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Page 67<br />
__________<br />
There was a noticeable difference in the humidity, the quality of the light, the very<br />
taste of the air. We'd gone much further than crosstown. I found I'd already mastered how<br />
to take a breath just before the jump to minimize that crushed-lung sensation, so I<br />
recovered quickly. Keeping up with Commander Future, who was already walking quickly,<br />
seemed important. "Where are we?" I asked. Looking around, it appeared to be an upscale<br />
neighborhood, but the architecture was unfamiliar.<br />
"London. Notting Hill." I stopped a moment when he said it, startled, then hurried<br />
to catch up. He was already climbing the front steps of a four-story house. "This is why<br />
we're here." He stopped me halfway up the steps, one arm out. "Can you hear it?"<br />
I listened to the street sounds you'd expect in a late afternoon posh neighborhood<br />
but nothing else. "No. What am I supposed to be hearing?"<br />
"Get closer," he said, moving his arm. He walked up the last few steps and pressed<br />
his ear flat against the door. Motioned for me to do the same. It sounded like a waterfall<br />
inside.<br />
I stepped back. The sound was so wrong, so out of place, that it triggered a basic<br />
fight-or-flight in me. "What is that?"<br />
He grabbed the front doorknob, which suddenly lit up from the inside, scanning him<br />
for identification before it opened with a click. "Infinity. Let's have a look."<br />
__________<br />
The foyer of the house featured an open plan, straight up, all four floors. Windows<br />
everywhere, letting in as much light as possible. Striking, but ordinary in fashion, it must<br />
have been a wonderful place for a family. It looked like no family had lived in the house for<br />
a while, though, with no furniture or photos or indications of normal life.<br />
A desk sat in the middle of the foyer, and at the desk, a tall whip-thin man with a<br />
grin like a radiator grill and a pointed chin that, taken with his shock of surfer blonde-white<br />
hair, made him look like an exclamation point. He was typing onto the surface of his<br />
antique overused oak barge of a desk, which I thought odd until I got a look at the touchscreen<br />
embedded there.