When All is Null and Void

Chapter Two

Caleb was alone for only a short time, wiping things down and preparing closing tasks. A rush of Visitors—the Museum's preferred term—from Vietnam ordered six large cups of coffee, which Caleb had to hand pour. Caleb interspersed a few drinks for other Visitors in with the pour-overs. They key to success at this job, Caleb had found, was to start two drinks, help a Visitor, then go back to the drinks. Repeating the process. No matter what, people would get angry.

As the evening wore on, his back muscles ached and his eyes itched, and his attitude took a turn for the worse. It was busy enough that he hadn't been able to complete any closing tasks, and at this rate he would be stuck here after everything had closed up for the evening. Management hated that--although Caleb couldn't understand why they didn't just have two people in the evening.

Finally, finallythe Visitors were gone. He didn't know how long it would last, so he quickly ran into the back room to grab the mop. He'd swept at the last lull, but the floors were still grimy. A 3rd shift came in to clean other areas of the building, but they wouldn't mop for him. When he rolled through the door, he was faced with a situation he'd never experience before: A Visitor stood behind the counter, steaming a pitcher of milk. "Excuse me?" Caleb nearly shouted at the boy who couldn't have been much older than him.

When he turned around, Caleb's heart stuttered. This wasn't a Visitor at all, but Rhea James' son, Titus. He didn't stop steaming the milk, even though it shrieked in protest. He just looked at Caleb. He had dark, nearly black, hair coiffed with expert precision. His skin was an olive toned sort of tan, speaking of his mother's Mediterranean heritage. He was taller than Caleb, but that wasn't difficult. Titus seemed to dwarf him. He wore a turquoise sweatshirt that said, Don't flock with dirty flamingoes.Caleb had no idea what it meant, but the style was definitely out of date.

The milk stopped steaming by itself. "Sorry," Titus said, but Caleb could tell the boy wasn't sorry at all. "I've always wanted to see if I could do it."

"You really shouldn't—" Caleb started, but cut himself off. He couldn't tell Rhea James' son that he couldn't be back here. Titus had every right to stand anywhere he felt, and Titus' light, raised eyebrows told Caleb that he knew it, too.

"Is it supposed to be so separated?" Titus asked, showing Caleb the curdled milk and slopping a little onto the tile.

Caleb cringed. "You burned it," he said. He realized he was still holding the mop handle, his hands tense and sweaty.

"Oh," Titus said. "Guess we can't be good at everything." He dropped the entire pitcher into the sink and something inside Caleb shriveled up and died. He'd have to clean that, too.

Titus reached up with his left hand and replaced a single, unruly hair. A golden ring on his finger caught Caleb's attention. It glinted with the same effervescence that pulsed throughout the city. "I bet you're wondering why I'm here," the boy said, examining a strand of hair which had fallen out. "Does that look gray to you?" He didn't give Caleb a chance to look before dropping it to the floor.

"You," Titus said, and he waggled his fingers with half-hearted vigor, "have been chosen in the lottery to be Tested."

Caleb laughed.

Titus frowned, as if he couldn't have imagined any scenario in which Caleb would laugh at this news. Caleb had heard too many weird things surrounding the Testings Rhea James had implemented in the last three years. He didn't quite understand what all happened, but neither did anyone. Kids from the school would go in, promises of greatness alight in their eyes, and when they came back, something else filled them. One thing was common in every single case: They couldn't sleep anymore.