Only now did Noah notice that the library’s entire perimeter was lined with doors leading to small private rooms. After passing several dozen of them, Hermes opened one and invited Noah and Beata inside.

  The room was modest in size, meant for half a dozen people. It was furnished with such warmth and understated luxury that it felt like stepping into a private Victorian library. A single narrow window filtered daylight through a stained-glass mosaic. The furniture was dark wood; the sofa and armchairs were upholstered in deep, blood-red velvet. Shelves and bookcases sagged beneath volumes of every conceivable thickness, their titles glimmering faintly in gold lettering. Only a few laptops resting on the walnut table disrupted the otherwise seamless aesthetic. At the sight of them, Beata actually clapped her hands.

  “Pay no attention to the books,” Hermes said, gesturing toward the shelves. “They’re decorative. Part of the interior design. All the laptops are fully functional—use them as much as you like. They work throughout the library, so if you make more friends later, you may carry them into another private room. Just keep in mind—they’ll automatically return to their place if you attempt to take them outside the library.”

  “In this cabinet,” Hermes continued, opening a pair of double doors, “you’ll find additional equipment. Separate keyboards and other controllers, headsets if you feel like gaming or watching films. There’s a projector for screenings on a larger scale. The screen is rolled up on the wall. If you need help with any of it, ask me first. Don’t knock on other rooms unless you know the occupants personally and are certain they won’t object.”

  “You may reserve this room for up to two uninterrupted weeks,” he added, opening a notebook. “That’s the maximum. After that, you must take an equally long break. I’ll warn you in advance—living here indefinitely isn’t possible, no matter how tempting it may be. Those are the rules. So choose wisely.”

  “If we reserve it for three days, the break is also three?” Noah asked.

  “Correct. The break equals the reservation. There is one exception. If you come for a brief consultation only, no reservation is logged, and no time is counted. Though I’ve yet to meet anyone interested in that service. So, shall I mark down three days?”

  “Six!” Beata declared at once, already curling up in a plush armchair with a laptop in her hands.

  “Three will be enough,” Noah nodded.

  “Hey!” she protested.

  Hermes cleared his throat politely. “You may register separate durations—three and six days. But once recorded, you must adhere strictly to your individual schedules.”

  “But then we won’t be able to come together next time,” Beata grumbled. “Fine. Four days. For both of us.”

  Noah sighed. “All right. Four.”

  Beata smiled broadly at her small victory.

  “Four days,” Hermes noted. “Now, regarding books and information. The same material exists both on the shelves and on the library server. It’s merely a matter of preference—screens or paper. If you’re looking for something specific, tell me, and I’ll assemble the relevant literature. Otherwise, you’re free to browse—digitally or physically.”

  “I’d like a more detailed history of the Regia and the Flow,” Noah said. He had decided that in advance. “And perhaps a solid reference work on Nostalgia.”

  Hermes raised an eyebrow. “You already know about Nostalgia? Newcomers usually discover it months later.”

  “Been there, seen stuff…” Noah was unwilling to elaborate.

  “We’re super smart,” Beata added gravely.

  The librarian studied them both for a long moment with an unreadable expression.

  “Very well,” he said at last. “History of the Flow. Nostalgia. Anything else?”

  “The guilds,” Noah ticked off on his fingers. “Any ‘beginners’ guides’ on how to join?”

  “I don’t believe so,” Hermes shook his head. “That information is easier to find on social media. Or by visiting the guilds themselves. It changes too often to justify physical print. Would that be all? Perhaps the young lady has something to add?”

  “I’ve already found everything I need,” Beata said, pointing at her screen. “Thank you.”

  ***

  They spent the next several hours in quiet but highly productive company. Noah quickly discovered he preferred paper to the glow of a screen. The pages even felt real—rustling under his fingers, fragile enough to tear if pulled too hard. He had no intention of testing that. It seemed impolite.

  As for Beata—judging by the sounds from her PC, she was chatting with someone again.

  “You know, you were right,” she said eventually.

  “About what?”

  “The number of kids in Nostalgia. Or rather, people who look like kids. I’ve already been warned several times to be careful. Young-looking women are very popular there. Especially the ones who look too young. Even if they’re fifty. Or a hundred. See? I told you—it’s a nest of creeps and pedos.”

  “Some local afterlife fetish, apparently,” Noah mused. “Find anything else?”

  “Yeah. There aren’t many people my age in the Regia. We’re basically a rare species. And it’s even rarer for family members to reunite after death. Statistically tiny odds, but not impossible. See, families rarely die together. Even if they do, the odds that all of them pass Gaudemunda’s test are slim. And even then, they’d leave the Dream Sphere at different times. They’d arrive here at different times. Maybe different places. And remember what happened at that tiny station in the middle of nowhere?”

  “Not everyone who passes the test arrives in the Regia,” Noah nodded.

  “Exactly. I… may have bragged a little online about arriving here with my brother,” Beata admitted, reddening slightly. “Nobody believed me. I’m guessing that guy with the ridiculous hat didn’t either.”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Mateo,” Noah muttered, distracted.

  “Yeah. That one.”

  “So, according to your family-reunion theory,” he continued slowly, “that woman in our building had almost no chance of meeting her husband here. Especially if she was already ill. That lowers the probability even further.”

  “Are you sure she’s actually his wife?” Beata asked.

  “He called her his wife. Seemed genuinely concerned. She neither confirmed nor denied it. I had no reason to doubt him. Until now.”

  He set the book down and stood.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get a consultation from our helpful librarian.”

  ***

  Hermes was again absent from the desk, forcing Noah to ring the bell once more. It worked flawlessly—within thirty seconds, the librarian appeared, lantern in hand.

