In which certain secrets are revealed, certain guilts are exposed, and certain decisions are derided

The roundhouse always gave Gordon the creeps. It had five large rooms, all connected by a central hallway, but the rooms themselves were empty. Or, mostly empty. Virgil had, early on, thought about setting one up as a studio, and he did paint in the southernmost one occasionally, but he confessed it was difficult to relax in there. It was always cool in there, which was odd considering that the rooms all had glass windows, but they must be made of some special glass, Gordon thought, because it never seemed to warm up. The rooms themselves seemed like they could be bedrooms, and somewhere in the circle were a couple of bathrooms, but their father never really said what he intended it for, and the rooms remained blank and featureless as glass itself. It was an entire building that seemed to be waiting for a purpose -- not a hallmark of Tracy design. Gordon had the feeling that if he looked hard enough, he would flip a switch and reveal a secret lab, or a hidden passage, or something worse.

"Where people who tried to sue Tracy Industries wind up," he muttered to himself. The inner perimeter was lit was supplied by a series of bulbs that were nestled into a sort of trench that ran around the upper edge of the ceiling. Walking slowly, eyes on the ceiling, Gordon searched for an indication of a way out onto the roof.

"Where he buried the bodies of the first five sons," he murmured. "Where he keeps the world's supply of o-rings. Where he…well, aren't you tricky." Against the wall, barely visible, was a ladder made of wire, so thin it looked like it had been sketched lightly in pencil on the wall itself. Gordon pulled on one of the wires, and was surprised by the tensile strength. At the top was another scant shadow, the outline of a door.

Feeling spidery, Gordon tentatively began to climb. The wires bore his weight with no problem. Another billion dollars in the trust fund, Gordon thought. He reached the top and paused. He held the topmost wire with his left hand, on his stronger side, and pushed up with his right. This was precisely the sort of movement that his injuries made difficult. The reconstruction on his shattered collarbone had been good, but he had problems extending his right arm fully, and it still hadn't nearly caught up with his left in terms of strength. He switched hands, feeling less secure has he was now holding on with his right, and pushed up with his left, but at least he had enough mobility to shove the door open. A square of starry blackness greeted him, and, after a moment, his brother's face, looking startled.

"Hi," Gordon said cheerfully. "What's up?"

"Have I always been this obvious?" John asked.

"Yep." Gordon said. He grabbed onto the edge of the opening with his right hand, and glanced down. He was on the top wire, and there was still a lot of space between him and the edge of the opening. "It would have killed Dad to make this ladder higher?"

"If you're Dad, it is higher," John said. "You want me to get you a phone book to stand on?"

Gordon made a face at his brother, gripped the opening with both hands, and began to pull himself up. His left arm pulled him up without any problem, but he was getting the familiar, infuriating feeling of his body betraying him. His right arm couldn't handle the weight and Gordon began to fall forward, off the ladder and onto his weaker arm John finally figured out what was going on and stepped forward, grabbing him under the arm and hauling him forward so he was over the opening enough to climb out on his own.

"Hand slipped," Gordon lied, sitting on the roof and rubbing his right arm.

"Whatever you say," John said, sitting down next to him. "Virgil tell you I was up here?"

"Yeah, he saw a light on. So how does it look from up here?"

"How does what look?"

"How does…the pool! The thing by the pool!"

"What are you talking about?"

Gordon stood up. "Get up." After his brother stood, he grabbed him by the shoulders and frog-marched him around the perimeter of the roundhouse, until they reached the side that overlooked the pool. "Look."

John whistled in surprise. "Did you do that?"

"Yeah. Well, Scott and Virgil and Kyrano helped."

"It looks like the sky."

"Yeah." The candles had been placed randomly, but formed clusters at certain points, were scattered more widely in other areas.

"It's a very small universe," John said. "You're just missing the planets."

Gordon squinted. "Well, Scott and Virgil are probably still down there. You really didn't notice it?"

"I was looking the other way." John said.

"There isn't anything that way."

"The rest of the planet is that way."

Gordon wheeled around. He pointed to the vast expanse of blackness that was the ocean. "You could stare at a wall and…"

"Oh, shut up," John said companionably. He sat down on the roof and Gordon copied him.

"It was for Nancy," Gordon said abruptly.

"I figured." John said. "It's appropriate. It's good."

They sat in silence for a while, staring at the lights by the pool. Some of the smaller ones were fading, and a few finally winked out.

"I keep feeling guilty," Gordon said. "Sounds stupid, doesn't it?"

"Guilty about what?"

"Nancy."

"Why on earth would you feel guilty?"

Gordon lifted a hand, and let it drop to his side uselessly. "I don't know. I keep picturing her in the water. And every time I picture her in the water, I keep thinking about me in the water. I keep thinking about what Scott must have seen from the air, you know, the wreckage and stuff. I know that when we hit…they told me there was this swath of wreckage that covered a quarter mile. I keep wondering if there was a Scott up there, who had to watch DeSouza and Garcia go down." Gordon stopped. "I know it sounds really, really stupid, and I don't mean it at all, but everyone always told me that I was lucky one because I survived and I know that, but then something like this happens and it's like, who the hell am I?" He turned to John. "I'm happy to be alive and all, but it's just…" he shook his head. "For every me, there are a fifty Nancys. A hundred Julies."

