was empty, but a selection of framed
recursion doors had been brought up from the basement and propped in the
corner.
Shaped like a square donut, the room was surrounded on three walls
with tall multi-paned windows. The cube in the center of the room was for
display, four doors to a wall.
A single recursion door hung on the wall in front of me. It was a
relatively unassuming door, weatherworn wood bordered in faded brick and
overgrown ivy. Kensuke had matched it with a simple, antique-finish frame.
I pressed my hand against the picture, feeling not the smooth photo
paper, but the ancient wood of the garden door beyond. I lowered my hand to the
cold iron handle and pushed. The door creaked painfully as it swung open,
revealing the pocket world beyond. No matter how many times I opened the doors,
it always caught me a little off guard.
A mighty river curved away from the entrance, emerald- and
slate-colored mountains jutting from the waters like watchful giants. An ancient
monastery had been built into the cliffs, whitewashed walls and tiered roof of
red and gold pristine under the perpetual sun. Inside would be empty and without
the touch of dust or decay.
How could I not feel awe ?
There was something far beyond physical appearance that left me
breathless, despite myself. The pocket world provided everything. Inside you
felt no pain, no anger, no sorrow. You didn’t need to eat or sleep. It was
possible you didn’t even age. There was a reason people referred to the
multiverse as paradise.
“You are late, Jonathan-sama.”
I jerked in surprise, yanking the recursion door shut with a thud.
Kensuke stepped in beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder as I exhaled
slowly.
“Forgive me,” Kensuke said in his thick Japanese accent. He offered
a small bow. “I did not mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay, Ken,” I said. “Just edgy, I guess. Another fanatic
approached me about paradise.”
Kensuke paused thoughtfully, folding his hands before him.
“It is not entirely implausible,” he said. “Do you not think so ? ”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.”
I could imagine nothing more arrogant than believing I had
discovered paradise. Never mind that I didn’t do anything, that the pictures
just happened.
“True,” Kensuke said, nodding. “Though there are some who might say
reality is nine-tenths perception.”
“What about all the paradise abusers ? ”
I’d seen plenty of lives torn apart—friends and loved ones
neglected, careers destroyed, responsibilities abandoned—all because the lure of
the multiverse far exceeded reality. I sold them paradise and they turned it
into a drug.
“Eden was lost to us for a reason,” Kensuke said. “Was it not ? ”
“So who am I to give it back ? ”
“God works in mysterious ways.”
“I wish he’d work through someone else,” I said. I nodded to the
stack of recursion doors. “When’s the auction ? ”
“This weekend. I scheduled it as soon as I learned of your return.
Our patrons are getting restless. You have been gone some time.”
How long had it been this time ? I tried
to work the days in my head, but they just blurred together.
“How many days ? ”
“Forty-two,” Kensuke said. “Not including the two and a half you
took while sleeping.”
I blinked in surprise. Had it really been so long ?
“There are several hundred high-profile patrons on the waiting
list,” Kensuke continued.
“Let them wait. I don’t cater to spoiled trust-fund kids.”
“Apologies, Jonathan-sama,” Kensuke said, inclining his head
slightly. “But those spoiled children are the reason you are able to continue
your work.”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Sometimes I truly
regretted selling the recursion doors, but exorbitant production costs and an
empty bank account had forced my hand. And in the end, the doors were my only
chance at finding Marie—I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.
“I’m sorry, Kensuke-san. I know
recursion doors had been brought up from the basement and propped in the
corner.
Shaped like a square donut, the room was surrounded on three walls
with tall multi-paned windows. The cube in the center of the room was for
display, four doors to a wall.
A single recursion door hung on the wall in front of me. It was a
relatively unassuming door, weatherworn wood bordered in faded brick and
overgrown ivy. Kensuke had matched it with a simple, antique-finish frame.
I pressed my hand against the picture, feeling not the smooth photo
paper, but the ancient wood of the garden door beyond. I lowered my hand to the
cold iron handle and pushed. The door creaked painfully as it swung open,
revealing the pocket world beyond. No matter how many times I opened the doors,
it always caught me a little off guard.
A mighty river curved away from the entrance, emerald- and
slate-colored mountains jutting from the waters like watchful giants. An ancient
monastery had been built into the cliffs, whitewashed walls and tiered roof of
red and gold pristine under the perpetual sun. Inside would be empty and without
the touch of dust or decay.
How could I not feel awe ?
There was something far beyond physical appearance that left me
breathless, despite myself. The pocket world provided everything. Inside you
felt no pain, no anger, no sorrow. You didn’t need to eat or sleep. It was
possible you didn’t even age. There was a reason people referred to the
multiverse as paradise.
“You are late, Jonathan-sama.”
I jerked in surprise, yanking the recursion door shut with a thud.
Kensuke stepped in beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder as I exhaled
slowly.
“Forgive me,” Kensuke said in his thick Japanese accent. He offered
a small bow. “I did not mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay, Ken,” I said. “Just edgy, I guess. Another fanatic
approached me about paradise.”
Kensuke paused thoughtfully, folding his hands before him.
“It is not entirely implausible,” he said. “Do you not think so ? ”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.”
I could imagine nothing more arrogant than believing I had
discovered paradise. Never mind that I didn’t do anything, that the pictures
just happened.
“True,” Kensuke said, nodding. “Though there are some who might say
reality is nine-tenths perception.”
“What about all the paradise abusers ? ”
I’d seen plenty of lives torn apart—friends and loved ones
neglected, careers destroyed, responsibilities abandoned—all because the lure of
the multiverse far exceeded reality. I sold them paradise and they turned it
into a drug.
“Eden was lost to us for a reason,” Kensuke said. “Was it not ? ”
“So who am I to give it back ? ”
“God works in mysterious ways.”
“I wish he’d work through someone else,” I said. I nodded to the
stack of recursion doors. “When’s the auction ? ”
“This weekend. I scheduled it as soon as I learned of your return.
Our patrons are getting restless. You have been gone some time.”
How long had it been this time ? I tried
to work the days in my head, but they just blurred together.
“How many days ? ”
“Forty-two,” Kensuke said. “Not including the two and a half you
took while sleeping.”
I blinked in surprise. Had it really been so long ?
“There are several hundred high-profile patrons on the waiting
list,” Kensuke continued.
“Let them wait. I don’t cater to spoiled trust-fund kids.”
“Apologies, Jonathan-sama,” Kensuke said, inclining his head
slightly. “But those spoiled children are the reason you are able to continue
your work.”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Sometimes I truly
regretted selling the recursion doors, but exorbitant production costs and an
empty bank account had forced my hand. And in the end, the doors were my only
chance at finding Marie—I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.
“I’m sorry, Kensuke-san. I know
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