"In this building," Thaddeus explained, "you'll find the library, the seminar rooms, the staff offices, and the microbiology labs. The residential wing is connected to it, and is where some of our students live. There's a separate block where you'll find the dining hall and the sports facilities. We call the dining hall our refectory," he added.
"I'd like to see that," said Lanna, who was getting restless. (She didn't want to miss her plane.)
"Well, perhaps we'll start there," Thaddeus politely offered. "It's a brand-new building." He ushered them through a couple of doors and out into the sunshine again. Across a bright green lawn lay a carefully planned parking lot, and beyond the lot lay "C" block. It looked exactly like a gigantic, balled-up piece of aluminum foil caught on the teeth of a monumental white comb.
"Very modern," said Stuart doubtfully.
"Extraordinary, isn't it?" Thaddeus beamed. "A brilliant piece of engineering." He headed off along a covered breezeway, narrowly avoiding a person who was scurrying toward the seminary building with his head down. Cadel could see nobody else except a gardener mowing the lawn.
"Not much action during the Christmas break," Thaddeus remarked. He pushed open a door that, though it may have looked like crumpled foil, seemed very heavy indeed—and was fitted with a remarkable series of locks, Cadel noticed. Immediately inside it was a security scanner ("An unhappy necessity, in these troubled times," Thaddeus lamented), past which they were forced to proceed one at a time. Beyond the scanner, Cadel was amazed to find himself on a walkway suspended above a large expanse of polished wood flooring. Someone below him was bouncing a basketball; this person wore a skin-tight, body-length black leotard with flames emblazoned on it. The noise of pounding feet echoed off the ceiling.
"Our basketball courts," Thaddeus observed. "Yoga classes are also held here, together with several martial arts courses—tae kwon do and so forth. The gymnasium is to your right, as you can see. We have some remarkable gymnasts. There's also an archery club, a shooting club, boxing—"
"What about football?" Stuart wanted to know. "Soccer? Rugby?"
"Unfortunately, our football teams have yet to materialize. This way, please."
Thaddeus walked on through a couple of glass doors and into a corridor. Cadel noticed several things about this corridor: It smelled of food, its carpet bore a large, circular burn-mark at about the halfway point, and it resounded with the distant noise of clanking crockery.
He saw why when they reached the door at its end and entered a spacious cafe, all tiles and Formica. The color scheme was chiefly black and red, with touches of white. Behind glass sat stainless-steel tubs full of steaming shepherd's pie, gray peas floating sluggishly in hot water, pale fillets of fish, battered objects in a gluey plum sauce. There was an array of limp sandwiches wrapped in cellophane, a selection of sticky muffins, and a case full of cold drinks.
The women behind the counter were forbidding, their faces set in a permanent expression of brooding discontent.
"Well!" said Mrs. Piggott brightly. Thaddeus fingered his chin.
"This is the dining hall section," he pointed out. "There's also a kitchen from which you can order more expensive food—the menu's right here." He plucked it from a box near the cash register. "Salads, you see. A noodle soup. Focaccia. The faculty tend to use the kitchen service. Ah." Someone had caught his eye. "Let me introduce you to a member of our staff."
It was now half past one, and the tables were mostly occupied. Cadel spotted a few clusters of people, but the majority of the diners were sitting alone. There was a huge, hulking figure with greasy dark hair and a face like a moldy potato; another pasty young man staring fixedly at a girl in camouflage colors; a bald youth swathed in an ankle-length blue cloak. Thaddeus ushered his guests over to a couple of people who looked fairly normal by comparison. "This is Carla, who teaches microbiology," he said, "and this is my friend Art, who runs a course on the finer things in life. You'll notice his rather splendid English wardrobe."
Carla was a small, neat, black-haired woman with bright red lipstick. She wore a white lab coat, and her expression was angry as she caught sight of Thaddeus—possibly because, with Thaddeus around, she could no longer scold the man who sat opposite her. This man, Art, was also small, but he appeared to be far more gentle and reasonable than Carla. He was quite old, with wispy gray hair and thick glasses. His teeth, when he smiled, were yellow and crooked. He wore a vest and a bow tie.
"Thaddeus," he murmured.
"This is Cadel," said Thaddeus. "He's considering Axis as an option for the coming year."
"Is he indeed?"
