Chet shook his head. “I don’t know what that was. It felt like something far worse. Like…”
“A delver was possessing her.”
“Indeed. I normally enjoy new and exciting events, yet I would not wish to repeat that one! But thank you for the ash. It is…comforting to hold.”
There was a haunting tone to his voice. “Do…you remember anything of who you were?” I asked. “Before?”
“No,” he whispered. “I have forgotten myself entirely. I remember some few things about the last few days before I entered—some caverns, and old ruins—but that time is so vague to me. Even my early days in here are fuzzy. That’s not surprising, I confess. I’ve been here a long time—almost two centuries, I think!”
“Wait, two hundred years?” I asked.
“Well, around a hundred and seventy,” he replied. “Best I can count. Time is hard to track in here, but I wrote down the date—and have been able to confirm it a few times in order to help me keep track. Yet I haven’t aged a single day.
“I haven’t always been able to get ashes, so during those times I took work for one group or another, since people staying together can replicate the effect of ashes.”
I found it daunting to think about what had happened to Chet. If I stayed too long, would I forget Gran-Gran? My father? My friends? Scud, I needed some time to process that.
Unfortunately, M-Bot chose that moment to come hovering up, jabbering excitedly. “Did you see those things over there, Spensa? Those are cacti! They’re so beautiful. Is it normal to see something like that, and feel so overwhelmed? I…I want to write poetry about how pretty they are.”
“Uh…” I said.
“Cacti are so neat, they make me want to dance. Is that a good poem? Will you rate it on a scale of one to ten?”
“Poems don’t deserve numbers, M-Bot. But if you like it, then it’s wonderful.”
“Great! Let’s see what my rhythm and rhyme analysis protocols say… Oh, Spensa. That’s a terrible poem. You should be ashamed for liking it. You know, ‘cacti’ is such a funny word. I think ‘cactuses’ would have been less funny, don’t you? And easier to rhyme?”
I just wanted a break right now—though I loved the robot, he could be a bit much. “Hey, I think I saw a mushroom,” I said, pointing.
“What, really?” he said. “Where!”
“Between those two bushes over there, in the distance.”
He zoomed off. I found myself thinking about what Chet had said about his age. Two hundred years?
“So…are we immortal in here?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “And I think my not-aging might be due to my powers. Other people do age, and unfortunately, ordinary wounds can still kill us. But our biological functions are odd. You won’t need food in here, for instance—and after a few days you won’t even need water. We do need to sleep, but it doesn’t seem to be required as often.
“Night never falls. The lightburst doesn’t move. And the longer you stay, the more the passage of time will all blend together. Days. Weeks. Years. Centuries…” He shook his head.
“I’ll admit,” I said, “I’m starting to feel a little tired. It’s been…kind of a long day for me.”
“Well, then!” he said. “There is some shelter farther along this fragment! I suggest we take a break there.”
We’d walked for another few minutes when M-Bot came zipping back up. “You didn’t see a mushroom, did you?” he demanded.
“No,” I said. “Just wanted to distract you.”
“Why would you do that?”
I shrugged, not wanting to explain. “It’s a joke humans sometimes play. You trick someone by sending them on a meaningless chase.”
“What a terrible joke. Scanning culture databases. Oh. It’s called ‘made you look.’ What an original name. Your kind has a terrible sense of humor, something I can authentically say now, as I am truly alive. But your prank is not important. It occurred to me that cacti are desert mushrooms. They look kind of the same. And act kind of the same. Except for the whole ‘living in an arid location’ part, which would kill most mushrooms…”
Great. After walking a little farther we crested a small dune, and Chet pointed ahead. “See those hills?” he asked.
I picked out some rocky chunks rising from the desert.