“Hi,” Jo said, stepping into the room. Quin’s eyebrow twitched, which she assumed indicated his surprise. “I’m Jo.”
“Uh, Quin,” he replied, reaching out to shake her hand.
She was relieved he pretended not to recognize her. It was better Nash didn’t know Quin had rescued her from the explosion. He already had enough leverage for them both.
Jo had changed into boots and a jacket, and carried a backpack filled with food and supplies. Quin was also wearing heavy duty boots, which she noticed were surprisingly wet, and clothes designed to be adaptable to the elements.
“Fantastic!” Nash said. “Then we start right away. Jo’s all ready, you’re all ready. Let’s go!”
Jo stepped forward. Part of her was nervous—she had never done anything like this before, and she still wasn’t sure her dad wouldn’t end up screwing her over in the end. On the other hand, it was kind of exciting—exploring new places through these Doors. Plus she would finally get to go to college. She was curious to see what strange people or animals or plants might be on the other side, and if she was going to do this with anyone, Quin seemed like the right person. At least he already knew what he was doing.
“I’ll go first,” Quin said. “Wait two minutes, then follow. That way, if there is anything dangerous on the other side, or if the air isn’t breathable, I can come back and warn you before you step through.”
Jo nodded. She watched Quin step forward and disappear through the Door.
She counted to a hundred, then stepped forward. It was a strange feeling, being in the Door—like she was alive and not alive at the same time, floating but also not floating. And it was so dark she couldn’t see anything except the little sparks behind her eyelids that were probably just neurons in her brain firing—but it only lasted a fraction of a second and she was suddenly… somewhere else. Mason’s house had disappeared along with Mason and Nash, and she stood, knee deep in water, looking out at a muggy, green swamp.
“Not another one,” she heard Quin grumble from in front of her. “What is it with all these stupid swamps? Who on earth would think to themselves, ‘You know where I want to go on vacation every year? A swamp!’ or, ‘You know what would be great? If we bred fire-breathing rats in a swamp!’ Insane people, that’s who!”
Jo couldn’t see any rats from where she stood, but if there were fire-breathing ones, she definitely wanted to. She didn’t care a bit that she was knee-deep in mud—look at the sky, a different sky! One she had never seen—and a different sun! This one was darker than theirs, redder. And the plants—with spikes and spherical flowers and vibrant blueish green leaves, some of them rectangular. Tall trees with straight, purple and grey trunks reached high out of the water. She would have argued with Quin’s grumbling, but Quin mostly appeared to be talking to himself. He had waded a little way out in the swamp, and now turned look at Jo.
“Let’s go back,” he said. “This is worthless.”
“No,” she said. “We need to explore. What are we going to do—go tell Nash, ‘Oh hey, Dad, we ended up in a swamp so we decided to come back without looking around?’ No way.”
Quin stared at her, shoulders squared, about as imposing as a person could look when knee-deep in vile-smelling swamp water.
Jo was shaking in her boots, but luckily Quin couldn’t see inside her boots, so she put on her stubborn face and crossed her arms. She knew if he wanted to, he could toss her over his shoulder and drag her back home. But to her surprise, all he said was, “Fine, then,” and began mucking through the swamp as fast as he could.
Keeping up was hard work, but Jo did her best. As they moved deeper into the swamp, she noted that it didn’t smell that bad—it had become sweet and light, like orange and honey. But the water was still deep, filled with roots and rocks. She fell twice, and was soon up to her shoulders in muck. But instead of finding it uncomfortable or stressful, she found it funny. A surprising bit of laughter began to bubble up inside her. She tried to keep it down, but then, as she watched, Quin tripped and his whole body flew forward—as if in slow motion—and he landed with a huge splash.
She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing, and the laughter came from deep within, a hearty, throaty laugh that shook every part of her. She howled until tears poured down her cheeks.
Quin slowly pulled himself up out of the muck, and when Jo had stopped laughing enough to open her eyes, she could see that Quin wore a small, if sheepish, grin on his face.
“Oops,” was all he said, and before she knew it, she was laughing as if to burst all over again.
She took a few gasping breaths for air and then gestured in front of them. “We should keep going,” she said, still grinning.
