Narrator S: ((Tzila)) “I don’t care! I’m going!” 

Narrator M: Tzila says firmly. 

Narrator X: ((Sherman)) “Can’t you study natural sciences here at home? Midst has plenty of nature.”

S: ((Tzila)) “Dad! They already accepted my application. I’m picking out my classes. I even have a room assignment! It’s decided. It’s happening. Please just chill out! It’s not like I’m going to the Delta. I’m going to school. Most parents would be proud!”

X: ((Sherman)) “And I AM proud of you, prouder than I am of anything. Never doubt that. I’m just…”

[Disorienting music.]

M: He trails off, hesitant to name whatever he is, but Tzila finishes his sentence for him.

S: ((Tzila)) “…Scared?” 

M: The word hangs in the air like a moon.

X: Sherman sighs. ((Sherman)) “You’re right. I know it isn’t rational. But every time you’re out of my sight, every time I’m not a hundred percent certain where you are, there’s just this old, wounded part of my brain that just starts telling me you’re… And that’s all it is. It’s an old wound. And that is no reason for me to stand in your way when you’re only doing what I always wanted you to be able to do: live your own life. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

M: Tzila sits down on the bar stool next to him. All of the other stools are still up on the counter. The cabaret isn’t open yet, and Tzila and her dad are the only ones here in the front room right now.

X: Well, except for Cleo, Dot, Merlin, the Biological Man, Everett, Micky, Felix, Hambing, Rawfield, Steve, and… Tzila.

S: Other than that, they’re totally alone.

M: Tzila nuzzles into Sherman’s shoulder – the 18-year-old Tzila, not the 40-something Tzila watching this exchange.

S: ((Tzila)) “I get scared sometimes, too, when I haven’t seen you in a while. But it’s not like a huge islet-swallowing tearror comes along EVERY time we’re separated. In fact, it’s only happened once.”

M: She smiles up at him. 

S: ((Tzila)) “And Verdure’s not THAT far away.”

X: ((Sherman)) “It’s far enough,”

M: Sherman says, but he’s smiling, too. He puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes her tight. 

X: ((Sherman)) “This zoological program better be the most fun you’ve ever had.”

S: ((Tzila)) “It’s your fault I’m doing this, you know. If you hadn’t always encouraged me, then maybe I wouldn’t be following my dreams.”

X: ((Sherman)) “Ha ha, that’s right, well, that was a mistake.”

S: ((Tzila)) [laughs]

X: ((Sherman)) “Okay, no more encouragement, only early bedtimes and gruel for dinner from now on.”

M: (Micky) “Aww, your dad loves you so much.”

X: Micky is smiling.

S: (Tzila) “Yeah,” Tzila says. “He reacted pretty much the same way when I told him I was joining the expedition. [sighs] Wait. Wow did we…” 

X: You know, now that somebody mentions it, how DID they? 

S: The crew, all standing here in Saskia’s Cabaret, start to examine their surroundings with a bit more awareness.

X: (Steve) “I was starting to wonder when somebody was going to say something.”

S: (Tzila) “Whoa,” says Tzila, a bit dazedly. “I… I almost forgot what we were doing. I already went to school. I finished school, right? Yeah. I’m a grownup. Oh my god. The hallway! The doors!”

M: Ah, yes. The hallway. The doors. It’s coming back to them now. It’s difficult to remember just how they got here.

S: You know how in dreams the context of situations is sort of lost or irrelevant? It just is the way it is, moments and impressions smearing together like wet paint.

X: But this isn’t a dream. Right? 

M: (Merlin) “Where’s the Ship?”

X: (Hambing) “It’s outside, where we parked it.”

(Steve) “That’s not what happened.”

Huh. Well, nobody’s particularly worried. It feels like the Ship is still nearby. It’s not like they lost it. When they need to be back aboard it, they… will be. Right? 

S: Right? 

M: Saskia’s Cabaret looks markedly un-warped, un-swirly, with ordinary, pre-moonfall architecture. No tearror has swallowed and transformed this place. Not yet.

