“I feel as though I ought to have a towel with me, and that right about now someone should be telling me not to panic,” said somebody behind Libby, in a rather chagrined voice.
“Cleared to land in Docking Bay One,” a girl sang out from right beside the window, her face glued to the glass.
“I feel a bit cheated, actually,” Xander complained. “One would want a bit of drama, really. Like, we’re having problems with re — entry, Captain — and then someone does something improbable, and everything turns out all right in the end. That’s what happens in the movies.”
“You just wanted to see someone be a hero,” Dave said, braced against the wall as though he desperately needed something solid to hang onto when — as it must — the rock they were on hit Mother Earth, hard. Falling rocks did that, after all. It was a known fact.
“Scaredy cat,” Xander said, laughing.
Dave lifted a finger and began to intone, “I must not fear — fear is the mind killer — ”
A shudder rocked the building and a cry went up in the bar, but then things righted themselves again and descent resumed.
“We apologize for the turbulence,” someone said, “please keep your seat belts fastened until the hotel has come to a complete stop…”
“Help me, Obi — wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope,” Libby said, turning to hang onto Dave’s arm. And then, as his hand came round to cover hers in what was meant to be a gesture of comfort but suddenly turned into a vice — like grip on her wrist, “Ow! Take it easy! I don’t want to have to…”
“Look,” Dave said, pointing.
The four androids who had taken them on this entire merry ride had somehow appeared in the far corner of Callahan’s. They had a glow about them, and appeared two — dimensional. Xander narrowed his eyes at the apparitions.
“Holograms?” he said. “That’s not the real…”
“We have brought you home, as we have promised” said the voice of Boss, and even as he spoke they all felt it — something almost too small to notice, something almost entirely unremarkable, a tiny bump, a sense of things knitting and connecting, and then a stillness, and what they could see out of the window was night sky. Just ordinary night sky. Like they might have seen on a thousand nights before. “We have to leave now. But before we go we wanted to thank you, one more time. Now, with your help, we understand.”
“Hey, wait,” Libby said, stepping forward and raising one hand, but there was no response from the four androids except for all of them raising their right arms, hands lifted in a gesture of farewell, palms toward the crowd in Callahan’s. And then, from their edges inwards, the four glowing figures developed a coruscating sparkle which dissolved their shapes until each was just a point of light that lingered for a moment and then winked out.
“I’ll be damned,” Xander said explosively. “They beamed up.”
Libby, dropping Dave’s arm, glanced down at her wrist, and sighed.
“Well, it’s ten minutes past midnight,” she said. “I guess if we all walked out of the front door right now we’d be right back where we started out. I guess it’s over. Dammit, Monday always comes.”
EPILOGUE: MONDAY ALWAYS COMES
“The final newsletter is a work of art, Libby,” Dave said, grinning, as he stuck his head around the door into the Con Ops room and caught Libby’s eye as she blearily looked up from the computer screen.
“Thanks,” she said with a yawn. “Worked on it all night. I actually literally haven’t been to bed yet. Too much to do, too little time., But I have to confess, it’s easier when someone actually does half your work for you. And you can always rely on fen.”
“You mean the elevator signage?” Dave said. “Yeah, that was inspired.”
Libby patted a pile of paper on her left. “I’m keeping the originals,” she said. “Too good.”
Dave stepped fully into the room and picked up the sheaf. “You stole them off the elevators?”
“I left replacements,” Libby said. “Don’t worry, safety first. But those… those are mine.”
The signs in question had been the ones that Luke had raced to place on the crippled elevator bank. Initially they had simply stated OUT OF ORDER in large black type with a line below, in smaller letters, saying PLEASE USE STAIRS. But passing con — goers had annotated each individual sign, in different pens and different handwriting. Libby, wearing a wide grin of her own, glanced up at Dave as he stood there with the pilfered signage in his hands, and said,
“Start from the bottom and read up from there.”
Dave was already doing that, laughing out loud as he did so. The sign from the Lobby level had, in an act of inspiration, been left absolutely untouched — a virgin control panel, showing what the origin of the game had been. But on Floor 1 the competition began, with handwritten commentary underneath each original warning statement.
OUT OF ORDER
PLEASE USE STAIRS
We mean it!
Uh — oh…
Floor 2 upped the ante.
OUT OF ORDER
PLEASE USE STAIRS
We_ really_ mean it
Yeah, they actually locked it
You tried to open it?
He touches wet paint cuz they might be lying
With wet paint you don’t fall 20 stories
….or 200,000 miles
238,857
that depends, how fast are we approaching?
Dave looked up.
“I’d pay money to know who wrote that wet paint comment,” he said.
Libby traded grins again. “Gets better.”
Floor 3 signage was a little more meta.
OUT OF ORDER
PLEASE USE STAIRS
This is not the elevator you were looking for.
Obi — wan Kenobi… is that you?
(handwave) There is no Obi — wan Kenobi…
I find your lack of faith disturbing. — D.Vader
Floor 4 went back to banter.
OUT OF ORDER
PLEASE USE STAIRS
Fitness 4 Fen
Fitness forfend
Fitness Forever!
Fitness final, 20th floor, required. Fail = not permitted to leave premises
“There is no 20th floor,” Dave said.
“Someone thinks there might be heaven, though,” Libby said, tapping the next sheet.
Floor 5 did indeed seem to put forward that hypothesis.
OUT OF ORDER
PLEASE USE STAIRS
Stairway to Heaven
Go looking for stardust!
MOONdust, twit
Green cheese
…and ham…
Oh, The Places You’ll Go!
Today the Moon, tomorrow the Klingon Empire…