“Pheh.” Leo capped a jar. He’d only caught six fireflies whose shining butts hardly illuminated the rocks. He glared at the moon. “Some help you are, huh?” The moon just made the ocean glitter.

Leo kept climbing the main island of Sheridan. He was done collecting fireflies. They weren’t worth his time. The real prize was all around him.

He chose a centipede-bush at random by bumping into it accidentally. “Shit!” Thorns caught his Hawaiian shirt. He considered removing his shirt, or at least unbuttoning it, but instead he painstakingly unhooked it from the thorny bush. “This is the stuff.”

He pulled a knife from his backpack. The knife had a totally awesome dragon on its hilt, but that’s not why he bought it from his local mall: its glass blade was a cinch to sneak onto airplanes.

He cut branches from the bush. Thorns nicked his palms. “Aw, c’mon!” He wiped blood on his cargo shorts. “Give it up already!” He reached into the bush and grabbed the ball of centipedes. It wouldn’t budge. He swung the knife with wild fervor. In his haste, he hacked some centipedes in half. “Perfect.”

He pried centipedes from the mutilated bush. He chucked the chopped ones over his shoulders. He stowed the intact centipedes in jars.

As he hacked the next bush, he mimicked Jay. “Oh, please, Leo! Only Virgil Blue can prepare centipedes! Come with me and get bum-fucked by monks! Pft.” He filled another jar with centipedes. “What a joke. The monks aren’t even trying to protect these bushes. They’re just asking for people to steal their shit—it’s their own fault. It’s better that I take ’em instead of some random jack-off. Sheridan needs my business-savvy. They should thank me.”

He kept climbing the island. Surely the best centipedes were near the peak.

He tripped immediately. “Fucking nests!” He was surprised to see a woven nest so high holding two porcelain eggs. “Huh.” Both eggs were painted with lacework signifying matriarchs from Virgil Green’s congregation. “They’d never notice one missing.” He dumped his jar of fireflies, sealed an egg in it, and kept climbing.

When his jars were full of centipedes, he turned to watch the sunrise. He’d worked through the night leaving broken bushes in his path. He felt a contact-high from all the centipedes he’d handled, so the light bothered his eyes. He put his sunglasses back on.

He turned to the peak. The clouds obscuring the island’s summit were so near he could touch them.

“Not supposed to climb past the clouds, huh?” Leo smirked and stuck his arm into the fog. “What a dumb rule. Sometimes the whole island is foggy. How do I know when to turn back? And how could they enforce it? They’d have to follow me, and then they’d just be hypocrites.”

Laughing built courage. He entered the fog-bank. If Sheridan kept centipedes at altitude, what awesome bugs did they hide in cloud-cover?

Above the fog, the island’s terrain was more rough. The slopes were so steep Leo puffed and panted. He hefted himself up cliffs by swinging his legs over ledges and pulling his belly after them. Whatever was up here had to be worth it.

Twenty feet above him, he saw a shape through the fog. Was it a fellow trespasser? Leo considered hiding, but then identified the figure’s waddle: it was a bird, six feet tall with long red tail-feathers. It struggled even more than he did plodding up the slopes.

“Heh.” Leo eventually caught up to it. “You birds would be better off if you weren’t too fat to fly. Climbing is human-work.” He and the bird paced neck-and-neck. “You know, all the nests up here—the eggs in `em are chicks. I mean, girl-birds. I’ll bet guy-birds like you have to let the chicks get ahead, huh?” He grinned. “But not you and me. We don’t let anything hold us back.”

The bird didn’t look at him. Its gaze was fixed on the peak. When it came to a cliff, it flapped both wings. It couldn’t fly, but with infinite effort, it hopped high enough to pull itself over the ledge.

“Whoa.” Leo kicked the cliff with both feet trying to climb after it. “Hey, hey! Wait for me!” He grabbed the bird’s tail-feathers and pulled himself up.

The bird lost its balance and fell from the cliff. Leo watched it roll down the slopes. Each time it tumbled, its wing-bones broke. He heard its distant squawking even after the fog obscured it.

Leo turned to the peak. “I’m not a bully, you’re just a pussy.” To sturdy himself for the climb, he chanted the phrase like a mantra. “I’m not a bully, you’re just a pussy.”

The fog chilled as he neared the top. Thin frost coated the stony heights. He finally came to a dark cave.

“Neat.” He entered the cave without second thought. “I must be the first person ever to get here.”

As soon as he said it, he saw he was wrong. He lifted his sunglasses to make sure the sight wasn’t from his centipede contact-high: there was a human figure in the back of the cave, facing rock wall.

“Yo,” said Leo. “Whaddup.”

The figure didn’t turn. Leo approached. Now he wasn’t sure if it was human or a weird rock. If it was human, they lacked arms and legs.

“Are you there?” asked Leo. “Ew!”

It was certainly human, but their pitch-black flesh disgusted him. Where their arms and legs had been, stumps were marred by bite-marks.

“Ha. Creepy.” Leo bit the figure’s shoulder like a dog. “Rawr!”

The figure turned their head. He had wide-set eyes, high cheek-bones, and a swastika carved in his forehead. “Don’t do that.”

“Whoa!” Leo backed up. “I’m just playing, man. Didn’t think you’d care, you’ve already got bite-marks all over.”

The figure turned, somehow, with what was left of his limbs. “Do you know who I am?”

“Nope.” Leo stuck out a hand. “Henry.”

The figure did not shake—of course he didn’t, he had no hands. “Nemo,” he said. “Oran dora. Please, sit.”

Next Section
Commentary

“Why not?” asked Nakayama’s Hurricane. “Why shouldn’t Lucille pull the Chain? We’ve got that white fox! Let’s send her to the Galaxy Zephyr!”

“Iya!” Nakayama flew around Lucille’s Wheel. Judging the bulge to be totally remedied, she released the white wing and returned it to the robot. “I need her. I need Faith. I have a plan which guarantees we rebuild Earth’s population as accurately as possible.”

“I don’t even know how our original plan was supposed to work,” admitted her Hurricane. “Why do you need Faith?”

“Life is too unruly for its principal components to converge near me. Some aspects will surely isolate themselves and hide. They will even be aggressive toward the notion of rejoining humanity.” Nakayama loaded herself into the Mountain like an iron ball into a cannon. “I can’t survey the desert alone. I need someone else to search our Hurricane Planet.” Nakayama used inconceivable methods to select an instant in her torus of timelines. “Fire!”

Her Hurricane fired her from the Mountain. Nakayama spread her wings to dive at the main island of Sheridan.

As she dove, Nakayama assessed the changes since her last visit. The islanders now lived across all three islands, even the barren sandy one. Atop the main island she saw a white-walled monastery. She landed beside a great stone statue. The statue intrigued her. It was a giant bird atop a stone box sheltering a tiny man with its wings.

She turned to the monastery and waited. She might have waited seconds or centuries, so disrupted was her perception of time. Eventually she saw Nemo exit the monastery, recognizing him by his navy robes and silver mask. Nemo approached her and bowed. “Akayama! Oran dora.”

