“Elim.”

I heard my name, and thought it was coming from the Barzan Wormhole I was studying.

“Elim!”

This time I turned around–and there was Palandine, sitting next to me.

“You must be very special if they let you in here,” she said without irony.

I looked around to see who else was in our row.

“There’s nobody here. I waited until you were alone. Why are you avoiding me?”

The directness of the question stopped me. I didn’t know how to respond.

“Did I insult you? You were positively rude to me the last time we met.”

“I’m not . . . comfortable . . . calling me Elim. Nobody does that,” I struggled to explain.

“How much time do you have left?” she asked. I looked at the screen.

“Less than half a unit.”

“Come with me,” she said as if it were a simple request.

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Who’s the docent who gave you permission?” she asked.

“Rilon.”

“Ah, yes,” she said with recognition. “And of course you’re serious enough to be his prize student.” Now the irony was creeping into her tone. “Whatever you have it’s going to be enough for your report. Come on, I want to show you something.”

I didn’t know what to do. My body was twitching with discomfort.

“You’re still not having fun, are you, Elim?”

“No, I’m not. Especially with you bothering me. Will you leave me alone. And stop calling me Elim. I’m Ten Lubak!”

She just looked at me as if seeing someone she didn’t expect. I could see that I had hurt her.

“I’m sorry . . . Ten Lubak. I won’t bother you again.” All the brightness, the airy ease was now shaded with genuine disappointment, almost sadness. She smiled with her mouth only and walked away.

Why? I asked myself. Why?! For the life of me I could not understand why it was important to her that I respond. Why should she–so beautiful, so alive–be disappointed if I didn’t return her . . . what? What did he want from me? Friendship? Why me?

I was in turmoil. Her grace and manner, the way she tilted her head and half smiled when she listened, as if everything amused her . . . it was like a forbidden dream of the unattainable. The attraction was painful because I instinctively knew that while my life would be simpler and more controllable without her, it would also be as drab as my Bamarren uniform.

I knew I wasn’t going back to the wormhole today. I withdrew my chip, got up, and followed without thinking in the direction she had taken. There were several rows in the area separated by barriers. I was quickly lost, and began to panic that I wouldn’t find her. I was now operating on some emotional level that no amount of rational thought could stop. Where was she? I turned a corner and nearly ran her down.

“I’m sorry.” My nervous energy and anxiety left me short of breath. “I don’t mean to be unfriendly. I just don’t know why you . . . I mean, I’m not very . . . I’m trying my best to get along here and follow the rules and be . . . and you . . . confuse me.” Her head was tilting and her whole face began to form that maddening smile.

“I’m just a murk!” I nearly shouted. She was delighted and began to laugh.

“Are you making fun of me?” It was at that moment, when I asked the question, that I realized just how afraid I was of being the object of her ridicule. She stopped laughing and for the first time she was speechless. Something behind me, however, caught her attention and her expression instantly changed.

“No, you’re notsupposed to be here, murk. You’re obviously lost. Follow me!” The change was stunning. She brushed by me, and I indeed followed. Then I saw the reason for her change. Approaching us was a Third Level intern. At this last Level you were no longer called a student.

“Good day to you, sir.” She bowed her head slightly as he stopped in front of us. He nodded to her and looked at me.

“Who’s this?” he asked as if I was a specimen.

“A murk who’s lost, sir.” Her personality was totally submerged.

“Your permission chip,” the intern demanded. I held it out to him, but he never took his eyes off mine. I began to sweat.

“Who’s your docent?”

“Rilon . . . sir.”

“This is not the technical section. Why are you here?” His eyes were tightly locked into mine. There was no wobble room with this intern; he knew his business.

“I thought I was going out the way I came in. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Sorry for what?” he asked.

“For my loss of direction.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “You need more work in the Wilderness. Who’s your superior?”

“One Tarnal, sir.” If he ever finds out that the Wilderness is the one place I don’tneed work. . . .

He turned to Palandine. “One Ketay.”

“Sir!” she responded with vigor. I was not as familiar with the female Levels, but Ketay struck me as familiar.

“See that his section leader is informed of his need for Wilderness experience.”

“I will, sir.”

“And make sure he leaves the Center now.”

“I will, sir.” Palandine bowed her head again and motioned me to follow her. He was still looking at me like a specimen, but now one with a bad smell. I followed as we made our way back to the entrance, entered our chips, and left the building. We continued along a walk‑way that led behind the Archival Center.

“I’ll take you another time,” she said, looking straight ahead. I assumed she was talking about whatever it was she wanted to show me.

“Elim.”

“Yes?”

“Call me Palandine.”

I hesitated.

“Elim, when I first met you I knew that you could become a good friend. Don’t ask me why, that’s my business. Unless you’re a total idiot you don’t go about making friends by ridiculing them . . . unless they ask for it,” she added with a sidelong glance. “Am I clear?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes . . . Palandine.”

She stopped and pointed to the pathway on the right with a gesture I thought slightly larger than necessary. “You go that way, murk.” She winked at me and took the left pathway. I watched her departure until I looked back and saw that the intern was watching us from a window in the Center. I turned and headed back to the First Level Study Center feeling that if I had dared, I could have flown there.

Ketay! It came to me just at the moment Eight kicked out my right leg, spun me around, and sent me sprawling into the Pit sand after a motionless standoff that had lasted well into darkness. Six had fainted, Three had fallen asleep twice and Seven’s hallucinations had been severe enough for Calyx to intervene. As I rose, spitting grains of sand from my mouth, I was not so much embarrassed by my lapse as I was excited by my realization that Ketay was the elite female Level Two group, and Palandine’s designation as One put her on an equal footing with One Charaban.

“Do some of your best daydreaming here, eh, Ten?” Calyx wryly observed. Eight had the look of someone who’d been given an unexpected gift. This had been a grueling session for everyone, and there was much relief that it was over. But even with my lapse this was probably my best showing in the Pit, considering the advanced strategem and the quality of my opponent. Nobody out‑lasted Eight. Whatever I had found in the Wilderness, he had found in the Pit.

“Even one thought that takes you out of the moment is fatal here, Ten. There is no recovery, no second chance.” Calyx concluded his critique and walked away. Class was over. There were no beginnings and ends for him–only the continuum.

I was always the last one to leave the Pit. I told myself it was because I was slower than the others, but the truth was that ever since my first encounter with Palandine here I secretly hoped to see her again–especially after our last meeting. This time, however, Eight uncharacteristically lagged behind with me. What was even more unusual was that he apparently wanted to talk.

“You were good today,” he said.