X: There is a child sitting at the bar.

S: Wait, what happened to the Tzila and the Sherman that were just there? 

M: It doesn’t matter. This is what’s happening now.

X: There Tzila sits, swinging her gangly pre-adolescent legs from the tall barstool. She’s about 12 years old this time. 

S: 12 and a half. 

M: Present-day Tzila’s eyes go wide. Goosebumps raise on her arms.

X: Child Tzila is sketching some of the ornate bottles behind the cabaret bar. Her dad, a bit younger than before, is polishing glassware.

S: (Cleo) “Oh my gosh,” Cleo says. “Tzila, you’re so cute! You’re just a baby!”

X: ((Maître d’)) “You’re welcome to come up, sir, unless you’d rather finish your drink…?”

S: A man in a bowler hat carrying a briefcase, with a gift bag under his arm, is talking to the cabaret maître d’ just inside the front door. 

M: ((Man)) “Oh, not at all!”

X: ((Maître d’)) “You can bring it up if you want.”

M: ((Man)) “Let’s get down to business. Or up!”

X: ((Maître d’)) “Heh. [Unimpressed, bored laughter.] Right this way…”

S: (Tzila) “This is… whoa. I feel crazy. Are you guys all seeing this? Are you here, too?”

X: Tzila is leaning over her own shoulder now, scrutinizing her childhood sketchbook. 

S: (Tzila) “Ha ha, I felt SO cool for figuring out crosshatching.”

M: Cleo’s lights are still brightening and dimming in that same way. Maybe the rhythm has changed? Maybe they’re staying on slightly longer than they’re staying off? But maybe not. It’s hard to tell. 

S: (Cleo) “I AM seeing this, but I’m not sure how. Is this Saskia’s? I’ve never been here at all. I wanted to, but I didn’t have time.”

X: Felix is looking kind of pale and sweaty. 

S: (Felix) “Time… time… t-time travel?? Is that what’s happening??”

X: (Dot) “No.”

M: The Granddaughter gently shakes their head.

S: (Felix) “But this is the past, and we are IN it, traveling!”

X: (Dot) “This is a memory. We are not really here. We cannot change anything.”

S: (Felix) “Oh! Well, thank god,” Felix says, relaxing a little. “I mean, if this WERE time travel…” 

M: (Merlin) “Dot, I thought you said you did not know what this was, and now you know it’s a memory?”

S: Dot looks at Merlin neutrally.

X: (Dot) “Because it is a memory. That is how I know.”

S: (Tzila) “Several memories,” Tzila says, “all kind of blurred together. And the stuff I can’t quite remember… isn’t here.”

X: She watches as the maître d’ and the man in the bowler hat make their way up a flight of stairs to the shadowy upper level.

M: Not just shadowy, but insubstantial, vague, borderline nonexistent.

S: The space immediately surrounding kid Tzila is vivid by comparison, as though she’s a lantern that casts detail instead of light.

M: (Biological Man) “Is this how people normally experience memories?”

X: The Biological Man is looking anxious.

M: (Biological Man) “My memories aren’t like this.”

(Merlin) “I think you mean MY memories,” Merlin mutters. 

S: Tzila rubs her forehead. (Tzila) “My memories aren’t usually like this. Usually a memory feels like something that’s inside you. But this feels bigger, realer, like we’re inside of it.”

X: She watches her younger self with a wistful expression.

S: (Tzila) “This was one of my favorite ways to hang out with my dad growing up, when he was setting up the bar before open hours. It’s so clear. It’s better than normal remembering.” 

X: (Everett) “Hey, careful.”

M: Everett rubs Tzila’s arm.

X: (Everett) “Don’t forget what’s really happening.”

M: (Steve) “Curious.”

X: Steve maneuvers his gelatinous bulk delicately through the space, like a jelled rhino in a nightclub, to stand beside the bar.

S: His eye splits between the two Tzilas, splits further to take in the room and the vague impressions of a world outside the stained-glass windows.

