“Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tick looked at the light on the wall, which Phillip had turned on when they’d entered the room. They obviously had electricity here, but seemed to be missing a lot of other things common to Reality Prime.

As if reading his mind, Sofia asked, “Where are all the cars?”

Phillip put his hands in his pockets, his confused look morphing into suspicion. “Cars have been banned for at least twenty years.”

“Banned?” Tick asked. “Why?”

“And how do you get around?” Paul asked before Phillip could respond.

The hotel man shook his head, looking at his three guests in turn. “When that . . . when Mothball made me this deal, I didn’t realize she’d be sending such odd people. Where are you kids from?”

“Florida,” Paul answered. “Well, originally from California—”

Sofia cut him off. “It doesn’t matter. But we’re curious about the cars. Where we come from, they still use them.”

“The darn things were polluting us to death,” Phillip said, still appearing uneasy as he rocked back and forth on his feet. “So they banned them, made towns where everything was in walking distance. If you want to visit another town, you take the Underground Railroad—named after the lady who escaped the slave drivers a long time ago—the one who became president, Harrietta Tubben.”

Tick and Sofia exchanged baffled looks.

“So you’ve got trains, underground?” Paul asked.

“Fastest ones in the world,” Phillip answered, eyeing the door. “If there’s nothing else . . .”

“Thanks for letting us stay here,” Tick said, liking the idea of seeing Phillip leave and finally ordering some food. “Don’t forget to bring us that message from Mothball.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” the man assured them, already backing out the door into the hallway. “Order a nice dinner and get some rest.”

Tick closed the door before the last word made it all the way out of Phillip’s mouth.

“Well,” Sofia said, “this place is just like home compared to the last Reality—desert, glass tunnel, raging beast.”

“All I care about right now is food,” Paul said. He’d already picked up the phone to call room service.

~

Later that night, his stomach stuffed with roasted duck and asparagus (they didn’t have pizza or hamburgers in this place), fully showered and clean, Tick lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling. Every ounce of his body begged for sleep, his mind deadened with exhaustion. And yet, he remained awake.

Man, I have a weird life.