Page 24 of Tidal Creatures

It doesn’t change.

It’s still a white frame from a suburban house when she reaches it, and when she reaches out to touch the latch, it still sticks just a little, the way that it’s supposed to. She turns to look at Chang’e. “What is this supposed to prove?”

“I think that because I opened the everything and haven’t left it yet, right now, it’s catering to me,” says Chang’e. “This is my window because the everything thinks I’m the one who’s supposed to be here, and it’s viewing you as my guest.”

Artemis looks nonplussed. “No conflict?”

“Not unless we both tried to come in at the exact same time, and even then, I’m sure it would find a way to split the atom that tells it which one of us is ascendant at the moment of entry.” Chang’e gestures Artemis back. “There’s one more thing I want to try; come on.”

“I do track and field because I like running. Running, not walking endlessly back and forth doing little science experiments.”

“Uh-huh. Why did you come to Berkeley?”

Artemis blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You said it was because you wanted to join the track team, but you also said you were Losna. Then you said it was because you wanted to know why the alchemists were pissed off, but the alchemists are always pissed off about something. So clearly you had some other reason to want to be here, and to not want anyone to know who you were when you arrived. Why are you here?”

“You’re the goddess of immortality, not simple detective work,” says Artemis, tone gone mild and soft.

Chang’e pauses. The thought that this could be dangerous hasn’t really occurred to her before just now: she’s in the everything, baiting one of the big two moon gods, and betting on the fact that whatever brought Artemis out this way, she wasn’t the one who killed Aske. If she’s wrong about that …

A Lunar who passes themselves off as less powerful than they really are is a Lunar who’s potentially up to no good. Aske is dead. Chang’e would prefer not to join her. Judy, who doesn’t have the questionable immortality of another manifestation to come, would very much prefer not to join her. She’s kicking and screaming at the back of Chang’e’s mind, trying to claw her way back to the surface. They’re so deep in the everything right now that Chang’e is pretty sure that would be ironically fatal, and probably a terrible way to die.

“You live forever, you start to pick up a few things,” says Chang’e, voice carefully neutral.

And Artemis laughs.

“Right, right. We’re allowed to have hobbies.” She shakes her head. “I really did come to Berkeley to find out why the alchemists are so worked up, because you’re right, they’re always up their own asses about something, but they’re not normally this kicked-hornet’s-nest about their shit. And the whole ‘time has been resetting’ thing is a little disconcerting. I don’t care for it. I only know because time doesn’t reset inside the City, and I started to notice that things were happening out of synch with what I expected.”

Chang’e blinks. “You started to notice?”

“Once you’ve been doing this for long enough, you’ll be able to stay aware while you’re crossing the sky. You’ll remember things you see in the City. It’s not always fun. I know one manifestation of Selene who fell in love with a resident of the City. They could never meet or touch; she just watched her from the sky every time she got to make the crossing. She said the woman she loved would always go out of her way to be outside while the moon was high, and they were happy together. Her love never married, and when she vanished from the City, Selene mourned until her mortal manifestation died from the grief. Observing lives you can’t be a part of is hard on the heart.” Artemis shrugs. “But yes, I started to notice. It’s not right. Time is supposed to happen here and there at the same rate. Which, by the way, time is happening right now, and we need to get the gate closed before the sun comes up.”

“All right. Follow me. There’s something I still want to test.” Chang’e starts walking quickly back toward the gate, and Artemis follows.

When they reach the exit from the everything—not the same as the end, because the everything never ends—Chang’e stops and pulls the peach pit out of her pocket, spinning it between her fingers. Then she turns, bends, and places it carefully on the ground. Artemis watches this, faintly perplexed. Her perplexity only deepens when Chang’e straightens and steps out of the gate, back onto the campus.

She steps down at the same time, sparkle in the air extinguishing like a blown-out candle, and Judy returns to her own body, her own life, with the burning desire to find a way to shake her divine copilot. Baiting more powerful gods is not a good way to live long enough to become a more powerful god.

But she understands what Chang’e was trying to do, and so she holds her hands out, gesturing for Artemis to stop.

“Is the peach pit still there?”

Artemis jerks to a halt, blinking at her. “What?”

“The peach pit I put on the ground. Is it still there?”

“Yeah. Where would it have gone?”

“Come out now.”

Artemis steps out, the air around her bright with moonglow for the handful of seconds before she, too, steps down, and Anna—if that’s her real name—is left, frowning at Judy.

The gate shivers, the tunnel on the other side shaking as it always does, and then it is gone, closed until the next time it’s needed. Judy glances up at the still-dark sky. The sun has yet to make an appearance. They’ll have to be quick, but there’s time, if it’s needed. She pulls the key out of her pocket and, as Anna watches, taps it against the stone, once to close the gate, and a second time, to open it again.

The gate spirals into being, exactly as it always does, appearing on the blank wall. Judy takes a breath and drops down, hard and silent as a stone. Chang’e turns to Anna. “Wait here,” she instructs, and steps into the everything, looking down.

The peach pit is still there. First theory, proven. She emerges again, feeling heady with success, heart beating a little bit too hard. The gate closes with a tap, and remains closed as she offers the key to Anna.