“Hi, did a Diane Crayton come in this way?” Jackie said, leaning over the sign-in, scanning for Diane’s name. Every line was blank. The receptionist grabbed the sign-in sheet away from her.

“Do you have an appointment?” she said, her voice hoarse and her eyes swollen.

“My friend was here to meet with the mayor. E-Ev-Evan?” Jackie said, curling his name into a question. “Everett. Elliott. Your mayor. She came to meet with the mayor.”

“We don’t have a mayor.” The receptionist smiled, as if this had been a convoluted icebreaker and now they could have a real conversation.

“You do, though.”

“I’m sorry. We do not currently have a mayor. We’re an unusual town in that way, I guess. If your friend said she was coming to see the mayor of King City, she was either lying or disappointed.”

The receptionist’s smile turned from friendly to smug.

“No. You do. Look.” Jackie pointed to the painting behind the receptionist.

“I have never seen that painting before.”

“Read the plaque.”

The receptionist read the plaque aloud. “Current mayor.”

“That’s who I’m here to see.”

“How did I not know that we have a mayor?” The receptionist frowned, looking neither friendly nor smug. She stood and said, “Wait here,” before running out the entrance of the building, leaving a ring of keys on the desk and an unsecured computer, which on closer inspection was unplugged, and on even closer inspection was a painted model carved of wood.

Jackie shrugged, grabbed the keys, and headed down the hallway next to the reception desk. There were few doors along the long hall. What doors there were had no knobs or hinges, which made them not doors but door-like walls. They had frosted-glass windows and etched room numbers that followed no simple logic: 43-EE was next door to AX-6, which was across the hall from L. Jackie tried pushing on them and sliding them and knocking on them, but nothing happened.

The hall was long and winding. There were no tributary hallways. Given the small size of the outer building, and the incredible length of the hallway, Jackie was certain the hall was spiraling underground, but every few feet there was a window facing outside. Jackie could peer out and see trees and buildings and taupe, slow-moving traffic. The last light of dusk mixed with the anemic low-watt fluorescent lighting.

She knocked on each door hoping to find someone, hoping to find Diane or the mayor or whatever he was. Sometimes she thought she heard voices in soft conversation behind these non-doors, and as she would knock and push and shake the wall, the voices would go silent.