Raya looked away. Still liquid eyes gazed up at her from the lagoon. Her reflection was calmer than she was. Raya was not a stranger to envy, but this was the first time she was jealous of herself. The Raya in the water existed only in the moment, content to hold her breath and watch the lanterns in the sky. Color swirled over the reflection, rippling its peace.
Raya gasped. An invisible hand ushered the colors in severaldirections, capturing her surprise with brisk strokes. With a few more, a watercolor portrait of herself stared back at her.
“Hiraya,” Q said.
Raya jolted. “What did you say?”
“Hiraya.” Q read the word scrawled over the bottom-right corner of the painting in the water.
Raya’s breath caught in her throat. “My name…”
Q’s eyes flashed. “You’re the subject of the exhibit.”
“No.” Raya grew lightheaded. “No. I didn’t agree to this.”
Her portrait mouthed her words.No. I didn’t agree to this.
Raya’s legs shook, threatening to buckle under her. “We should go.”
We should go.The portrait copied her silently.
“But we haven’t found the stowaway,” Q said. “We can’t leave before searching the whole car.”
Raya looked up from her portrait. “There’s no sign of rot or rain. It’s not here.”
Q eyed the liquid painting. “But don’t you want to—”
“—see my secrets on display? No. Absolutely not.”
“But what if it helps you find your compartment?”
“Help? How?” Raya’s words sliced her teeth. “Lily never said anything about public shaming during the orientation.”
“No, but she did say that we needed to reveal our truest selves to find our place here.” Q gazed out at the still water. “What if this isn’t a lagoon?”
“What do you mean?” Raya said.
“What if it’s a reflection pool? What better place to think about who you are than a gallery that forces you to look at yourself? Maybe it’s the gallery car’s way of helping us find our place on the train.”
Raya stared hard at her reflection. “Or it’s trying to confuse us.”
Or it’s trying to confuse us.Her portrait mimicked her movements.
“Why would it do that?” Q said.
“So that we start to believe that we want to”—Raya closed her fist around the knot on her palm—“stay.”
Stay.Her portrait grabbed hold of her.
Raya screamed and dropped her bag.
Q clasped her hand. “Raya!”
The painting yanked her from his grasp and dragged her screaming into the lagoon.
Q
People were born from two wombs. The first birthed their bodies, the second, their souls. Q gazed into the black depths of the lagoon, deciding which of two mothers would give birth to the man he was going to be from this moment forward: circumstance or choice. An old, icy dread lapped at his toes. He shivered, tearing his eyes from the dark water.