[Muffled animal vocalizations and footsteps.]

M: Suddenly, a feline shadow on the wall, a flash of butter-yellow fur somewhere in the darkness behind the bar area, disappearing towards the theater side of the cabaret.

S: (Cleo) [gasps] “Omelet?”

X: Cleo lunges forward. 

S: (Cleo) “Omelet? Is that you? [clicks tongue] Here, boy!”

X: But Rawfield grabs her arm. (Rawfield) “Wait, Cleo. Let’s not get separated.”

(Hambing) “Omelet? I saw his yellow tail, too!”

S: Cleo pulls aside a thick curtain, and suddenly we’re up in the VIP balcony overlooking the stage, morning unlight streaming through windows, a weekend brunch crowd sipping mimosas. Everett and Micky are sitting at a table together. 

M: We realize this may all feel rather dreamlike and confusing. 

X: That is because it is. 

S: For us here listening, and for the crew observing.

M: These moments seem to crest and withdraw almost like waves on a beach, each lapsing into the next with the smooth fluid transition of a dream between scenes. 

S: A hallucinatory intermingling.

X: Past-Everett, seated here at the table, is saying, ((Everett)) “The highest heights! The deepest depths! The beginning and end of the cosmos, Micky!”

M: Everett leans across the table of the booth, bacon and eggs half-eaten, oversized red bomber jacket tossed over the back of her seat.

X: ((Everett)) “The road trip of a lifetime!”

M: ((Micky)) “The road trip to END our lifetimes.”

S: Micky is grimly considering her coffee. 

M: ((Micky)) “I’ll take a thousand more regular old delivery routes with you over one suicide expedition. I like our life! Don’t you?”

X: ((Everett)) “Yeah, I love our life, and this can be part of it! We’re– We can even bring our flying house with us, and we can just hang out in there whenever we want!”

S: Micky just looks at her.

M: ((Micky)) “Everett…”

X: ((Everett)) “Micky!” 

S: The entire present-day crew, gathered nearby, exchange uncomfortable glances. 

M: (Micky) “Oh, no,”

S: present-Micky says. Present-Everett blanches. 

X: (Everett) “Aw, jeez.”

S: No one, past or present, says a word, until past-Everett bitterly crunches a bite of bacon.

X: ((Everett)) “Okay, I’ll tell the Consortium ‘no.’ They’ll find another lifeboat.” 

M: ((Micky)) “Everett…”

X: ((Everett)) “No, it’s fine. Somebody ELSE can go on the greatest journey that has ever been offered to living human beings in the entire history of the cosmos. We can just say no, and we’ll just take no risks, and we’ll just try nothing and we’ll go nowhere. It’s cool. We got packages to deliver.”

M: ((Micky)) “I’m done arguing with you.”

S: Past-Micky bristles and stands.

M: ((Micky)) “We’ll talk about this later when you’re not acting like a jerk.” 

S: And she leaves.

M: Present-Everett is cringing as Everett of the past continues to sulkily shovel bacon and eggs into her mouth, brooding over her coffee. 

X: (Everett) [laughing nervously] “That was kind of private. No big deal.”

S: Cleo’s secondhand embarrassment alarm is going off big-time. (Cleo) “Should we… give you some privacy?”

M: Micky shrugs. (Micky) “Thanks, but I don’t think that’s how this place works.”

S: Present-Everett offers Micky a timid hug, and Micky squeezes her back. 

X: (Everett) “Sorry again. Crap. I dunno if I like this place.”

(Steve) “Neither do I,”

S: concurs Steve. 

X: (Steve) “I don’t like it at all.”

S: At this, Merlin turns to the jelled rhinoceros person. His eyes blink off and on. 

M: (Merlin) “Ah, so THIS is getting to you? A new paradigm, one that doesn’t fit neatly into your elegant theory of the megacosmos, o wise prophet? How DOES a fever-dream hall of doors enter into your grand postulations, hmm? Deltas leading to Founts leading to Deltas, my bocular ass! You’re just as wrong about everything as I am! Ha! Hahaha! Hahahaha!”