“Virgil Blue,” she said. Nemo nodded. “I must ask you for a favor.”

“Anything,” said Nemo.

Nakayama squawked. “You speak! You speak English!”

“Of course,” said Nemo. “You gave me a thousand books. I studied their texts for centuries. Visitors from other nations taught me to pronounce the words. Welcome to the Islands of Sheridan.”

Nakayama almost cried. “Thank you, Virgil Blue. I can’t imagine the effort you’ve dedicated to understanding me.”

“Anything.” Nemo bowed once more. “O venerable one, I devote my entirety to you.”

“No!” Nakayama crossed her wings in an X. “Devote yourself to nothing less than all sentient beings.” Nemo didn’t understand, and shook his head. Nakayama tried to explain even though she knew she never could, in any language. “I’m collecting souls in the afterlife and I need your help. I can think of no one else to shoulder the indescribable burden.”

Nemo nodded and stowed his hands in his sleeves. “Anything.”

Nakayama hesitated but relinquished her command: “You must contain unruly souls.”

“Contain them?”

“There are some who would avoid me out of fear, or greed, or ignorance, even given eternities to approach. I need you to collect those beings such that your soul includes theirs.”

“How?” asked Nemo.

“You must encompass them in the same way a widow carries her husband’s mind in hers,” said Nakayama. “You must impress upon yourself the total fiber of their form, so when I collect you at the end of the eternities, I contain all conscious thought. To help me reconstruct Earth’s population from dust, you must be King of Dust. Anything which would otherwise be annihilated, you must consume. Anihilato,” she dubbed him.

Nemo nodded like he understood, but of course he couldn’t. “I will consume those who would otherwise never know you,” he said.

“Perfect,” said Nakayama. “I should give you a list.” Using statistical methods she could never explain, Nakayama produced reams of encoded papyrus. “This is a complete catalog of all expected Earthly souls. Either in this eternity or the next, I hope every specimen documented here is accounted for, if not in me then in you.” She pushed the papyrus toward Nemo, but he refused it.

“In this eternity… or the next?” Nemo tensed every muscle in his arms, repelling the papyrus. “If I have two whole eternities, could you save these documents until I enter the afterlife? I feel they’ll be more useful then.”

“I understand.” Nakayama absorbed the papyrus into her sleeves. “As long as you accept your duty, I trust you to the end of time.”

With that, Nakayama blasted back into space and merged with the Mountain. “Is your plan underway?” asked her Hurricane.

“Indeed.” Nakayama watched the islands from above and allowed her toroidal swirl of space-time to spin the scene away. “If my machinations pan out, the pesky principal components will be conglomerated into a single convenient entity.”

“Like a giant worm?” asked the Hurricane. “One worm representing all the disobedient aspects of Earthly life?”

“I know, I know. If my plan works, it will be nigh impossible to convince this entity to join the Galaxy Zephyr—or even reveal itself.” Nakayama floated within the Wheel. “That’s why I need Faith to survey the desert and track Anihilato, so I can collect it at the end of the eternities. But it won’t go willingly! It may even overpower me.” From her seat in the Mountain, Nakayama surveyed the water-world and the Hurricane Planet simultaneously. “Despite Virgil Blue’s good nature, Anihilato will be unruly because of the characters it contains.”

On the main island of Sheridan, Leo climbed uphill. He panted and sweat. Surely the best centipedes were near the top.

Next Section
Commentary

 

When Jay knocked, Virgil Skyy brushed blinds aside and peeked out the window with his good eye. Seeing Jay, he unlocked and opened the door. Jay entered and Skyy locked the door behind him. “Are your friends joining us?”

“I don’t think so.” Jay removed his shoes and loosened his dark purple tie as his eyes adjusted to the dim room. Virgil Blue sat cross-legged on a king-sized bed. Their wheelchair sat in a corner.

Skyy limped to a rug rolled up against a wall. Jay wanted to help handle the heavy rug, but Skyy bid him to sit beside Blue on the bed. He swiftly knocked over the rug with his cane and unrolled it with his feet.

The woven rug depicted the Islands of Sheridan from smallest to largest. On each island, a single man, repeated many times, climbed to the top and claimed the peak. The man was nude and black like coal. Above the islands, a bird in sky-blue robes oversaw the man’s journey.

“The first man, Nemo,” said Virgil Skyy. “The tapestry shows his journey from divine birth to ascendance above the rank of Blue.” He thumped his cane on the floor. “Students usually undertake this ritual after years of training with Virgil Green, then swimming to the main island and climbing it nude like the birds do. You met Virgil Green, didn’t you?”

“I did.” Jay swallowed. “I understand he chased snakes from Sheridan.”

Virgil Skyy shrugged. “Close enough. The way I heard it, Nemo ate the snakes. When Nemo climbed above the clouds, the new Virgil Blue established Virgil Green as a subsidiary representation of Nemo’s being. Nemo was so much larger-than-life that to keep his flame alive, he had to be divided and diluted.”

Jay let his gaze wander the rug. Unconsciously, his focus drifted to Virgil Blue’s silver mask. Jay had a reflection in both of the mask’s eyes. “Virgil Skyy… Jango… On the islands, you said the dead are reborn.”

“We cycle in the sand until our souls find the Mountain.”

“You said no one remembers their past lives.” Jay pried his gaze from the mask. “Are you sure?”

“The sand in the desert of death wears souls smooth.” Jango pulled Jay to his feet. “We are effaced.”

“What if…” Jango guided Jay’s posture in sitting cross-legged on the rug. “What if someone slipped through the cracks?”

Jango sat on the bed beside Blue. “Virgil Blue once dreamed they were a bird eating grubs from tree-trunks. Who’s to say which thoughts are false and which are memories of past lives?” Jango noticed Jay’s concerned expression. “But it doesn’t matter. The mind is just the whorl where the river meets the coast. Someday we will stop spinning, but what we were will spin again. Maybe we’ll spin the same direction as before, maybe oppositely. Maybe we’ll spin two directions at once. If you recall past lives, perhaps you spin clockwise on the surface while your depths present an opposing current. All currents are personal and temporary. The awesome stillness at the end of the eternities belongs to everyone forever.”

Jay put his hands in his lap, but kept them clenched. “Do you know Anihilato? Master of Nihilism, King of Dust?” Jango shook his head. Jay darkened. “What if the dead refuse rebirth?”

“You don’t get a choice. The sand chooses for you.”

“What if someone eats souls so quickly that the sand can’t keep up?” Jay didn’t look at either Virgil. “What if the Mountain’s task is impossible because of that stuck cog?”

“I can’t speak for the Mountain’s plan,” said Jango. “I’m only a Virgil. My goal is to guide.”

Jay released the tension in his hands. “Guide me.”

