Julius allowed the members of the infiltration team a full day of rest, which we sorely needed. For the first time in a long time, I slept as long as I wished, and that part of my day was glorious.

I had bedded down on a random spot in the grass slightly out of the way, but woke next to a tent. Blearily, I wondered how my blankets and I had moved during the night, then realized someone had staked a new tent right next to me. I must have been truly exhausted, for they hadn't disturbed me in the slightest.

I rose and looked inside the tent. Random supplies which didn't go anywhere else, proof that Camp Freedom was here for the long haul. The supplies weren't even arranged neatly, just tossed inside.

I thought about moving my blankets further away, but decided that if I just left them right where they were, I could roll inside the tent when it rained. Besides, I had a feeling the camp would just expand again.

I found a medic to wrap my rib properly, which helped immensely. The four of us from the infiltration team were also given fresh clothing, which was very welcome.

On the subject of obtaining fresh, clean clothing this far from civilization, the resistance and the freed slaves were unlucky. Inside the city was a warehouse of slave uniforms we could have used, especially as they were actually quite comfortable, but the falling dome had buried the warehouse entrance. It would take far more effort to clear it than it was worth, so we scrounged for fresh clothing when necessary. A seamstress did what she could in her spare time.

Midmorning, I heard the good news: the scientists had destroyed the machine which sent invisible rays to the caps. This was immediately followed by more disappointing news: they couldn't find the machine which increased the gravity, or figure out which panel in the central pyramid controlled it. As this was not a priority, they had to abandon that project for now.

The remainder of that day was not as restful as it should have been, as I was filled with dread for Henry. The American city still stood. We had no idea why, and wouldn't know for some time. Lying idle allowed that dread to fester. Only by keeping busy could I find relief.

Keeping busy was all too easy.

Not all the freed slaves had survived. I remembered seeing one in particular who had removed his mask in confusion immediately after we turned the power off. He died breathing poisonous air. He hadn't been the only one to do that. A few more had been killed by the falling dome.

We – the freed slaves and the resistance, together – started burying these unfortunates. In most cases, no one knew their names. We interred them near Carlos and Mario. Even though the infiltration team had been given the day off, we helped. How could we not?

The year after Fritz and I had gone into the city as spies, another member of the resistance had gained entrance by winning at the Games, but we had never heard from him. He was not one of the surviving slaves, nor did we find his body among the ones who died. We never learned his fate.

 

The next morning, Julius directed me and Fritz to join a group of scientists. They were some of our young, fit scientists, the ones capable of enduring the city's stronger gravity: Francois, Abner, Silas, Evelyn, and, of course, Beanpole.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"We want you and Fritz to give us a tour of the city," Beanpole said. "We need you to show us every place you identified during your time as spies."

"What good will that do?" I asked. "We've given a full account of our activities inside the city several times."

Abner replied, "Yes, but a guided personal tour, where we can interact directly with the objects and places you've long talked about, will be invaluable."

Beanpole added, "Also, visiting the locations might jog your memory, and allow you to give us some snippet of information you missed."

Fritz nodded. "It's a good idea."

I didn't think so, but I wasn't in charge.

"Should we have Gregory with us?" Fritz asked.

"We don't think Gregory has made enough progress yet to help with this tour," Beanpole said. "Plus...he's a little obsessed. I mean, we all are, of course, but he refuses to leave the control center, and only sleeps three or four hours a night. He is absolutely passionate about learning the alien language. He's almost frantic to master it."

"Gregory's on a crusade," Abner said bluntly. "He's reached the point where he thinks the language itself is an enemy he has to conquer."

"Isn't that a good thing, considering what's at stake?" Fritz asked.

"Technically," Evelyn said. "The problem with Gregory is...even if this whole exercise were academic, he'd still behave that way. I feel he's a bit of a narcissist; he's made his entire task all about himself, rather than our survival."

"Gregory's a fruitcake," Abner said. "End of."

"But is he as good as we think he is?" Fritz asked.

Francois shrugged. "He's never let us down yet. We'll see."

With the scientists properly armed with pens and sheafs of paper, we set forth. Pens were a fascinating invention of the ancients, allowing a person to write with ink much more easily than by using quills. The paper they carried, taken from a shop in Paris, was finely cut and bound into books by coiled wire. These inventions made it easy for them to take notes quickly while walking.

We headed through the city gate, across the Hall of Tripods, up the lift to the slave receiving room, through the airlock, through the slave-choosing room, and onto the ledge which overlooked the city. That journey alone took an hour, as Fritz and I described in painstaking detail everything we remembered about our first arrival. Each scientist continuously made notes as we spoke, sometimes asking us to slow down or repeat ourselves.

On the ledge, Fritz and I pointed out the various pyramids we knew. Beanpole mapped a route which would allow us to visit them all as quickly as possible. He finished by reciting all the places in the order he had chosen, but when he mentioned the Pyramid of Beauty, I was surprised.

"You can skip that one," I said. "There are no scientific secrets there. It's just a glorified morgue."