X: (Steve) “There IS an explanation, and I am NOT wrong! We may not see how it all fits together yet, but this must be another cosmos – just like the last, like yours, and like mine.”

M: (Merlin) “That is unproven bullshit and you know it! Hahaha!”

X: (Steve) “Oh, shut up. You’re just bitter that all your pitiful science is more worthless now than ever.”

M: (Merlin) “Oh, look who’s talking!”

X: (Steve) “And now you’re just being deliberately cruel.”

M: (Merlin) “And YOU are being deliberately persistent in outmoded beliefs. We may ALL be wrong.”

S: Steve glares – that HAS to be what this expression is. His headsack lights seem to smolder with a dusky hue, not unlike the glow of the dying sun last season.

X: Rawfield simply crosses her arms, just a little flicker of smugness in the corners of her eyes. 

M: The Biological Man is looking red around the ears, clearly embarrassed by these plural arguments. (Biological Man) [clears throat] “Perhaps we should return to the Hall. This door has only taken us to a memory of Midst, not the real thing. We still need to get to Midst in the present. Or in the future, I suppose.”

X: (Dot) “Yes, we should keep moving,”

S: says Dot. 

X: (Dot) “Especially you three: Tzila, Everett, Micky.”

M: Tzila looks at Dot slowly, distantly. 

S: (Tzila) “What? Why?”

X: (Rawfield) “Ah,” Rawfield says. “That’s why. Let’s go.”

S: Tzila shakes her head, though it’s hard to tell if it’s from a reluctance to leave or an attempt to clear her thoughts. Her bird skull earring jingles slightly as she does so.

M: Everett and Micky seem similarly disoriented, unable to fully extricate their emotions from the memories housed in this place. 

X: (Everett) “Go? Where?” Everett asks. 

S: (Rawfield) “Okay, round them up.” Rawfield immediately takes charge. “Everybody whose memories these aren’t, let’s lead the way back out.”

X: (Steve) “Yes, please! Let us depart. I am eager to quit this place.”

S: Cleo is about to protest that Omelet is still in here somewhere, when a faint cat-like noise echoes from beyond the cabaret’s front door. A shadow flits over its window. Okay, so maybe Omelet isn’t in “here” so much as just kind of “around.” Huh.

M: The crew retreat to the glossy black door with its stained-glass candlestick. Rawfield firmly and decisively opens it, and they exit the cabaret.

[A change of scene.]

X: Back in the Hall of Doors, some things have changed.

M: The first, most notable thing is the presence of squirming amorphous shadows that are clustered around the doorway the crew has just exited, like ants around honey. They cling cobwebbishly to the walls. 

S: (Felix) “Eugh!”

X: shrieks Felix, flinching back.

S: (Felix) “What the fuck?”

X: And the instant they are perceived, the shadows dart away, sliding silently along the Hall at something approaching the speed of darkness.

S: It’s easier to see them with peripheral vision, flittering in a way you could almost call lizard-like, but that’s somehow not quite right. 

M: In barely a moment, they have disappeared into the hallway’s immeasurable depths, depths that seem, perhaps, just ever-so-slightly darker than they did before – at least in one direction.

X: Cleo’s hand is on her sword hilt. 

S: (Cleo) “What are those things?”

X: (Dot) “They… live here.”

S: Tzila is peering after them, scientific interest peeking through her fright. 

M: (Tzila) “Whatever they were, they seem more scared of us than we are of them.”

X: (Dot) “They will not harm us.”

S: (Cleo) “Whew, okay. That’s a relief.”

X: (Dot) “I did not say that we were safe.”

S: (Cleo) [squeaks]

M: (Merlin) “How do you KNOW that??”

S: Raising his hands and clenching his fists in frustration, Merlin turns to face Dot. 

M: (Merlin) “Once again, you imply you know things about this place without giving us any concrete information. Enough with the Motherly ambiguity, Dot. How do you know it is or is not safe here?”