Jango licked his lips. He considered Anihilato. “My brother has long, greasy hair. Our father always wanted him to cut it short. One day, our shower wouldn’t drain. Our father reached into the drain and pulled out a thick, messy clump of hair. Our father was angry but he laughed, too—‘Look,’ he joked to my brother, ‘our hair-collector is working!’—as if the clog was the drain’s purpose all along. Do you understand, Jay?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then you’re getting close. Let’s try again: there once was a monster,” he said, “who couldn’t be killed in the day nor at night, inside nor outside, by a man nor a woman. Obviously the monster was slain by a hermaphrodite while passing through a doorway during a solar eclipse. The monster wore ignorance as armor. It protected itself with words like ‘day’ and ‘night’ and ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ and ‘man’ and ‘woman,’ but to those who know better, words are just words. The hero slew the monster with the blade of unpronounceable truth. Do you understand?”

Jay did not say yes or no. He did not even nod.

“You’re ready.” Jango put his thumb and pinky on Virgil Blue’s silver mask. Jay gasped. Jango took the mask away.

Under the mask was a black tangle of centipedes.

“I warned you.” Jango pulled the navy robes from the centipede-bush’s dark thorns. The robe’s sleeves were empty. What Jay mistook for knees were loose folds of fabric. “Centipede loses potency soon after harvest. It’s not easy to smuggle a centipede-bush through customs, but no one bothers the living legend in a wheelchair.” Jango shook a sleeve and a knife fell into his hand. “Close proximity to Blue will give you a contact-high. This gives the Virgil a paralyzing presence.”

Jay managed to speak. “How long?”

“Hm? Oh, Virgil Blue retired above the clouds decades ago.” Jango wrapped his right hand in navy fabric. “I’m watching in their stead ’til the end of time. It should be any year now.” With navy fabric guarding his hand from thorns, Jango reached into the centipede-bush. He used the knife to pry up orange legs until he could pull a whole centipede from the tangle. The centipede curled into a spiral which Jango gave to Jay. “You’ve smoked centipede-powder, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“This is not the same,” said Jango. “You will have no control. I will have no control. The centipede will take you.”

Jay nodded.

“Eat it,” said Jango.

Without hesitation, Jay crunched the exoskeleton in his teeth. He tore off black chunks and swallowed them. Orange legs crawled down his throat. Dark liquid spilled from his lips. Jay wiped his chin and licked the liquid from his palm. He ate the last inches whole, retching and gasping until the centipede was gone.

Jango said something, but Jay couldn’t hear it. He’d left the magic circle.

Next Chapter
Commentary

Ms. Lyn led Jay to the campus cafe where Jango Skyy sat with Dan and Bob at a booth. Dan helped Jango butter the halves of a bagel to share while Bob sipped a beer. Jay shook Ms. Lyn’s hand. “Thank you again, Ms. Lyn. Can I buy you coffee?”

“I’ve got appointments to plan.” Ms. Lyn left. Jay passed chatting students on his way to the booth.

“Jay!” Jango raised his cane. “Is it time to collect the master Blue?”

“They’re all yours.”

“I’ll let them sit a while. No one would dare disturb their eternal meditation.” Jango bit his bagel half. Dan sipped milk and removed his gloves to swipe through photos on his phone’s touchscreen. “Come, Jay. Dan is explaining Zephyrs.”

“I need water,” said Jay. “Bob, can I buy you anything to eat?”

“I lose my appetite at altitude,” Bob said. “Buy me another beer.”

Jay found a free cup for water and brought Bob his beer. “If you’re drinking, I’ll drive us home, if it’s alright with you.” He sat across from Jango.

Dan showed Jango his phone and the old man took it to scroll on his own. “Okay, those are the covers of each collection,” said Dan. “That’s Princess Lucia, daughter of the ruler of Earth. Her family keeps her landlocked to protect her from the Hurricane, the cosmic horror which ate the universe, but she dreams of joining robot-pilots on the moon. One day she escapes and learns to pilot this robot, the heart of the Zephyr.”

“Hm.” Jango scrolled through comic covers. He closed the eye blocked by cataract and spread wrinkles from his good eye. “What’s the author’s name?”

“The author goes by pseudonym,” said Dan. “The comic was cancelled when the animated version premiered, but the animated version was cancelled too, so it just sort of ends. LuLu’s was a cult-classic while it lasted.”

“These robots.” Jango circled the phone with his finger. “They’re all Zephyrs?”

Dan nodded and took his phone back. “The robots and their pilots are both called Zephyrs. Sometimes it gets confusing.”

“Where are you staying?” Bob asked Jango. “Bring Blue to my house. Dan, Jay, I’ll pump up the air-mattress for you while the Virgils take the fold-out.”

Jango dismissed the notion with the wave of a hand. “Virgil Blue and I booked a motel-room.”

“How long are you staying?” asked Jay.

Jango nibbled his bagel and stowed his hands in his sleeves. “We planned to stay just one night, to extend our invitation to Faith.”

“An invitation?” Bob sipped his beer. “To what?”

“To the islands, of course.” The old monk released a long sigh. “No one has visited me three times in such a fashion as Faith. I thought she was destined for the white-walled monastery. Virgil Blue and I prepared her initiation, if only she was alive to accept!”

Dan bit his fingertips. Jay nodded and swallowed. “Is the initiation still, uh, ready to go?” Jay asked.

“If Faith is dead, then for whom?” asked Jango. Then his eyes opened so wide that Jay saw the white and black of his irises. “Are you suggesting—”

“No, no,” denied Jay, “I wouldn’t invite myself into your congregation. But Dan studies religions. We hoped to perform research for his thesis. Could you show us the materials and procedures of a Sheridanian initiation?”

At his name, Dan looked from his phone. Jango appraised his expression. “I suppose,” said Jango, “but before I invite you to our motel, I must warn you, the materials of a Sheridanian initiation ceremony are… controversial.”

“Centipede-powder?” asked Jay.

Jango shook his head. “The centipedes must be… consumed whole.”

Dan and Jay understood the implication. When Bob caught on, he bolted upright and held his fedora to his head. “You smuggled whole centipedes through customs?” Jango put a stern finger over his lips. Bob grinned giddily at Dan and Jay. “You guys have cool friends!”

“Please understand,” said Jango, “centipede-visions are integral to Sheridan. In fact, if you plan to write about the islands, I insist one of you consume a whole centipede—under Virgil Blue’s supervision, of course.”

“Really?” asked Jay.

“We have the materials prepared for Faith.” said Jango. “Someone might as well eat a centipede. I won’t demand you join my congregation unless you truly must.”

Dan covered his face. “Jay, I don’t know.”

“Is something wrong?”

Dan rest his fists on the table. His face was pale. “I can’t take centipede again.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll take it and describe my experience to you.”

“I can’t be in the same room as a centipede,” said Dan, “not since Beatrice died. I won’t go to Sheridan. Coming here was a mistake.”

“Okay.”

Bob took air through his teeth. “You know, I’m in the same boat as Dan. I don’t wanna overdo anything.”

“Okay.” Jay extended a hand for Jango to shake. “I’ll take up your offer alone.”