Beanpole shook his head. "We can't make assumptions about what we'll find, and all knowledge is important. You and Fritz will soon return to the castle, so we want to pick your brains about everything while you're here."

I don't know if Beanpole failed to notice my despair, or politely pretended not to notice. I had already been feeling dread about Henry. Now I had a second source of dread.

Fritz and I took them to every place we knew, and recounted our memories of being there, and what we had seen the Masters do. Sometimes we had to find alternate routes because of wreckage from the fallen dome, or push other cars off the ramps so we could pass. Decomposing Masters lay everywhere, and stank.

Each occupied pyramid had an excellent ventilation system, so we had no worry that any poisonous air remained trapped inside those places. After the dome shattered, those same excellent ventilation systems had ensured that the Masters who collapsed indoors when the alcohol took effect died almost as quickly as the ones who collapsed outdoors.

Such was not the case with warehouses, or with any other pyramid which would have been visited rarely. Those pyramids almost certainly had no ventilation, and therefore were almost certainly still full of poisonous air. But no pyramids like those were on our tour, so they were a problem for another day.

Fritz and I showed them the sphere chase arena, the Place of Happy Release, the places where the river enters and exits the city, various slave communal resting places, and shops which contained the oils the Masters used. The scientists scribbled furiously in their notebooks, asking insanely detailed questions. Fritz and I answered with infinite patience.

Fritz took us to his old Master's apartment, which thankfully did not contain his old Master's corpse. Fritz told us everything he knew about the apartment, and about the way his Master had lived.

I took us to my old Master's apartment and did the same. It looked as though no one had occupied it since I left. It felt deeply surreal to see it again, especially now that it was no longer submerged in the dim alien green world I had endured for so many months. Seeing a sunbeam on the floor next to the pool was so strange, yet somehow so liberating, that I actually felt light-headed for a moment.

Late in the day, we came to the one place I never wanted to enter again. We stood before half a dozen small pyramids all joined to a larger one in the center.

"I'll wait out here," I said, and did my best to ignore Fritz's sudden scowl at me.

"As before, we need you, Will," Evelyn said. "Fritz did not enter these pyramids. Only you did, with your Master, so we need a detailed account of where he took you, what you saw, and what he said. Seeing what's inside again will no doubt allow you to remember far more than you would otherwise."

Well, she was right about that.

I had trouble hiding the nausea. Beanpole said gently, "I know this is difficult for you, Will." He hesitated, then said, "And I know why."

We shared a look. Of course Beanpole knew. He had always known.

"We would not ask you to do this if it weren't important, Will," Beanpole said.

I nodded, ashamed. Of course it was important. We only had eighteen months to save the planet. Every scrap of information was precious, even if I couldn't see why.

With a heaviness which had nothing to do with the city's gravity, I led the way inside.

I took them through the rooms my Master showed me, displaying frozen scenes of life from around the world. The scientists called them dioramas. Each was in a well-lit alcove, atmospherically sealed behind a transparent wall with human air inside.

We paused in front of a display of large animals which the scientists recognized as buffalo. Posted on the wall next to the diorama was a sign showing lettering in the Masters' language, presumably telling the reader all about the buffalo.

Fritz tentatively touched the transparent wall which sealed off the alcove. "Plastic," he murmured. "Just like the slave masks."

We had learned the word plastic a few months ago, for our scientists had achieved a major breakthrough when they were able to re-create the slave masks for our infiltration teams.

"They seem to have used plastic a lot," Francois said. "It's much lighter, more durable, and more pliable than glass."

We found a service door which let us enter some of the alcoves by going through airlocks. In each one, the life on display was an illusion. Everything was a still re-creation of something normally vibrant.

Beanpole asked, "Why seal the diorama inside a chamber with our atmosphere if the animals and plants are dead, or not even real to begin with?"

I knew he wasn't asking me, but I surprised everyone, including myself, when I answered. "Light," I said. "Their air made everything shadowy and dim, but our air lets light through, which allowed them to see the colors." I remembered almost crying out upon seeing flowers under white light after nothing but months of green, shadowy murkiness. "That's one thing I distinctly remember. The light."

"You've never mentioned that before," Beanpole said. "See? Coming here did jog your memory."

I grimaced slightly at him. Partially because I knew he was right.

Finally, there was only one thing left to show them in this pyramid. Forcing my feet to move, I led them to the worst room I had ever been in. I allowed the others to file through the door first, then reluctantly stepped inside. I hung back near the entrance, allowing them a few moments to take it all in. They would need it.

They stared in silence. Fritz gazed upon the dead women with anguish. Finally, Silas whispered, "Monstrous."

I stepped forward and recounted as best I could what my Master had said in this room that day. I did not look at the women more than I had to. I certainly didn't mention Eloise, nor did I go look at her again. I only said that I told my Master I had "seen enough" because I couldn't take any more. I got a little choked up telling the story, but only Beanpole knew specifically why.

After I finished my tale, I stood staring at the floor while they wandered, observed, and scribbled. A little ways off, Beanpole stopped before the place I knew Eloise to be. He gazed at her silently.

He slowly made his way back to me, looking carefully at the women. When he reached me, he said, "You said the women were arranged perfectly, like pinned butterflies?"

