“Oh Lord,” I say, fully understanding his predicament with such an analogy, “if people lost the ability to use their cellphones here, there would be outright chaos.”
Lance laughs. “I have noticed how attached people seem to be to those things. What exactly is the fascination?”
“They allow us to communicate with one another, but most people simply use them to cruise various sites on the internet. They’re technical marvels, but sometimes I wish they were never invented. People would rather communicate by using a text or an email than speaking directly to a person nowadays. I think we’ve sort of lost a piece of our humanity because of our technology. I would advise against inventing something similar in your world unless you like sitting at a table where everyone is staring at their phone screens and not talking to each other.”
“That sounds horrible.” Lance cringes at just the thought. “You’re physically together but mentally separated. How can that be a good thing for your people?”
“It’s not,” I admit, feeling almost disheartened for the human race. “We have whole generations who have lost the art of talking to one another face to face, but I’m not sure there’s anything we can do about it now. Pandora’s box has been opened, and there’s nothing that can be done to close it.”
“You make this world sound so lonely when there are billions of souls populating it.”
“It can be lonely if you don’t have friends and family. If I didn’t have my mother and Pepa, I’m not sure life here would be worth living.”
“Don’t say that.” Lance looks deeply troubled by my words. His arms protectively tighten around me. “Living in a universe where you don’t exist would be pointless.”
“How can you say that? You don’t even know me,” I protest.
“I know more about you than almost anyone, except for maybe your father.”
My hands grip the sleeves of his jacket tightly. I search his face for any hint of a lie, but I don’t see one.
“You know my father?” It comes out as a question, but it’s really a statement of fact. “I was told he’s at this party. Can you take me to him?”
Lance sighs in disappointment. “Perhaps I should have left that revelation for later because I fear I may have just lost you for the rest of the evening.”
“That isn’t true.” I lift a hand to cup one side of his face. Lance leans his cheek into it as if he’s drawing strength from my touch.
I’ve been searching for my father practically since I learned how to walk. To know that I’m this close to him makes me both excited and nervous. I have so much I want to learn about him, but will he tell me what I want to know? That’s the real question.
“Come on.” Lance seems resigned to the fact that I need to meet my father before whatever is happening between us can continue. “I’ll take you to him so you can get all of the answers you deserve.”
Lance guides me off the Skydeck to a nearby elevator. After he closes the iron gate, we begin our descent to what has to be the bowels of the ship. Even before we reach our destination, I know the area we’re about to enter contains a party that’s even rowdier than the last two we’ve been to this evening.
“Are you sure this is where my father will be?” I ask Lance, having my misgivings that we’re heading in the right direction. Since I was a child, I’ve always had a vision of my father being very austere and standoffish, but if this is the party he’s chosen to attend, I think I may have been way off on my estimation of his character.
“Your dad told me he would be spending most of his time in the third-class section of the ship. I think he simply prefers the ghosts down there because they’re livelier.”
“Did you seriously just say that these ghosts are livelier?” I ask, unable to stop myself from laughing.
“Huh, yeah,” Lance says, looking slightly embarrassed as he scratches his chin, “I guess I did. You’ll understand what I mean when we get there.”
A few seconds later, we enter a room that’s packed from the floor to the rafters with both ghosts and partygoers. I feel like I’ve stepped into a time capsule where the dead have been given a second chance at life and intend to enjoy it to the fullest while they can. In the middle of the room, a circle of people three rows deep has formed around something that has captured all of their attention. Everyone is clapping in time to the music being played and hollering at whatever it is that has them so riveted.
To the right of me, a small scuffle breaks out between a young warlock and a werewolf, but one of the bouncers I met at the front door breaks it up before it has a chance to even get started. Bronx must sense me staring at him because he looks my way and nods his head in greeting. He briefly glances to the middle of the room where all the action is taking place with a look of worry, but he quickly turns away to speak to a blonde-haired, blue-eyed man at the bar. Just like Imperia’s bar upstairs, this one is also flanked by tall coffins filled with whatever the boisterous crowd down here might desire most.
With my attention diverted, I accidentally bump into a woman with shoulder-length pink hair, wearing a red dress that dips practically to her waist in the front with dual slits up the sides. She’s walking with a man the size of a mountain, dressed all in black with tattoos peeking past the collar of his shirt and jacket sleeves.
“Shit. I’m sorry,” the woman says, reaching out a hand to prevent me from falling over. She glances over her shoulder, and I follow her eyes, surprised to find not one but two other men watching her departure with the other man. The sexual tension in their gazes makes me wonder why they’re even letting her out of their sight.
“No, really. It was my fault,” I assure her. “I was a bit distracted.”
I strain to catch sight of what’s happening in the middle of the room. Two men, one flesh and blood and one a ghost, are facing off in what looks like an Irish step-dance battle. Years ago, this type of dancing was termed river dancing because of a popular theatrical show that combined traditional Irish music with step-dancing. I was able to catch a few of the performances while they were around and found them enjoyable.
The living competitor is the one who immediately commands my attention. He’s wearing a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt rolled up to the elbows with more than a few buttons undone in the front. His short red hair and challenging green eyes make my heart leap into my throat. I squeeze one of Lance’s hands to keep myself from falling over. Gently, he begins to rub the palm of his free hand against the base of my back soothingly, and I’m only faintly aware of the woman I bumped into moving on with her escort.
“Come on, Ambrosius!” A man within the inner circle of people yells at the pair. “You can do better than that! Show that eejit what yer made of!”
“Can you get me closer?” I ask Lance.
Lance stands in front of me like a human shield. “Stay behind me. I’ll get you there.”
Lance keeps a hold of my hand as he pushes his way through the throng of both the living and the dead. We end up walking through a few of the translucent ghosts present. Their coldness causes goosebumps to break out across my skin, and I apologize to as many as I can for disturbing their souls. Once Lance reaches the center of the circle, I stand completely still as I feel my worlds collide.