by John Purcell
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The door on the opposite side of the lab led to the living quarters. As soon as I stepped through it, I heard laughter and smelled the aroma of cooking meat. I followed the long hallway to its end, passing a number of closed doors, and found myself in the kitchen.
Emerald and Gutenberg were sitting with the Three around a large table, the remains of a meal spread across it.
When Luma saw me come in, she jumped up and ran over. “Teo! You are not going to believe what we just had for supper!”
I knew the answer, but I said, “I don’t know. What?”
“Hamburgers! Real hamburgers, with real buns! They have them in this giant freezer!”
“Your wish came true, after all. How were they?”
“They were delicious! No, they were beyond delicious! I don’t see how I’m ever going to eat Mom’s hamburgers again!”
Luma heard her own words and froze. Her smile faded away.
She looked at her feet. “Um, Teo… I have some bad news.”
For once, I had no guess. “What is it?”
“Mom is in trouble. Emerald looked her up on the DataStream. She’s sick or hurt, I don’t know which, but she’s in the hospital.”
This made me suspicious. I said, “How’s Drake?”
Luma looked up, expression troubled. “He’s dead.”
I glanced at Emerald. She nodded.
I said, “What happened?”
“Nobody knows. But Teo, I have to get home to Mom. She’s all alone. I’m the only one she has now.”
I felt this in my stomach. “Of course.”
“Emerald is going to take me home in a few minutes. We already worked out my story.” She suddenly threw her arms around my neck. “But I don’t want to go, Teo! I mean, I do, I have to help Mom, but I really, really wish you could come with me!”
I said, “I can’t, Luma. You know I can’t.”
She released me, nodding. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Emerald says she can get me out again when I’m ready, but I don’t know how long Mom will need me.” She looked away. “You guys are going to have to find Dogan’s father without me.”
“That’s okay, Luma.”
Her voice was forlorn. “But we’re supposed to stick together! I don’t like it! It doesn’t feel right!”
I agreed, but I said, “Don’t worry about us, Luma. You go help your mom. We’ll be fine.”
She turned back to me, extending her pinkie. “Swear it!”
I offered her mine, knowing I couldn’t promise any such thing.
When we’d sealed the pact, Luma retrieved Moto’s head from her backpack and placed it on the table. Then Emerald took her gently by the arm. As she led Luma away, Dogan asked if he and Bim could see her off at the drainpipe. Emerald agreed and they all exited through the kitchen doorway.
And that was that. A door opened and closed and Luma was gone from my life.
I sat down opposite Gutenberg. He waited in silence.
I said, “After all that’s happened, I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Mr. Wu lied to me, Josie wouldn’t help me, and Thomas is dead. You’re my last hope.”
He gave me a fatherly smile. “I have an answer but you’re not going to like it.”
“At this point, I’ll take anything.”
“All right, then. No one knows what you’re supposed to do. You have to figure it out for yourself.”
“Wait a minute. Emerald said, ‘Your father created you for a purpose. Fulfill that purpose.’ What was that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it means. Just because she doesn’t know your purpose doesn’t make it any less true.”
I found this idiotic. “So that’s it? Figure it out myself?”
Gutenberg was fishing in the pockets of his frock coat. “Well, there is one other thing. Thomas gave it to me before he left…”
He produced a thin black book and slid it across the table.
I recognized it immediately. “Not the Oracle again. That’s worse than nothing.”
Gutenberg smiled. “You said you’d take anything. Open it.”
I lifted the front cover. A single sheet of paper had been folded in half and tucked inside. I removed it and unfolded it.
It read: Dear Teo, Our father had great faith in us. I used to worry about things to come, unsure of what to do, and he would remind me that our beliefs are defined by our actions. I finally learned that I would never know what to do until the moment arrived. Only then would my path become clear. I believe that’s what he meant, and this book has furthered my understanding. Good luck. Thomas
I refolded the paper and put it back in the book.
Gutenberg said, “Better than nothing, wouldn’t you agree?”
