“What did your father do?”

“He taught me to fly.”

“I mean for work. What was his job?”

“Business. He was in business.”

“You said before he was a dry cleaner.”

“Did I?”

We encountered a bit of rough air. I watched as nothing registered on her face. “Are you on medication?” I realized as I said it that my blurting that out was inappropriate, perhaps rude, but it didn’t faze her.

“No,” she said.

“Can you tell me where we’re going?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Will you?”

“We’re on our way to Kentucky.”

“Fort Knox?”

“Kentucky. Mr. Sill’s cabin. It is near Elizabethtown.”

“I see.”

“Would you like to have sex?”

“No, thank you.” I studied Gloria’s face. “How did we get here? The last thing I remember was talking to the government agents. Did you kill them?”

“No.”

“How did you find us?”

“We followed Bill Clinton and he led us to you.”

“I see. Lilacs?”

“Sleeping gas.”

Eigen stirred. This time she was actually waking up. She stretched and looked at me. “Where are we?” she asked.

“On a plane,” I said. This time that answer did actually impart information. “This is Gloria.”

Eigen eyed her suspiciously, perhaps recognizing her. “Is this Sill’s plane? Gloria? Is she dangerous?” Her voice grew softer with each question. “Where are we going?” A mere whisper now.

“Kentucky.”

She sat back and looked at the empty seat in front of her. “I’ve never been to Kentucky.”

“Neither have I,” I said.

“What’s there?”

“Nothing. A lot of nothing.”

“Do you work for Sill?” Eigen asked.

“I do.”

“Does he pay you a lot of money or do you believe in what he believes in?” Eigen sounded confident.

Gloria tilted her head and observed Eigen.

“Is he your leader?” Eigen asked.

“My leader,” Gloria repeated. She was incredulous.

Eigen looked at me, frustrated.

“Does Sill plan to kill us?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I could see the fear on Eigen’s face.

“Shouldn’t you get back to flying the plane?” I asked.

Gloria nodded. “Yes.”

She got up and walked toward the flight deck. Eigen grabbed my arm and squeezed. “I’m scared,” she said.

“Sill needs me,” I told her. “He’s not going to hurt us.”

“Not until he gets what he wants.”

“He’ll never get it.”

The door closed behind Gloria.

“She’s so strange,” Eigen said.

I nodded. “Obviously there’s no way off this plane, so I’ll tell you what I know. It’s not much. Sill believes that there is nothing in the bullion depository.”

“What does he think is in there?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He wants me to devise a way to keep nothing nothing. Somehow he managed to use it for a split second to do what he did to Quincy.”

“To what?”

“Quincy.”

She stared at me.

“Quincy, Massachusetts.”

Eigen shook her head, not understanding.

I, however, was beginning to understand. Quincy did not exist, and if it did not exist, then it had never existed. The only thing that can yield nothing is nothing. Quincy was always nothing because now it was nothing. What made me uneasy was that I believed that I had had some part in nothing happening. If I hadn’t been there, nothing never could have happened and there would still be a Quincy. But now, somehow because of me, there had never been a Quincy. Earth now lacked some twenty-seven square miles but was still no different, since nothing had happened.