“So how do you want to do this?” he asked, looking over the dust-choked library. She still hadn’t gotten the boy’s name.

“We could start at the top and work our way down,” she said, pointing at a bookshelf. It was the highest point she could see and looked to be especially furry with grime.

He shook his head. “We’d sweep some of it to the floor, which is already dirty enough, and I do not look forward to walking through that while we’re cleaning.”

“So we start down here. I’m thinking the bookshelves and books first. And the tables and chairs after that?”

She hadn’t seen a single spider or flying insect but there were cobwebs everywhere and the dirt in the library was thick enough to plant crops on. Just from them moving around, enough powdered filth was rising into the air to make her cough. “This is going to take ages!”

“We’d better suit up first. C’mon, I’ll show you where the janitor's closet is.”

She followed, still coughing. She was curious to see what was inside the fabled closet.

“These weren’t here last time,” he said, pointing at the rack full of boiler suits

“They’ll come in handy,” she said, picking one up. “You say these suddenly appeared?”

“It’s like the food in the dining hall, it just shows up.” He started changing.

Emma joined him in changing into a pair of overalls. He saw her slip out of her bathrobe and turned his back. She giggled. “Such a gentleman!”

Her set was a little big on her, but it would serve. She tied her hair up to keep it out of the way.

He cleared his throat. He stood next to two large industrial vacuum cleaners and a cart loaded with cleaning supplies.“Would you push the cart while I lug the vacuums?”

“Of course. Lead the way.”

* * *

He went out into the hallway pulling the vacuum cleaners after him. “So here’s my idea: We vacuum the floors and the shelves first, get most of the gunk that way, and then we can start wiping the shelves down.”

“Makes sense. It’ll get the bigger, more stubborn mess out of the way.”

“I thought about wiping down each individual book but that’d take forever. D’you think the library will count as ‘clean’ if we only get the surface dust?”

She shrugged. “It won’t hurt to try.”

“I wonder what cleaning the library will unlock.”

As she began pushed the cart, Emma wondered the same thing. Would it lead them closer to understanding where they were? “I guess we’ll find out.”

They returned to the library and the boy found a couple of electrical outlets, one for each vacuum. “Better mask up,” he said, handing her a heavy-duty dust mask.

Emma took the mask and tied it on, then picked up her vacuum. “Ready when you are,” she said, her voice muffled.

He nodded. “Let’s do this.”

They walked into the library, vacuuming the floor as they went. They worked their way around the big room, sucking up the dirt from the floor and the bottom shelves. Slowly, tediously, things started to look brighter.

“You were right,” she said. They were nearly done with the floor. “Vacuum first, wipe down after. We’re making progress.”

“It’s like they say, but nothing sucks like an Electrolux.”

She laughed. “That was terrible and I love it.”

“That was an actual British ad slogan!”

“Ha!”

“Whoops,” he said. A red light had started blinking on his vacuum. “Time to swap out the bags, hang on.” He unplugged the vacuums and soon had the bags out. “I should probably brush the filters too.”

“We’ve been working pretty hard,” she said, watching as the boy swapped out the bags and brushed the filters over a bin.

“We got the floor done at least,” he said. “Want to take a snack break?”

She wiped sweat from her forehead. She was starting to feel hungry. “Yeah, that sounds great. Let’s take a few minutes to rest and refuel.”

He gave her a pointed look. “I got us the snacks last time. Shall we say it’s your turn?”

“Oh, right, of course,” she said.

He went back to brushing. “Dining hall’s down in the atrium, as usual. The picnic baskets are near the buffet table.”

She nodded and took the shortest route to the atrium. She reached the dining hall and goggled at the food. The buffet table hadn’t gotten any bigger but it felt like there were so many more choices today.

She grabbed a picnic basket and start loading it up. She put in some fruit, some sandwiches, and some pastries. The basket grew heavy before she made her way back to the library.

“Oh, hey,” he said. “I was just about to send a search party.”

“Hah! Sorry for taking so long.” She hefted the basket onto a reasonably-clean table. “I didn’t expect there to be so much to choose from.”