I stood up. “Will you please tell me where I’m sleeping?”
He climbed to his feet and picked up his cane. “You have a number of options. I’ll escort you.”
Gutenberg led me back down the long hallway. Stopping midway, he opened one of the doors and ushered me in. “This was Thomas’s room.”
It was softly lit and almost empty. The only piece of furniture, a well-worn recliner, sat in the center of the room. The wall it faced was equipped with a complex of speakers and a glowing control panel. These were set directly into the wall, flush with its surface. There was nothing else in the room, except for strings of colored lights that ran around the perimeter, close to the ceiling.
Gutenberg said, “According to Josie, when Thomas had nothing else to do he would withdraw to his room and listen to music.”
“I don’t see a single record anywhere.”
“Times have changed, Teo. The storage device in the wall holds over ten million hours of music, from any artist you can imagine. Thomas would program endless playlists and recline in his armchair, sometimes for days. He told Josie it was the only way to escape his own thoughts.”
“What did he listen to?”
“Above all else, he loved Ben Webster.”
I looked up “Webster, Ben.” No entry.
Gutenberg said, “Do you have any favorites, Teo? Very likely you’ll find them here.”
“I’m not sure. Ray Conniff? Percy Faith?”
Gutenberg looked aghast.
I said, “That’s all they played in Dome Nine.”
“Then your ears are about to be opened. The remote is built right into the recliner. Will you be comfortable enough here?”
“This will be fine. Thank you.”
“Good night, Teo. Pleasant dreams.”
After Gutenberg left, I sat down in Thomas’s recliner and raised the footrest. I had no intention of listening to music, and pondering my future held no appeal, either. All I really wanted to do was chase down Luma before it was too late and make her come back. Instead, I turned my attention to Thomas’s thin black book, which I still held in my hands.
There was a brief introduction explaining how to consult the Oracle by sorting yarrow stalks. This was the procedure King Wen had used. Done by hand, it had been long and complicated, but I realized that my processors could duplicate it in an instant.
This forced me to decide whether or not to consult the Oracle myself. It had predicted my future, there was no arguing that, but the predictions had only made sense in hindsight. On the other hand, Thomas had left it for me. He believed the Oracle would guide me, and, truth be told, it was the only guidance I was likely to get.
I mentally sorted the yarrow stalks and received Hexagram 26, Big Cattle. It read:
Auspicious omen.
Do not dine at home.
Auspicious to cross the great stream.
This was the sort of claptrap I had come to expect, but now I tried to make sense of it. King Wen had said, “Oracle speak of one thing, mean something else.”
&nb
sp; Crossing the great stream had already come up in earlier fortunes. It seemed to mean undertaking something difficult. And not dining at home implied that I should leave familiar surroundings and travel.
I received a moving line, as well. It read:
Danger.
You will profit.
This suggested that the journey would be risky, but worth the trouble.
The moving line changed Hexagram 26 into Hexagram 18, Work, which read:
Sign of the Great Sacrifice.
Auspicious to cross the great stream.
Three days before the first.
Three days after the first.
There was the great stream again, this time in the context of difficult work. The last two lines were quite specific. I had no objection to waiting three days before the first, or after it, for that matter. But what, exactly, was the first?
I closed the book and tucked it into the gap between the recliner’s arm and seat cushion. All in all, it had told me what I’d already known: the next move was to get up to the Arctic and look for Dogan’s father. As to my purpose in life, the Oracle—like everyone else—remained silent.
I lay back in Thomas’s recliner and waited for 9:29 PM to arrive.
Tomorrow, I’ll talk to Gutenberg about getting up to the Arctic and finding Oilfield 217. At the moment, though, I have no enthusiasm for this quest.
Without Luma, there doesn’t seem to be much point in anything.
Entry complete.
The End
I thank you most sincerely for reading my story!
Dome Nine is the first book in a planned trilogy.
Comments? Questions?
Contact John Purcell at [email protected]
