Benja is taking the path that runs alongside the main park in the middle of Callisto, toward the direction where tall buildings block out the sky. The streets are sparse of people. The citizens here are used to knowing the weather with precision, and most have chosen the warmth of their homes this evening.
The cold wind whips Metis’s hair back. He is grateful for its sound, which masks the echo of his footsteps. As the Sandman, it is his responsibility to do reconnaissance on those Dreamers he thinks are in danger of violating the rules. Fortunately, most want to keep their place in the group and steer clear of trouble. But there are always a handful with strong wills. Metis never likes to cut anyone off Absinthe, and he has never done it without proof. Benja will be the first.
They enter a residential neighborhood of skyscrapers. Benja crosses the street to a building with 2020 in large, modern type above the wide entrance. The address matches that on the crane in his pocket. Benja’s apartment.
Instead of going inside, Benja stands in front of the building. Metis keeps his head down and walks past.
What am I doing? he asks himself.
Metis has come this far because he wants to know why Benja sent him the crane. More than that, he wants to find out how he knows his identity. He crosses the street on the next block and backtracks toward the building.
Benja is standing ahead. He is so still he reminds Metis of a droid. Benja’s eyes are staring across the way, toward the darkness of the park. In it, naked-limbed trees stand tall and attenuated like Giacometti sculptures. Benja turns, sees Metis, and cracks a wide smile. He has been expecting him.
“I’m glad you decided to come. Would you like to talk inside?” Benja says.
“Tell me why I should.”
“Because I’ll make it worth your time.”
“There’s nothing you have that I want.”
“I bet there is.”
Metis narrows his eyes and studies the man in front of him. Despite his carefree facade, the look in Benja’s eyes is serious. He does not know what game Benja is playing, but he is intrigued.
Metis looks through the window to the lobby. It’s empty. He nods his agreement. Benja leads him inside the building toward an express elevator that only goes to floors above the fortieth. He chooses an elevator car and pushes a button to a floor near the top. Metis walks to the back corner opposite him.
“So, how was your stay at the police station?” Metis asks, breaking the silence.
Benja laughs. “You heard about that, huh?”
“We watch all the Dreamers. I thought that was clear.”
“Yeah. I got that from the first meeting.”
“You know that’s reason for expulsion,” Metis says.
“I know.”
“Why did you do it then? I assume you like our little group,” Metis asks.
Benja does not answer. Instead, he asks, “You don’t like me, do you?”
“Not particularly.”
He shrugs. “I’m used to it. Men usually don’t. Unless they’re attracted to me. But your dislike for me was instant. Even before I opened my mouth.”
Metis does not disagree.
“I used to wonder why. Then I knew,” Benja says.
The elevator door opens, and Benja steps off. Metis follows.
After walking down a long corridor lined with identical doors, they stop at the last one on the left.
“Let me in,” Benja says.
The wide door swings open to reveal a large loft space. In the middle of it is a platform bed sitting low to the ground. Out the wall-to-wall window is the large black rectangle of the park outlined by dots of lights from the buildings that surround it.
“It’s a bit dramatic having the bed in the middle, I know. But I like to think of dreaming as a play on a stage,” Benja says.
He goes to the other side of the room, where an L-shaped couch faces the sweeping city view. He plops onto its cushy surface.
Metis walks to the expansive glass window directly across from him and leans against it.
“It looks much better in daylight, obviously,” Benja says.
“As much as I’d like to admire your view, let’s cut the crap. I don’t have all night.”
Benja laughs. “Of course. I know I’m not as gratifying to follow as Aris.”
Metis’s breath catches in his throat. The windowpane behind him suddenly feels like a sheet of ice on his back.
Benja says, “Don’t worry. She doesn’t know your other identity. I just figured it out recently.”
“How?” Metis whispers.
“The gift market on Fay Street. Aris and I had a fight, and I followed her to make sure she was okay. I noticed you shadowing her. Then you introduced yourself to her and left together. Afterward, I kept seeing you in various places we were at, just . . . lurking.”
“How do you know my name?” He wonders if Aris ever mentioned him to her friend.
“She listens to your music all the time. There’s a song she has on rotation. The one that sounds really pretty.”
“Luce?”
“Yeah.” Benja chuckles. “You know, it’s usually the fan who does the stalking.”
“And how about my other identity?”
“That one was pure, unadulterated accident. One of the times I saw you, I decided to follow you. Then I realized we were going to the same place.”
“The meeting,” says Metis, “Was that why you asked me how to get your old lover to remember their past?”
“She was your lover, wasn’t she?” Benja asks.
“Yes,” Metis says and immediately feels lighter. The secret had been weighing heavily on him.
Benja shakes his head. “You’re such a hypocrite.”
Metis feels blood rushing to his face. Benja does not hold his punches.
“She really likes