“And I didn’t expect you to bring half the buffet. Gosh, woman. There’ll be more leftovers than food eaten.”

“Oh, c’mon, I just wanted to make sure you had a good variety. Plus I didn’t want to risk not having enough.”

“Do you often feel insecure about food?”

She frowned. “I . . . I guess you could say that. I spent the past few years not having a lot. Not a lot of food or stability, so I take what I can, when I can.” She spoke quietly, almost shamefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that. But I don’t think the buffet ever runs out and I’ve been here for years and years.”

She looked at him. “You’ve . . . been here for years and years?”

He held up a hand. “That’s right. But please, no more questions about what I can and can’t remember. If anything comes up you'll be the first to know.”

She offered him a small smile. “No more questions, I promise.”

He rolled his eyes. “I wish. But I won’t hold you to that when your curiosity gets the better of you.”

She giggled. “You know me too well!”

“Yes, well, let’s eat!” he said, and grabbed a clubhouse sandwich

Emma picked up her own sandwich and took a careful bite. “Mmm,” she said, feeling more normal.

“What did you get to drink?” he asked.

She looked into the picnic basket and picked out a bottle of soda. “I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I grabbed a few different flavours.”

“Huh. Didn’t know the hotel had its own soda brand.”

She looked at the bottle, noticing the Pyramidion’s logo. “I guess they’ve got everything, huh?”

“Yeah, they’ve got everything except helpful staff and unlocked doors.” He took out a pocket knife, opened his bottle and then hers, and took a sip. “Not bad.”

She took another bite of her sandwich. “Yeah, and the company isn’t too bad either.”

“Would that I could say the same.”

She glared at him. “Hey, I’m a great conversationalist!”

“Okay, great conversationalist. Tell me about myself.”

She leaned back. “Well, you’re perceptive, maybe even a little too much. You’re stubborn in a way that can be endearing and annoying. You've got a sarcastic sense of humour, but underneath that, you care about others. Is that good enough for you?”

“Mm-hmm,” he said, and his face crinkled with suppressed laughter

“What?” she asked, smiling along. “What’s so funny?”

“If I wanted a reading I would’ve used the Zoltan machine in the arcade. What facts do you know about me? Like, what’s my name?”

“Hah! Okay, let me see . . . Well, obviously you’re a boy, and younger than me. You’re also good at vacuuming.” She grinned. “Other than that, your name is a mystery.”

“. . . I told you what it is, right?”

She paused. Did he tell her his name? “Umm . . . yeah, I think you did. But, uh, remind me again just in case?”

“It’s Henry. My name is Henry.”

“Henry.” She smiled weakly. “Yeah, that’s right. Henry.

“Emma. How did you go three days without knowing that?”

“I don’t know, hah hah,” she said. “I honestly don’t know how I managed to go that long without knowing your name.”

“Probably cuz it’s just the two of us. I’ve been thinking of you as that girl.”

“Really? Just that girl? Is that all I am to you?” She fake-gasped. “How rude!”

“Yes, you’re dat girl. I can add more adjectives if you like.”

“Go ahead!”

“How about talkative, irritating, and, oh, I dunno, scrawny?”

“Scrawny, huh? And here I thought I was looking strong.” She flexed her arms, to little effect.

“Maybe if you’re lucky, cleaning the library will unlock the gym. Swimming does get a bit boring after a while.”

She swallowed another bite of her sandwich. “I know what you mean. It helps to stay active but treading water gets old fast.” She smiled at him. “I learned to swim a few years back. Definitely not a professional or anything, but I can hold my own.”

“That’s good. Sometimes I go up at night to swim under the stars. You’re welcome to join me.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“I look forward to it, then,” he said, brushing the crumbs from his boiler suit. “Shall we get on with the work?”

She got up from her chair. “I suppose we ought to.”

They started up the vacuums again and moved on to the shelves, using the long hose-attachments to reach higher. Emma groaned as she felt the familiar tedium set in again. They vacuumed for what felt like hours, cleaning shelf after shelf, with only the steady roar to fill the silence. Her mind wandered freely.