"As you can see for yourself," I said. I was immediately sorry for the bitterness in my voice.

"Yes, I can see for myself. And what I see are imperfections in the display. Many of these women do not stand perfectly straight, as you have described. Someone has moved them in a haphazard fashion, moving arms and legs, the angles of their faces. I wonder why."

I shrugged. The whole thing was morbid enough. I refused to delve into it any further.

"It couldn't have been the atmospheric disturbance when you let the air out of the dome," he continued. "These cells are sealed, each with its own plastic cover."

I stoically looked at the exit. I wanted to leave so very badly.

"Will, I need you to look," Beanpole said gently. "This could be important."

I looked. I blinked, and looked some more.

Beanpole was right. Each woman was inside an individual case with a clear plastic covering, lit by a soft overhead light, and was almost vertical, slightly inclined backward, her feet supported by a small shelf, her gown discreetly pinned to the back of the case by a few tacks; that much hadn't changed. But instead of standing perfectly straight with their arms at their sides and facing forward, there was clear evidence of disturbance in almost every cell.

"Perhaps when the dome fell, it shook the building?" I asked.

"Hmm," Beanpole said. "At the moment, that is the likeliest explanation." But something in his voice sounded as if he wasn't convinced.

He suddenly gasped and lunged toward one of the cells. Astonished, I awkwardly followed, thinking he was having a funny turn in the heavy gravity, trying to catch him if he fell. But he stood slightly stooped, gazing intently at a spot on the front of the case.

"Beanpole?" I asked.

I don't think he heard me. He continued staring at the plastic, then at the woman inside, then called out, "Over here! I've discovered something. I need confirmation." He took a step back and adjusted his glasses. His hands were actually shaking!

The other scientists crowded around, while Fritz walked over to me.

Beanpole pointed at the cell. "I don't want to say anything because I don't want to bias your observation," he said. "Look at this cell and tell me what you see." He stepped away completely so the others could get close.

Fritz and I looked as best we could over the scientists' heads. Inside the cell was a pretty woman with blonde hair, in a beautiful green gown trimmed with gold. Her head lolled to one side, her eyes closed. It was certainly tragic, but I saw nothing to merit Beanpole's reaction.

"Mon Dieu!" Francois whispered.

"What do you see?" Beanpole asked frantically.

"I see scratches on the inside of the case," Abner said.

"I didn't think you could scratch plastic," Silas said.

"You can, but you have to be really desperate," Abner said. "And look here. I also see a tiny smear of red, which could be dried blood, among the scratches."

Evelyn spoke up. "And I see a tiny bit of blood under this woman's fingernail! On the index finger of her left hand!"

Francois pointed beneath the woman's feet. "And the tacks which pinned her left sleeve have been ripped out! One is even broken!"

I stuck my head in from the side as best I could, and looked. It was all true.

"Conclusion?" Beanpole asked, his voice quivering.

"This woman scratched her cell from the inside!" Francois whispered. "Violently!"

"But she can't have!" I exclaimed. "She's dead!"

"Logic dictates that she cannot be, or at least was alive at one time within her cell," Beanpole said.

Silas gave a soft snort of mild contempt. "Even if she were alive, she's capped. The act of trying to free herself would be unthinkable to her."

"She's not alive," Abner said. "She's not breathing. None of them are."

"We don't know the extent of their technology," Beanpole said, and looked around. "The disturbed displays. I don't think they were caused by any external event. They really look like..."

"Like they moved all by themselves," Fritz said.

"Will, look carefully," Beanpole commanded, and his voice was now urgent instead of gentle. "Look very, very carefully! Did these women look like this when you were here before?"

I looked very, very carefully. Almost to myself, I softly spoke what I saw. "Heads turned to one side, limbs moved, feet off center. Here's one with her foot actually off the shelf entirely. Here's one leaning to her left. Here's another, and another, with ripped sleeves, as if they struggled to free their arms." I looked at Beanpole. "No. I can say with absolute certainty that they did not look like this."

"It's as if they somehow came back to life!" Fritz exclaimed.

"Temporarily," Beanpole said. "Then died again. But most importantly, while they were briefly alive, they regained their free will!"

My legs were shaking. I felt queasy. "How can they come back to life, then die again, Beanpole?" I asked.

He paced quickly, muttering to himself, and I could see the wheels spinning in his mind. "Alive briefly...died again...died again...or...or perhaps returned to a state of dormancy beyond our understanding. As if the power of the city keeps them subdued..."

Lightning struck. He looked at me and Fritz. "...but they had eighteen hours of life and free will when you turned off the pool of fire."

I ran. I had to know. I had to see her.

She was there, and she did not look the same! Her face looked partially to her left, her hair was disheveled, her mouth hung open slightly, and her right arm had moved. The tacks which had pinned her right sleeve lay beneath her feet, as if she had violently ripped them out.

I turned to stare at Beanpole. I tried to speak, but words would not form. My tears were in the way.

"These women are alive," Beanpole said. "Somehow, they are dormant, but they are still alive!"