Jango shook his hand. “What have you eaten in the last 24 hours?”

“A hamburger, cheese-puffs, and a bowl of cereal.”

“Don’t eat any more. You’ll likely vomit. I certainly did.”

---

That evening, Jay stepped out on Bob’s back-porch. Dark clouds crossed the sky. None looked like foxes.

He dialed his parents’ phone-number.

His cell rang too many times. Jay knew he’d speak to an answering-machine.

“You’ve reached Camilla Diaz and Ethan Jackson,” said his mother. “We can’t answer the phone because we’re on our second honeymoon! We’ll respond when we’re back from the Caribbean. Click!”

Jay drew breath. His jaw trembled. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. It’s me. Jay.” He almost hung up. He could still change his mind and turn back. “I’m doing something kinda stupid. Kinda really stupid. This might be the last you ever hear from me. So… I love you. Oh, and you’ve got some nice seashells coming in the mail. I love you.”

He hung up. He blew fog on his hands.

He entered Bob’s house. Dan sat on the fold-out, trying to untie his shoes. “I’m walking to Jango Skyy’s motel,” said Jay. “I’m performing the initiation.”

“Really?” Dan struggled with his laces. “You haven’t changed your mind?”

Jay shook his head. “Do you need help?”

“Please. We walked in grass on the way to the cafe. Now my shoes are dirty and I have to wash them, but I forgot my gloves on-campus, and I can’t touch grass-stains with my bare hands.” Dainty Dan let Jay untie his shoes. They were hardly dirty, just damp. Jay pulled the shoes off Dan’s feet. “Jay, on the Islands of Sheridan, did you see too many centipedes?”

“Hardly any at all,” said Jay. “Only near the peak of the main island, above even Virgil Blue’s monastery.”

“Then I’ve changed my mind,” said Dan. “I need to visit Sheridan to prove I’ve moved on. Thanks for bringing me here so I could realize.”

“I know you’ll love Sheridan, Dan.” Jay turned his head so Dan couldn’t see his tears. “Maybe we’ll meet there, huh? If I decide to become a monk?”

Then Jay left and walked to the nearest motel. He knew the Virgils would be there, because there were no coincidences.

Next Section
Commentary

Jay opened the door and froze when he saw Virgil Blue’s silver mask staring back.

Virgil Blue sat cross-legged on top of a table. Jay sat in Blue’s vacant wheelchair and stared at the Virgil’s mask for a while, unable to do anything else. His thoughts wandered the embossed, buggy eyes.

Jay knew he lacked the strength to take a proper photo. Without looking from the mask, he willed himself to put his notepad on his thigh and prepare his pen. His wrist locked in writing-position. Unable to break eye-contact with Blue, he hoped his blind scribbles were legible later.

“I’ve lucked into an interview with Virgil Blue,” Jay wrote. “Their stare transfixes me. I sense messages from past millennia behind the mask. Even if this teacher of teachers says nothing, I’m honored to share space with them.”

Jay couldn’t turn the notepad to continue writing. Instead he watched the mask. He could’ve watched the mask for hours.

Jay saw his reflection in the silver eyes. The perception of depth reminded him how to focus his vision and operate his facial muscles, allowing his gaze to stray from the mask. The Virgil’s robes were navy and thicker than rugs. The Virgil’s sleeves were tucked into each other to hide their hands. The Virgil’s knees were so knobbly they made the robes look like a crumbling cathedral.

Jay found strength to turn his notepad and continue writing. “Virgil Blue’s commanding aura cannot be overstated. I wish I could coax even one word from behind the mask.”

He gathered courage to speak. “Hello, Virgil Blue. My name is Jay. We’ve met before. May I ask a few questions?”

Virgil Blue did not respond.

Jay recalled Skyy’s lesson about asking three times. “May I ask a few questions?”

Virgil Blue did not respond.

“May I ask a few questions?”

Virgil Blue did not respond. Jay sighed and continued writing. “It seems I must leave without a quote.”

Jay wiggled his toes. He couldn’t yet stand under the indomitable presence.

On a whim he wrote “”, an empty quote to convey the Virgil’s wordless message.

“Drop the pen.”

Jay dropped the pen.

“Close it.”

Jay closed the notepad.

“Chase truth in your own navel, not mine.”

“I don’t want the truth,” said Jay. “Not anymore.”

“Shut up.”

He did.

“Stop listening, too.”

He did.

“My body was born centuries ago, but my story is older. I heard it from the previous Virgil Blue, who heard it from the previous Virgil Blue, who heard it from the previous Virgil Blue, and so on. My story concerns the first man, Nemo, after the Biggest Bird declared him the first Virgil Blue.

“The Biggest Bird made Nemo immortal to guide Sheridan for all time, but over centuries, despite perfect health, his mind deteriorated daily.

“Nemo’s last students struggled with his peculiar discipline. Nemo reacted violently when his students answered questions incorrectly—or correctly. He demanded students sit nude with him outdoors on winter nights so frozen fog would frost them.

“When students complained of frostbite, Nemo ate the afflicted fingers and toes. He acquired a taste for flesh and filed his teeth sharp like a shark’s. His final lesson was a display of depravity: Nemo chased his congregation through the snow ranting and raving, pouncing on his slowest students and biting off their fingers at the knuckle.

“It was decided Nemo should retire, and with startling lucidity, Nemo agreed. To pass the title of Virgil, Nemo invented a ceremony in which a bird’s egg—fertilized with sacred seed inside—was smashed on the appointee’s forehead. He passed the title of Blue to his only student who still had ten fingers and toes. Then Nemo climbed above the clouds, never to return.

“The new Virgil Blue brought Sheridan back to non-cannibalistic orthodoxy. They anointed subordinate Virgils to stabilize the islands.”

The room was quiet for a while.

“Two centuries hence, Nemo appeared in Virgil Blue’s dreams. In these dreams, Nemo ate the Blue Virgil’s fingers and toes. When no phalanges remained, Nemo chewed other extremities. After excruciating years, the Virgil’s dream-body was totally devoured. Virgil Blue knew their time had come, and they passed the title. They retired above the clouds after their old master. Since then, every Virgil Blue has passed the title after Nemo cannibalized them in the dream-theater. Every former Blue climbs to the cloudy peak.

“Some laymen dare trespass on that sacred peak, and such trespassers never return. Beyond that, everything these trespassers own is ruined. Their property burns. Their children die. Their spouses throw themselves in the sea. This is why the peak fits as final resting-place for the Blue Virgils: they call nothing theirs. As Nemo breaks my bones in his teeth each night, I understand the asceticism he imposes. Nothing is mine, not physically, mentally, nor spiritually. When Nemo finishes gnawing my skullcap, I will lose nothing in climbing above the clouds.”

The room was quiet for a while.

“Jango Skyy is a masterful Virgil. For his sake, I am the last Blue. Time ends with me. I am Nemo’s last student and his last victim.”

Jay did not move or speak for several minutes. He bowed his head, picked up his notepad and pen, and left without a word.

