"Darling, I just want you to be careful," Mom said, wringing her hands together as I stood on the platform, one foot angled toward the train that wouldn't wait much longer.

"I will, Mom, I promise." Always so worried. That was my mom. She'd never left the Below. Hadn't wanted to. But I did. 

She framed my face in her hands, tears filling her eyes.

I stepped back quickly, holding up my hands as if to ward her off. "Oh no. Not the tears. I'm not falling for that!" My mom could call up tears whenever she needed to - especially in situations like this. 

She pouted, her tears drying up as quickly as they'd appeared. "Oh, fine. Be careful, sweetheart."

I gave her a quick hug, backing up before she could imprison me in her grasp. "I know, Mom. I'll be back before you know it!" With a final wave, I dashed into the train.

The conductor looked me up and down, perusing me to see if I could pass in the Above. Since I was wearing the typical attire of an American woman - jeans, dark green blouse, and combat boots - I figured I was okay. He nodded once and stepped aside so I could board. 

I'd seen the train many times throughout my life, but only from the outside. I'd watched wistfully as people boarded, leaving to a world I could only imagine. Finally, it was my turn.

The inside was extravagant, to say the least. Red upholstery covered every booth, polished wood tables separating two facing ones. Each car had beautiful glass doors, where I saw people using things I'd only heard of - cell phones, iPods, and so much more. I kept continuing down the train, looking for number fifteen, the one that would take me to America.

Finally, I stumbled upon it. Two people were already there, a couple that sat side-by-side. This left me a booth all to myself, which I happily took, dumping my purse next to me as I stared out the window.

Mom still waited on the platform, trying to smile when I knew she wanted to grimace. This was hard for her. She'd expected me to live in the Below for my entire life, to be a bookkeeper like her, to find a life partner and settle down with a passel of kids. That'd never been my intention. I wanted to see the Above and have adventures like the ones I'd only read in storybooks. 

Domestication wasn't in the cards for me if I had anything to say about it. 

"We will be departing in five minutes. This is your final warning."

I jumped at the voice coming from the ceiling, and I noted speakers in the train. Wow. Actual speakers. It was so cool. 

Within minutes, the seat vibrated beneath me and the station disappeared from my line of sight. Finally, my life was beginning.

The ride took longer than I had anticipated, as the train had to stop off at the various stations in the major regions of America. New England - specifically Massachusetts - was the final stop. Two hours later, after rereading The Belower's Guide to Fitting into the Above more than once, we arrived. I jumped out of my seat, jittering with excitement as I followed the others through the train to the exit. 

The conductor waved us off, stamping our tickets with the times we were to return to the station. Mine said 8:33 at night. I tucked it in my purse so I wouldn't lose it. 

Outside, people milled about, some getting on the train, some getting off, some transferring to the smaller trains to go to different states. Clocks lined the walls, each with different times and for different regions. The one for Massachusetts claimed it was 7:02 in the morning. Good. I wasn't late for work.

"Attention all travelers," a female voice echoed throughout the cavernous train station, and I glanced up out of habit. "Welcome to the Boston Below Station. If you are going Above, please enter one of the elevators and type in the address you want to go to. If you need assistance, please go to the Service desk. If you are going to Rhode Island, please get on Train 22 now, as it is leaving in five minutes."

I tuned out the woman, darting toward one of the elevators. Luckily, I'd arrived at a decent time and managed to snag one without having to wait in line. Once inside, I looked at the panel with blank white buttons. How was I supposed to type in the address?

"Please enter the name of the town you wish to travel to," the female voice said, though this time her voice was located in the iron elevator. 

Black letters appeared on the buttons, and I grinned. Typing in Boston, I waited for the next prompt. Pretty soon, the woman had me typing in the street name and the building number where I wanted to go. For numbers, the buttons switched to numerals.

"Thank you. You will arrive at your destination in three minutes."

That was the only warning I had before the entire car vibrated, and I glanced around wildly. Was something wrong? What was happening? My heart pounded rapidly, breath coming in short bursts. Okay, she just said three minutes. I could handle three minutes. Right?

What seemed like an eternity later, the cart stopped. Taking deep, calming breaths, I listened to the voice tell me I had arrived at Collington Boulevard, and to travel with them again.

The doors opened, and I jumped out wildly, clutching my purse to me. Taking in my surroundings, I frowned. Where the hell was I? This looked like ... an antique shop? Odd, burnished things crowded the one room shop, covering every surface. There were clocks, dolls, jewelry, and some other things I couldn't identify. 

What the hell? I was supposed to be working in the Archives, not an antique shop.

"Hello? Is anybody here?"

There was a loud crash that had me blanching, and some angry muttering soon followed. Holding my purse up as if it were a shield, I waited for the person to reveal themselves. 

I don't know what I was expecting - a man in a suit, a tall woman dressed to the nines, but that wasn't what I got.

A tiny old woman dressed in a purple gown with a white shawl over it teetered over to me, pulling some gold trinket out of her silver hair. "Shit never stays where I put it," she grumbled, tossing it into a pile. Noting me, she smiled. "Are you the new hire?"

