Eternity's Wheel (InterWorld 3)

“I can go get something,” I said, but she shook her head.

“You’ve gotta start trusting me sometime,” she said. “I can’t be the only one taking leaps of faith, here.”

“It’s not about trust,” I protested. “You’re my first and only recruit. You’re my responsibility. I can’t let you run off to do something potentially dangerous, and beyond that, where are you even going to go? We’re on a prehistoric Earth, remember? It’s not like you can just Walk to the corner store and buy us some milk.”

Now it was her turn to hesitate, though it was for an admirably short moment. “There are other ways to get food. I’m sure there are fruit trees, right? And fish?”

“I don’t think there are fish trees,” I said, and she threw a coil of copper wire at me. I’d gotten her to laugh, though. Sort of. “Although, that’s not a bad idea. Fishing, I mean.”

“No, it’s not. I don’t even have to Walk anywhere, I can just go off ship. Okay? Send your bubble thing to find me if I’m taking too long.”

“His name is Hue,” I reminded her, though I refrained from pointing out that I wasn’t sure I could really send Hue anywhere. He wasn’t exactly at my beck and call.

“Whatever. Gimme one of those satchels and I’ll go get us some fruit, okay? It’s better than nothing, which is what we’ve got.”

I handed her one. Somewhat reluctantly, but I knew she was right; I had to start trusting her. We’d only been working together for a few hours, but this was fate-of-the-world stuff. I needed to let her stretch her legs, and it was best she do it now while we were still relatively safe.

Besides, this meant I could do a few things around the ship I was way more comfortable doing on my own.

First and foremost, once she left, I made my way down the cleared hallways to the living quarters. It may have been silly, but I wanted to find my own room—or what had been my room. If this InterWorld was thousands of years in the future, I’m sure I was long dead. It must belong to another Walker by now, but I just . . . wanted to see. I wanted something to be familiar, anything at all.

Nothing was, of course. InterWorld didn’t allow for much customization in the first place, and whoever had used this room before the base w

as evacuated (abandoned? Surrendered?) hadn’t left any personal items. The most I found was an old T-shirt, so yellowed with age that it was impossible to tell whether it had ever had any kind of logo on it at all.

I set my backpack in there nevertheless, and swept out as much of the dust as I could. The shift shutters—made of the thick acrylic they use to make airplane windows—were down and wouldn’t open until the ship was powered up again. The sun had been up for a few hours now, and was currently directly overhead; the solar panels were soaking it up, and with any luck we would have enough power to run basic functions by the time Josephine got back. Then I could open the windows and air out the rooms, get the dust out of the ventilation systems, use the stove and ovens in the kitchen, and (I hoped) have enough hot water for a shower.

And maybe, if I could use the solar energy to charge up a few of the power cores, I could get the Hazard Zone up and running. Then Josephine would have a chance to really stretch her legs.

She came back a few hours later, right as I was starting to worry. While she was gone, I’d managed to get two rooms as cleaned out as I could for us, and moved our stuff into both of them. I was staying in “my” room; hers was right next door. I figured it’d be safe enough and far less awkward than trying to share. I was still pretty sure she didn’t like me much. That was sort of par for the course with most of my para-incarnations, it seemed. (A small part of me wondered exactly what psychological implications it may have that I never seemed to particularly like myself. The rest of me was just concerned with trying to keep everyone alive.)

I’d also managed to start up the ventilation system, and there’d been enough solar power to get the shift shutters open by the time Josephine got back. We’d still pretty much be inhaling centuries of dust for a while, but it wouldn’t be as bad tomorrow.

“These apples are as big as your head,” Josephine said once she’d found me again, tossing one in my direction. I caught it reflexively, though it took both hands. She wasn’t kidding.

“Good,” I said, taking a bite. “More for . . .” I paused, chewing slowly. “It doesn’t taste like an apple.”

“Is it bad?” She eyed her own suspiciously.

“No, it just . . . doesn’t taste like an apple. It’s good, though.”

She took a bite. “It kind of tastes like an apple. Like . . . a weird apple.”

“The Evolution of Apples,” I said, putting a note of drama in my voice. It was supposed to be funny, but she paused and looked down at the giant red fruit in her hands.

“Y’know, we’re probably eating something no one has eaten for thousands of years,” she said.

“Millions,” I corrected. “But, yeah. It’s one of the perks of this job.” She tried not to look pleased, but I could tell she was. We ate our giant not apples in silence.

“Okay, boss,” she said, once we were finished eating and had found homes in the kitchen for the various other fruits, vegetables, nuts, and berries she’d brought back. “What now?”

“Now,” I said, glancing outside at the sky. “We take our much-deserved hot showers while we still have solar power, and go to sleep.”

As pleased as she looked at the notion of a hot shower, she looked equally disappointed that it was bedtime so soon. “Aren’t you tired?” I asked, abruptly feeling like I was talking to a small child.

“No,” she said, looking like she meant it. “I want to learn more.”

“Well, I’ve been up since three this morning, and it hasn’t exactly been a restful day. I’m falling over. You can entertain yourself if you want, but I would advise you to get some sleep. I’ll likely be up between four and five again, and I’m waking you up with me.”