Next Section
Commentary

Dan and Jay slept on the fold-out while Bob retired to his bedroom. Jay said nothing of his visions outside. He couldn’t even decide whether Faith had been real or not. In the morning, Bob woke them for breakfast.

“Dan,” Jay asked over cereal, “have you thought about your thesis?”

“My what?”

“Your thesis. We came to Wyoming to research the Sheridanian Virgils for your Religious-Studies thesis.”

“Oh, right.” Dan pushed flakes across milk with his spoon. “Maybe the college will inspire me.”

After breakfast they walked to Bob’s truck. Jay dialed his phone. “I’ll let Ms. Lyn know we’re coming.”

“Who?” asked Bob. Dan sat in the back.

“The college’s event-coordinator. I called her at the bar to arrange our meeting.” Jay sat shotgun. Bob revved the engine and pulled out. “Hello, Ms. Lyn? Sure, I’ll hold.” Jay dated a fresh page in his notepad. Bob steered his truck toward the mountains. “Ms. Lyn? It’s Jay Diaz-Jackson.” He nodded. “Just wanted to let you know I’d arrive soon.” Jay nodded again but knotted his brow. He lowered his phone then returned it to his ear. “Could you repeat that?” Jay nodded uneasily. “Thanks. I’ll see you soon.”

“What’d she say?” asked Dan.

Jay shook his head before he hung up. “She said they’ve arrived ahead of us.”

“Who has?” asked Dan.

“She didn’t say.”

Bob drove the winding mountain roads so quickly Dan clutched himself and chewed his gloves in terror. Jay watched clouds peek over peaks like boiling cream. “Almost there!” Bob pointed to buildings dotting the mountainside. “See that lecture-hall? That’s where Virgil Blue said all the nothing!”

Bob parked with such enthusiasm Dan’s body rocked forward. As the three stepped from the truck, a woman in high-heels waved. “Mr. Jackson?”

“Diaz-Jackson, but please, call me Jay.” Jay shook her hand. “You’re Ms. Lyn?”

“Yep. Follow me.”

Ms. Lyn led Dan, Jay, and Bob onto campus. “Hey, wait,” said Bob, “this ain’t the way to the lecture-hall!”

“I couldn’t reserve the lecture-hall,” said Ms. Lyn. “I booked you a private room usually reserved for one-on-one counseling.”

Dan finally recovered from the drive. “But we’re supposed to see where Virgil Blue sat.”

“I’m sorry?” asked Ms. Lyn.

Jay explained while Ms. Lyn ushered them into an administration-building. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I wanted to meet you, Ms. Lyn. I wanted to discuss the Virgils of Sheridan.”

“Oh.” Ms. Lyn put her hands on her hips. “But they said they wanted to meet you.”

“The Virgils of Sheridan want to meet me?”

“They called two days ago, just minutes before you did,” said Ms. Lyn. “I thought you wanted me to arrange your meeting.”

They rounded a corner. Virgil Jango Skyy sat in a school-chair attached to a tiny desk. Jay gasped and hustled to him. “Jango!” he said. “Virgil Skyy!”

Jango opened his good eye and smiled at Dan, Jay, Bob, and Lyn. He stood, took his cane, and bowed his head. “Oran dora.”

“Hey, that’s one of the guys!” Bob gestured for Dan to follow. “You gotta get a selfie with this dude for your thesis!”

Jay struggled for words. “Why are you here?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” said Jango. “There are no coincidences.”

Ms. Lyn folded her arms. “The Virgils arrived by bus half an hour ago.”

“Me and Blue. Green is busy as always.” Jango brushed wrinkles from his robes. “Jay, I hope our abrupt arrival has not caught you off-guard.”

“It’s an honor to meet you again,” said Jay, “but why?”

Jango took air through his teeth. His good eye squinted. “There’s a story,” he began, after judging the audience worthy of hearing it, “of a sage who knew how the world would end. Men climbed to the sage’s cave to ask about the apocalypse, but the sage never answered.

“One day,” continued Jango, “someone climbed to the cave and asked, ‘how will the world end?’ The sage, as usual, said nothing. They just sat facing the darkness.

“The climber repeated, ‘how will the world end?’ and again, the sage said nothing.

“The climber repeated, ‘how will the world end?’

“And the sage said, ‘the world ends when the Chain and the Wheel are one, and no souls remain to salvage. Then the eternities are over.’

“The climber was thrilled, but had to ask, ‘why answer me but no one else?’

“And the sage said, ‘because you asked three times.’ ”

Jango beamed. Dan and Jay just looked at each other. Bob cocked his head like a dog.

“Twenty years ago,” said Jango, “Faith met me as a fox on the main island of Sheridan. Ten years ago, Faith met me here at Sheridan Cliff-Side College. A week ago, Faith met me a third time.” From his sleeve, Jango produced the holiday-card which Faith had sent with Jay. He showed them the fox which Faith had drawn and signed inside. “I cannot ignore someone who meets me three times, even if the third time is only pictorially. There are no coincidences. I knew if I made the barest effort I’d find the visitors I expected. So!” He clapped his hands. “Where is Faith Featherway?”

Dan, Jay, and Bob shared a glance. “Um.” Jay put a hand over his heart. “I’m afraid Faith died days ago. She was struck by lightning.”

Jango deflated. He looked down the hall as if Faith would appear around the corner. “Impossible.”

“I’m afraid so,” said Bob. Dan wiped his eyes. “Sorry.”

Jango Skyy covered his mouth. “But the Mountain arranged this meeting.”

“I arranged this meeting,” muttered Ms. Lyn.

“The Mountain and Ms. Lyn did their best,” offered Jay. “We’re Faith’s friends and family. You’re here to hear of her death directly from us in person.”

“I suppose.” Jango rapped his cane on the floor. “Thank you.”

“Geez,” said Bob, “I’d hate to send you home empty-handed. Can I buy you a bagel?”

“Wait,” Jay interjected. “You said Virgil Blue is here? Now?”

“Yes.” Jango pointed to a nearby door. “Waiting for Faith.”

“May we interview them?”

Jango raised the eyebrow over his clear eye while squinting his cataract. “The Blue Virgil is rarely in a speaking mood.”

“Then I’ll just take pictures and Dan can take notes.” Jay shook his camera. “You can supervise us if you’d like, so we don’t disrespect the honorable Virgil.”

Jango sighed. “Nah, go on in.” He walked beside Bob. “I’ll take you up on that bagel while we wait.”

“Me too,” said Dan. They left the door to Jay.

Next Section
Commentary

Faith rode wind back to the red mountain. If nothing else, Anihilato had convinced her to distrust Bug-Bird. Her mentor was awfully tight-beaked.

She landed on the mountain and scratched the dust until Bug-Bird opened a cave and crawled out. “Did you deal with our visitor?”

“That was some errand,” said Faith. “Anihilato almost nabbed me!”

“Anihilato is out of my control,” said the Heart of the Mountain. “I’m sorry it was unpleasant. I would do the job myself if it wasn’t…” They shifted weight and leaned like a tree in the wind.

