“That can happen?” Ellis was shocked.

“It can—but it hasn’t. Been well over a thousand years since the last recorded mishap. I think we’re doing a pretty good job. Was worse for you, right?” Geo-12 looked at Ellis. “Back in the days of weather? All of us study ancient meteorology—lots of corollaries there. Every year you had multiple hurricanes, numerous tornadoes, thunderstorms, blizzards, fires. We have the same sort of things down here—much more manageable and preventable, but with a greater potential for catastrophic disaster. So we don’t like making mistakes.”

They continued down the self-illuminated tunnel to a central hub, like the spokes of a wagon wheel except the tunnels branched out in all directions. There they found a large room filled with wall and ceiling screens displaying images in various colors. Filling the chamber, a hundred other geomancers, dressed in similar mad-scientist garb, watched the changing colors on the screens.

“This is the brain—the center of our system,” Geo-12 explained, leading them to a balcony railing so they could look down at the activity. “From here we monitor the core, asthenosphere, and lithosphere, the convection and conduction. Most can be handled remotely, but often teams need to go out off the standard lines. That’s when it’s dangerous. Gas can build up. Any breach in a tunnel can cause instant incineration.”

“Why would they—why do youdo this?” Pol asked, stunned.

Ellis could tell that Pol didn’t understand why anyone would live down there. He imagined the conditions were similar to coal mines and steel mills around 1900, but those workers didn’t have a choice. They needed the money to feed their families.

“It needs to be done,” Geo-12 said with a taciturn quality that reminded Ellis of Gary Cooper. “Really the only thing that still does.”

That was the answer. Why didn’t Superman live on a Caribbean island playing Xbox games? Why did firemen run into buildings everyone else was running out of? Why did people risk their lives by volunteering for combat duty, and why did that guy in Lostkeep pressing that stupid button? In a world where little else seemed to—this mattered.

Pol paused and looked out through the transparency at the frothing world of liquid rock that swirled and spouted around them. “You stop earthquakes here?”

“And cause them,” Geo-12 replied. “Earthquakes, volcanic eruptions—there are 540 volcanoes in the world. We use most of them as vents. Small regulated spews avoid the big nasty explosions.”

“And what would happen if this facility failed?”

Geo-12’s eyes widened, then displayed a sour look. “A temporary malfunction or shutdown wouldn’t cause much—”

“What about a prolonged failure?” Pol asked.

Geo-12 shifted uneasily, as Ellis imagined the geomancer was envisioning it.

“Well, plates would snap. We’ve been regulating things so long, a sudden halt would be catastrophic. What happened to the surface of the planet during the Great Tempest would be nothing compared to the destruction in Hollow World.”

“What about on the surface?”

Geo-12 shrugged. “Be some earthquakes there, too, and a few major volcanic eruptions until the pressure bled off, but nothing too devastating—there’s nothing up there to be damaged, really. Plus there’s open sky above, unlike in Hollow World where there’s a ceiling, which would crash. And there are some areas of Hollow World where natural lava chutes have been blocked or diverted that would be free to flow again. It’d be a world-altering event. Luckily, that can’t happen. Almost everything is automated now. We have our own vox, if you will, that functions as a safety net and even double-checks our actions. If everyone disappeared tomorrow, the institute would still monitor and clear most of the issues. There might be a shock here and an unscheduled eruption there, but nothing too horrible. For the unthinkable to happen, this whole facility would have to disappear, along with all the people who run it.”

Then Ellis then gave his usual speech. By then he’d polished it to a disappointing monotone. The geomancers didn’t appear to notice and asked questions mostly about weather and the forecasters of the past. One of them actually knew the name Willard Scott, who was thought to be something of a hero. They were disappointed to discover he had not experienced the Great Tempest. Ellis was not at all disappointed at having skipped that portion of history, particularly when one geomancer asked, “Is it true that people resorted to cannibalism even before the sun disappeared?”

“ Welcome back, Ellis Rogers!” Alva sounded like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Ellis stood in the same familiar dining room, but everything felt different. The Gothic décor was darker, heavier, and some classical fugue played oppressively through the same unseen speakers that Alva spoke through. If he hadn’t been there before, Ellis could have concluded that Pol had dropped him off in Dracula’s castle. The one thing he could be certain of—Vin was there.

Ellis turned back and saw Pol, still standing in the Councilor’s office. Pol waved goodbye and closed the portal. Since leaving the Geomancy Institute, Pol had seemed anxious, the promise to help find Pax forgotten. Ellis was annoyed at the breaking of the bargain, but also happy to be free of Pol. They’d just spent too much time together. Pol pretended, and might have even believed it, but their shared company hadn’t been wonderful.

Ellis called out, “Anyone home?”

“ I just told Pol that Vin is here, didn’t I?” Alva replied.

“I suppose, but—”

“ But that’s not what you want to know.” The words were spoken with a hint of sadness, and Ellis realized that Alva would have easily passed the AI Turing Test—the ability to fool humans into thinking they were communicating not with a machine but with another thinking, feeling person. Even though Alva had admitted to being some sort of computer, his mind refused to accept that. He imagined her as a curmudgeonly, but lovable, woman in her fifties always speaking to him from the next room. Alva was Pax’s mother.

“Is Pax here?”

“ No. I’m afraid—”

“So you’ve returned,” Vin said, entering the dining room still in his Phantom of the Opera costume, which was augmented this time with a cape. Vin didn’t look happy to see him—or that might have just been Vin’s normal frown. Ellis had yet to see another expression to judge by. “Back to cause more mischief, I presume? Hate to disappoint you, but Pax isn’t here.”

“Do you know where—”

“How could I know that? How could anyone after you ripped the PICA from Pax’s shoulder? Nice bit of butchering, by the way.”

Definitely not happy to see me.“Are you saying that Pax never came back?”

“Briefly. In tears. With your murderous weapon in hand.” Vin stood before Ellis, arms folded, glaring out from behind that porcelain half-mask. “I tried talking. I tried to…but you had Pax wound tight, didn’t you? Couldn’t hear me anymore. Instead, all I saw was despair—that’s what you created. And that gun. After driving the poor thing to the brink, you put such a tool in Pax’s hands—like handing a red-label illusion to a fantasy-deprived holoholic. Isn’t that right?”

“What are you saying?” Ellis felt his stomach tighten. “You’re not—did Pax do something? Are you saying Pax—that Pax did something with my gun?”

Ellis’s heart began to pound, his hands shaking. That’s not it—please, God, don’t let that be it!

Vin walked away, three hard steps, fists clenched as if holding back a desire to kill. “Were all people in your day so stupid? That’s why you had wars, isn’t it? Wars, murders, rapes, and torture. All of you self-centered and as sensitive as the concrete you choked the planet with. A pack of cave-dwelling Neanderthals killing for food and recreation.” Vin’s voice was growing shrill, sounding more feminine, nearing hysteria. “Since you hadn’t noticed, let me explain—Pax isn’t a strong person. That’s why I live here. That’s why I put up with all this misery.”