“Agreed,” Quin replied, a smile still hovering around his lips. He turned and strode forward through the muck and the water, swiping vines out of their way and trying to avoid the deepest areas of muck. After another few minutes of walking, Quin pointed ahead of them. “I think I see something,” he said, and quickened his pace.
Jo followed, trying not to start laughing again, and was surprised to see a wooden path ahead of them. It was built into the swamp, as if to allow someone to walk over the surface of the water, and it ran perpendicular to the direction they had been travelling.
Quin dragged himself up onto it and then reached down to help Jo up. They stood, dripping, and looked around.
“I guess we should follow the path, then,” Jo said, grinning. She still felt an overwhelming urge to chuckle, but tried to hold it back. She didn’t want Quin thinking she was crazy. “But will we be able to get back to the Door? I don’t want to get lost.”
“I can navigate back,” Quin replied. “Which way?”
Jo looked down the path in both directions, then gestured right.
Quin strode off so quickly that Jo had to jog to keep up.
Jo passed the time by observing the plants. At first, she thought they looked like normal hot weather plants—and after all, she had only gotten to basic perennials and vegetables in her horticultural studies. But when she looked more carefully, she noticed that there was one viney plant that grew in and around all the other plants. It wove through the water plants, winding its way up the trees. It peeked through the flowers and even sometimes stretched across the wooden trail. The four-leafed vine was mostly green, but when she looked closer, she noticed tiny flakes of red spotted every part of the plant—stems, leaves, and buds.
But as they walked along the path, she saw that the speckles had, at some point, turned blue. She sneezed a few times, and noticed that the air smelled fresh and clean, like a creek was running somewhere nearby surrounded by soft grasses and pine trees. The laughter she had felt began to dissipate, and she suddenly felt a strong longing to go home. She was here, in this strange swamp on a strange planet— there could be dangerous animals or people hiding in the flora and fauna around her and she wouldn’t know it! And what if Quin couldn’t get them back? What if they were trapped? They should head back to the Door before anything terrible happened. Home was safe. Home was home.
“I think we should go home,” she said abruptly, hoping that Quin didn’t find her sudden conversation startling.
“I’m getting the same feeling,” Quin said. He had a slight frown on his face. “Let’s see what’s in that clearing ahead, and if there’s nothing we’ll go home. Sound alright?”
Jo really would have preferred to turn around right then, but it made sense, and they wanted to at least be able to tell Nash that they had tried, right?
When they stepped into the clearing, Jo gasped. It was beautiful. A small, perfectly landscaped hill rose from the swampy wetlands with grass, flowers, and bushes growing all over it. Six houses sat on the hill, each a different color—red, purple, blue, green, yellow, and orange—like a rainbow.
“Stay close,” Quin said, walking forward.
Jo nodded and crept up behind Quin, who had slowed down. The nearest house was red. Quin peered through the windows, and Jo copied him. There was furniture inside, but no people.
“I’ll try the door.” Quin turned the handle and it swung open.
A sign hung from the ceiling in perfect view of the door. “Welcome,” it said, “to the house of laughter.”
They stepped inside, looking around cautiously. It was wonderfully furnished, Jo thought, with warm colors and soft, comfortable-looking furniture. It had an open floor plan with a kitchen on one side and a huge fireplace on the other. It hadn’t occurred to Jo that it might get cold here sometimes. Another door on the back of the house led out to the purple cabin.
She breathed deeply as she entered the house. The aroma drifted softly past, of honey and oranges and bamboo. She felt happiness well up inside, and a smile hovered around her lips. She wanted to laugh, but Quin was already on his way out.
He strode through the house and opened the back door, heading up to the next cabin without hesitation. The sign inside the purple cabin read: “Welcome to the house of longing.”
Jo breathed in as she entered. This one smelled of a creek, soft grasses, and pine trees. It had the same floor plan as the others, but with darker colors. A rotten banana lay on the counter. Quin poked at the banana, then continued through the door to the next cabin.
Jo paused for a moment and looked around. She felt torn—she wanted to stay here somehow, but she also wished to go home, to go to school and find a career. She wanted to build herself a safe place that was all hers. But it seemed that right now, all she was destined for was to follow Quin around.
