annotated floorplan - simple floorplan

Trace stopped and stretched. The poetry book, and its neighbours, were fascinating, and had taken him through a range of experiences he would never have imagined for himself. He’d been at it a while, though, and badly needed to move around.

He wandered around more of the library, exploring the range of books. He couldn’t resist stroking the smooth polished wood of the table and standing desk, the textures of the brocade fabric of the chairs, the leather of the book spines. The library smelled pleasantly of paper and ink and leather and a faint scent that was somewhere between pine and moth balls that was stronger close to the wooden furniture. It was quiet, not the way a museum was silent and dead, but tranquil and welcoming. He could have spent many hours here, content and at peace.

He could, however, use a drink. The bag of snacks and drinks he’d bought on the way here had been left behind in the music room. He knew his way back, but he wasn’t in a hurry. The library had two doors; he took the other.

He paused by the table in the games room, running his fingertips over the polished wood encircling the table, then the soft nap of the thick green fabric stretched tightly across the centre expanse. The games piled on and in the sideboard didn’t match with the rest of the house. It would be a lot of fun to sit here with Richard and Dora playing any of them. He picked up one of the stone knights from the chess set on the sideboard, tracing out the delicate carving of it. Not his favourite game, but it was hard not to admire the artistry of the set.

Past that room, though, he could smell fresh air and plants. Curiously, he continued on.

The source of the plant scent was immediately obvious. So was the fresh air, with the end of the room open.

“Hello,” said the green woman perched on a low stool next to a half-barrel in which a small tree was growing. Judging by the shallow basket beside her, she was picking the dead leaves and twigs off it.

“Hello,” Trace said, turning a slow circle. “It smells wonderful in here.”

“Thank you.” She stood up, dusting her hands off on the hips of her short khaki skirt. With it, she wore a simple white blouse that left her arms mostly bare. “Having fun wandering around the house?”

“Yes. Music with Richard and Dora was the most wonderful thing I can remember in a long time. And the poetry books in the library were a really neat experience.”

“That’s good to hear. Do you have a name?”

“I’m Trace.”

“Hi, Trace. I’m Thalia. I’m the household medical expert.”

“So, like, a doctor?”

“A bit each of doctor, nurse, pharmacist, and occasionally a whisper of psychiatrist. I look after the health of my family and our guests in any way I need to.”

“That must keep you busy.”

“Oh, I have lots of time to myself. There are about a dozen of us in the house. Mostly we’re a fairly healthy bunch. So I can experiment with my green friends here.” She gestured to the vegetation.

“Have you found out anything cool?” Trace approached the shelves of plants. He wasn’t an expert on plants, but many of them looked strange to him. One had veins that glowed faintly. Another had leaves that shaded from lime green at the base to a startlingly vivid blue at the tips. One had stalks that were fuzzy, and the fuzz glittered in the yellowish light.

“A number of things. Sometimes alone, sometimes by combining things the right way. I can fix most damage fairly quickly, and I can also do some things that my family find a lot of fun.”

“What kind of things?”

“Keep your fingers away from that one. It will probably snap at them. Can’t remove one or anything but it’ll give you a start and might even hurt a little.”

“Thanks for the warning.” He kept his fingers safely clear. The plant reminded him a little of a Venus fly-trap but the traps were rose-pink inside and a soft grey-green on the outside, and he thought the whole plant was larger than the normal ones.

“As for what kind of things I’ve found... I can’t tell you that. But I could demonstrate if you want.”

“Is that safe?”

“Completely. I don’t like hurting anyone. But Hallowe’en night is for playing. I’m sure the Master explained.”

“Yes. He did.” Richard had said that if he could prove himself, there could be a reward. Dora had said there was a way to stay. There were things he wasn’t sure about, but he was quite certain that he wanted at the very least to remember tonight, and he was interested in what the reward might be. Which meant he couldn’t hide. Richard had assured him that there were no bullies or sadists here, and Trace saw no reason to doubt him. “Okay. I’d rather not try anything that’ll be scary or hurt me, but I’m curious. There are some really wild plants in here and I know even ordinary plants can sometimes do some really surprising things.”