"And these are his parents, Stuart and Lanna."
Art rose to shake hands with Mr. and Mrs. Piggott, who were obviously reassured by this mild-looking, professorial man. Briskly, Carla also rose. She had left most of a chocolate croissant on her plate.
"Afternoon," she said to the Piggotts. "Have you considered my proposal, Thaddeus?"
"It's next on my list, Carla."
She sniffed, stuffing a cigarette packet into the pocket of her lab coat. Cadel felt Thaddeus recoil, then wondered if he had imagined it. Carla frowned at Art, adding, "Just don't forget. All right?"
"I won't forget," Art responded peaceably.
Carla turned. She marched off at a rapid pace, while Art and Thaddeus exchanged glances.
"Quite a strong personality," Thaddeus remarked to Stuart, by way of explanation. "Brilliant mind, though."
"You're not thinking of doing microbiology, are you, son?" Stuart inquired of Cadel, who shook his head.
"Cadel
might
like to consider accounting, however," Thaddeus observed. "As a secondary elective. If he does, he'll be taught by Brendan Graham, over there." Thaddeus pointed at a red-haired man in a white shirt and green tie, whose attention was fixed on a notebook in front of him. With one hand he was scribbling in the notebook, while with the other, he spooned some kind of pudding into his mouth.
"Brendan," said Thaddeus, "is a genius with numbers. An absolute genius. He has Asperger's syndrome, which is a mild form of autism, so he lives, eats, and breathes numbers. The whole world is a balance sheet, for him. We find him an excellent teacher, though quirky of course."
"Quirky?" Lanna repeated.
"Well, he often has trouble remembering names," Thaddeus confessed. "Especially students' names. So he tends to call everyone by a particular number."
"Really?" said Lanna. Intrigued, Cadel glanced up at Thaddeus.
"What's your number, then?" he asked.
Thaddeus looked down his long nose at Cadel.
"Oh, he remembers
my
name," Thaddeus replied calmly. "He always remembers
my
name. And speaking of names ..." He suddenly reached out to catch the arm of a tall, blond woman who was clicking across the room in stiletto heels. "You may remember Tracey Lane, who worked for channel seven a few years back. She's on our staff now."
Cadel didn't remember Tracey—he was too young—but Lanna and Stuart did. Lanna gushed and Stuart mumbled as Cadel studied Tracey's makeup. It was even more heavily applied than Lanna's. Tracey's face was like a gleaming mask; it hardly moved, even when she was talking. Her carefully arranged hair looked as if it was held in place by a coating of lacquer.
Cadel had never seen such long fingernails in his life.
"Pleased to meet you," Tracey murmured, after being introduced to Cadel. She had a deep, breathy voice. "Welcome to the institute. I just
know
you'll be happy here." Though she smiled and said all the right things, it was rather like talking to a robot. Her wide green eyes were perfectly blank. "Are you enrolled in my elective?"
"Not this time, Tracey," Thaddeus replied. If Tracey was disappointed, she didn't show it. Instead, she remarked that she had to be getting on, that she hoped they would enjoy the rest of their visit, that it had been so nice to meet them, that they would have to excuse her...
"What a lovely person." Lanna sighed, watching Tracey clatter away. "I can't believe she's not on TV anymore."
"Neither can she," said Thaddeus, lifting one eyebrow a fraction.
"You'll have to do her course one day, Cadel."
Cadel grunted. He realized that, as far as Lanna was concerned, the Axis Institute was the right place to be. If Tracey was on staff, how could anyone fail to benefit? Lanna's doting expression said it all.
"Right," Thaddeus remarked. "Anyone want to purchase anything while we're here? No? Let's proceed, then."
They moved out of the refectory and back toward the seminary building. Thaddeus indicated the dormitory wing as they did so, but could see no reason to inspect it since Cadel wouldn't be using those particular facilities. Their next stop was the library, which was in the basement. Thaddeus decided to take an elevator. Positioned to the right of the seminary's main rear door, the elevators appeared to be constructed entirely of gray metal plates, bolted together. Inside each elevator was one glass indicator panel, and push buttons that looked like rivets in a ship's hull.
"Very modern," said Lanna, casting an appraising eye over the decor.
"They were only installed last year," Thaddeus rejoined, punching a button. The doors closed. After a short, smooth ride, they opened again.