“Dangerous?” asked Faith.

“Dangerous for me, but not for you.”

“What, am I expendable?”

The Heart sighed. “If Anihilato consumed you, it would be acceptable for reasons I can’t explain.”

“There’s an awful lot you can’t explain.” Faith peered into the yawning cave. “What’re you hiding?”

Faith leapt for the cave. “Wait!” The Heart blocked her with a blue wing. “I know you’re confused. I’ll find someone to communicate on your level.” The Heart rolled out the white wing to cover the cave walls. Faith followed them into the red mountain.

The white wing propelled them through the green haze. Faith regarded the Heart stiffly. “You collect worms, right? Why don’t you collect Anihilato? Keeping a monster like that has gotta be an OSHA violation.”

“Anihilato is separate from me just like you are,” said the Heart. “Anihilato couldn’t service me if I consumed it. When I find worms I dare not swallow, I know Anihilato will eat them. It may even try to eat me.”

“Hmpf.” Faith’s tail flitted. “Where are we going? And when?”

“It’s not an exact science.” The Heart directed Faith to stand in the center of the white wing. “Guide the wing with your whim. Quest for your questions. Sight what you seek.”

Faith didn’t know what that meant, but she knew how to guide the wing. She weaved it left and right. “I just want to understand what’s happening to me.”

“That’s a lot to ask,” said the Heart. “Would you settle for accepting your situation whether you understood it or not? That’s more than most manage.”

Faith reflected.

She let the wing whisk her where it wanted.

The wingtip burst through the green surface of reality. Faith watched razor-glaciers glide by.

The Heart produced a blue feather. Faith took the feather in her teeth and dipped it in reality’s surface. The feather’s wake shimmered sky-blue.

“Don’t take too long,” said the Heart, “but take your time.”

Faith leapt into the wake.

---

“And now I’m here!” Faith’s hind legs thumped the grass in appreciation of Jay’s scratching. “So JayJay, what have you been up to while I’m gone?”

“My story’s not as important as yours.” Jay extinguished the cockroach-butt in snow. “I’m glad you’re alright, Faith, and doubly glad to see you again.”

“How’s Dainty?”

Jay leaned on Bob’s porch. “He’s in mourning, let’s say.”

Faith whimpered. “Are you sure I can’t pop in and meet him?”

“I’m not even sure he could see you,” said Jay. “You might be my personal hallucination. After all, your story is suspiciously like an anime I just watched while totally bug-eyed. You’re a figment of my imagination.”

“I promise I’m not!” swore Faith. “I just want to tell Dainty everything’s okay. He hides it, but he’s a nervous wreck without me.”

“I know it well as you do.” Jay wagged a finger at her. “But you’ll have to return to the red mountain eventually. Would you make Dan lose you twice?”

Faith opened her mouth to protest, but saw Jay’s point and just pouted. “Take care of him for me, then.”

“I’m trying.” Jay stood and brushed dust off his suit-pants. “I’m taking him to the Islands of Sheridan. I’m taking him to the Virgils.”

“You think the Virgils can help Dainty cope?”

“I promise.” Jay crossed his heart. “And if Anihilato is right—if you’re really dead—then you’ll see Dan someday. You’ll meet him in the Mountain.”

“Hmpf.” Faith pawed the dirt. “I don’t think that mountain is right for Dainty. I don’t trust Bug-Bird anymore.”

“Me neither,” said Jay, “but they’ve taught you a valuable lesson.” Faith’s ears perked. “When the Heart sent you to discard the tooth-monster’s worms, it was because they couldn’t risk touching the teeth themselves, and wanted to stay away from Anihilato. In the same way, don’t worry about Dan. Let me worry about Dan. Trust me to treat Dan’s interests as my own.”

Faith smiled. She turned with Jay to watch the moon. “Okay.”

Her tail steamed. Her body was buoyed back above the horizon.

Next Chapter
Commentary

Faith lost count of how many times she wrapped the white wing across reality’s green circle. It took ages to make the trek, but the wing was so fluffy and sweet-smelling that Faith didn’t mind the time. She flew so easily she wasn’t sure if she dragged the wing along or if the wing propelled her and she merely directed it.

Each time she surfaced, she admired her handiwork. Her arcing wrapped the white wing near the circle’s center, but not too near, because the Heart warned it might tempt her. Still, she couldn’t imagine anything more ensnaring than the sweet scent of the white wing.

The Heart warned Faith the wing might speak. Faith never heard it speak, but it was an excellent listener. When she whispered secrets into it, warmth washed over her.

“You smell familiar,” Faith said through her teeth as she gripped the wing again. “What’s the name of your perfume?”

The wing didn’t respond, but Faith pretended it did.

“I’m sure I’m hallucinating,” said Faith. “I bet you’re a real person sitting with me wherever I’m tripping. Thanks for the company!” The wing cradled Faith as they wrapped the Wheel together. Faith kept wrapping until the Heart of the Mountain appeared so swiftly her jaw dropped the wingtip. “Bug-Bird! What’s up? Is the Wheel still wobbly?”

“The Wheel is sturdy, thanks to you.” The Heart took the wing from Faith with ten human hands. Faith floated in the green haze. “I have another favor to ask.”

“Anything, Bug-Bird!”

“I met a visitor on the Mountain in an awful state. I dare not grant them Zephyrhood in their current condition. Please take them to Anihilato.”

“Anihilato?”

The Heart swaddled Faith in the white wing as if tucking her into bed. “Take them into the desert. Leave them in a deep valley. Don’t dawdle too long.” The wing coiled like a carpet and spun Faith until she lost consciousness.

Faith woke on the red mountain when she felt sun on her fur. She stretched and yawned and opened her eyes.

The visitor was a ball of shuddering teeth whose cracking crowns caused such cacophony Faith cowered behind rocks, eyes closed and paws over her ears.

When the cracking stopped, she peeked around the rocks. In place of the teeth, ten thousand worms tussled in a puddle. Faith wouldn’t tackle teeth, but she’d fought worms and won. She skulked behind them.

Just before the worms escaped off the ledge, Faith nabbed them in her teeth. “Nice try!”

Faith turned into a cloud and carried the worms far from the red mountain. Being a cloud was almost fun as being a fox, but she was on business, so she didn’t dally with fanciful flights. She whisked the worms over the desert and chose a valley between two dunes.

Rather than drop the worms from altitude, she decided to descend and set them on the sand—but when she looked down, she froze in fear of the height and fell like a hailstone. When she hit the sand, she burst into snow. The worms scattered across the valley.

Faith’s collected herself and shook out limbs. “You wormies doing alright?”

The valley collapsed into an antlion’s conical deathtrap. She kicked and shouted at the monster emerging from the center. It whipped arms from underneath the sand to grab Faith by her hind legs. “Hey! Leggo!”

“I’ve got you! You’re mine!”

“No! Stop!” said Faith. Anihilato used ten hands to smush her into shapeless snow. It used the other ten hands to eat worms off the sand. “Ew, gross!”