The next cabin was filled with handkerchiefs, strewn all over the building. The walls were painted in blues and greys and black, and the sign read, “Welcome to the house of grief.” It smelled of rain, with a strange hint of must and mold that Jo found oddly satisfying. She thought of Stanky and a tear rolled down her cheek.
Quin didn’t wait at all in this house, but walked out the back almost as quickly as he had entered. Jo paused before stepping out the door, but Quin grabbed her hand and pulled her forward.
The green cabin’s sign read, “Welcome to the house of contentment,” and there were boxes of non-perishable food everywhere. Quin paused and grabbed a handful of granola bars.
“Do you think these are safe?” he asked. “I’m starving.”
Jo threw herself into one of the chairs, wiping the tear from her eye. It was extremely comfortable, and she felt the dampness of her clothes beginning to melt away. It smelled of cinnamon and laundry detergent. “This is the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in,” she said, noticing that Quin had already begun to eat the granola bars, even though she had never answered his question. He strode into the living room and plopped down on the couch opposite her.
“Wow,” he said. “You’re right.”
“So what do you think these houses are?” Jo asked.
“Mood houses,” Quin replied.
“Well obviously,” Jo said. “Each one is clearly labelled. But I mean, what are they actually for?”
“Changing your mood,” Quin said.
Jo scowled at him. How could a house change a mood? That didn’t make any sense. Of course, a house that you went to a lot might make you feel more comfortable, or a place where someone had died might make you feel sad. But these houses were just kind of colorfully generic.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well,” Quin replied, “I figured out where we are.”
“That would have been helpful for you to mention.”
“We are on a planet called Nalada. This is a ring of mood houses. Those plants that grow out in that swamp—skap, they’re called—have an actual, physiological effect on the mood of people from Sagitta. It doesn’t affect all species the same way, but…”
“Wait,” Jo said, frowning. “Those plants out there can make me feel happy or sad or grumpy? By—what? Touching them?”
“Not even,” Quin replied. “Breathing their pollen. These houses probably have diffusers in them somewhere so that when you’re in them, you’re feeling a particular way.”
“Oh.” Jo was surprised. She hadn’t ever heard of anything like this before. But that explained the changing smells too. The laundry detergent smell—must be what contentment smelled like. She had only been semi-interested in horticulture before—the career path was just the most opposite thing she could think of from her father’s lifestyle—but now she found herself wanting to learn more.
“A few centuries ago,” Quin said, “this was actually a pretty big problem. People were selling skap like drugs, and people would always be happy and never feel anything else—pain, sorrow, suffering. It’s great, until you realize that pain and suffering opens the door for progress. Anyway, all the Doors here were closed, and we had a bit about it in our training, because there are still some illegal Doors that come here. People use them to sell moods.”
“So when I was laughing so hard in the swamp—was that the skap making me do that?”
“Yup.”
“And that feeling of wanting to go home?”
“Yup. And certain mixes of different moods can make you feel a range of other moods—like a color palette,” Quin added.
“Wow, Dad is going to be happy about this,” Jo said. He would be ecstatic, over the moon. He could make millions off of this—assuming he could do it without getting caught. She felt a little bad. This stuff could kill society—and she could get in trouble for it, even if Nash was the one selling it.
“Nope,” Quin said. “We can’t tell him. We can’t have this stuff back on the market.”
“What do we tell him then?”
“That it’s a swamp. Useless. Wet. Empty. Poisonous bugs.”
She frowned. Nash wasn’t going to be happy if he thought all he’d gotten was access to a swamp. But she agreed with Quin. This stuff really shouldn’t be sold on the black market—which she knew was the first thing her father would do with it. It wouldn’t be good for her, Nash, or society. Plus, they still had two Doors to go through—one of them would surely have something else of value.
“Okay,” she said.
It was Quin’s turn to frown. “That’s it?” he asked. “You’re going along with this?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” she asked. “This is dangerous stuff. I believe you. I don’t want it in Pomegranate City any more than you.”
“But, aren’t you part of his gambling thing?” Quin pressed.
“Sort of.” She frowned. “But I don’t want to be.” She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to tell this stranger who had saved her and was now exploring the universe with her in a very strange twist of events, but she felt safe and comfortable with him—or was it the house making her feel that way? Her mouth opened without her permission. “I want to go to school. For horticulture.”
