma sighed. “But do you know where to find one anyway?”
“There is no elevator here you can use,” said Doethine.
Something about the way she said the words made Emma wonder if Doethine was playing word games with her. There was no elevator? Or there was no elevator she could use?
“Do you know how I can get home then?”
“You don’t like it here?” Doethine smiled.
“That’s not an answer,” Emma said, half to herself.
“Neither is that,” Doethine laughed.
A small breeze lifted Emma’s hair away from her neck. Their conversation had the pace of a slow dance, of a lazy summer day: gentle, easy, unhurried. Doethine continued to gaze benevolently on Emma, waiting for more questions they both knew would come. Emma’s languor had not yet returned, but she was alert for any signs of the sluggishness.
She tried a new tack. “How did you find the first elevator? Were you looking for it?”
“I wasn’t looking for it. It found me. Or rather, it led me to it. I like to think the universes wanted me to find it,” said Doethine fondly. “It was time for the elevators to be found.”
“Were you an explorer?”
“I was a scientist,” said Doethine, “which I suppose is the same thing.”
“Why has no one on Earth found the elevators yet?”
“You’ve found them, haven’t you?”
Emma paused. This was true. She and Charlie hadn’t been on a quest to find the elevators, but they had, nonetheless, found them.
“Are we the first?”
“Does it matter?”
Emma was strangely unperturbed by the indirect non-answers. Normally this conversation would have driven her crazy, but today it felt more like a trek through Dr. Waldo’s Thought maze. A quest, a labyrinth, a pathway leading her where she needed to go. The way was the way.
“Eve told me her mom may have found a new kind of elevator,” said Emma, watching Doethine for any reaction. There was none. “Do you know about that?”
“Do I know about the other kinds of elevators, or do I know that Eve’s mom found one?”
“Either.”
“Yes.”
“So there are other kinds of elevators?”
“The universes are infinite, Emma. Do you think an elevator would be the only way to get around?”
Emma pondered this. She had not, of course, thought about this before. She had not thought much beyond her own life before. But she supposed, having seen all she’d seen the last few days (weeks? months?), if everything was indeed possible (as seemed more and more likely, or at least, everything was possible somewhere), that it was more likely than not that one could travel through the multiverse in a multitude of ways, if one could just figure those ways out.
“Is Eve’s mom still alive?”
Doethine nodded slowly. “Eve’s mom is still alive.”
Emma pursed her lips. She realized she hadn’t been specific enough. “I mean, alive in an alive way, not alive in a ghost way like you. No offense. Just, I mean, is she alive in a way she could come home to Eve one day, to Lero?”
Doethine didn’t answer.
“Are you not allowed to tell me?” asked Emma.
“It’s not time for you to know,” said Doethine.
“How do you know?”
“I know.” Doethine spoke like a heartbeat in the morning: slow, steady, calm.
Emma felt herself being lulled into a peacefulness again, not as strongly as before, but she was aware she would need to find a way home soon, before it was too late, before she forgot she needed to leave at all. Still, she had more questions.
“You know a lot,” she said.
Doethine tilted her head.
Not expecting much of an answer, Emma asked, “Do you know about Vik? About The Void?”
The features on Doethine’s serene face grew more serious. “I do,” she said.
“Can you tell me about it? Who is The Void? What does it want?”
Doethine was quiet a long time. Emma started to think Doethine was not going to answer, but then the ghost spoke.
“Yes, I think it’s time for you to know. The Void,” she began, “is as old as time. Some argue over whether The Void is one entity or many; that’s the same as arguing whether water is one entity or many. Water is water. If you pour more water into water, you have water. A drop of water away from a bucket of water is still water. The Void is like that.
“Some believe The Void should be destroyed completely. I don’t think it’s as simple as that. What I believe is that The Void has overstepped its bounds, and that is what must be stopped. It has its place in the multiverse, but now it wants more.”
“What does it want?” asked Emma.
“What does any living entity want?” asked Doethine.
Emma considered this. What did any living entity want? How would she know? She was just a teenager. Ghost planets, The Void, all of it was beyond her imagination. What did any living entity want?
To live.
“What?” said Emma.
“I said, ‘What does any living entity want?’” said Doethine.
“No, after that,” said Emma. “What did you say after that?”
“I said nothing,” said Doethine, smiling.
To live. Emma was certain she’d heard it. From where? From whom? “To live?” she said, out loud.
“Exactly,” said Doethine. “The most fundamental, basic desire of living entities, at least those with consciousness, is simply to live.”
Doethine continued. “Not so long ago, cosmically speaking, The Void lived, quietly, harmlessly, mostly within black holes and other places far from the reach of intelligent life. The Void existed on stardust and emptiness; it sustained itself quite well for a very long time. Most of the time, The Void would sleep, for eons at a time, something like a hibernating bear. However, there came a time when someone, somewhere, discovered the first elevator.” She smiled benevolently at Emma, leaned in as if to tell her a secret. “This was long before my time. I was not the first; I was just the first on Lero.”