She glanced over at the boy next to her. Despite the conversations they had shared, she still knew so little about him. As he suspected she would, she wanted to ask him more questions.

“Watcha thinking?” he asked. They had to raise their voices and speak clearly to be understood over the electric motors.

She blinked and realized she’d been staring. “Oh, nothing much,” she said. “Just thinking about how tiring this vacuuming is.”

“Tell me about it. And this is just the prelude to deep-cleaning.”

“Oh god, I almost forgot. I don’t mind a little tidying-up, but this place is huge!”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You know, cleaning would be a lot more bearable if we had some background music.”

“Better wait until we’re done vacuuming. But cheer up, were nearly done. Aaaaaand I'm finished here.”

Henry had indeed finished hoovering his area. She looked back at her own area and saw she was close to finishing as well. “Thank goodness. This contraption is starting to weigh me down.”

“I’ll take that back the closet. So, you’ll start wiping the shelves?”

She nodded. Wet-dusting the shelves seemed easier after such a long time vacuuming. “You go ahead.”

She began with the first bookshelf. She worked steadily, moving from shelf to shelf, making sure to get into all the little places. The library took up the space that on the residential floors was taken up by the hallway and stairwell. As Emma worked, her mind wandered again.

She dumped the dirty rags in a bucket and Henry replaced it with a fresh bucket, taking the full one back to the janitor’s closet to wash. They moved as a team, with her wiping the shelves and him taking away the rags and replacing them with fresh ones.

“Do you think we’ll get everything done today?” he asked.

She looked at the remaining shelves. “Honestly, I don’t know. This room is massive, and we still have the reading area to clean too.”

“No reason not to stop at a reasonable hour, then, and have a big dinner.”

Her stomach grumbled. “You’re right. Let's call it a day.”

They wheeled the cleaning equipment back the janitor’s closet and stripped out of their boiler suits. The sink was big enough for both of them to wash at the same time. Emma felt fresher already. She looked over to see Henry doing the same. His face was wet and his hair was falling in tangles.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

* * *

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked, looking over the buffet

Her eyes roamed over the dishes. “That’s a tough question. After today, it all looks good. But I’m in the mood for something light. Maybe a nice salad or soup?”

There were, in fact, several choices of soup and also a salad bar. Henry pointed them out.

“Perfect!” she said. “I’m gonna stuff myself with as much fresh greens as I can.”

“What happened to something light?” the boy wondered, but she was already ladling out tomato soup. She filled her bowl, grabbed a couple of slices of bread, and headed for the salad bar. There she began piling a plate with lettuce and sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, topping it all with dressing and shredded cheese.

They sat at their usual table and she looked at his plate—it was identical. He shrugged. “You looked like you were having fun.”

“I guess you couldn’t resist copying my impeccable taste.”

He looked at his plate. “Do I like salad?” he wondered.

She took another spoonful of soup, enjoying the hearty flavour, before continuing the conversation. “You could have gotten something different, you know.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t craving anything in particular, so I just went monkey see, monkey do.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, so now I’m a monkey, huh?”

“I guess we’re both just a coupla monkeys.”

She laughed and took another spoonful. “Well, in that case, we make a pretty good pair of monkeys.”

“Can’t say I mind having a sidekick,” he said, and dug into his food

“Sidekick? Isn’t that a little belittling?” She pretended to pout. “I prefer the term partner-in-crime.”

“We’re partners now, are we? And what crime are we committing?”

She stroked her chin with one hand and tapped her lips with her forefinger. “I suppose we could start small. Maybe stealing some chocolate from the pantry, or staying out past curfew.”

“The desserts are right there on the food bar,” he said. “Also, what curfew?”

She glanced towards the food bar, looking at the sweets. It was very tempting. “No curfew? So we can stay up all night?”

“It’s kind of its own punishment. You miss out on so much daylight and then you don’t get to hang out with some people.”

She took a sip of water. “You’ve got a point there. There's no point in battling sleep if we're missing out on life.”

