The Fifth Healer

56.

Inside it's as bright as day, even though it's just after three o'clock in the morning. I'm standing on a stone floor with a blue and white rug, colors I recognize from the Greek flag. Curiosity immediately draws me torward the railing. I gasp when I look over, discovering an enormous drop, perhaps one hundred feet, through an open atrium to the ground far below.

Despite its ancient feel, the space is teeming with life. Many of those walking around wear black and white suits, like Sloan's. The rest have no identifiable sort of clothing or for that manner any obvious traits at all in common. They represent all shapes and skin tones. Several use mobility devices. There's a broad spectrum of ages, though no one as young as us. Nor do any of them have white hair like Niles, Wally and I do.

Everyone looks busy, purposeful, energized. It feels odd. Even though I'm always wide awake at this hour, I'm not accustomed to seeing so many others up with me.

Ainsley, Niles and Wally approach me at the railing.

"Watch out, there's a gap right there," I say, pointing to a spot where the rail is missing.

Like me, they take in the space in stunned silence.

I look up and see that there are not only floors below us, underground, there are three floors above us. Including this one, these form the four you can see from outside, the above-ground floors. I count six floors below us, underground. So the ground floor is level seven. The atrium extends all the way up to the tenth floor, so you can see straight through to the sky. The atrium means the building is shaped like a square donut. Suspended in the center of this square-nut, over the middle of the atrium, is a giant glowing orb, an artificial sun that must keep this space in a state of permanent daylight.

In contrast to the sad, dull exterior, the interior is an engineering marvel. Particularly because it looks old, far older than anything in DC, and as old as anything I've seen so far in Greece.

The four-sided balcony of each floor is held up by rows of Corinthian columns. This level has a safety railing, but the others lack any such precautions so that, between the columns, one could simply step off the edge and fall. Given the height and the stone floor, that would lead to death.

I shudder, reminded of that pilot, just stepping out of the plane so casually. Like she was hopping off the bottom step. And the expression on her face. Smug. Victorious. Despite the way she jumped without a parachute and surely died.

I shake my head, pushing away the image.

"This way," says Dr. Khan, walking around us to a gap in the railing, where she summarily steps off the ledge with a casualness that bears a worrisome resemblance to Mauve's exit from the plane.

"Wait!" I say.

Ainsley reaches out for her.

But rather than fall, Dr. Khan shoots up straight past us.

"What the..." says Ainsley.

"Up we go now," says Sloan. "On the three count."

He follows, luggage and all, and like Dr. Khan, is lifted as if by an invisible force, shooting up straight in front of us. We all gather at the gap in the railing, peering down at the dizzying drop.

Whoosh.

Exactly three seconds later, someone else flies up past us, someone who came from a floor below us. Although they are traveling too fast for me to make out much, this time, I get a glimpse under the traveler's foot, and I see a glint just underneath their shoes. Glass?

I wait three more seconds, and, quick as a flash, I notice a small transparent object flick by me, going up toward the higher floors. I don't see it so much as I feel the disruption to the air as it passes inches from my face.