Across the Universe by Beth Revis Page A

like me than I’d ever care to admit, but no, nothing’s wrong, because if Doc thinks anything is wrong, he’ll just give me more meds. I shake my head.
    Doc doesn’t look convinced. “I know it’s hard on you. You’re different.”
    “I’m not that different.”
    “’Course you are. You know you are.”
    I shrug. The elevator, now empty, returns to the lobby. I want to escape to it, and Doc, mercifully, lets me go.
    Inside the elevator, my hand hovers over the round number four, then slides down to three. If Harley’s off his meds, maybe I should check in on him before searching for the mysterious second elevator.
    My spirits lift with the elevator. Despite Doc, one of my favorite places to be is the Ward. All my friends are here. The elevator bobs to a halt, and the doors slide open to the third-floor common room. I grin so hard it hurts. The Ward feels more like home than any other place on the ship, even if it’s filled with crazy people.
    Paint splatters onto my sleeve; I look up and see that Harley is attacking a canvas, letting his brush flick off the side of it. There’s a ring of splattered red and blue paint all around where he’s sitting.
    “Hey Harley,” I say. “Doc’s looking for you.”
    “Haven’t got time for him”—he spares a glance up at me—“49 and 267,” he says before turning back to the canvas and attacking it with his paintbrush again. I grin wryly. You can count on Harley to know exactly when the ship’s going to land. Most people—I mean, most people in the Ward—keep track of the time until the ship lands, but I bet if I asked, Harley would know not only the years (49) and days (267) before we land, but also the minutes and seconds.
    I dodge the flying paint and peer around to see what he’s painting. A koi fish floats in a sea of bright blue, but the light from the fish’s scales and the sparkles on the water’s surface intermingle, as if the fish is a part of the water and the water is a part of the fish. Harley’s used these amazing colors—colors that no one else would think of. The fish’s eyes are bright, bright green, almost yellow, like jade swirled with gold. The scales are shiny and bright, too, but they’re all edged in blood red that looks like it should clash with the lighter colors, but it doesn’t. The red makes it seem more real, somehow, as if the water could spill from the canvas and the fish could swim past our feet.
    “I like this,” I tell Harley after a long moment. “I mean it; this is frexing good.”
    Harley grunts. He’s in his painting mood, and there’s not really much point in talking to him. Doc will have a hard time giving him his meds, even when he inevitably finds him.
    All around me, a subtle form of chaos flowers. This whole room is filled with creativity and art. It’s actually a pretty brilly place to be. Except now, when everyone’s all busy with their own stuff. I’m starting to feel like I’m a bit of a chutz just standing here while everyone’s so intent on their own work.
    “See you,” I say, but Harley doesn’t notice.
    A pang of guilt bites at my stomach as I reenter the elevator and head to the fourth floor. Eldest wanted me to research the third cause of discord, and I’m definitely not doing that.
    But lies are a cause of discord, too , I think sullenly as the elevator opens.
    The fourth floor is silent. I go past the doors on the left and right, straight to the end of the hall. I put my hand on the doorknob. It’ll be locked. All the doors on the fourth floor are locked. I’ve been here before, tried them all before.
    But the knob twists under my hand, just like Orion said it would, to reveal a small room that contains a desk, a metal box, and, against the far wall—
    Another elevator.
    Above the call button is a biometric scanner. I half expect to be blocked. Eldest has banned me from his chambers and the engine room on the Shipper Level. Even though I have total access to the rest of the ship, I