Cadel stepped out into a vast space that smelled of books and hot computers.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. He felt instantly at home.
"We're very proud of our library," said Thaddeus with a sweeping gesture. "Below us are two more floors of stacks. Our catalog is fully online. We subscribe to just about every English-language publication there is, plus a great many foreign-language ones. We have our specialties, of course, but that doesn't mean we don't cover all the subject areas. That's the copying room," he remarked with a nod at the door they were passing. Beyond it, a man in overalls was tinkering with one of at least ten photocopiers. "We
do
have an occasional problem with vandalism," Thaddeus admitted, "though mostly our breakdowns are due to technical faults. We have some extremely advanced and complicated machines in there."
"Uh—I have to make a phone call," Stuart interposed. "Can I use my cell phone down here, or will I have to go upstairs again?"
"You don't have to use a cell phone at all," Thaddeus replied graciously. "Feel free to use one of
our
phones."
Gratified, Stuart took advantage of the offer. Lanna retired into the ladies' room. Thaddeus guided Cadel back to the elevators, promising to return in ten minutes. ("We'll just have a quick look at the stacks," Thaddeus explained.) As they stepped into one of the little steel boxes, he murmured, "It really is an excellent library. The genuine article. The stacks are a high-security area, by the way; certain people aren't allowed in.
You
will be, of course. It's a good place to do your research. Very quiet."
The elevator doors closed. Cadel watched the indicator panel. They descended one floor, two floors. Then the metal doors in front of them slid apart.
Cadel was suddenly propelled into a dimly lit aisle that threaded its way between rows and rows of metal bookshelves. There was a musty smell. It was utterly silent, except for the buzzing and clicking of a faulty fluorescent light.
"We have an interesting collection," Thaddeus continued quietly, leading Cadel off to the left. Their shoes slapped against a bare cement floor. "Some of it, as I said, isn't easily accessible. There's a code you'll need to break if you want to consult any of our more, shall we say,
controversial
texts. Some have to be kept at Yarramundi, in the armory."
All at once he froze and stopped talking. Cadel nearly collided with him. Listening hard, Cadel realized that the heavy silence was being disturbed by a faint, snuffling, shuffling noise.
"Hello?" said Thaddeus. His voice seemed very loud.
No one answered.
He advanced a few more steps, with careful deliberation, peering down a few of the shadowy aisles. Cadel stayed put. The ranks of silent, closed books unnerved him; they seemed to be protecting an ominous secret.
Then something tugged at the corner of Cadel's vision—something dark and swift, like a curtain flapping. He turned his head. The adjacent aisle was wrapped in darkness. But was there a movement—a faint movement—on the floor? A shadow unfolding against more shadows?
"Thaddeus!" he gasped.
"I'm coming," Thaddeus said. A few long strides brought him back to Cadel, who was now huddled against the wall beside the elevator.
"I thought I saw something," Cadel faltered, and Thaddeus frowned. "It wasn't a person. I don't think so, anyway. It was more like a—a—I don't know. Like a snake, or a crocodile..."
"If it was a crocodile, I'll have someone's guts for garters," Thaddeus announced crossly. "There's a rule about crocodiles.
And
snakes. And anything else that might be venomous or carnivorous."
Then he pressed the
UP
button, and an elevator arrived.
From the library, Thaddeus took Cadel and his adoptive parents up to the first floor. Here they went in search of Dr. Vee, the man described by Thaddeus as a "computer whiz." Proceeding down a long corridor, they passed a couple of scorch marks, some evidence of water damage, enough digital and laser-alarm locks to furnish the Pentagon, and many doors bearing the names of teaching staff. Thaddeus knocked at the door closest to the emergency exit, but there was no reply. The name-plate above the peephole was inscribed with the letter
V;
underneath it, someone had taped a cartoon that showed a packet of cornflakes standing with a suitcase in one hand and a ticket to Alpha Centauri in the other. The words
UNIVERSAL CEREAL BUSPORT
were written below this drawing.
Cadel laughed.
"Computer joke," he explained to Stuart.
Thaddeus sighed. "No one home," he said. Continuing the search, he led them up a step, around a corner, and through a stairwell, until he came to the entrance of what he called Hardware Heaven. A pair of swinging doors opened into a wide, white room full of computer equipment.