“That’s right.” He drank some of his iced tea. “I guess a jailbreak is the crime we’ve partnered up for.”

“Sounds like we’re moving on to bigger things.

“Definitely bigger than stealing candy from a buffet.”

She looked around. “Definitely more exciting than some candy heist.” She lowered her voice. “But where do we even start? Breaking out of this hotel isn’t exactly easy, is it?”

“I mean, we keep cleaning rooms, eventually the doors will just unlock themselves.”

Her smile disappeared as she remembered that she'd thought about climbing down from her fourth-floor balcony. “Hey, Henry. I remember I thought about climbing down the other day . . . Would that actually work? Just dropping down from my fourth-floor balcony?”

“What would we use for rope?” he wondered. His eyes swept over the dining hall. “These tablecloths?”

“Maybe,” she said. “But we’d have to cut them up and tie them together. That might take a while, and I’m not even sure they'd be strong enough to hold us.”

“Cutting the tablecloths would weaken them. Still, we could easily knot together thirty feet of improvised rope.”

“You sure you know how to do it properly?”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course. I happen to be an escape artist.”

“Oh yeah? You’re an expert? And where'd you get all that experience?”

“A-anyway, when do you want to try it? I want to finish cleaning the library but we can do it afterward.”

“Right after the sounds good!” she said. “And make sure you tie the knots properly.”

“We can make three ropes and braid them together. I don’t think that’s necessary, but it costs us nothing but time.”

“I’ll trust your expertise. You’ve always been the more practical one.”

“Yes, in the three days that we’ve known each other.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whether it’s three days or a lifetime, you still have more practical sense than I do.”

“R-right,” he said, and busied himself with his soup and bread

She watched him for a moment, trying to figure out what she might have said wrong. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Absolutely fine,” he said. “What were you thinking of for dessert?”

She decided not to press the matter. For now, at least. “There’s a chocolate cake on the shelf over there. Looks pretty good.”

“I do like cake.”

She was still puzzled she was determined to bring back the banter. “Chocolate cake it is, then. And I might steal some extras for our escape later. Heh. A basket of cake for our daring escape!”

He looked up. “What were you thinking of doing for the rest of the night?”

“Well . . . I was hoping we could just spend some time together, maybe talk a bit, just . . . enjoy each other's company, y'know?”

“As long as you don’t drop another shoe on me.”

“What? Me? Drop another shoe? I would never,” she said. Her eyes sparkled.

“I’m still waiting for the next one . . . to drop.”

She laughed. “Oh, I know. But now that you’re always on the lookout, I'll have to get even more creative. Don't worry. I promise I won't be too cruel.”

“Can we just hang out without worrying about practical jokes? You don’t know what I’m like in a prank war.”

“All right, all right, no more pranks for now. Promise.”

“Do you have a swimsuit? We could go swimming like we talked about.”

“Yeah, I have one. And that sounds perfect.”

* * *

She stepped out into the roof deck and into the evening air. She tightened her bathrobe and looked around.

“Cold tonight,” Henry said. She jumped.

“. . . You’re right,” she said, adjusting herself as they walked. “It is a bit chilly. I hope the pool water isn't too cold.”

“I’ll go first,” he said. He stripped off his shirt, stepped out of his flip-flops, and took a running leap into the pool. There was a splash.

“YAAAAAAAAUUUUGH!” he said, all but levitating out of the water. “It’s freezing!”

“And you still jumped in anyway?!”

“I wasn’t expecting that! It’s your turn now.”

The pool was underlit with chilly blue lights but she was never one to back down from a challenge, especially not from him. She untied her bathrobe, draped it over a sunlounger, and took a few steps back for a running start.

“Here I go!” she said, and with a scream, she leaped into the pool.

To her great shock, it was a heated pool. She surfaced, her eyes wide. “I thought it would be freezing!”

The boy could barely tread water, he was laughing so hard. “Gotcha! I gotcha!”

Emma laughed and splashed some water at him. “I can’t believe I fell for that. You're too sly for your own good!”

