Page 117 of One Adult, Please

"What?"

"If we do this, we do it right. Controlled entry. Screening. Quarantine. We don't just open the gate and hope."

"Joel, I would never just open the gate and hope. I have a system."

"You have a system?"

"I have an emerging system that's developing in real time and will be fully operational by the time I'm done explaining it so please let me explain it before you evaluate it because the evaluation before the explanation is a Joel thing and it's not helpful."

Joel raises a brow.

"The system," I say, "goes like this. First, they go through the question room."

"Screening checkpoint," Joel says.

"The question room is where we ask the questions. Such as: are you bitten? Are you sick? Are you going to do crimes? How do you feel about goats? These are the essential diagnostic queries of the new society."

"How do you feel about goats is not a diagnostic query."

"It is in this park. Anyone who enters WonderSphere needs to understand that Kevin exists and that Kevin's behavior is not sanctioned by management but also can't be controlled by management and that management's official position on Kevin is resigned acceptance."

Beck is grinning. The one that takes over his face like a sunrise takes over a horizon, complete, everywhere, unstoppable. "Go on," he says.

"After the question room, they go to the waiting garden."

"Quarantine zone," Joel says.

"Joel, I know. I'm saying the same things. I'm saying them in a language that makes sense to people who have just walked through a nightmare and need to hear words that don't sound like a military installation. Question room is friendlier than screening checkpoint. Waiting garden is friendlier than quarantine zone. I'm doing apocalypse hospitality."

Grant makes a sound I think is agreement.

"The waiting garden," I continue, "is where they stay for... how long for the bitey thing to show up?"

"Onset of symptoms varies," Grant says. "In animals, rabies incubation can be days to weeks. But from what we've observed, this is faster. A staff member in Wonder Garden turned within hours. I'd say twenty-four hours is a reasonable observation period."

"Twenty-four hours in the waiting garden. We give them food, water, blankets. We're not mean about it. This is the world's most inconvenient hotel lobby. And after twenty-four hours, if nobody's turned, they go through the..." I pause. I need a word. "The welcome bridge."

"Intake processing," Joel says.

"The welcome bridge, because it's a bridge between the waiting garden and the park and they're crossing it and it's welcoming and I won't be taking notes from the Department of Joel on this one."

"Department of Joel," Beck repeats, delighted.

"After the welcome bridge, they get assigned. Buildings. Roles. Everyone contributes. Everyone works. This is a theme park, not a vacation. It's a home, and homes have chores, and chores have systems, and systems have..."

"Crayons?" Grant offers.

I point at him. "Systems have crayons. Systems have a plan. And the plan gets updated. Every day. In periwinkle."

I'm standing in the ticket booth doorway now, half in and half out, one foot in the booth and one foot in the entrance plaza, and the morning sun is hitting the hip gates.

"We need to tell them," I say. "We need to walk over there and tell them we have a system and the system is in crayon. The periwinkle crayon is almost gone, but the plan still works and they're welcome if they follow the plan."

We emerge from a ticket booth like a clown car at the world's most understaffed circus.

Diane watches us approach. Her eyes are on me. On the oar. On the three men flanking me in the formation Joel designed where I'm in the center like an important egg and I don't argue about the egg thing because right now, in this moment, the egg is exactly where the egg needs to be.

"Here's the deal," I say. "You can come in. But there's a system."