S: Dot examines him implacably. 

X: (Dot) “Does it seem safe here?”

M: (Merlin) “Absolutely not.”

X: (Dot) “That is how.”

M: (Merlin) [exasperated sigh] “You become more like Artifice every day, and I do NOT mean that as a compliment.”

X: The lurking presence of those shadowy forms is not the only change to the Hall. Another perhaps more welcome transformation is rather glaringly apparent.

M: From the higher levels of the Hall, a somewhat familiar mica-like light has begun to glow, and along the floor rushes a shallow trickle of obsidian fog – a current of Fold?

S: Everyone reacts. 

M: Merlin’s bellows heave with relief or crazed triumph or something,

X: and Dot crouches down, dipping their gloved fingers in the meager stream.

S: Rawfield watches them attentively, as though expecting them to lose their balance or need assistance standing up again, but they do not. 

X: The crew linger outside of the door to Saskia’s, in the Hall of Doors. The huge Ship hovers directly above them, looming darkly in the towering gallery of dreamlike portals.

M: As Hambing proposed, it is parked outside indeed, just as it was on Launch Day – but, you know, in a freaky hall of doors instead of at the top of Stationary Hill. 

X: Ahead and behind, above and below, countless doorways shimmer invitingly. Cleo is taking it all in with some trepidation.

S: (Cleo) [weary sigh] “Here we are again, right back where we started…”

X: (Steve) “What did I tell you? These doors are a waste of time.”

M: (Biological Man) “Okay, so going through that door didn’t get us home, but it did do something.”

X: The Biological Man peers into the doorful distance.

M: (Biological Man) “There wasn’t any visible fold here before. The ceiling wasn’t glowing like mica before.”

S: Felix scoffs, though he’s still clutching himself fearfully. (Felix) “There weren’t spooky shadow guys here before.”

M: (Biological Man) “My point is, the Hall has changed. Dare I say, it now resembles our cosmos in some slight way. Mica above, Fold below. A distinct and unidirectional current.”

S: The Biological Man gestures along the length of the floor.

M: (Biological Man) “I think we’re onto something! We should keep exploring.”

X: Merlin’s bellow’s huff, but he nods.

M: (Merlin) “Dot, Everett – any insights? Micky – navigation ideas?”

X: Micky just laughs. 

S: (Micky) “I think we’re way past conventional navigation at this point.”

X: And Everett just shrugs. (Everett) “Look, man. This is already way beyond anything I experienced in moth therapy. But I guess, yeah? Exploring… good? That’s what we’re supposed to be, right – explorers?”

M: Dot looks gravely from one end of the hallway to the other, following the thin current with their eyes. 

X: (Dot) “I know very little,”

S: they say. 

X: (Dot) “But I do recommend we stay together and do not separate. And let us move with the current, not against it.”

S: They glance just a moment longer at the side of the Hall that the fold seems to be flowing from, the side that the shadows fled towards.

X: (Dot) ”Our direction has been decided for us.”

M: An echoing feline trill causes Cleo to jerk her head up. Was it coming from above? 

S: (Cleo) “Where the heck IS he? It can’t be healthy for him to be running around this place unsupervised!”

X: (Rawfield) “I think the same can be said of us.” Rawfield gives Cleo’s shoulder a gruff pat. “At least he seems to be energetic and vocal.”

S: (Cleo) “But how’d he even get out of the Ship??” 

X: (Dot) “The same way we did.”

S: (Cleo) “I– [huffs] Okay. Okay.”

X: A few doorways down, there is one of those many paintings.

S: Hambing takes a few steps toward it to get a closer look. 

X: (Hambing) “So if the doors lead to memories, what’s the deal with–” 

M: Everett grabs him by the back of his jacket. 

X: (Everett) “Don’t. The Mothers always told me not to look at those.”

S: She looks back at Micky and the others.

X: (Everett) “Did you all hear what I said? No paintings.”

S: (Hambing) “Uh, oookay?”

