Open.

She opened her eyes. Now on the panel in front of her there were two large dials and a single toggle-switch where before there had been rheostats and flashing lights. The dials looked to be made of Bakelite, like the oven-dials on her mother's stove back in the house where Susannah had grown up. She supposed there was no surprise there; all you imagined, no matter how wild it might seem, was no more than a disguised version of what you already knew. mother's stove back in the house where Susannah had grown up. She supposed there was no surprise there; all you imagined, no matter how wild it might seem, was no more than a disguised version of what you already knew.

The dial on her left was labeled EMOTIONAL TEMP EMOTIONAL TEMP. The markings on it ran from 32 to 212 (32 in blue; 212 in bright red). It was currently set at 160. The dial in the middle was marked LABOR FORCE LABOR FORCE. The numbers around its face went from 0 to 10, and it was currently turned to 9. The label under the toggle-switch simply read CHAP CHAP, and there were only two settings: AWAKE AWAKE and and ASLEEP ASLEEP. It was currently set to AWAKE AWAKE.

Susannah looked up and saw one of the screens was now showing a baby in utero. in utero. It was a boy. A It was a boy. A beautiful beautiful boy. His tiny penis floated like a strand of kelp below the lazy curl of his umbilical cord. His eyes were open, and although the rest of the image was black and white, those eyes were a piercing blue. The chap's gaze seemed to go right through her. boy. His tiny penis floated like a strand of kelp below the lazy curl of his umbilical cord. His eyes were open, and although the rest of the image was black and white, those eyes were a piercing blue. The chap's gaze seemed to go right through her.

They're Roland's eyes, she thought, feeling stupid with wonder. she thought, feeling stupid with wonder. How can that be? How can that be?

It couldn't, of course. All this was nothing but the work of her own imagination, a visualization technique. But if so, why would she imagine Roland's blue eyes? Why not Eddie's hazel ones? Why not her husband's hazel eyes?

No time for that now. Do what you have to do.

She reached out to EMOTIONAL TEMP EMOTIONAL TEMP with her lower lip caught between her teeth (on the monitor showing the park bench, Mia also began biting her lower lip). She hesitated, then dialed it back to 72, exactly as if it was a thermostat. And wasn't it? with her lower lip caught between her teeth (on the monitor showing the park bench, Mia also began biting her lower lip). She hesitated, then dialed it back to 72, exactly as if it was a thermostat. And wasn't it?

Calm immediately filled her. She relaxed in her chair and let her lip escape the grip of her teeth. On the park monitor, the black woman did the same. All right, so far, so good.

She hesitated for a moment with her hand not quite touching the LABOR FORCE LABOR FORCE dial, then moved on to dial, then moved on to CHAP CHAP instead. She flipped the toggle from instead. She flipped the toggle from AWAKE AWAKE to to ASLEEP ASLEEP. The baby's eyes closed immediately. Susannah found this something of a relief. Those blue eyes were disconcerting.

All right, back to LABOR FORCE LABOR FORCE. Susannah thought this was the important one, what Eddie would call the Big Casino. She took hold of the old-fashioned dial, applied a little experimental force, and was not exactly surprised to find the clunky thing dully resistant in its socket. It didn't want to turn.

But you will, Susannah thought. Susannah thought. Because we need you to. We Because we need you to. We need need you to. you to.

She grasped it tightly and began turning it slowly counter-clockwise. A pain went through her head and she grimaced. Another momentarily constricted her throat, as if she'd gotten a fishbone stuck in there, but then both pains cleared. To her right an entire bank of lights flashed on, most of them amber, a few bright red.

"WARNING," said a voice that sounded eerily like that of Blaine the Mono. "THIS OPERATION MAY EXCEED SAFETY PARAMETERS."