Thalia smiled. “I think I know the perfect thing to get you going after music with the Master and Dora and exploring the books in the library.” She went to the counter along the inner wall, drew out a drawer, and closed it a moment later with something small in her hand. She approached and offered it on her palm. It was a tiny narrow vial. He thought he might have seen perfume samples or essential oils in something like it before.

He took it and held it up. “Powder?” It was fine in texture, and a pleasant colour, with particles that were yellow-green and others that were a more yellow-amber.

“A mixture of the pollen of one and the ground up seed pod of another one, mostly. Open it and inhale it. It doesn’t smell bad and it won’t even be uncomfortable. But the effects are fun.”

Trace shrugged, and wedged out the little stopper. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and then held up the vial and inhaled deeply through his nose.

It was a rather nice smell, really, reminiscent of petrichor after a summer rain. It tingled in his sinuses, but it didn’t burn or irritate.

He lowered the vial, which was now nearly empty. “Now what?”

Thalia held out her hand palm-up, and he dropped the vial into it.

His hand had patches of pale green on it that spread as he watched. When he checked his other hand, it was there, too. He pushed up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, and found it extending up his arms.

“Green’s a good colour,” Thalia laughed. She linked her deeper-green hands behind her, leaned forward, and took a deep breath. “Mint... apple mint, I would say. A good place to start.”

Trace sniffed at his arm. He couldn’t find any suggestion of his own normal scent, only a light clean mintiness with a faintly fruity undertone.

“I’m green and smell like mint?”

“For the moment.” Thalia winked and walked back over to the plant she’d been working on when he came in. “There’s no hurry to leave. You’re welcome to stay until you get your balance back. If you go outside, don’t go off the terrace. You really will not like it out there. You wouldn’t even if it was a clear night.”

“Okay.” He was curious, now, so he went to the open end of the room.

The thunderstorm he’d heard while experimenting with the piano had left heavy clouds and light rain, which greatly reduced his desire to step outside onto the terrace at all, but he stood in the dry and looked outwards. He thought he should have been able to see at least some small glow from the town lights, but possibly he was at the wrong angle, or possibly was nowhere near the town he knew.

The smell of mint changed while he stood there lost in thought, altering to a citrusy tang, and when he looked, his skin was changing to a brilliant lemony yellow.

“Oh. So my skin and smell will both keep changing?”

Thalia chuckled. “They’ll all be plant-based, and it won’t last all night. There might be repetitions, or not. It’s random for each individual.”

“I kind of like that. Lots of variety. And if I do get one I don’t like, it won’t last very long.”

“Correct.”

“Cool. Thank you.” That wasn’t what his coworkers would have said, or how they’d have said it, but they weren’t here to mock his poor grasp of current slang. Besides, he didn’t find some of it comfortable imagery. “Bangin’” just didn’t feel like a positive thing to him.

“You’re very welcome. I have others if you find yourself at a loss for what to do later in the night.”

“Is anyone else going to think it’s strange?”

She laughed. “Around here? It isn’t even unusual, let alone strange.”

“That’s good. You said there are a dozen people around so there are more to meet still. So far everyone’s been... nice.” It wasn’t quite the right word. He had yet to find himself feeling uncomfortable or awkward, more accurately. To be fair, he’d met only three people, and the remaining three-quarters might change that, but that would mean the three he’d met weren’t representative at all.

“We try, at the absolute minimum, to be kind to guests and meet everyone on their own terms, when they’re receptive to that.”

“And you do small stuff early to see how people react and maybe heavier stuff later if they were okay with the small stuff.”

“Generally, yes. Traumatizing anyone isn’t the point.”

“Having fun and letting people prove themselves are the point.”

“Essentially.”

“Okay. I want to be able to remember. I bet the longer I’m here the more I’m going to want to remember it.”