“Ah, you like it,” he said, and began a leisurely backstroke

She took a moment to appreciate the warmth. “Maybe I do.”

“Can you float?” he asked. “It’s good to look at the stars.”

“Sure,” she said. She let her gaze drift to the night sky. He was right: there were a lot of stars, all twinkling through the haze hanging over the pool.

“It’s easy to get lost in them,” she said.

“Heh. Next thing you know you’re going to say, 'What if somewhere up there is another planet, and on that planet there’s a girl and boy looking up at our part of the sky . . .'”

She floated beside him, close enough that she could feel the movement of the water as he paddled ever so gently to stay on his back. She turned her head toward him. “You knew exactly what I was thinking. It was almost like you could read my mind.”

He thought about it. Finally he said, “I missed you.”

Heart skipped a beat. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, the touch both comforting and seeking. “I missed you too.”

“Hmm??”

She repeated herself, her voice softer. “I missed you. I missed being with you, talking to you.” She paused and looked him squarely in the face. “I missed everything about you.”

He frowned. “That’s great, but how did we get to talking about this?”

She frowned but floated closer, their bodies almost touching. She tried to keep her tone light. “You’re the one who said, I missed you first. I was just saying I missed you back.

“I did? I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember saying it?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I was looking at the stars. I was thinking, ‘What a fine night this is.'”

“Are you sure you don’t remember? Not even a little bit?” Emma tried to keep her voice steady. “You don’t remember thinking anything about . . . us?”

“Okay, I think I remember that.”

So he did say it, but he didn’t recall why. “You don’t have any idea why you would say you missed me, if you weren't thinking about us?”

He thought a moment. “D’you know that sea otters hold hands so they don't drift away in their sleep?”

She blinked. “Ah, yeah, I’ve heard about that. Otters holding hands to stay together. Why do you ask?”

She felt his hand reaching for hers. Her breath caught and then their fingers intertwined in the water.

“It’s called rafting,” he said, still looking at the sky. His fingers were interlaced with hers.

She glanced at their joined hands, then back at him. “Rafting,” she said. “That’s a nice word.”

She gave in to the silence and floated closer to him.

He sniffled. “I don’t always understand everything I do, but it seems to work out.”

Her eyes drifted to his face. She squeezed his hand. “Maybe you don’t always need to understand everything. Sometimes, just doing what feels right works out fine.” The water swirled around them. She held his hand tighter. “Sometimes, the best things don't require full understanding, you know? Just the feeling.”

“Could be, could be.”

She took a deep breath. “So, you don’t always understand why you do things, yeah? But you go with it anyway? It just . . . feels right?”

But the boy had drifted off another way. He was asleep.

She extricated her hand and moved closer, kicking under the surface to gain some height on him. She studied the way his eyelids fluttered and his chest rose and fell. He said he’d missed her.

She brushed a strand of hair from his face. Much as she hated to ruin the moment, she needed to wake him up. Falling asleep in a pool wasn’t safe.

She shook his shoulder. “Hey,” she called out. “You need to wake up. You’re asleep in the water.”

“Mm?”

She shook him again. “Wake up. You’re asleep in the water. You need to wake up!”

“Just five more minutes,” he said, and rolled over and pulled her underwater.

Emma gasped as she was yanked underwater. She found herself sputtering and giggling when her head reemerged. “Hey! You can't just pull me underwater like that!”

“Oh! Sorry!” he said. “This isn’t my bed, is it?”

She ran her hand over her face, trying to clear the water out of her eyes. “No, this isn’t your bed. You're in a swimming pool!”

“O-Of course I am.”

She laughed again and splashed him. “Yeah, you are.

“I guess we should go to bed, then. Drowning would be a bad way to end the day.”

“When you’re right, you’re right.”

* * *

The next day saw them cleaning the bookshelves and as much of the books as they could reach without pulling them out. They worked side by side, wiping down the bookshelves and the book spines. Luckily for them, the tomes were bound in leather and could take a little damp.

