There were too many rules he couldn't understand. Too many pieces missing from the puzzle.

"Fireblast!" he whispered to himself. He didn't even know what the game was called.

The sign above the door said: Information Storage and Retrieval.

To Ryan's surprise they had been encouraged to visit Jak after they'd taken their first meal of the pallid sludge. The boy was safe and well, though in a closed security unit under a heavy guard of visored sec men.

Later, they'd again split up, to explore the Wizard Island Complex, Ryan and Krysty wandering far into an isolated wing, descending in a smaller elevator, finding themselves in a region that seemed totally unused.

There were tiny heaps of dust in the corners of the corridors. All of the doors were locked, and few carried any sort of sign. It seemed as though it was a part of the complex that had drifted into disuse, possibly as the population decreased so rapidly.

J.B. and Finnegan had gone in search of ways of getting through to the main entrance and exit elevators, checking out the levels of security coverage. Lori hadn't been feeling well, but she and Doc were going again toward the closed research areas, in the hope that Doc's name might find them a way through.

"It's what they used to call a library," Krysty said, hands on hips, looking down at where her sneakers had become dirtied.

"I've seen 'em before. Lots of redoubts had them. Books and vids an' mags. Micros and fiches. All old stuff. Most so far gone it's useless."

"Shall we go in?"

"Sure. Probably locked like the... No, it isn't."

The door was stiff, the bronze handle reluctant to move at all. As it opened, they felt the faintest draft of stale air, which made the girl's vivid hair coil and shift.

"Tastes like a well-kept grave," Krysty said.

"Been long years since this was opened up. I know that smell from other places, other times."

Hand in hand, like children, they walked in, their shoes squeaking on the dull floor.

After an hour or more of wandering the endless rows of files, Ryan called out to Krysty, "This is madness, lover. There's all the history of the fucking world here. Everything, right up to January 2001. All from outside. But you scan anything after the bombs fell, and it's from Wizard Island."

"Yeah. Post the nukes, it's all inbred stuff. Like the world outside stopped dead. Which it nearly did. But they didn't record anything after that. Like nobody ever left here."

"That's what that poisonous scientist dwarf said. Nobody ever leaves Wizard Island. Not until us."

Krysty stared around her, shaking her head. "There must be plans in here of how the redoubt was built. If'n we knew that, we could maybe find how to get out. Or how to wreck it."

"Take forever."

"I guess so. But I feel that..." She looked down at her feet.

"What is it?"

Krysty grinned. "You know there's a kind of mutie streak in me, lover. I can feel some vibrations from in here."

"What? Somebody in here? Can't be. We been clear round it, and there's only the one entrance."

"No. Not that. Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

"Stay here, by this microviewer. Keep quiet. Don't move or speak."

Ryan did as she asked. He already knew that Krysty had some strange powers — exceptional sight and hearing, as well as a doomie's sensitivity. He watched her, stepping light as a cat, eyes almost closed, head raised as if she were scenting the dulled air. She vanished behind a row of shelves, and he waited, patient, unmoving.

He heard a wheeled ladder being moved, rusted casters squeaking, cabinets opening, drawers slamming shut. Once he heard her coughing as though dust had gotten into her throat.

"This one."

She held out a flat disk in a laser-scan envelope. There was a seal across it, with a tiny pattern of microcircuits dappled over the top. On the front were the letters: TT/ CJ/Ce.

"Why?"

"That's the one we have to view. I don't know why, lover. Just try it in the player."

He took it and broke the seal, sliding the disk into the machine. The red light on the front remained steady, but the screen was stubbornly blank.

"Malfunctioned?" Krysty asked.

"I don't... Ah, here she comes."

The screen glowed a pallid green, and finally lettering appeared.

Access denied. Refer to subcode CJ, all sees. Go to mainframe on limit/inject. Enter code now for reading. Repeat NOW.

Nothing more happened. The words disappeared off the screen, leaving it blank again. Ryan and Krysty looked at each other.

"Don't like this," Ryan said.

"Me, neither."

Then the screen came to life again. Warning. If access reading code not entered in fifteen seconds from message end then all sec services will be notified. Warning ends. Fifteen-second delay begins now. Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen...

"Time to move on out," Krysty said.

"Never get beyond the door," Ryan said. "Looks like this is the time the piss floods the tubes."

Ten seconds. Warning repeats. Security caution in ten seconds. Nine. Eight. Seven...

"It's E, then Mand finally Y," a quiet voice behind them said.

Without even looking around, Ryan punched in the three letters.

Three. Two... Access open. Sec warning deleted. Proceed.

"Thanks, Doc," Ryan said, finally swiveling in the seat to see the old man leaning up against the wall, looking indescribably ancient and bone-weary.

"Pleasure. Didn't want those faceless goons on top of us."

"Where's Lori?" Krysty asked.

"Back in the dormitory. Wasn't feeling at all up to scratch. So I came wandering. I confess I had a most peculiar feeling I would find you in this place."

"But what's?.." Ryan began. "And how did?.."

"Just key it in," Doc said quietly.

Krysty leaned over Ryan's shoulder, her hair brushing against his cheek in a subtle, caressing gesture. She pressed the button marked Run with her index finger.

The code had opened up the secret file, and now the screen glowed once more. Subject. Tanner, Theophilus Algernon. Doctor of Science, Harvard. Doctor of Philosophy, Oxford University, England. There followed a whole string of further qualifications, degrees and honors, many from Europe. The screen scrolled through some forty lines of them.

"Fucking impressive, Doc," Ryan said. "But there haven't been any of these college places for a hundred years now. How d'you fake all this?"

Ryan laughed, but Doc Tanner didn't. He simply leaned against the wall and watched the screen with blank resignation.

Birth date and location. South Strafford, Vermont. February 14, 1868.

Ryan laughed again. "There's a lot of things in this complex cracking up. 1868." He stopped. "But it's wrong all ways. Can't be 1968. Nor 2068. So?.."

Krysty pressed Query and Repeat.

February 14, 1868.

"Got to be a mistake," Krysty said doubtfully. "I'll punch up the portrait."

It was unmistakably Doc Tanner.

The long, thin face with bright eyes. The oddly excellent set of strong teeth. The picture on the screen was a man dressed in more or less the same kind of old-fashioned clothes Doc had been wearing when Ryan and Krysty had first met up with him.

Ryan pressed the Amplify key, using the cursor to underline the date of birth.

Date confirmed. Day known as feast day of Christian saint called Valentine, in year of 1868 during the period in the history of the United States of America known as "Reconstruction," after the Civil War.

"That was when they fought over slaves, wasn't it?" Krysty asked.

"Slaves and much more, dear child," Doc said softly. "Oh, much more."