No shit, Sherlock, Susannah thought. The Susannah thought. The LABOR FORCE LABOR FORCE dial was now down to 6. When she turned it past 5, another bank of amber and red lights flashed on, and three of the monitors showing Calla scenes shorted out with sizzling pops. Another pain gripped her head like invisible pressing fingers. From somewhere beneath her came the start-up whine of motors or turbines. Big ones, from the sound. She could feel them thrumming against her feet, which were bare, of course-Mia had gotten the shoes. dial was now down to 6. When she turned it past 5, another bank of amber and red lights flashed on, and three of the monitors showing Calla scenes shorted out with sizzling pops. Another pain gripped her head like invisible pressing fingers. From somewhere beneath her came the start-up whine of motors or turbines. Big ones, from the sound. She could feel them thrumming against her feet, which were bare, of course-Mia had gotten the shoes. Oh well, Oh well, she thought, she thought, I didn't have any feet at all before this, so maybe I'm ahead of the game. I didn't have any feet at all before this, so maybe I'm ahead of the game.

"WARNING," said the mechanical voice. "WHAT YOU'RE DOING IS DANGEROUS, SUSANNAH OF NEW YORK. HEAR ME I BEG. IT'S NOT NICE TO FOOL MOTHER NATURE."

One of Roland's proverbs occurred to her: You do what you you need to, and I'll do what need to, and I'll do what I I need to, and we'll see who gets the goose. She wasn't sure what it meant, but it seemed to fit this situation, so she repeated it aloud as she slowly but steadily turned the need to, and we'll see who gets the goose. She wasn't sure what it meant, but it seemed to fit this situation, so she repeated it aloud as she slowly but steadily turned the LABOR FORCE LABOR FORCE dial past 4, to 3 ... dial past 4, to 3 ...

She meant to turn the dial all the way back to 1, but the pain which ripped through her head when the absurd thing passed 2 was so huge-so passed 2 was so huge-so sickening sickening-that she dropped her hand.

For a moment the pain continued-intensified, even-and she thought it would kill her. Mia would topple off the bench where she was sitting, and both of them would be dead before their shared body hit the concrete in front of the turtle sculpture. Tomorrow or the next day, her remains would take a quick trip to Potter's Field. And what would go on the death certificate? Stroke? Heart attack? Or maybe that old standby of the medical man in a hurry, natural causes?

But the pain subsided and she was still alive when it did. She sat in front of the console with the two ridiculous dials and the toggle-switch, taking deep breaths and wiping the sweat from her cheeks with both hands. Boy-howdy, when it came to visualization technique, she had to be the champ of the world.

This is more than visualization-you know that, right?

She supposed she did. Something had changed her-had changed all of them. Jake had gotten the touch, which was a kind of telepathy. Eddie had grown (was still growing) into some sort of ability to create powerful, talismanic objects-one of them had already served to open a door between two worlds. And she?

I ... see. That's all. Except if I see it hard enough, it starts to be real. The way Detta Walker got to be real.

All over this version of the Dogan, amber lights were glowing. Even as she looked, some turned red. Beneath her feet-special guest feet, she thought them-the floor trembled and thrummed. Enough of this and cracks would start to appear in its elderly surface. Cracks that would widen and deepen. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the House of Usher.

Susannah got up from the chair and looked around. She should go back. Was there anything else that needed doing before she did?

One thing occurred to her.

THREE.

Susannah closed her eyes and imagined a radio mike. When she opened them the mike was there, standing on the console to the right of the two dials and the toggle-switch. She had imagined a Zenith trademark, right down to the lightning-bolt Z, on the microphone's base, but NORTH CENTRAL POSITRONICS NORTH CENTRAL POSITRONICS had been stamped there, instead. So something was messing in with her visualization technique. She found that extremely scary. had been stamped there, instead. So something was messing in with her visualization technique. She found that extremely scary.

On the control panel directly behind the microphone was a semicircular, tri-colored readout with the words S SUSANNAH-MIO printed below it. A needle was moving out of the green and into the yellow. Beyond the yellow segment the dial turned red, and a single word was printed in black: printed below it. A needle was moving out of the green and into the yellow. Beyond the yellow segment the dial turned red, and a single word was printed in black: D DANGER.

