Chapter 8
Half a Boy
Green Door
Paul arrived in the Rainbow Room standing upright.
At least, his top half did.
From the waist down, he was invisible.
Ronnie stared.
“Larry has only transported half of you. Again.”
“Again?”
“Leprechauns finish everything halfway. It leaves room for improvement.”
Paul waved a hand through the space where his legs ought to be. He could feel them and stand on them, but there was nothing to see.
“My mother is not going to accept half a son.”
“Your other half is still attached. It is merely somewhere else as far as light is concerned.”
“That explanation makes me feel much worse.”
A man in a deep blue coat stepped from the blue door. His high forehead, carefully trimmed beard and habit of stroking his chin made him look as if he were permanently posing for a portrait of a scientist.
“Ponco Blue,” Ronnie said, “we require your help.”
Ponco Blue looked Paul up and down.
“With what?”
“His missing half.”
“I assumed that was fashion.”
Ponco Blue circled Paul, muttering about wavelengths, light particles and careless leprechauns.
“Teletransportation currently operates in one direction,” he finally said. “We can send a person away, but we cannot bring the person back.”
“That seems a serious weakness,” Paul said.
“It is a feature.”
Ronnie leaned towards Paul. “A weakness becomes a feature when a Ponco cannot repair it.”
Ponco Blue’s eyes narrowed. “Fortunately, I have invented FutureSmell. One sniff allows a person to dream of the future. Paul can discover how two-way transport will eventually work.”
“Or dream complete nonsense,” Paul said.
“Science must take risks.”
“With scientists, preferably.”
Yet Paul could think of no better plan. Ponco Blue led them to a bed beneath a glass canopy. Blue vapour bubbled through a coiled pipe.
“Sea Smell produces dreams of oceans,” he explained. “Wood Smell produces forests. FutureSmell produces tomorrow.”
“What does Bad Egg Smell produce?”
“Complaints.”
Paul lay down. The canopy lowered and blue smoke curled around him.
The Rainbow Room faded.