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3
I regainedconsciousness to find myself being carried by the commander.
“What happened?” I asked, the bright lights keeping my eyes shut. It still managed to penetrate my lids.
“You fainted when you saw the sky.”
“The what?”
“Blue thing overhead.”
As I parted my lashes to look, I remembered the cave with no roof in sight. Seeing it, I experienced once more the dizzying effect of a blue ceiling so high, so vast, I doubt there existed a ladder or stairs that could reach it. It wasn’t the only impossible thing. A glance to the side showed green stuff. Growing things, like the gardens I’d tended, but in shades and shapes I’d never imagined. Paths wound through the foliage.
“Where are we?” I asked. “What is that vegetation?”
He set me on my feet, but kept a steadying hand on my lower back. “That is a park. Mostly used by employees of Substation 6. The place we just emerged from.” He pointed behind us.
A glance showed a structure made of something other than stone, projecting into the—what did he call it?—sky.
“Six? You mean there’s more than one?”
“Yes.”
I blinked. “How many? On second thought, don’t tell me.” I struggled to absorb everything as it was. I glanced suspiciously at the sky. “Why is it so big?”
“Because it is. And it’s only a fraction of the open space our world sits in.”
Now I knew he had to be teasing me.
“Where is the Consulate?”
“Right ahead of us.” He pointed, and in the distance, I saw a vast structure, and parked in front, a transport, the same kind I saw every day on my way to work. It appeared bulky and dull compared to the smaller transport alongside it. That sleek cylinder gleamed, dotted with glass that reflected the light.
“Why is that transport so fancy? Is it for the dark Blues?”
“I wouldn’t call it fancy. That is a light-rail train. It’s for anyone living on the surface.”
“Why does it have sparkling glass?”
“Those are windows so people can watch the scenery while they travel.”
Windows. Another new word I digested without admitting I didn’t understand it. As we began to walk, I noticed the massive structure we headed for consisted of even more glass and along with a door that was used by a steady stream of pedestrian traffic in more colors than I’d imagined.
“Who are all those people?” I asked.
“Government workers. And before you ask what a government is, I’ll give you the easy answer—the people who make the laws and run things.”
“And you enforce those laws.”
“I do, plus now I apparently escort talkative Marked ones.” A dry reply.
Still, given he appeared willing to explain, I had to ask, “Do you know what being a Marked one means?”
“I do.” A flat two syllables.
“Can you tell me?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” A brusque end to my questions. His long stride had us reaching the Consulate structure and me eager for answers. Perhaps I’d panicked for nothing. I saw nothing that indicated I’d be put to death or even punished.