M: He doesn’t look closer. But it’s clear he really, really wants to. 

S: Searching for another familiar doorway, more than one pair of eyes has now alighted on a distinctive curtain of bright red vegetation. Even without stepping through, it calls to mind a vivid memory: soaring through an endless skyscape of stark white, in which a fluttering scrap of red stood out like blood on snow.

X: (Hambing) “How about that one?” 

M: Hambing asks.

X: (Hambing) “I recognize that.”

S: (Tzila) “Me too,” says Tzila. “It’s the red lichen we found growing inside that hollow mica berg.”

M: (Merlin) “Well, there’s only one way to know for sure.” Merlin, leading the way more out of restlessness than confidence, peels aside the curtain of dewy red growth,

S: the rest of the crew close behind, tempted forward by a fresh, juicy atmosphere. 

X: A toothsome humidity. 

[Otherworldly music accompanies a variety of animal calls.]

M: (Merlin) “Ahhh,” Merlin says. “Now this, everyone should remember. Except you, Steve.”

X: (Steve) “‘Everyone except you, Steve,’”

S: Steve mutters to himself.

M: A familiar geode-like grotto, a crystalline paradise inside a mica cavern, shimmers radiantly, brimming with flowers and clear water and flitting mayflies. 

S: The black rainbow shard of the Ship is parked above, and milling all around, completely oblivious to our door explorers’ presence, a crowd of familiar people explores the grotto with wonder. The crew – the ENTIRE crew, including those they have lost or said goodbye to.

[Indistinct chatter and laughter.]

M: Over yonder, tiny Hambing rides on Felix’s shoulder. 

X: Just there, regular original human Merlin is pondering crimson orb plants. 

S: Quino Del Belsaban hands out snacks.

M: Kanneken Hartevelt takes a photo.

X: Shanamarian does a luxurious four-armed stretch.

S: (Cleo) “Oh my god, it’s us,” Cleo murmurs.

X: (Everett) “Oh my god, it’s him,” says Everett.

M: At the shore of the crystal lagoon is Mother Artifice.

X: (Steve) “What is THAT?”

S: hisses Steve, staying well back. 

M: The dark hammerheaded figure stands at the edge of the crystalline water with the Granddaughter, attending to some whispered comment they are relating to him.

X: But his veiled attention seems divided, because he alone among the many members of the memoryscape crew visible here in the spectral oasis, is looking directly at the new arrivals.

M: Wait. Is he really? It’s kind of hard to tell with his face covered, but… 

(Mother Artifice) “I, UH. OH. WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

X: Artifice shakes himself, returning his attention to his quiet companion at the lagoon’s edge. Past-Dot replies, ((Dot)) “I…said that Realization has–” 

M: (Mother Artifice) “OH, YES. THEN REMAIN VIGILANT. YOUR ATTENTION IS A BEAM OF LIGHT WITHIN YOUR CONTROL, TO DIRECT AS YOU WILL.” 

X: Another subtle turn of the head toward his observers.

M: The Hall of Doors crew exchange slow, thunderstruck glances.

S: (Felix) “No,” Felix says. “No way.”

M: (Merlin) “This can’t be,” 

X: Merlin says.

M: (Merlin) “Does he…? Can he…?” 

(Mother Artifice) “GO FORTH AND OBSERVE. I AM GOING TO SCRUTINIZE THESE SALAMANDERS. THEY LOOK VERY WEIRD.”

S: Mother Artifice sends Dot off to explore the grotto on their own, and he kneels down by a tidepool to examine some little magenta axolotl-type creatures about ten feet from the onlookers.

M: He holds very still, allowing the skittish creatures to approach him.

S: All the skittish creatures.

M: The Hall of Doors crew draw closer, scarcely breathing, a numb hope-fear-dread-amazement simmering, rising. 

X: (Dot) “You can see us,” 

S: says the Granddaughter. 

X: (Mother Artifice) “YEP,”

M: replies Mother Artifice.

X: (Mother Artifice) “HOWDY-DO.”