Emma watched Henry as he worked. He’d run his rag over a shelf, the same sweeping length each time, his hand moving from left to right, left to right, as steady and as regular as a machine. Then he’d flick up the rag to a clean side and start running it down the books, working his way back to the side of the shelf he'd started at.

“You’re a meticulous one,” she said.

He shrugged. “Future generations need to be able to enjoy this complete set of The Hardy Boys Casefiles.”

She grinned. “The highlight of their reading experience.”

“I was more of an Animorphs fan,” he said. “It’s about these child soldiers—”

Her eyebrows arched. “Child soldiers? That . . . that sounds intense.”

“Oh yeah. Five young teens stumbled onto an alien invasion and fight it using technology that allows them to ‘morph’ into any animal they touch. Lots of action and body horror.”

She paused her cleaning. “Body horror? What does that mean, exactly?”

“Scary things happening to human bodies,. When the characters morph, it isn’t pretty. There isn’t a puff of smoke and—boom!—they're animals. They ooze into their new forms.”

She shivered. “Sounds horrific.”

“It struck a chord with me, for some reason. The Goosebumps series was nowhere as scary or as real. I mean, on one hand you’ve got supernatural monsters and on the other hand you’ve got war. Which is scarier?”

“I suppose when you put it that way, war is scarier. And the thought of it being fought by children . . .”

He pursed his lips. “I wish we only had horror-movie monsters to worry about.”

“Yeah. If life were just a simple, clichéd horror film we'd know the villains and we'd know how to survive.”

“Especially if you’re brave and have a kickass chainsaw hand,” he said. “You’ve never seen Army of Darkness, have you?”

Emma looked sheepish. “I haven’t. I'm not that well-versed in those types of films.”

“Well, we found the tapes.” He indicated the shelf where they sat behind glass. “We can probably get a VCR from the supermarket.”

This was the first that she had heard of a supermarket. “There’s one in the hotel?”

“Did I forget to mention? It’s in the basement.”

She placed a hand on her hip and quirked an eyebrow. “It seems you may have conveniently left that detail out.”

“Well, gotta keep operational security, you know.”

“Oh yes, of course,” she said. “Can’t compromise the top-secret supermarket location. I understand completely.” She leaned against the bookshelf. “So, this Army of Darkness, is it just about some guy with a chainsaw fighting monsters?”

“The 90s were a good decade for pop culture.”

“What made it so good?”

“It was the last decade before 9/11, which marked the start of this fearful new age. But I’d rather not talk about that.” He was still wiping away. “You’ve really got me thinking. After this, do you want to try and make that rope out of tablecloths, or pick up a VCR?”

She considered. A rope made from tablecloths would be a step in the direction of escaping the hotel, but it was also a fair bit of work. On the other hand, a trip to the basement sounded fun. “I don’t suppose we could do both?”

“Heh. We may be trapped in here, but it’s not so bad, is it?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “I suppose it’s not so bad after all. At least we're not alone.”

Later, she found herself in the janitor’s closet washing the rags. The repetitive action of scrubbing and wringing allowed her to circle back to the conversation. Still holding a wet rag, she paused. It was strange, really, this mix of comfort and fear. The hotel felt like a refuge. But at the same time, it was a prison.

She paused again, staring at the now-clean rag. She wondered if she had the strength to use a climbing rope. And was she ready to face whatever lay beyond the hotel walls? She leaned on the sink and turned over her thoughts. The reality was that they had no idea what would happen once they escaped. It could be another set of dangers. She clenched her fists around the rag, her knuckles whitening. Could she survive them?

She wouldn’t be alone, she remembered. The boy would follow her, and that made her smile. Yes, she wouldn’t be alone. But she wondered if it was fair to drag him into the unknown.

She sighed and picked up another dirty rag. She scrubbed it furiously.

* * *

Working steadily, they managed to finish the library in time for a late dinner. As they stepped back to look at the shelves, Emma glanced over at Henry. “Lovely, isn’t it?” she said.

“It sure is!”

She glanced at the bookshelves one last time. It was calming to have some sense of order. With a sigh, she leaned against the shelf.

