Chapter 13

Tuesday, June 4, 3089, 9:07 a.m. She had to do something fast. Her only food was the candy bar in her coat pocket, and she’d gone without water--or any other liquid--since her Diet Coke some 20 hours ago. Not a tremendously long time under normal circumstances, but she had awoken with a burning bladder, a bad sign. A more indicative sign of her jump-induced dehydration lay in the color of her urine—a disturbingly dark yellow—and the scant amount she had deposited on the floor 5 minutes ago, squatting beside the passageway door.

She’d slept with the iPhone clutched in her hand in case the lights went out and left her in dreaded darkness. Her neatly folded parka had served as a makeshift pillow. She slept with her boots on, ready to flee down the passageway if push came to shove. The floor proved miserably hard as a mattress.

Discovering the corridor notches last night, she had returned to Leda’s suite and examined the exterior wall, discovering a notch above the balcony door. A second notch she discovered 12’ to her left, identifying a 2nd opening onto the wide balcony. Searching the great room, she had discovered a dozen more notches set 8’ off the floor, each marking a doorway to a room, or to a corridor. Four of those doors, two on each shorter wall (you couldn’t call them short at 60’ or better length), revealed a bathroom. Two bathrooms seemed appropriately immense in relation to the size of the suite; the other pair was obviously designed for guests.

Each main bathroom offered his and her bathing accommodations. An immense tub was provided either end of the bathroom; also, two porcelain commodes, and two sinks built into long marble counters. She eyed the gold facets, wondering how many years had elapsed since water had flowed from the taps into somebody’s hands. She discounted the commodes containing any water at all. No linen, artwork, flooring, accoutrements of any kind were present. Breathing deeply revealed no scent of any kind, either, good or bad.

Frightened to enter the accommodation in case of being trapped, she had instead urinated outside the bathroom door, squatting to pee on the bare floor. Having no tissue paper available, she had used one of half a dozen paper napkins wisely stuck in her coat pocket at McDonald’s earlier--one of her few occurrences of thinking ahead that day. She had used two more this morning and now had three remaining.

“Okay,” she muttered, zipping her cords, and buttoning her flannel shirt. She smelled, though not badly yet. The urine at her feet smelled much worse than her light case of body odor, and gazing at it with distaste, she wished for something, anything to blot up the small puddle. Checking her iPhone, she discovered the battery icon continued to obstinately claim a 100% charge. Her phone had developed Alzheimer’s, she figured.

She hobbled to the dais, sat down on the edge, and removed her left boot. She’d intentionally kept it on last night to control swelling (not to mention the possibility of needing to flee on short notice), and this morning, her ankle ached worse than ever. “Fuck,” she moaned, loosening the laces.

The swelling was bad enough to require loosening the laces the entire length of the tongue. Grinding her teeth in frustration, she gingerly slipped the boot free of her foot and examined her ankle through the sock. Comparison to her un-swollen ankle, even with the sock in place, left her feeling nauseated. Or maybe that was hunger, or her growing dehydration, she thought. Why hadn’t she brought water, dammit! Having nothing on hand to wrap her ankle, and nothing to reduce the swelling, Rebecca replaced the boot and laced it as tightly as her ankle allowed.

Last night she had diligently inspected the periphery of the circular hall, discovering a triangular notch spaced every 16’ along the circumference. To her dismay, nothing she tried elicited a response from the supposed door beneath. The gate room notches were different, she noted, wider at the top than any other she’d seen, slightly taller, and deeper. The notches also displayed a thin red line around the periphery. She supposed the line indicated the door below was locked, possibly protecting her from danger. The answer to why the console--and therefore the gate—was disabled lay hidden behind one of those doors, she imagined; also, the means to remedy the situation. Regardless, she must get out of the palace. She’d perish from dehydration in two days’ time, otherwise.

Grabbing her parka off the floor, Rebecca removed the journal from the pocket and slipped it into the tote bag for safekeeping. She tied the parka’s arms about her waist, gathered the bags, and limped painfully into the passageway. Inside Leda’s suite 10 minutes later, she crossed to the exterior wall and opened the door onto the balcony. No coincidence, she imagined, that palace designers had positioned the wide balcony directly above the wide, scalloped ramp.

She didn’t yet comprehend the vast bulk of the mile-wide structure. She couldn’t know it, but Leda had explored only a tiny fraction of the colossal building and its complex inner workings. The palace’s footprint covered a staggering 21,895,644 square feet, making it the largest structure ever built on Earth. The largest and the most enigmatic.

Returning inside, Rebecca dropped the bags and untied the parka from around her waist. She had an idea. Limping to the closest bathroom location, she lightly slapped the wall, watching it open. Hope this works, she thought, letting the parka drop. It sat atop the threshold, had the door possessed a threshold.

Backing 10’ away, she counted softly to 30, afraid to hope. The door remained open. Encouraged but unconvinced, she extended the count all the way to 200 seconds, and then stepped forward to grab the parka off the floor. Another 30 seconds ticked by, and the door winked closed. She laughed shakily.

Why hadn’t she thought of this last night? How stupid could she be?

“Pretty fucking stupid,” she allowed, still laughing.

Fear of entrapment made her repeat the experiment 3 times. Leaving the parka on the threshold along with both bags, she stepped past into the bathroom, and hurriedly hopped outside again, almost stumbling backwards in her haste. Her heart trip-hammered madly; her breathing was labored. Twice more she repeated the test, until finally, desperately; she rushed to the sink and twisted the gold handles inward over the bowl. Nothing happened.

Devastated, bursting into tears, she side-stepped to the toilet and flipped the shiny white lid upright. Spotlessly clean, the bowl proved dry as the tub. She whirled to check the farther toilet and bathtub and jumped as a soft beep sounded in the room. Another sounded two seconds later, and then water miraculously flowed from the taps with a rich gushing sound, and the toilet bowl started to fill. A moment later, the left-hand stream of water began to emit steam.