Elsewhere(21)

"My life is on Earth. My life is not here," Liz says. "My life is with my parents and my friends. My life is over."

"No, Elizabeth, you are completely, absolutely, totally wrong."

"I'm dead," she says. "I'M DEAD!" she yells.

"Dead," Aldous says, "is little more than a state of mind. Many people on Earth spend their whole lives dead, but you're probably too young to understand what I mean."

Yes, Liz thinks, exactly my point. She hears a clock strike five. "I have to go. My grandmother's waiting for me."

Watching Liz run off, Aldous calls after her, "Promise you'll think about the position!"

Liz doesn't answer. She finds Betty's car parked in front of the Registry. Liz opens the door and gets in. Before Betty can say a single word, Liz asks, "Would it be okay if we went to one of the Observation Decks?"

"Oh, Liz, it's your first real night here. Wouldn't you prefer to do something else? We can do whatever you want."

"What I'd really like to do is see Mom and Dad and Alvy. And my best friend, Zooey. And some other people, too. Is that okay?"

Betty sighs. "Are you sure, doll?"

"I really, really want to go."

"All right," Betty says finally, "there's one near the house."

Sightseeing

I could come with you," Betty says. She stops her car on the narrow strip of road that runs parallel to the beach. "I haven't seen Olivia in the longest time."

"Mom's old now," says Liz. "She's older than you."

"It's hard to believe. Where does the time go?" Betty sighs. "I've always hated that phrase. It makes it sound like time went on holiday, and is expected back any day now. 'Time flies' is another one I hate. Apparently, time does quite a bit of traveling, though." Betty sighs again. "So, do you want me to come with you?"

Liz would like nothing less than for Betty to accompany her. "I might be a while," Liz says.

"These places. They can be dangerous, doll."

"Why?"

"People get obsessed. It's like a drug."

Liz looks at the red lighthouse, which has a row of brightlylit glass windows at the top. The windows remind Liz of teeth. She can't decide if the lighthouse looks like it's smiling or snarling.

"How do I get inside?" Liz asks.

"Follow the path until you reach the entrance." Betty points out the car window: a wooden boardwalk, gray with water and time, joins the red lighthouse tenuously to the land. "Then take the elevator to the top floor. That's where you'll find the Observation Deck."

Betty takes her wallet out of the glove compartment. She removes five eternims from her change purse and places them in Liz's hand. "These will buy you twentyfive minutes of time. Is that enough?"

Liz thinks, I have no idea what enough time would be. How long does it take to say goodbye to everything and everyone you've ever known? Does it take twentyfive minutes, a little longer than a sitcom without the commercials? Who knows? "Yes, thank you," she says, closing her hand around the coins.

In the elevator, Liz stands next to a willowy blonde in a black shift dress. The woman sobs quiedy, but in a way that is meant to attract attention.

"Are you all right?" Liz asks her.

"No, I most certainly am not." The woman stares at Liz with bloodshot eyes.

"Did you die just recently?"

"I don't know," the woman says, "but I prefer to grieve alone, if you don't mind."

Liz nods. She's sorry she even asked.

A moment later, the woman continues. "I'm in mourning for my life and I'm more unhappy than you can even imagine." The woman puts on a pair of black cat-eye sunglasses. So adorned, she continues to weep for the remainder of the elevator ride.

This Observation Deck, or OD, looks almost exactly like the one on the SS Nile except it is smaller. The room has windows on all sides, lined with a tidy row of binoculars. Liz notes that not everyone who visits the OD is as unhappy as the weeping woman on the elevator.

A plump middle-aged woman with a bad perm sits in a glass box by the elevator. She waves the weeping woman through the turnstile that separates the OD from the elevator. The weeping woman nods curtly and checks her reflection in the attendant's glass box.

"That woman's in love with her own grief," the attendant says, shaking her head. "Some people just love all that drama." She turns to Liz. "You're new, so I'll give you my little spiel. Our hours are seven a.m. to ten p.m., Monday through Friday, ten a.m. to twelve a.m. Saturday, and seven a.m. to seven p.m. Sunday. We're open three hundred sixty-five days a year, including holidays.

One eternim gets you five minutes of time, and you can buy as much time as you want. The price is not negotiable. Whether you want five minutes or five hundred minutes, the rate is the same.

The operation of the binoculars should be like ones you've encountered before. Just press the side button for a different view, turn the eyepieces to adjust focus, and pivot the head as necessary. I'm Esther, by the way."

"Liz."

"You just get here, Liz?" Esther asks.

"How can you tell?"

"You have that shell-shocked, recently arrived look about you. Don't worry, honey. It'll pass, I promise. What'd you die of?"