They went to the closet to change out of their boiler suits. “What do you think you’ll have for dinner?” he asked.

Emma tried to think. “I don’t know . . . something simple? Do we have any bread and butter left over?”

“It’s a whole buffet, Emma. Dare to dream.”

“Hah! I might as well dream big then.” They went to the dining hall and she let her eyes roam over the menu. Her fatigue still weighed on her, however, and she decided to be honest. “I’m not really in the mood for anything fancy. A sandwich would do just fine.”

“I’m sure we could assemble something out of the cold cuts platter.”

They regrouped at what was becoming their regular table. Emma settled down with her sandwich. It was mostly cheese and melted cheese between two slices of toasted bread. She took a nibble.

She noticed the boy taking a big bite of his own sandwich. “Hungry, are we?”

“Mmmmmph,” he said. He chewed and swallowed, then dabbed with a napkin. “I wonder what we’ll find tomorrow.”

She took another bite of her sandwich and chewed. “I wonder the same,” she said between bites. “There must be so much we have yet to find.”

* * *

The next morning she woke up to him knocking on her door. “Hey, wake up in there.”

She stirred, her eyes fluttering as she slowly emerged into wakefulness. “I’m awake, I'm awake,” she called. Slowly, she sat up in bed.

“Get dressed quick, you gotta see this.”

“I’ll be right out,” she said.

She followed him as they made their way down to the west lobby and toward the entrance, which was a large revolving glass door flanked by two smaller glass doors.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Try going through.”

She approached the revolving door and gave it a light push. The door began to turn. She pushed a little harder and the door spun faster, depositing her outside. She was outside!

Henry was right behind her. “Pretty cool, huh?”

The hotel stood on a hill that was flat enough for an expansive lawn. There were paved paths and park benches and what looked like a stage for events. Emma stood in the fresh air and sunlight and open space.

“It’s incredible!” She walked out onto the lawn, her footsteps light. She turned to Henry. “It’s beautiful, isn't it?”

He stuck his hands in his pockets. “It’s a bit foggy today.”

The haze made everything feel like a dream. She took a few more steps forward, her footsteps muffled. The air was crisp and the fog made it feel like she was exploring another world.

“We could always explore later,” Henry said. “C’mon, the hotel app alerted me about another thing.”

“Lead the way.” She followed him closely, her eyes darting around. They went up to the third floor, which was still on the shopping promenade.

“The gym doors unlocked,” he said. “Looks like this is our next cleanup job.”

“Quite a change from the library.” She looked at the gym area and estimated the amount of cleanup that would be needed. Like the library, the gym was a large space that on the upper floors would've been taken up by the stairwell and the space fronting each room. There was a dance studio, a boxing ring, and floor space for cardio machines and free weights. There were mirrors everywhere, all covered in dust.

“We’re going to have to wipe each kettlebell and weight plate by hand,” he said, and they both winced. “Maybe not today though,” he said. “You wanted to pick up some things from the supermarket, remember? And then there’s the tapes in the library. Since it’s closer, shall we check it out before heading to breakfast?”

“Sounds good to me.”

They’d left the library clean the previous night, but just like the arcade it had somehow gotten a final deep-clean overnight and was full of polished surfaces. Henry ran his finger over a row of books and found nothing gritty. Even the leather bindings looked newer.

Emma looked around in bewilderment. “How does it look so good?”

He shrugged. “The hotel does what it does.”

She heard a clink. She turned and saw a young woman, not yet twenty, who was reading at one of the tables. She wore big round eyeglasses and had her dark hair up in a bun. She occasionally broke the sound of the distant lobby music by turning a page or putting her cup into its saucer.

“Hello,” Henry said. “Are you the librarian?”

The woman looked up, her eyes going from Henry and Emma. She smiled and shook her head. “No, I just read here. You’ll find that the books eventually find their way back to the shelves.”

“I’m Henry and this is Emma.”

The young woman closed her book and stood up. She adjusted her glasses and held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Elisabeth.”