"Sometimes more," John said.

"And I keep thinking, well, if I'm the lucky one, I should do something, you know? I keep thinking if I had been on the WASP boat that Virgil called, maybe we would have gotten there in time…although now that I say that out loud, it sounds even stupider." Gordon let out a breath. "I hate feeling powerless."

"So do I," John said, with some feeling.

"And whenever I say anything like this to Dad or Scott they just tell me to wait. For what! It seriously drives me up the wall." Gordon rubbed his right shoulder absently. "Maybe I should come back to Florida with you."

"Florida? What for?"

"Get out of here. See if I can do something else."

"Gordon…nobody lives in Florida because they want to. They only live there if they have to."

"I don't care. I'll work at Disneyworld. I still have some contacts at WASP. I'll find something."

"Why don't you go back to school?"

"Don't start."

"Why don't you…"

"Would it really bother you that much if I went with you?"

"No,." John said. "It just seems to me -- as a disinterested observer--that you'd be sort of running away. In a way."

"'As a disinterested observer?' You're my brother."

"That, too."

Gordon pulled up his knees and wrapped his arms around them. "I don't know. This whole thing Dad's got going on this island. It's like he wants us to badly to all be here and it's so forced. We spent so much time away from each other at those schools, and it's like now he wants us all to be back here, and it's really…" Gordon let out a breath. "Too late. I wish he'd stop trying."

John was quiet, thinking.

"I guess he's lonely, though." Gordon added. "But he'd never say so." He waited for John to say something, then continued. "But you know, I can't let what he wants guide my life. You know that better than anyone. I can't sit here and feel useless and I don't want Dad to give me some makework desk job in the company. So. You're okay with it? With me coming with you?"

John didn't say anything for a long while. Finally, he turned to Gordon. "Want to know a secret?"

"I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! I knew something was going on here, and Scott and Virgil were always acting all secretive and to be totally honest, I always thought there was something a little weird with Brains being here but now that makes total sense and I knew it! Ha!" Gordon tipped his head back and made a gesture as if to grab a large handfuls of stars out of the sky. "Finally!" It all makes sense!" He turned to look at John. "You know, I was worried that Dad was going a little crazy. He was getting a little Howard Hughesy for a minute there." He grinned.

"You don't think building your own rocket out-freaks the Spruce Goose?"

"Not when it works! Not when it's for this!" Gordon stared down at John. "He built a rocket!" He dropped to the ground in front of John, slightly out of breath. "Show me the silo?"

"Yeah, if Scott and Virgil are asleep. So you'll stay, right?"

"Hell yeah, I'll…" Gordon stopped. "Wait. You're not staying?"

"No. I've got to go back."

"Why?"

"Because, Gordon, I have a job."

Gordon was incredulous. "You have a job? A job? John…rocket! Space station! He built you your own treehouse in space." He sat back. "You really don't want to do this?"

"It's more complicated than that." John said.

"Try me."

John rubbed his eyes. "It's more to do with Dad…he just expected me to drop everything and join up when he said jump, and…" He stopped. Gordon was staring at him with a combination of fascination and disgust.

"Are you serious?"

"I don't know. I've been thinking about it a lot. Now that I've been able to get my head around the whole scope of the project. And I keep thinking that…I don't know, was this always the plan? I mean, did he start thinking about this after Al was born? Did he pitch me science and math because he needed it for this? I keep thinking that I've been trying so hard to carve out my own life and the whole time he's been steering me – steering all of this – and I didn't even know."

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters! It's my life."

"That's beside the point." Gordon sat down. "You're being an idiot. It's understandable, because you've always sort of been an idiot. That's what happens when you go to college. You start thinking you're smart. It's a common misconception."

"Gordon…"

"For god's sake, John, think about who you're talking to! Did you hear anything I was saying fifteen minutes ago? Nancy in the water – that was me. Those kids that got lost on the mountain the other week and they just found their bodies? They're me, too. That earthquake in Iran? Me. They're all me. I'm the world, John, and I'm telling you, I need you on this. Yeah, you're right, this isn't about you. It's about me. And I need you on this. And Scott and Virgil and Alan and Dad and...Brains, I guess, and whoever else Dad decides this thing needs to work. Take it from one of the lucky ones." He sat back. "Anyway. You owe it to me."

"I owe you?"

"Yeah. I lived. You owe. It's payback."

"That's a weird karmic little circle you've got there, G."

"Better than yours, Ghengis John."

Below them, the candles were slowly flickering out. John saw a shadow move across them. "Scott's still down there."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"I heard you, I heard you."

"And?"

John stared out at the candles. "I think you're right."

"About what?"

"That I've always sort of been an idiot." He stood up. "I don't know if that realization changes anything, though. It's not that easy, you know."

"It is easy," Gordon said. "You just don't understand what easy actually means."