  “Your reading speed is impressive,” Hermes joked. “Four books in under three hours.”

  “And now I’d like that consultation nobody ever asks for,” Noah said. “I intend to be the first.”

  “How intriguing. Perhaps there’s a library sport I’m unaware of…” Hermes sat and switched on his monitor. “How may I assist you?”

  “Do you know any illnesses that can carry over here after death?”

  “To the Flow?” Hermes clarified. “From the living world? There are none.”

  “Are you certain? You didn’t even check.”

  “There’s nothing to check,” Hermes smiled. “You won’t find a single medical encyclopedia in the Regia’s libraries. This is the Flow. Physical illnesses do not exist here. Nor will you find hospitals or doctors.”

  “None at all? Not even psychiatrists?”

  “I’m sure there are psychiatrists among the citizens,” Hermes said calmly. “But they likely do not practice. As I said, physical disease belongs to the physical world. Once here, it becomes irrelevant.”

  “What about Alzheimer’s? Dementia?”

  “Just a neurological limitation,” Hermes replied patiently. “If someone dies with such conditions, their memory may initially be fragmented. But once here, cognitive processes restore almost instantly. There are even a few treatises on the matter. I could retrieve copies...”

  “And what about intellectual disability?” Noah ignored the offer. “Wait, don’t tell me… Such a person wouldn’t pass Gaudemunda’s test, right?”

  “Exactly so,” the librarian nodded. “Such test participants are usually sent to the estuary of the Flow… Are you asking because you have a specific case in mind?”

  “One of my neighbors has a certain disorder…” Noah nodded. “Her husband claims she died already ill and that the mental illness carried over here…” He scratched his head. “Listen, is there any information about the zero IP category and its characteristics?”

  “The zero IP category?” Hermes looked at Noah with slight surprise. “You are well informed for a complete newcomer.”

  “I have… moderately reliable sources.”

  Alicia and Everest. He wasn’t ready to call FIC officers over a suspicion.

  “Zero category is rare,” Hermes said. “But not a disease. It’s a severe reduction of memories and skills after surviving an attack. The physical-world equivalent would be cognitive impairment, but less obvious. Zero-category individuals are still considered full citizens. You likely wouldn’t notice the difference.”

  “So her case is something else,” Noah muttered.

  “I haven’t seen her myself,” Hermes said, spreading his palms. “But if you truly believe you’ve discovered a medical anomaly, you might contact the Guild of Flow Physics. Or journalists.”

  ***

  “We have to contact journalists!” Beata declared after hearing Noah’s summary. “Imagine if it’s a rare, unknown phenomenon and her story becomes a sensation! Maybe we’d get a reward—or even our own computers!”

  “Will you stop with the computers?” Noah sighed. “You already have a phone, a TV, and a tablet.”

  “Yeah, right. A tablet with conditions...” she muttered, giving him a stink eye.

  “I feel like this is when we should call Everest or Alicia… but I don’t want to bother them without something solid.”

  “Do you really think Oliver is doing something to his wife?” Beata asked more seriously. “Doesn’t it sound ridiculous? We met Audrie Deveraux two days ago, and now another crime? In the same building where Everest registered us? Is this a cosmic joke?”

  “Yeah… when you put it like that…”

  “Exactly! Unless Everest deliberately registered us in some dump nobody else wanted. You know, I bet he did exactly that. Probably a payback for all those birds and mammals…”

  “Or maybe Hermes is right,” Noah said. “Maybe we are overthinking, and it really is a medical case no one understands yet…”

  He didn’t believe his own words.

  There was something else. Something small. Something that had slipped past all sixteen of his IP. So small it had gone unnoticed, but left a strange feeling.

  “It’s one in the afternoon,” he checked his phone, rising. “Oliver should still be at work. We should go back and check on that woman again.”

  “Seriously? Call Everest instead, he should check for us,” Beata protested. “I’m telling you, it’s that cursed agent’s fault! We should’ve moved cities! …Hey. Wait. I’m coming too!”

  ***

  They left the library after only four hours. A bit surprised, Hermes raised an eyebrow and reminded them that their room would remain reserved for the next four days.

  On the first floor, Beata said goodbye to Zeta, who was still gaming and responded only with an irritated grunt.

  As they walked down the avenue, Noah tried to replay every moment following his encounter with Oliver’s wife. His memory was nearly photographic, and details were abundant. Unfortunately, sixteen IP did not guarantee perfect interpretation. The strange unease could have been connected to anything, even to a much earlier experience.

  No, wait… The unease must have begun when the information itself shifted. Something had connected subconsciously. And there had been relatively few such moments. The encounter with the sick woman and her husband. Beata rushing into my apartment after the tablet. Then the library. The conversation with Zeta, the conversation with Hermes. Another conversation with Hermes in the private room. Beata’s comment about Nostalgia’s creeps. Beata’s theory about family members, which forced me to rethink Oliver’s wife’s situation all over again. The consultation with Hermes. Another conversation with Beata in the private room — and the unease…

  No, wait… That unease had existed earlier, before returning to the private room. So, Hermes? What exactly did Hermes say that could have caused it? Or perhaps it was something he left unsaid?..

  The steps into Bruno Tower’s foyer broke Noah’s thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed they were home.

  He was about to head for the elevator when he froze.

  At the other end of the foyer, the elevator stood wide open. Noah recognized the man inside immediately. Oliver. Back from work much earlier than yesterday. Shoulders hunched. Eyes fixed on his phone.

  “Wait! Hold the door!” Beata called to him, quickening her pace.

  Oliver looked up at her. Then at Noah. As the doors began to close, he did not try to stop them. He simply watched like an owl until the doors shut completely.

  The elevator went up.