this place. It was one rule that Denny had never really been tempted to break.
Yulia went down the hall, stepping around a jumbled pile of the undersized chairs and past a long row of tall metal boxes that were lined against one wall. The doors of the boxes hung open, and there was just enough light for Denny to see peeling flakes of green paint separated by wide patches of rust. Inside the boxes there was nothing but darkness. He tried to imagine what had once been kept in this place, but it was just another thing that had long been forgotten.
Yulia’s footsteps made a soft crunching as she walked across clumps of fallen plaster and stepped into a room at the end of the hall. She disappeared into shadows. Denny came forward slowly, waving his hand to feel ahead. He felt nothing. Saw nothing. The darkness was absolute.
“Yulia?”
There was a popping sound ahead, and suddenly there was light. Denny blinked. Not light, but lights, a whole series of tiny, bright, blue-white lights appeared overhead. At first they seemed like just a mess, but as Denny took another step, it seemed to him that there was something half familiar about these little glimmering points.
Under the faint glow, Denny could see that most of the room around him had been cleared away. There was rubble in the corners, along with still more of the too-small chairs, but the center of the room was empty, and more or less clean. On the walls there were old pieces of paper, stained brown by time and curled at the edges. Some of the paper had splotches of faded colors. One of them looked at first like it had words, but after a moment Denny realized it was just all the letters shoved next to each other.
He looked up again at the lights. They were clearly not part of the old structure. Thin wires had been stuck to the moldy ceiling with lots of tacks and handfuls of gloop. From the wires, hair-thin lines descended, each one tipped in light. “Who did this?”
Yulia shrugged, her shoulders moving up and down beneath her oversized jacket. “I did.” She stepped to the center of the room and sat down in the clean space, crossing her legs as she settled onto the hard floor.
Denny took a step closer. Some of the lights dangled down far enough that they floated in front of his eyes. Others seemed to be fixed hard against the stained plaster. Again he had the feeling that there was something to them. Something he should know.
“I thought there was no power over here,” said Denny.
“There’s power,” Yulia replied. She shifted around a little, pulling her feet up under her legs. “You just need to know how to find it, and how to hook it up.”
Denny stared down at her for a moment, then picked a spot a pace or two away and joined her on the floor. The concrete felt cold through his thin clothing. “But why?”
She shrugged again. “I wanted a place of my own. Not like the compartment. More like...like where I used to be when I was still with my parents.”
It took Denny a moment to remember. “You came from Halitt Plex, right? Did they have lights like these?”
“Sort of,” said Yulia. “They had stars.”
Stars. Denny glanced up again at the sprawl of tiny lights. Sometimes, only in the darkest part of Dimsday, and only if you were in just the right place, you could see the stars. They were faint—so faint that you couldn’t look at them straight on. You had to see them from the corner of your eye. And even then it was just one or two stars, or maybe a handful if you were lucky. There were nowhere near as many stars as there were lights on Yulia’s ceiling.
Denny started to say something, but Yulia tipped her head back, her thick curls falling from her face as the bluish lights reflected in her eyes. “Halitt Plex wasn’t like here. For one thing, it was colder. My father said it was north, but I don’t really know what that means.”
North. Denny rolled the word around in his mind. He had heard it before. No. He had seen it. He’d
Yulia went down the hall, stepping around a jumbled pile of the undersized chairs and past a long row of tall metal boxes that were lined against one wall. The doors of the boxes hung open, and there was just enough light for Denny to see peeling flakes of green paint separated by wide patches of rust. Inside the boxes there was nothing but darkness. He tried to imagine what had once been kept in this place, but it was just another thing that had long been forgotten.
Yulia’s footsteps made a soft crunching as she walked across clumps of fallen plaster and stepped into a room at the end of the hall. She disappeared into shadows. Denny came forward slowly, waving his hand to feel ahead. He felt nothing. Saw nothing. The darkness was absolute.
“Yulia?”
There was a popping sound ahead, and suddenly there was light. Denny blinked. Not light, but lights, a whole series of tiny, bright, blue-white lights appeared overhead. At first they seemed like just a mess, but as Denny took another step, it seemed to him that there was something half familiar about these little glimmering points.
Under the faint glow, Denny could see that most of the room around him had been cleared away. There was rubble in the corners, along with still more of the too-small chairs, but the center of the room was empty, and more or less clean. On the walls there were old pieces of paper, stained brown by time and curled at the edges. Some of the paper had splotches of faded colors. One of them looked at first like it had words, but after a moment Denny realized it was just all the letters shoved next to each other.
He looked up again at the lights. They were clearly not part of the old structure. Thin wires had been stuck to the moldy ceiling with lots of tacks and handfuls of gloop. From the wires, hair-thin lines descended, each one tipped in light. “Who did this?”
Yulia shrugged, her shoulders moving up and down beneath her oversized jacket. “I did.” She stepped to the center of the room and sat down in the clean space, crossing her legs as she settled onto the hard floor.
Denny took a step closer. Some of the lights dangled down far enough that they floated in front of his eyes. Others seemed to be fixed hard against the stained plaster. Again he had the feeling that there was something to them. Something he should know.
“I thought there was no power over here,” said Denny.
“There’s power,” Yulia replied. She shifted around a little, pulling her feet up under her legs. “You just need to know how to find it, and how to hook it up.”
Denny stared down at her for a moment, then picked a spot a pace or two away and joined her on the floor. The concrete felt cold through his thin clothing. “But why?”
She shrugged again. “I wanted a place of my own. Not like the compartment. More like...like where I used to be when I was still with my parents.”
It took Denny a moment to remember. “You came from Halitt Plex, right? Did they have lights like these?”
“Sort of,” said Yulia. “They had stars.”
Stars. Denny glanced up again at the sprawl of tiny lights. Sometimes, only in the darkest part of Dimsday, and only if you were in just the right place, you could see the stars. They were faint—so faint that you couldn’t look at them straight on. You had to see them from the corner of your eye. And even then it was just one or two stars, or maybe a handful if you were lucky. There were nowhere near as many stars as there were lights on Yulia’s ceiling.
Denny started to say something, but Yulia tipped her head back, her thick curls falling from her face as the bluish lights reflected in her eyes. “Halitt Plex wasn’t like here. For one thing, it was colder. My father said it was north, but I don’t really know what that means.”
North. Denny rolled the word around in his mind. He had heard it before. No. He had seen it. He’d
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