Rasmus pointed to the notebook on the second pedestal. “And this is a warning.”
“A warning?” Raya looked up from the loosening knot. “About what?”
Rasmus handed the notebook to her. “Have a look.”
Raya flipped through its pages, Q by her side. Drawings of walls made of phones and wallets and furniture built from eyeglasses and gloves were scattered throughout it. A few pages were devoted to sketches of a door that resembled a leaf and a crooked tower that touched the clouds. But what stood out from all these drawings were the images that grew darker with every turn of the page. Spirals of all shapes and sizes overlapped one another, some sketched so deeply they ripped through the paper.
“It belongs to Olly.” Rasmus returned the notebook to the pedestal. “Passengers who borrow the Archive’s maps are required to look through it to remind them what happens when you stray from the map and open locked doors.”
Q glanced at Raya, silently prodding her to tell Rasmus that she was backing out of the search. She drew a deep breath. “Rasmus, I won’t—”
“I know,” Rasmus said. “You won’t make the same mistake Olly did. That’s what everyone says when I show them this notebook. Olly was the last person anyone thought would get lost. He worked in maintenance and knew the train like the knot on his hand. But the truth is, no one can know everything about a train made of ever-changing thoughts. This Archive can barely keep up with all the knowledge that boards the Elsewhere Express.” Rasmus plucked the carved jade sphere from the pedestal. “Take a look at this.”
The sphere was made up of a series of free-moving spheres enclosing smaller spheres. A carved dragon and a phoenix slept beneath swirling clouds on the outermost sphere while circular holes on each layer of jade simultaneously hid and revealed the scene carved on the inner balls. Fine jade dust scattered in the air. Raya sneezed. Minuscule carvings appeared on the outermost sphere as though an artist, too tiny to be seen, busily chipped away at the stone.
“This is an exact model of the Archive,” Rasmus said. “Thoughts are etched into the jade as they arrive. What you’re seeing is what’s presently happening on the Archive’s outermost sphere.”
Raya’s gaze flew to the Archive’s domed ceiling, her mouth hanging open. “If this is a model, then that would mean—”
“That we’re inside the Archive’s innermost sphere.” Rasmus pushed the side of the onyx pedestal. A seamless drawer soundlessly slid open, revealing a thin gold rod resting on a black velvet cushion. Rasmus took the rod and inserted it through the Generation Ball, maneuvering the inner spheres. The giant layers of jade surrounding the room silently moved as the model did.
Q gaped at the shifting ceiling. “Incredible.”
Rasmus peered into the Archive’s model, checking the positions of its spheres. “Every invention, discovery, and story started out as someone’s daydream. All their beginnings are kept here. Layers are added with every generation of knowledge that finds its way onto the train.” He slipped the gold rod through another carved hole and moved more layers around. He looked up at Raya and Q. “I hope the two of you get along.”
“Why?” Raya said.
“The map’s too large and heavy for one person to carry. You’ll have to share its weight.”
“Rasmus, about that…” Raya glanced at Q.
Q gave her a nod.
“Yes?” Rasmus said.
“I—” Raya dropped her eyes to her bag. Its contents appeared as ashen as the cadavers in her anatomy class. She wondered if they had always looked like this or if they had dulled in comparison to all the brighter things she had seen since she boarded: The songs on the beach. Q’s star. His eyes when he painted it. “I just want to say that sharing the map’s weight with Q won’t be an issue.”
Q’s brows shot up.
Raya did not expect him to understand her choice. She could not deny that it was the wrong one under their present circumstances. But decisions were time travelers, living in the past, present, and future all at once. This one grew from the roots of the sense of responsibility that lived inside her like a twin absorbed in the womb. It ivied across the unraveling knot on her palm and stretched as far as it could toward tomorrow. Raya had not made the decision as the person who stood beside Q, but as the person she wanted to wake up as in the morning. Choosing herself over a train might keep her alive, but it was not going to save her.
“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” Rasmus adjusted the inner spheres until a series of holes from the outermost to the innermost sphere aligned to form a tunnel. “The Archive will lend you the map shortly.” The model floated off his palm, drifted back to the pedestal, and hovered over its stand. The tiny phoenix on its outer sphere burst into flames and flew around the carved dragon. The dragon yawned and shook itself awake, rippling the scales from the top of its head to the end of its tail. The dragon crawled across the sphere and dove into the mouth of the newly formed tunnel. “It’s coming.”
The sound of slithering scales reverberated through the dome. Raya’s eyes followed it across the ceiling to the tunnel’s mouth directly above her. A gust of wind howled through the opening, riffling the pages of Olly’s old notebook. A jade dragon’s head burst out of the tunnel, locked eyes on Raya, and charged at her. Q lunged,shoving her from its path. The dragon stopped inches from Q’s face and roared, its breath shrouding the Archive in an impenetrable mist.
“Raya—” Q’s voice quivered. “I can’t see.”
Blinded by the thick fog, Raya felt around for his hand. “You’re okay, Q,” she said, finding and squeezing his trembling fingers. “You’re okay.”
“Deep breaths.” Rasmus’s voice echoed. “Draw it inside you.”
Q
The air cleared, lifting the blindfold of mist from their eyes. Q exhaled, his clammy fingers wrapped tightly around Raya’s hand. He released her, heat spreading over his neck. He cleared his throat of imaginary grit. “What just happened?”
“The Archive lent you the map of the Elsewhere Express,” Rasmus said.
Raya glanced around. “Where is it?”