Susannah picked up the mike, saw no way to use it, closed her eyes again, and imagined a toggle-switch like the one-marked with AWAKE AWAKE and and ASLEEP ASLEEP, only this time on the side of the mike. When she opened her eyes again, the switch was there. She pressed it.

"Eddie," she said. She felt a little foolish, but went on, anyway. "Eddie, if you hear me, I'm okay, at least for the time being. I'm with Mia, in New York. It's June first of 1999, and I'm going to try and help her have the baby. I don't see any other choice. If nothing else, I have to be rid of it myself. Eddie, you take care of yourself. I ..." Her eyes welled with tears. "I love you, sugar. So much."

The tears spilled down her cheeks. She started to wipe them away and then stopped herself. Didn't she have a right to cry for her man? As much right as any other woman?

She waited for a response, knowing she could make one if she wanted to and resisting the urge. This wasn't a situation where talking to herself in Eddie's voice would do any good.

Suddenly her vision doubled in front of her eyes. She saw the Dogan for the unreal shade that it was. Beyond its walls were not the deserty wastelands on the east side of the Whye but Second Avenue with its rushing traffic.

Mia had opened her eyes. She was feeling fine again-thanks to me, honeybunch, thanks to me-and was ready to move on.

Susannah went back.

FOUR.

A black woman (who still thought of herself as a Negro woman) was sitting on a bench in New York City in the spring of '99. A black woman with her traveling bags-her gunna-spread around her. One of them was a faded red. NOTHING BUT STRIKES AT MIDTOWN LANES was printed on it. It had been pink on the other side. The color of the rose. was printed on it. It had been pink on the other side. The color of the rose.

Mia stood up. Susannah promptly came forward came forward and made her sit down again. and made her sit down again.

What did you do that for? Mia asked, surprised. Mia asked, surprised.

I don't know, I don't have a clue. But let's us palaver a little. Why don't you start by telling me where you want to go?

I need a telefung. Someone will call.

Telephone, Susannah said. And by the way, there's blood on our shirt, sugar, Margaret Eisenhart's blood, and sooner or later someone's gonna recognize it for what it is. Then where will you be? And by the way, there's blood on our shirt, sugar, Margaret Eisenhart's blood, and sooner or later someone's gonna recognize it for what it is. Then where will you be?

The response to this was wordless, a swell of smiling contempt. It made Susannah angry. Five minutes ago-or maybe fifteen, it was hard to keep track of time when you were having fun-this hijacking bitch had been screaming for help. And now that she'd gotten it, what her rescuer got was an internal contemptuous smile. What made it worse was that the bitch was right: she could probably stroll around Midtown all day without anyone asking her if that was dried blood on her shirt, or had she maybe just spilled her chocolate egg-cream.

All right, she said, she said, but even if nobody bothers you about the blood, where are you going to store your goods? but even if nobody bothers you about the blood, where are you going to store your goods? Then another question occurred to her, one that probably should have come to her right away. Then another question occurred to her, one that probably should have come to her right away.

Mia, how do you even know what a telephone is? And don't tell me they have em where you came from, either.

No response. Only a kind of watchful silence. But she had wiped the smile off the bitch's face; she'd done that much.

You have friends, don't you? Or at least you think they're friends. Folks you've been talking to behind my back. Folks that'll help you. Or so you think.

Are you you going to help me or not? going to help me or not? Back to that. And angry. But beneath the anger, what? Fright? Probably that was too strong, at least for now. But worry, certainly. Back to that. And angry. But beneath the anger, what? Fright? Probably that was too strong, at least for now. But worry, certainly. How long have I-have we-got before the labor starts up again? How long have I-have we-got before the labor starts up again?