“It isn’t my call to make but I’d say you’re off to an excellent start.”

“That’s good. Is there anywhere I can get something to drink?”

“Well, you could have water here.” She grinned as she held up a watering can. “Or I could put a kettle on, but you’d have a better choice and a snack or actual food available if you go to the kitchen.” She got up again and beckoned to him. He thought she was going to the door back to the games room, but she stopped short and opened a door on the inner wall he’d thought was just some odd sort of interior window. “Follow this hall all the way to the end, then turn right, and you’ll walk right past the kitchen. Our resident cook will make sure you get anything you need. They’re really good at that. On their food, you’ll be able to keep going all night.”

Trace made a mental note of the pronoun. He sometimes didn’t quite get gender roles, but they could matter to other people. “Turn right at the end. That’s easy. Thank you.”

“Come back any time.”

“I will.” His skin was rose-petal pink now, and smelled like roses, too. He started along the corridor, and heard the door close behind him. Maybe it kept draughts from the open wall from going through the entire house.

The music room was right there, but wasn’t the current goal.

The paintings on either side were portraits, and they were all just a little strange. He was fairly sure that man had feathers, for one thing. He was very sure that a beautiful dark-haired woman had an immense snake tail trailing out from under her skirt and coiling around the legs of the chair she was reclining in, in place of feet.

He also passed, on the other side, that room decorated all with music and autumn leaves Richard had taken him through. He knew because the door had a smallish window in it and it was a stained-glass image of a cluster of leaves in gold and red and dark green. He should come back later for a better look.

The corridor opened up into an immense and relatively dim space. It dwarfed the furniture and decor, most of the former seating, centred around a large fireplace, but the entire floor had a thick woven carpet in a rusty colour he liked, with wide intricate borders of multiple colours. That thing must be enormous, the biggest rug he’d ever seen.

On the opposite side he recognized the entranceway he’d come in, back towards the front door.

Here and there he saw statues, life-sized figures in various poses. At first he thought they were white, but they’d been painted with something watery that left deeper colour in creases but only the faintest blush, if any, on the more prominent areas. It was an effect he liked, a suggestion of colour without great blocks of it, the visual equivalent of a soft voice rather than a shout.

He paused to investigate one. It was a woman in a long skirt washed with red and a blouse of paler pink slipping off one shoulder, with a fringed yellow shawl tied around her waist and a blue scarf holding her dark hair back; in her cupped hands she held a real ball that could be glass or crystal for all Trace knew.

As he looked at her, she stirred.

“Tell your fortune, handsome?”

“Um... okay.” Was she real? She didn’t give at all the same impression that Dora had when coming to life; this figure lacked that sense of having simply paused in motion for a moment before beginning to move again.

She passed one hand over the ball and looked into it intently. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, and need to make more time for yourself, to pursue the pastimes you find relaxing and grounding. You feel like others are more confident and talented than you, but inside, they feel the same way. Stay alert for opportunities that could come your way soon.”

Trace considered each of those statements. “Those are probably accurate, but they’re probably accurate for almost anyone. Thank you, though.”

She shifted back to precisely the position she’d originally been in, and went motionless again.

Trace tried backing up a couple of steps, then coming closer.

“Tell your fortune, handsome?” The inflection was identical, as was the body language.

“No thank you.” He retreated a step, and she went back to her starting pose and stopped moving.

Not a real person. Just a kind of robot, running a short script, although he had to admit, she’d been very lifelike while she’d been moving and speaking.

Near her was an blonde mermaid posing on a rock, her tail washed with green and her necklace of shells pearly-iridescent; when he got close enough and paused to look at her, she began to make the motions of running her shell comb through her hair, although clearly she couldn’t for real, and to sing in a clear soprano voice. He recognized the song: it was Scarborough Fair. He listened in pleasure until she finished and went back to being simply a statue again.

Even the statues in this house were interactive.

What would the others do?