“Well, any sister of Paradox is a friend of mine,” the man says, closing the door behind us.
If the man is unique then his home is even more so. The walls are lined with old machines, things I have no name for, pieces I’ve never seen before. The machines are stacked from floor to ceiling. There’s only a narrow pathway to walk through once you move away from the door area and clearly, there’s a specific pathway to follow. Dox steps to the side and pulls me with her, allowing the man to lead the way.
“I appreciate that, Oberon,” Dox replies, following after him as soon as he starts cutting through the machines.
I follow dutifully, determined to keep my mouth shut. Dox knows what she’s doing here and I’ve never dealt with a Chronal Mapper. There could be some sort of etiquette that would result in us not getting the predictions. And then we’d have a hell of a time getting through the Harrow Gate.
The floors are clean where the machines don’t sit and surprisingly, most of the metal contraptions aren’t covered in a fine layer of dust. That tells me two things. This man takes perfect care of his collection, and he must use them often. Of course, I’ve seen some of these items out in the scrap heaps. I couldn’t tell you what any of them do. It’s all tech from before, when Dross was a fully functioning society. Now, it all decays, but these items in this apartment feel well loved.
“You’re admiring my collection,” Oberon says, interrupting my thoughts when I stop to stare at a particularly large metal box.
I startle and immediately jerk my eyes away. “I’m sorry. I’ve just . . . never seen something like that before.”
Anyone else might have been insulted, or considered my perusal a threat. Theft is common in Dross, especially if something is worth anything. But only a fool would steal from a Chronal Mapper.
“Don’t apologize,” Oberon waves away my anxiety. “Would you like me to show you how it works?” He laughs. “Of course, you would.” He moves over and pulls it from the stack. “This here is a radio,” he declares proudly.
I squint my eyes. “A radio?”
He nods enthusiastically. “Indeed.”
“And . . . what’s a . . . radio?” I ask, glancing at Dox who is smiling at Oberon.
“I’m glad you asked, Vesper!” he says, excitement lighting up his entire face. “A radio is a device used to detect radio signals. Our ancestors used these machines to pick up these signals and listen to things such as news, events, and even music!”
I frown. “Like magic?”
“Magic? No, no. Like science.” He points to a few round designs on the machine where it looks peppered with holes. “These are speakers. The sound came out of here.” He sighs. “Unfortunately, without electricity, it no longer works, but I know it was glorious while it functioned.”
The man is speaking another language entirely. Science? Speakers? Electricity? None of these words make sense to me. I’ve never heard them before.
“What a shame,” I say, glancing at Dox in confusion, who only laughs.
“Your machines are so very interesting,” Dox offers, stepping closer.
“That they are. That they are.” Oberon nods before setting the radio back on the stack. “Oh, but you’re not here for that, I know.”
“That’s right.” Dox nods. “We were hoping to get any updates on your predictions. That last time we spoke, you gave me a five-kilometer radius. Can we get any narrower than that?”
“I can,” he nods. “I spent the last sleeping cycle speaking to the stars, interpreting them. I knew that it would be close to here, thus why I chose to come to Apartment Twenty.” My eyes bug out at the admission that this man has multiple apartments around the ring, but he continues as if he doesn’t notice. “In fact, I can narrow down whereandwhen,” he says, beaming proudly.
“That would be amazing,” Dox says.
For a second, I forget Dox’s warning and I find myself meeting Oberon’s purple eyes directly. He flinches and jerks backwards, making me jump and reach out to keep him from tripping over his machines. Dox is there before I am, her hand around his wrist, steadying him and blocking his view of me.
“I’ve got you Obbie,” she says. “Don’t you worry.”
Oberon laughs nervously and straightens. Only when he seems to gather his senses does Dox let go. I’m so thrown by the situation, confused why my gaze would cause such an issue, that I almost miss the most important detail of the interaction.
Dox and Oberon are familiar enough to have a nickname for him.Veryfamiliar.
“Now where were we?” Oberon asks, adjusting his shirt and pretending like nothing happened. “Oh, yes. The predictions.” He moves over to a cluttered makeshift table and shuffles through the papers. “Here it is.”
He hands the paper to Dox and she takes it with a smile. She looks down at it, reads the information there, and hands it over to me. I look down at the paper and read what it says.
DISTRICT TWENTY, SECTOR 5 IN THE WAKING HOUR
My eyes widen. That’s close. Only one sector over. And it’s going to be opening within the next two hours.