Susannah guessed somewhere between six and ten hours-certainly before midnight saw in June second-but tried to keep this to herself.

I don't know. Not all that long.

Then we have to get started. I have to find a telefung. Phone. Phone. In a private place. In a private place.

Susannah thought there was a hotel at the First Avenue end of Forty-sixth Street, and tried to keep this to herself. Her eyes went back to the bag, once pink, now red, and suddenly she understood. Not everything, but enough to dismay and anger her.

I'll leave it here, Mia had said, speaking of the ring Eddie had made her, Mia had said, speaking of the ring Eddie had made her, I'll leave it here, where he'll find it. Later, if ka wills, you may wear it again. I'll leave it here, where he'll find it. Later, if ka wills, you may wear it again.

Not a promise, exactly, at least not a direct one, but Mia had certainly implied implied- Dull anger surged through Susannah's mind. No, she'd not promised. She had simply led Susannah in a certain direction, and Susannah had done the rest.

She didn't cozen me; she let me cozen myself.

Mia stood up again, and once again Susannah came forward came forward and made her sit down. Hard, this time. and made her sit down. Hard, this time.

What? Susannah, you promised! The chap- I'll help you with the chap, Susannah replied grimly. She bent forward and picked up the red bag. The bag with the box inside it. And inside the box? The ghostwood box with Susannah replied grimly. She bent forward and picked up the red bag. The bag with the box inside it. And inside the box? The ghostwood box with UNFOUND UNFOUND written upon it in runes? She could feel a baleful pulse even through the layer of magical wood and cloth which hid it. Black Thirteen was in the bag. Mia had taken it through the door. And if it was the ball that opened the door, how could Eddie get to her now? written upon it in runes? She could feel a baleful pulse even through the layer of magical wood and cloth which hid it. Black Thirteen was in the bag. Mia had taken it through the door. And if it was the ball that opened the door, how could Eddie get to her now?

I did what I had to, Mia said nervously. Mia said nervously. It's my baby, my It's my baby, my chap, and every hand is against me now. Every hand but yours, and you only help me because you have to. Remember what I said ... if ka wills, I said chap, and every hand is against me now. Every hand but yours, and you only help me because you have to. Remember what I said ... if ka wills, I said- It was Detta Walker's voice that replied. It was harsh and crude and brooked no argument. "I don't give a shit bout ka," she said, "and you bes be rememberin dat. You got problems, girl. Got a rug-monkey comin you don't know what it is. Got folks say they'll he'p you and you don't know what dey dey are. Shit, you doan even know what a telephone is or where to find one. Now we goan sit here, and you're goan tell me what happens next. We goan palaver, girl, and if you don't play straight, we still be sittin here with these bags come nightfall and you can have your precious chap on this bench and wash him off in the fuckin fountain." are. Shit, you doan even know what a telephone is or where to find one. Now we goan sit here, and you're goan tell me what happens next. We goan palaver, girl, and if you don't play straight, we still be sittin here with these bags come nightfall and you can have your precious chap on this bench and wash him off in the fuckin fountain."

The woman on the bench bared her teeth in a gruesome smile that was all Detta Walker.

"You care bout dat chap ... and Susannah, she care a care bout dat chap ... and Susannah, she care a little little bout dat chap ... but I been mos'ly turned out of this body, and I ... don't ... bout dat chap ... but I been mos'ly turned out of this body, and I ... don't ... give give a shit." a shit."

A woman pushing a stroller (it looked as divinely lightweight as Susannah's abandoned wheelchair) gave the woman on the bench a nervous glance and then pushed her own baby onward, so fast she was nearly running.

"So!" Detta said brightly. "It's be purty out here, don't you think? Good weather for talkin. You hear me, mamma?"

No reply from Mia, daughter of none and mother of one. Detta wasn't put out of countenance; her grin widened.

"You hear me, all right; you hear me just fahn. fahn. So let's us have a little chat. Let's us palaver." So let's us have a little chat. Let's us palaver."

