Page 71 of Under Story

Nita leads her through a metal door. With its biosafety cabinets and workbenches, the lab could have been plucked from her universe. Laurel feels a modicum of comfort: here, at least, she knows what to expect.

Wheels squeal on linoleum. A man’s head pokes into the center aisle.

“Laurel and Nita.” His body follows on a rolling stool. “Why do I always feel like you’re up to no good?”

The man has square green glasses. His locs are tied back in a ponytail. Laurel is certain she’s seen him before—but where?

“Kwame still hasn’t forgiven us for beating him at shuffleboard,” Nita says.

“It’s like that, huh?” Crossing his arms, Kwame grins. “I’d propose a rematch if Laurel weren’t skipping out on us.”

Nita hops up on an empty bench. “It’s Saturday, Kwame. Why am I not surprised you’re the only one here?”

Kwame shrugs with one shoulder. “Can’t stay away. But I’m going. The Carp Shop is setting up mini golf.”

“You should say goodbye to Laurel,” Nita says. “This might be the last time you see her.”

Kwame sticks out his bottom lip. “We’ll be in touch about the project, obviously. But that won’t be the same as digging through rocks around here.”

Laurel decides on two rules of engagement: to express agreement, and to do so in as few words as possible.

“No,” she echoes.

Kwame stands to tidy his workspace. His purple clogs thunk as he walks to the door. At the sound, Laurel remembers where she saw Kwame’s look-alike: he was the geologist who presented on the fossil forest in the Dry Valleys.

“One last thing,” Kwame says. “Did you get those samples out?”

“Samples,” Laurel repeats. She chooses one of two possible options. “Yes.”

“You rock,” says Kwame. Nita groans. “I’ll be waiting in suspense.”

When the door closes behind him, Nita sighs loudly, and Laurel sinks to the floor.

“I hate lying,” she says.

“Well, you’d better get used to it,” says Nita. “Do you mind if I leave you to look around on your own? I’m supposed to meet Sam for a boondoggle. I’d cancel, but it’s the first time we’ve won the lottery.”

—

Hours later, Laurel walks back to the dorm. Half a day has passed since she saw Eli, and she’s eager to tell him what she learned. She finds him craned over a book.

“Where have you been?” he asks, stretching.

“Investigating,” she says. “The other me was a scientist here.”

She describes the events of that morning: how Nita showed up at the room, and why Laurel decided to be honest.

“What if she tells someone?” asks Eli.

“She won’t. She wouldn’t even explain why the other Laurel and Eli wanted to dive, which would be admirable, I guess, if it weren’t infuriating. But she did take me to the lab.”

It was easy to find the right bench. A garland of toadstools hung from the desk, and a sign bore her own name. Slung over the chair was a canvas tote bag. One side showed two cartoon mushrooms kissing. The other read: Get a Shroom.

In a cabinet above the desk, corked vials waited in rows. The samples inside seemed, at first glance, to be tiny silver rocks—but when Laurel lifted a vial to her face, they looked more like fossilized wood.

Most puzzling of all was a row of petri dishes. Laurel slid one under a microscope. It seemed to contain a combination of fossilized wood and fungi. The fungi appeared to be a wood decomposer, which confused her even more: having already decayed, the fossilized wood couldn’t break down any further.

Eli tilts his head. “At our McMurdo, didn’t someone find a fossil forest in the Dry Valleys?”