“Really?” Quin acted surprised. “But you were the White Rabbit—I thought you were so involved in the operation that you were in trouble or something.”
“Nah.” Jo knew what Quin was referring to. The White Rabbit was usually played by a slave or someone who owed the dealer money, because at the end of the game the winner had to kill the White Rabbit in order to fully win. “I wear body armor.”
Quin barked out a short laugh. “Wow. Smart. Also, stupid.”
She shrugged. “He gives me a thirty percent cut if I do it, so he doesn’t have to find someone else. Plus, hardly anyone wins. And if they get to the point of throwing the knife, I duck. They’re usually too drunk to notice. I have a couple scars though, on my arms.”
“Why horticulture?” Quin asked.
“Why not? It’s legal,” Jo said, checking the items off on her fingers. “I can start my own business. It’s not too hard. It’s at least a little interesting. And I only need a few plants to hit restart every time my father tries to burn my business down.”
“Sounds like a rough life,” Quin said.
“And I suppose yours is easier?”
Quin looked out the window. “Seems like it should be, but it doesn’t feel that way.”
“Is that why you’re gambling?”
“I’m bored. With everything. I miss adrenaline rushes. I miss taking risks—not knowing if I’m going to survive or not.”
“Aren’t you in the military, though? Aren’t you on some kind of Door task force? Isn’t that a little risky?”
“I suppose,” Quin said. “I guess I did almost die this morning. A planet started crumbling under my feet. And you know what’s weird? I liked it. I wished I had gotten caught up in the earthquake—but I didn’t. I got back safe.” He sighed and leaned his head back against the couch. “I don’t know what I want. I have this general sense of not doing enough, not being strong enough, not caring enough, not… I don’t know, something. Like I’m empty.”
Jo nodded. “I get that.”
They sat in silence for a while, both looking out the window. Jo wasn’t sure why she had told Quin about her life and her goals, and she wasn’t sure why Quin had admitted his dissatisfaction with life to her, but she had a feeling it had something to do with the Contentment House. She felt like she could stay here all day, with Quin or without him. But her mind was largely empty, soft, safe. It was peaceful to sit and say nothing, to not mind the bad things and not be passionate about the good. She felt calm and at ease. This might not reflect the truest version of herself, but this feeling—she wouldn’t forget it.
Finally she asked, “So what are the other colors for?”
“Orange is rage,” Quin replied quietly, “so let’s skip that one. Yellow is cheerfulness, I think, or hope. Something like that.”
“So there’s not one for love or hate?”
“No.” Quin shook his head. “My understanding is that those are compilations of emotions—we really only feel a few things purely, like happiness, sadness, hope, longing, and anger—I think. And all other emotions are combinations. Like love might be cheerfulness and hope with laughter and contentment, maybe a little sadness mixed in, and a lot of longing. See what I mean?”
“Yeah!” This was an interesting game. “And hate would be rage and sadness with longing—or something like that.”
“I think it would probably be better if we went back,” Quin said. “There aren’t many civilizations on this planet, but I think it would be better if we avoided running into them.”
Jo nodded. Who knew what kind of people they would be?
“Besides,” he added, “we still have two more Doors.”
They stood together, heading out the front door onto the porch. The swamp really was beautiful, Jo thought, looking out from the porch over the green landscape, with the colorful flowers, the rectangular leaves, the vibrancy and life. The bugs buzzed about and the birds twittered, and Jo smiled a little to herself and watched.
“Look at this,” Quin said. He had wandered down to the other end of the porch and was looking at something that hung on the wall. It was a map. “It shows that path we were on” —he pointed— “and if we go a little further, it runs past the Door, out of sight from where we were.”
“What’s that down there?” she asked, pointing to a larger blob.
“I think that’s a city,” Quin replied. “The path runs right to it.”
“I guess we’d better head back then,” Jo said, “before anyone decides to wander down to their cabins.”
“Agreed,” Quin replied, leading her away from the house and back towards the path.
Jo glanced back at the green house over her shoulder, wishing she could go inside to sit and relax again. That feeling of peace, calm, serenity—that would be a feeling she would pursue for the rest of her life.