She leaned back, smoothed her dress across her knees. “There has been much debate as well around the elevators, their origin and their purpose. Personally, I believe they, too, are as old as time. I believe the elevators were put there to help us find each other, to connect us.
“The most powerful phrase in all the universes, Emma: ‘You are not alone.’ And you are not. We are not. None of us is alone. I believe the elevators were put there to help us remember that, to help u
s know there are always others out there, maybe not exactly like us, but yet still living, struggling, celebrating, loving, hoping, suffering, persevering, like all of us. None of us is ever alone.
“But it doesn’t feel that way always, does it? The more advanced a civilization becomes, the more isolated the people often become. People start to become disconnected. They start to compare themselves more against others, judge more, and too often they feel themselves come up short. Some may start to shrink down, live smaller lives, out of fear of judgment, and that only exacerbates the problem.
“And that’s where The Void comes in. Once, long ago, when the first elevator was discovered by that first intelligent life form, it opened up more than just the connection between thin spots. Somehow it awakened The Void nearby, and some of The Void, we believe, slipped through.
“Do you remember, Emma, the first time you had chocolate?”
Emma shook her head. “Not really.”
Doethine nodded. “Well, I imagine that for The Void, being exposed to intelligent life might have been like what it was for someone on Earth to eat chocolate for the first time. The Void, as you know, can slip into minds and eat. You don’t know The Void is there. It got a taste of the chemicals released when a person is disconnected from others, isolated, and I imagine it was like eating candy. It wanted more.”
Remembering how Eve had made this same chocolate analogy when they were stuck in the cave on the planet of plassensnares, Emma smiled. She wondered where Eve and Parallel Charlie had ended up. Something inside her thought she remembered Parallel Charlie holding a device—could it have been a pigeon? She wasn’t sure. She hoped whatever had happened to them, that they were safe. Safe from whatever might harm them. Safe from plassensnares; safe from The Void.
“Is The Void evil” Emma asked.
“I’m not convinced that The Void is evil,” said Doethine. “I rather suspect The Void simply is. It exists. It is as indifferent to you as a cold virus is. It doesn’t mean to destroy you; it just means to survive. But The Void is now surviving at the expense of intelligent beings like yourself.”
“If it doesn’t want to hurt people, then why is it? Why won’t it stop?” Emma asked.
“It doesn’t want to hurt people, nor does it not want to hurt people,” Doethine said. “The Void just wants to live.”
“What happens if it wins? If it takes over a person’s mind?”
“If The Void wins,” said Doethine, “a society falls apart. Creatures that were meant to live apart are not affected, but intelligent beings such as your people and mine, we need each other. What is your saying, ‘No man is an island’? I heard a story once about a young man on your planet who went into the wild to find himself. He ended up dying, tragically, but not before he wrote: ‘Happiness is other people.’ No, your people and my people, without each other, we wither inside. I have seen the results of a whole planet of people succumbing to The Void. It was not pretty.”
“So how do we fight it? What do we do?” asked Emma. “If it’s just inside our heads, floating in like air, how do we have a chance against it? Eve said The Void is already on Earth. Do we even have a chance?”
“The Void is so successful because it gets into your head and infiltrates your mind. The Void sounds just like your own inner voices, the ones that tell you you’re not good enough as you are, that you should stay home because you aren’t good at talking with people, that you shouldn’t try anything because you might fail and only successful efforts are worthy. These voices are the same as The Void’s. The Void doesn’t have to create them; it just perpetuates them.
“It’s almost too easy for The Void, with beings such as us. People don’t want to admit they’re alone, that they’re lonely, because it feels like an admission, like proof they don’t belong. That it’s a badge of dishonor, stating ‘I have been rejected. I am not enough.’ All The Void has to do is get people disconnected from each other, and then the shame of telling anyone is far too great; the emptiness opens the way for loneliness, and The Void feasts. Few things are as dangerous, Emma, as forces that are able to make us believe we are alone—even if we are not.
“As it is so often, the actions that will save people are the very things they start to shy away from. People start to stay away from other people, stop reaching out for community and friendship, when only being with others will save them. People stop creating art, but art will save them. People turn away from dance, but dance would save them. The things that make people feel vulnerable are the very things that will save them. You are not alone. Sometimes you have to be the one to reach out and let people know that you need them, but you are never alone.
“The Void can’t stand creativity, discovery, a sense of adventure. That’s why it is trying to destroy the Hub. You’ve been there. You’ve seen the fruits of Dr. Waldo’s vast imagination. Do you think The Void can thrive there? Of course not. It is now using Vik to try to destroy the Hub, so it can spread freely. The Hub is a road block for The Void, and it wants it gone.”
“Is Dr. Waldo okay? Is the Hub okay? Did Vik destroy it?” asked Emma.
Doethine said nothing.
