Page 16 of The Shadows Beyond
“Noir’s office is at the top of one of the Nexus Towers. The Ivory Tower.” Julien pointed at two symmetrical towers rising majestically from the ground, their sleek obsidian facades gleaming in the sunlight, accentuated by veins of silver marble coursing through their structure. A delicate wrought-iron bridge spanned the expanse between them, joining the two towers part way up.
When they got to the entrance of the leftmost tower, a grand pair of glass doors awaiting them, Julien stopped. “It’s alright if I leave you here, right? I want to try to grab the speaker before the lecture begins.” He then started describing how to reach the office, but Cinn’s brain retained absolutely nothing, short-circuited by the sudden shock of being left alone in this overwhelming place to fend for himself. “Got that? You’ll be okay,oui?” Julien stared at him. Was he daring Cinn to beg him to walk him right to Albert Noir’s office door?
Cinn smiled. “Sure.”Abso-fucking-lutely.
“I’ll be at the Cerulean Auditorium for the lecture, but I’ll come find you after.”
Will you though? How will you find me?
“Gotcha.” Cinn spun away from Julien, and with all the confidence he could muster, marched through the glass doors. Why was his heart racing and his throat constricting? He was a grown twenty-something man, for fuck’s sake. Not a child on their first day of school.
A spacious lobby greeted him. Hurried feet pounded on the ceramic tiled floor.Why is everyone in such a goddamn rush around here?
Eyeing the numerous staircases and hallways, his fate was decided. He’d have to ask someone.
The first passer-by he tried to speak to completely ignored him, but in their defence, Cinn had practically whispered his ‘excuse me’. Heat burning his cheeks, he pressed himself against the wall to regroup. Why was this so hard? Abruptly, he remembered the liberation he’d felt when Tyler had become his voice for him, back in the early days of juvie when he was painfully shy and scared. That was many years ago, though. Cinn didn’t rely on anyone anymore. He was stronger now. Fearless.
“EXCUSE ME,” he shouted at some poor lady, who promptly spilled her coffee all over her clipboard. “Sorry. I’m looking for Albert Noir’s office.”
She peered at him, unimpressed. “You’re in the wrong tower. You need Ebony Tower. Take the lift up to the bridge and cross over. He’s floor seventeen, I think.”
Cinn tamped down a rush of anger. Why on earth had Julien walked him to the entrance of the wrong tower?
The woman pointed him in the direction of the lifts, and Cinn joined a fast-moving queue. Peering past the crowd, his heart sank. These weren’t your mother’s elevators.
A tight line of four sleek, translucent tubes awaited him. He watched as, one by one, people entered them alone or in pairs, neutral expressions on their faces as if they whizzed vertically up at the speed of light in these tubes every day. Well, they probably did.
“How do I make it work?” he asked the person behind him when it was seconds away from his turn.
A guy around his age frowned at him. “Huh? What?” The look of panic on Cinn’s face must have clued the stranger in to his situation,because he continued, “Stand still and hold the floor number in your mind. It helps to close your eyes, your first time.”
“Which floor is the bridge on?”
“Twelve. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. It’s fun.” The guy smiled—a handsome, kind smile—and Cinn had the embarrassing urge to ask him to go with him. Alas, before Cinn could, he pushed Cinn towards an empty tube, alone.
One shaky step later, shock engulfed Cinn as he discovered that within the tube, all sound faded away. A vacuum. It was just him and his unsteady, frantic breathing.
Twelve.
Twelve.
Twelve?
Twelve!
Oh fuck. He’d forgotten about the closing-his-eyes part.
The slices of toast he’d wolfed down earlier threatened to make a reappearance as he ascended rapidly upwards, propelled by air. Floors one to eleven flickered by him like he was looking through a zoetrope toy.
And then, he was there, at floor twelve, floating in mid-air. The curved glass door slid into itself, and Cinn stepped from the weightless vacuum onto a solid carpeted floor.
Smoothing down his clothes, he attempted to casually walk towards the bridge like he hadn’t just flown up a tube.
When he reached the bridge, Cinn found it to be a step too far.
“It’s just… floating! Unsupported!” he screeched, at a man dressed in a very smart suit.
The man gave him a wide berth and strode onto the the bridge.