STAVE: Commala-come-ko Commala-come-ko Whatcha doin at my do'?

If you doan tell me now, my friend, I'll lay ya on de flo'.

RESPONSE: Commala-come fo'! Commala-come fo'!

I can lay ya low!

The things I done to such as you You never want to know.

5TH STANZA.

THE TURTLE.

ONE.

Mia said: Talking will be easier-quicker and clearer, too-if we do it face-to-face. Talking will be easier-quicker and clearer, too-if we do it face-to-face.

How can we? Susannah asked. Susannah asked.

We'll have our palaver in the castle, Mia replied promptly. Mia replied promptly. The Castle on the Abyss. In the banquet room. Do you remember the banquet room? The Castle on the Abyss. In the banquet room. Do you remember the banquet room?

Susannah nodded, but hesitantly. Her memories of the banquet room were but recently recovered, and consequently vague. She wasn't sorry, either. Mia's feeding there had been ... well, enthusiastic, to say the very least. She'd eaten from many plates (mostly with her fingers) and drunk from many glasses and spoken to many phantoms in many borrowed voices. Borrowed? Hell, stolen stolen voices. Two of these Susannah had known quite well. One had been Odetta Holmes's nervous-and rather hoity-toity-"social" voice. Another had been Detta's raucous who-gives-a-shit bellow. Mia's thievery had extended to every aspect of Susannah's personality, it seemed, and if Detta Walker was back, pumped up and ready to cut butt, that was in large part this unwelcome stranger's doing. voices. Two of these Susannah had known quite well. One had been Odetta Holmes's nervous-and rather hoity-toity-"social" voice. Another had been Detta's raucous who-gives-a-shit bellow. Mia's thievery had extended to every aspect of Susannah's personality, it seemed, and if Detta Walker was back, pumped up and ready to cut butt, that was in large part this unwelcome stranger's doing.

The gunslinger saw me there, Mia said. Mia said. The boy, too. The boy, too.

There was a pause. Then: I have met them both before.

Who? Jake and Roland?

Aye, they.

Where? When? How could y- We can't speak here. Please. Let us go somewhere more private.

Someplace with a phone, isn't that what you mean? So your friends can call you.

I only know a little, Susannah of New York, but what little I know, I think you would hear.

Susannah thought so, too. And although she didn't necessarily want Mia to realize it, she was also anxious to get off Second Avenue. The stuff on her shirt might look like spilled egg-cream or dried coffee to the casual passerby, but Susannah herself was acutely aware of what it was: not just blood, but the blood of a brave woman who had stood true on behalf of her town's children.

And there were the bags spread around her feet. She'd seen plenty of bag-folken in New York, aye. Now she felt like one herself, and she didn't like the feeling. She'd been raised to better, as her mother would have said. Each time someone passing on the sidewalk or cutting through the little park gave her a glance, she felt like telling them she wasn't crazy in spite of how she looked: stained shirt, dirty face, hair too long and in disarray, no purse, only those three bags at her feet. Homeless, aye-had anyone ever been as homeless as she, not just out of house but out of time itself?-but in her right mind. She needed to palaver with Mia and get an understanding of what all this was about, that was true. What she in New York, aye. Now she felt like one herself, and she didn't like the feeling. She'd been raised to better, as her mother would have said. Each time someone passing on the sidewalk or cutting through the little park gave her a glance, she felt like telling them she wasn't crazy in spite of how she looked: stained shirt, dirty face, hair too long and in disarray, no purse, only those three bags at her feet. Homeless, aye-had anyone ever been as homeless as she, not just out of house but out of time itself?-but in her right mind. She needed to palaver with Mia and get an understanding of what all this was about, that was true. What she wanted wanted was much simpler: to wash, to put on fresh clothes, and to be out of public view for at least a little while. was much simpler: to wash, to put on fresh clothes, and to be out of public view for at least a little while.