Recognizing that a lack of answer from Doethine did not necessarily mean something bad, Emma took a deep breath and continued. “Okay, so how do we stop The Void” she asked.
“How do you fight it?” said Doethine. “Be compassionate. Be courageous. Connect. You have to dig down past your own fears to empathize with what the other is going through. If you imagine that you could never feel what the other felt, you can never connect with them. Step into their story from their perspective.”
Emma waited for Doethine to say more, but the woman was done talking about The Void. Emma absorbed what Eve’s Great Aunt had said. How, Emma wondered, could she begin to see things from The Void’s perspective, step into its story? Even the thought of it was frightening, to expose herself, her mind, to such vulnerability. Was it the only way? Surely there must be another way to fight. But when she tried to think of one, she came up blank.
The two sat in silence.
“Do I have to stay here?” Emma asked after a while. Even if leaving meant going back where The Void was, she wanted to get home.
“You know the answer to that,” Doethine said. “You know the answer to all these questions, you realize.” She stood up and started walking, or gliding, slowly. “We’ve been sitting too long,” she said. “I like to walk.”
Emma stood and walked along with her.
“I once met a woman from your Earth,” Doethine said. “She told me my name, Doethine, reminded her of the name Dorothy. She told me about a girl named Dorothy in a movie that’s famous on your planet. About a wizard, a young girl, her dog? They find themselves far from home, somehow, and Dorothy is trying to get back. Do you know it?”
Emma nodded. “Of course. The Wizard of Oz.”
“Yes, that’s it. The Wizard of Oz. The woman told me that at the end of the movie, Dorothy learns she always had the power to go home, that she had the power all along.”
Emma looked down at her own shoes as she walked, subconsciously tapping together the heels of her sneakers. Not ruby slippers, but …
“I have the power in me already?” Emma said.
Doethine said nothing.
“Do you mean I can get home without an elevator?”
Doethine’s smile grew. She shrugged her shoulders. “You are stardust, Emma. You are made of the multiverse. You already have everything you need. You’ve had it all along.” The ghost of Great Aunt Doethine paused in her walk; Emma stopped as well. Doethine smiled, kissed Emma on the forehead, and glided away, slowly, without hurry, without a backward look, without another word.
Emma wracked her brain. If she already had everything she needed, what did she have? Think, Emma, think! What did she have? What did she even need? Okay, she thought, time to make a list. She reached into her backpack to pull out her notebook, then burrowed to the bottom to find a pen. As her fingers searched ar
ound, she touched something hard and round.
“Wait,” she said out loud. “Is that …?”
She pulled out the object to see what it was.
“The rock!” she whispered loudly. “The rock from the beach!” She rolled it between her fingers, the rock she’d found days (weeks? months?) ago when she and her own Charlie were roaming on the beach below the lighthouse, the rock like Eve’s energy rock. The rock that she’d showed to Charlie, and after he’d held it and given it back to her, she’d thought she’d seen trails of light following him …
“That’s it!” she cried out. Emma looked around her to see if her outburst had disturbed anyone on the ghost planet, but apparently the denizens of the ghost planet were more or less imperturbable. She kissed the rock, knowing without question: this rock would lead her back to Charlie. You are made of the multiverse. You already have everything you need.
Emma hurried to repack everything into her backpack. She looked around. “Goodbye, ghost planet,” she said to no one in particular. No one listened; no one heard. Emma squeezed her eyes shut, wrapped her fingers tightly around Charlie’s rock, and with all her mind and all her being imagined Charlie: his laugh, his way of befriending everyone so easily. The way he both ceaselessly teased her and yet was also fiercely protective of her. The way his wavy hair would fall into his eyes when he leaned over his work—whether homework or fixing his bike or anything else—lost in concentration. She thought of the times they’d been up half the night giggling when they were supposed to be in their own rooms sleeping. The times he helped her build houses out of shoeboxes for her dolls. The times he sat and listened to her when she was sad, and then punched her arm when she was done crying. She pictured him on the parallel Earth at the lighthouse, the last time and place she saw him.
“Take me to Charlie,” she said to the rock and to the multiverse, and she set her focus on how it felt when the Dark MATTER had brought them here: the everythingness inside herself, the infinity, the being one with all the universes. She let the feeling wash over her again. Starting with the fingers wrapped around the energy rock, Emma’s body began to tingle and glow from within. She felt the air squeeze out of her, the choking feeling of being unable to breathe. But then she became the air and the oxygen itself and didn’t need to breathe. She felt her whole body vibrating, each cell individually, and she saw herself inside herself, able to count every cell if she’d wanted to. Emma smelled the emptiness of eternity, and knew she had left the ghost planet. She was everywhere. She was the multiverse. With great intensity, Emma brought her focus to the parallel Earth, to Charlie, focused on bringing her body back together, pulling her atoms and molecules away from the everythingness to form Emma again, separate again from the multiverse, apart from but always a part of it.