“Gross?” Anihilato licked worm-guts from its lipless mouth. “My hunger knows no disgust. I eat my own eggs just because the yolks are warm.”

“I eat worms too, but at least I’m not one myself!” Faith’s snow morphed around Anihilato’s fingers. Anihilato oppressed her with palms while it ate the last worms. “Uugh! Hey!” Faith steamed through Anihilato’s grasp. The more Anihilato swiped at the steam, the more Faith aerosolized. She formed a cloudy fox above the monster. “You’re Anihilato, right? I figured you were awful.”

“Awe-inspiring, you mean!”

“You inspire something in me, for sure.” She hovered just above Anihilato’s grasp. “You got your worms, so I’m leaving.”

“No!” Anihilato reached higher than Faith thought possible. Its muscular back held it upright like a snake charmed from a pot. She still steamed through its fingers. “You belong to me! I own you!”

Faith climbed water-vapor like a spiral staircase. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your Eternity-Card is in my box of souls!”

“Huh?” Faith floated well out of reach. “Bug-Bird didn’t mention anything like that.”

“Mentioned or unmentioned, you’ve died, and your soul is rightfully mine. Descend so I might obliterate you.”

Faith laughed. “I’m not dead. I’m hallucinating!”

“Oh really? Is that what the Mountain told you?”

Faith said nothing.

“You wouldn’t mind descending to your obliteration if this was hallucinatory.”

“Hm.” Faith sat on her haunches mid-air. “…I guess that’s right?”

“So come.”

Faith considered Anihilato’s offer. Anihilato blinked its six eyes. “No,” said Faith. “If I’m hallucinating, I’ll go where I choose, and I’d never choose to be down there with you ever again!”

“Where do you choose to be, then?”

Faith considered the dunes. “Mars, apparently. Interning for Olympus Mons.”

“You fool.” Anihilato scowled. “You—you frigid rat! You’re mine!”

“Keep talking.” Faith ascended. “I see why Bug-Bird keeps you way out here.”

Next Section
Commentary

While the Heart climbed into the red mountain, Faith considered the job-offer. It might be nice to be a Will-o-Wisp, and Zephyrhood sounded like too much responsibility. After all, she was hallucinating! When she sobered up, would she even remember her interview with a giant bird?

The mountain rumbled as the Heart exhumed itself head-first by undulating its robed body. When the hem of its robe passed the lip of the cave, Faith gasped: the Heart’s lower half was a blue tentacle long and thick as its body. Its suckers dragged a white wing from the depths. The Heart withdrew the tentacle and became a sky-blue cloth cone with a sapphire head.

“Maybe I’ll be your Will-o-Wisp,” said Faith, “but first I need to know more about you, Heart-Bird-Mountain-thing!”

“Ask what you want.” The Heart unsleeved ten blue human arms and spiraled the white wing to cover the cave-interior. “This wing will insulate you from the Mountain.”

Faith followed the Heart onto the wing and into the cave. Her weight didn’t bend feathers beneath her. “First, what do I call you? Heart of the Mountain’s a mouthful. Would Bug-Bird be okay?”

“Call me what you want,” said the Heart of the Mountain.

Behind Faith, the wingtip curled up and blocked the sunlight. She heard the cave’s mouth close. “Okay, but do you have, like, pronouns? He, she, they?” Faith smelled tentacle-brine. “It?”

The Heart pondered pronouns. “Let me think.” They thought. “They. Sometimes she, but nowadays mostly they.”

“Gotcha, Bug-Bird. They, them, theirs.” Faith’s surreal situation didn’t concern her. In fact, she grew bored walking in the dark. “Are we there yet?”

“Listen.”

Faith heard noise like flocks of birds. “What’s that?”

The white wing rolled her up like a coiling carpet. She and the Heart spun deep into the mountain faster than they could’ve fallen. The down swaddled Faith so comfortably and smelled so sweet that she fell asleep.

When she woke, green haze replaced the darkness. She sat on a slender white peak. She felt heavy, and realized the peak was accelerating upward beneath her. Beside her, the Heart glared at the green haze with inscrutable intent. “Where’s that white wing?” asked Faith.

“We’re on its tip.”

“Where are we?”

“I just said, on the white wing’s tip.”

“I mean, what’s all that green?”

“It’s not green. One side is blue and the other side is yellow. See?” They shook a sleeve at the green haze. “I’m not sure I can explain.”

“Try, at least. Isn’t this a tour?”

“We’re in the Mountain, but all of reality is in the Mountain, so that doesn’t narrow it down.” The Heart pointed their longest feather like an index-finger. “Do you see how the blue chases the yellow and the yellow chases the blue?”

“Sure,” lied Faith.

“That’s the Wheel. The Wheel’s turning makes the future into the present, the present into the past, and the past into the future. But the Wheel is wobbling.”

“Wobbling?”

“Hold on.”

Faith held the white wing.

In the next instant she saw yellow and blue above her. She wasn’t sure which she saw first or last before she passed through that ceiling into darkness. The wing thrust them an immeasurable distance outside reality.

The Heart of the Mountain showed her the green circle below, but Faith gawked at the black sky. “Gosh, there aren’t even stars out here!”

“Of course not. Reality is beneath us.” Faith noticed the green circle wasn’t smooth: razor-thin triangular glaciers streaked from the bright center to the rim. Some glaciers were millimeters tall. Some were tall as trees. The Heart pointed to a green bulge on the horizon which warped the flow of the razor-glaciers. “That’s the wobble in the Wheel.”

“I don’t know how to fix something like that.”

“I understand.” The Heart sat cross-legged (if there were even legs under the robes). “I can’t communicate my predicament to you. I must send you to an acquaintance.”

“A Zephyr?”

“A Virgil.” The Heart commanded the white wing to sink near the green circle’s surface.

“Virgil Skyy or Virgil Blue?” asked Faith. “I’ve met both!”

“Have you now?”

“Uh-huh! In Wyoming!”

The Heart dipped a blue feather in the green circle. In the feather’s wake, the circle shimmered yellow. “Well, do you have an offering to exchange for a lesson from the Virgils?”

“I’ve got cockroaches.” Faith bat her ear with a hind leg and knocked a roach to the feathery floor. “But I don’t think they’d like `em.”

“What would they prefer, pray tell?”

“Crickets!” said Faith. “I’m sure they’d like a bug-stick.”

“Goodness.” The Heart covered their beak with their free wing. “I’ve left humanity with bad habits. So be it. Give me the roach.” They swept the roach under their robes. They returned the roach as a massive, elaborately-wrapped cricket.

“Wow!” Faith tucked the bug-stick behind her ear. “Now what?”

“Hop in.” The Heart gestured to the yellow region of reality in the feather’s wake. “I’ve prepared your arrival on their island.”

“Oh geez.” Faith stepped to the edge of the wing. “Are you sure, Bug-Bird?”

“Absolutely.”

Faith leapt.

---

“Virgil Skyy told me about your meeting,” said Jay.

