I took the job. I dropped off a note with Porter the following morning. Way I figured at the time, the worst case scenario is that I imagined the whole thing as my brain slowly decayed. I already had the scan scheduled. The best case scenario is that I had stumbled into a vast and extremely lucrative alternate reality.

Twelve-year-old me would have been so enthusiastic about that. Now-year-old me was still pretty sure this was all some sort of grand delusion. Illusion me was still pacing around the edges of my mind, and assured me that it was all real. I found that I trusted him, which did not reassure me at all in my moments of doubt.

It was three weeks before I could get a long weekend to arrange the delivery. When I asked Dana if I could have a day off, she told me in a carefully non-specific way that she knew what it was about and I still had to work my normal hours unless I was sick. I ended up trading a couple shifts to make it work. Dana might still notice, but HR wouldn’t think twice about it.

I visited the House four more times while arranging myself to be free to do the delivery. Twice, I played darts with Carver. Once, we had dinner. The last time, we discussed the details of the upcoming delivery.

The item I was going to courier was a length of copper chain. I hadn’t expected that. It was heavy, each link big enough for me to poke a fingertip through. At one end, it attached to a big hoop, which was flattened at regular intervals. It actually reminded me a lot of a tambourine, but without the drum part. Each of the flattened pieces was marked with a little drawing. The other end of the chain ended in a handle, also made of copper but wrapped heavily in cloth. The end of the handle was marked with a different drawing.

Carver warned me that the Lane was not as safe as its apparent emptiness would suggest, and that I would have to keep the chain completely hidden until I reached the destination. I should have dropped the job right then and there. My life would have been a lot easier. I didn’t, because the potential payment was too good to ignore. I’ve been told I’m too trusting, by nature.

He provided a case to store the chain in. It was felt-lined wood, and the chain was completely muffled by the box. He also assigned two members of the House’s staff to travel with me. Porter was one. I hadn’t met the other one, who went by Boddy (short for “Bodyguard”. Apparently, there were four different Boddys in the House’s staff. Somehow, despite all using the same nickname, they were easy to tell apart). I expressed surprise that Boddy hadn’t accompanied Carver on either of his excursions into realis. Carver, with a conspiratorial nudge and a wink, answered that they’d been there but hadn’t been noticed. That gave me pause.

Carver had invited me to stay in the guest suite of the House the night before the delivery, so I could get an early start and Cookie could make a ‘proper breakfast’, which seemed to hinge entirely on an entire slab of bacon. The night before, I found myself with Carver sitting in one of the studies (one out of six, apparently), drinking something that sounded expensive and tasted like alcohol, and chatting. Butler was nearby in case we needed anything, but meanwhile was reading a copy of what appeared to be a physics journal. A young hob, not yet technically an adult at a mere forty-five earth years of age, was serving as the night’s Gofer. She apparently wouldn’t have a proper name or choose (if she wanted) a nickname until she became an adult. Or maybe her name changed when she joined the staff for real? The hobs had difficulty explaining it to me, mostly because they seemed baffled by the fact that I didn’t just know how it worked automatically. Carver, apparently, had decided shortly after he took over as the House’s keeper to just never question it.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“So,” I asked after a lengthy pause. Carver had an unlit cigar in his hands, and he seemed to be conflicted about whether to light it or not. “I was wondering. Why exactly did you need me? If Porter and Boddy,” (in my head, I appended that to ‘Boddy-One’), “Are already coming along with me, couldn’t one of them just deliver the package? For that matter, why not just send Driver with one of the cars? I’ve seen the Lane. It’s wide enough for it.”

“Well, Driver would rather walk the whole distance barefoot on glass than take one of the House’s cars into the Lane, for starters,” Carver chuckled. He apparently decided not to smoke the cigar and returned it to a box, which Gofer dutifully packed away with the other boxes of cigars. “The Lane isn’t all that…constant. It shifts, it wends. Sometimes what the Lane is would not get along well with one of our cars. All of them are realis, did you know that?”

“Okay, but Porter, one of the Boddys, why couldn’t they drop it off?”

“They’re irrealis,” Carver said, taking a long sip of his drink. “They can physically move the item, of course. Or…near enough as makes no difference, in this part of the Lane. But the House’s duties must ultimately fall to a realis mind. Ordinarily, that would be me. Ordinarily, that is me. Unfortunately, I’m not exactly spry anymore, Daniel. I mean…look at me! I wouldn’t last a day on foot. You’re young, you’re healthy. Deliveries like this one come up pretty rarely, fortunately. Most of what I do can be done from a comfortable office chair.”

“So you had to hire a human? And I just happened to fit the bill?”

“Yes, that’s about the size of it.”

I set my glass on the table and leaned forward, hands on my knees. In the corner of my eye, I saw tiny Gofer bringing a decanter over to top up my drink. She certainly was a dedicated little child. “Okay. What is it?”

“What is what, Daniel?” Carver asked, all mock innocence.

“The delivery. What is that ch---”

“Don’t.” Carver’s face had gone from a genuine friendliness to a sternness bordering on a glare faster than I could track. Later I would wonder if he hadn’t somehow become stern retroactively. “Don’t describe it. Don’t name it, even a nickname. The delivery, the item, or the box are all fine. Anything else, anything else, Daniel, and you put your life, and Porter’s life, and Boddy’s life at risk. Here or in the Lane.”

“Why? It’s just…” I saw his jaw tensing and decided to let it go. “So why is it, then? What Housely duty is served by me taking this to another house?”

Carver was silent for a long time, meeting my gaze unblinkingly. Just when I was wondering if I should repeat the question, he finally answered. “A symbolic one.”

I didn’t get anything else out of him. After another ten or fifteen minutes of tense silence, I excused myself, claiming I wanted to get an early morning if I was hauling this box more than a full day of travel. Carver bid me a good night, but I could tell something was distracting him.

As I left, I heard him send Gofer to the cellar for a stronger drink.