“Okay,” said Faith, “I’ll skip that part.”

---

Faith steamed from the green circle and snowed back onto the white wing. The Heart of the Mountain helped her sculpt herself into a fox. “Did the Virgils explain my predicament?”

“Not really. We talked about space-robots more than anything else.”

“Perhaps you weren’t prepared for the highest revelations.” The Heart walked along the white wing. “In any case, you can see the Wheel’s wobble represents a cosmic imbalance. If the Chain were pulled, the Wheel would warp so wildly the Mountain melts.”

“Ohhh. Why didn’t you say so?” Faith followed at the Heart’s right hand. “I can imagine a mountain melting.”

“So can I.” The Heart’s eyes tilted with worry. “So come.” They extended ten human hands and folded the white wingtip. They showed the narrowed tip to Faith. “This Zephyr has remarkable properties. The wings stretch to any length and seem indestructible. If we reinforce the Wheel with the wing, it will spin quickly as the Chain demands with nary a wobble. Take this wingtip in your teeth.”

Faith did. The wingtip was smooth and thin as a rabbit’s felted ear.

“Jump back into reality and wrap the wing across its breadth, then pop out the other side,” said the Heart, “again and again and again, adding feathery spokes to the Wheel.”

“Seems easy enough,” Faith mumbled through feathers.

“Stay away from the Wheel’s center. It might tempt you, but touching it will scatter your consciousness across the cosmos.” The Heart turned to leave and Faith prepared to leap into the green circle. “And,” remembered the Heart, “if the wingtip speaks, ignore it. It’s new here.”

Next Section
Commentary

Faith remembered blinding light, and then she remembered a rust-colored desert with an empty yellow sky.

She climbed a dune on four paws. Near the crest, she noticed tiny holes in the sand. She couldn’t resist clawing at the holes until she uncovered a wriggling worm. She slurped it from its hole like spaghetti. As she chewed, she realized it was totally gross. Why had she done this? Was it worse to spit, or finish the job?

She glimpsed her tail. She noticed the black nose on her white snout. “I’m a fox!” she said. “I must be hallucinating.” Foxes can eat worms, so she swallowed.

Atop the dune, she surveyed the desert. Dunes wrinkled from horizon to horizon. A red mountain sloped like the Pyramids of Giza. Faith leapt and let warm wind carry her into a valley with three giddy glides.

In the valley, Faith sniffed a new scent. She sleuthed for the source and found dry grass. The grass snapped at the slightest touch, and the roots reacted by wriggling. Faith bit the roots and pulled them to the surface.

“Huh.” She’d unearthed two cockroaches whose spindly legs were roots and whose antennae were stalks of grass. “People actually smoke these things? Yuck.” She rolled them with her paw. Roaches were thicker than crickets, but stubby. They came wrapped in their own wings right out of the dirt. They smelled like burnt spices. “I don’t even have a lighter. Sheesh.” She tucked a roach behind each ear for later.

She found a hole as big around as her paw. Was it left by a worm just as wide? She salivated and dug until she found its pink nub. She bit it and pulled. The worm squirmed and its pink nub slipped under the sand. “Shucks.” Faith resumed digging.

A thunderclap made her pause. The Heart of the Mountain, the Biggest Bird, flew over the valley on a forty-foot wingspan and a sonic boom. It landed without legs, without claws, just robes-to-sand. The bird stashed its wings in its sleeves. “Let me show you how it’s done.” It bent over the hole and examined the worm-nub.

“You’re scaring it,” said Faith. “It’s digging away!”

A blue tentacle slithered out one sleeve. The tentacle was too thick to probe the hole, but pulsated to narrow its tip. The slim tentacle-tip extracted the worm from its hole with surgical precision.

“Wow!” Faith tried to clap her paws. “You’re really something, aren’t you!”

“Indeed.” The Mountain’s Heart ate the worm with its stout yellow beak. Then it examined Faith with its compound emerald eyes. Thousands of crystalline lenses focused on the white fox. “We’ve met. Your name is Faith.”

“Uh-huh! And you’re the Heart of the Mountain.” Faith sat. “I met you during my first centipede-trip!”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“I’m hallucinating!”

“Under whose supervision?”

“Um.” Faith tried to remember. “Probably my friend Dan.”

“I see.” The Heart sprouted wings from its sleeves and splayed feathers on the sand. “Climb me.”

“Sure!” Faith walked up one wing. “Where are we going?”

“To the Mountain.”

“Gee.” Faith sat on the Heart’s head. “Is the Wheel spinning?”

Facets of the compound eyes slid around the Heart’s head to peer at Faith. “Why do you ask?”

“Aaugh!” Faith reared away from the sliding eyes. “Last time we met, you wanted to stuff me in a mountain because the Wheel was spinning. Is it spinning now? Am I a Zephyr?”

“We’re all Zephyrs, at the end.” The Heart collected its eyeballs and steam poured from its robes. Faith clung to the Heart’s head and they zoomed above the dunes. “As it happens, the Wheel is in danger. My duty is collecting worms to make Zephyrs.”

Faith was flattened on the bird’s back as they blasted through the sky. “Why does the Wheel need worm-Zephyrs?”

“One worm means little, but every ounce counts.”

“Okay, this is confusing,” said Faith. “Did you know there’s an old Japanese cartoon with giant space-robots called Zephyrs, too? What do you mean by Zephyr?”

“I use the term broadly,” said the Heart. “I know those robot-Zephyrs, and when I say Zephyr, I mean them as well. Every conceivable concept will be in my Mountain at the end of the eternities.”

Faith marveled at the red mountain’s approach. “How many Zephyrs are there?”

“Uncountably many,” said the Heart.

“How many is that?”

“Quintillions of quintillions.”

Faith smiled. “That sounds plenty countable. How many Zephyrs are there?”

“It depends on how you count them. Zephyrs overlap.” The Heart tilted feathers like airplane-flaps. “One might say there are just a few thousand.”

“How many?”

The Heart sighed. “The most efficient Zephyrs contain many of their companions, so with the right outlook—”

“C’mon!”

“Thirty-three.”

“But how many Zephyrs are there?”

“Just two, myself and the other.”

“But how many are there, really?”

“Only one.”

Faith giggled. “But honestly, how many Zephyrs are there?”

“I’m done playing this game.” The Heart blasted fog to slowly land on the red mountain. “Please disembark.”

Faith leapt onto the mountain. “Are you gonna shove me in a hole? Am I gonna be a Zephyr?”

“Not yet.” The Heart stomped. A dark cave opened. “I need an assistant. You have remarkable physical capability compared to the worms I generally find.”

Faith looked into the cave. She couldn’t see how deep its darkness ran. “Is this a job-offer?”

“You would attend to the Wheel while I collect worms. You would not be a Zephyr—you would be the wisp of my will.”

“I’m interested.” Faith lolled her head. “But I don’t know enough to take you up on it.”

“Then let me give you a tour,” said the Heart. “I’ll get the place ready for you.”

Next Section
Commentary