"Uh..... maybe?"

She frowned, her good nature clearly a fleeting anomaly. "Well, which is it? Yes or no?"

"I'm looking for the Archives," I tried. Maybe the elevator took me to the wrong place?

"You found it. I'm Whispers Across Time. But you can call me Whisper. And you're?"

So she was from the Ninth Demesne. "Lark Oakchild."

She nodded. "From the Third Demesne, are ya?" At my nod, she continued. "Alright, Lark, follow me to the back." She strode off, not waiting for my acquiescence.

I hurried after her, carefully dodging the trinkets and antiques littering the floor. I didn't want to break something on my first day. We weaved through various piles, with Whisper occasionally tossing items out of her way; I ducked a couple times, narrowly missing losing an eye. 

Finally, we made it to a large velvet curtain. When Whisper swept it aside, I gasped. No longer was there a messy, slightly dangerous antique shop. Instead, I saw three walls lined with different numbered boxes - kind of like the safety deposit boxes I'd learned about in school. 

"Welcome to the Archives," Whisper said, striding in as I followed behind her. "This is where we categorize everything - every birth record, every death record, everything of importance. It's our job to be the paperwork liaison between those living in the Above and those living in the Below."

"Wow." I strode inside, taking in the millions of boxes. "What are all these boxes for?"

"Each Belower who's gone to the Above has a box," Whisper explained patiently. "It has all their information in it in case something happens or they need to renew their pass, and so on. Every time someone knew comes, a new box appears." Moving along the eastern wall, she pointed to Box 2,349,338. "This is your box. It contains your birth certificate, your basic information, application, etcetera. It appeared this morning at 7:02."

"That's when I arrived." I grinned. Magic. Something I was used to. But I was far more interested in the technology the Abovers used. 

"Yep. Now, are you ready to get to work?"

 

#

 

Within ten minutes, Whisper had shown me how to file incoming paperwork by box number. It was a magical system, not a technical one, meaning I could simply grasp the paper and see the box number in my mind. Way easier than a computer, thank the gods. Soon enough, I was filing away, happily humming to myself. Whisper had left me alone, manning the antique shop in the front. I wasn't quite sure why the Archives were hidden in an antique shop. Collington Boulevard - the trap street we were on - was spelled so Abovers would ignore it. It didn't exist to them. 

As the day went on, I noticed that people occasionally entered the antique shop, buying things from Whisper. There were Belowers like me - probably permanent residents and not day workers like me. I ignored them, filing each new paper as it came through the mail slot and fell into the tray. 

One down side of this job - major headache. Having numbers appear in your mind repeatedly for a multitude of hours definitely took its toll. 

During the times no new paperwork came in, I thought about Whisper. If she was from the Ninth Demesne, then that mean she had to be Divine. I'd never heard of Diviners leaving the Ninth Demesne, as they were the only ones capable of channeling messages from the gods. They usually lived in their temples and people had to travel to see them. They were the most magical of us all, and yet Whisper was running an antique shop in Boston? Odd. 

"I think you can take a break now, Lark."

I jumped, whirling around to see Whisper standing behind me with a smirk. She knew she'd startled me, and she liked it. Great. Just great.

"Okay," I said. Slinging my purse around my shoulder, I left the Archives and maneuvered my way to the front of the antique shop. 

"Stay on the street, Lark," Whisper warned me right as I opened the door. "The Above is dangerous, especially the cities."

"I will." And then I was outside. 

The air was so odd here - not as light or clean as the air in my hometown. Instead it was heavy, slightly dirty, and I coughed a few times as my body adjusted to the change. I turned my face toward the sky, grinning as I felt the warmth on my face. The sun. A real sun - not the magical one we'd created in the Below. It was so much more than that. I could feel its power. The stories I'd heard were true.

After a few minutes, I decided to explore the street. It wasn't paved - instead, it was cobblestone. Thankful I'd foregone heels, I glanced at all the shops. I was fluent in American English - I'd had to be to earn a pass here - but reading took a bit longer. Our alphabet was runic, as opposed to the English one. 

Slowly but surely, my brain made the connections. There was a library, a bank, and a cute bakery I decided to enter. 

Inside, people sat at tables and sipped hot drinks, just like they did at home. Going up to the counter, I beamed at the worker. 

"Hello," I said.

He smiled back. "Hello. What would you like today?"

I perused the menu, tapping my fingers on the counter. "Um, I'd like a plain bagel with cherry cream cheese and Earl Gray tea, with sugar."

He nodded, and moved behind him to grab a bagel. He held it in his hands and I watched as it slowly turned a golden color. He must've been a fire elemental to do that. Then he slathered some cherry cream cheese on it and handed it to me on a plate. I took it, and another worker handed me a mug of steaming hot Earl Gray tea. Giving them some silver coins for the meal, I found a table by the window and ate my lunch. Whisper hadn't told me when I needed to return, but I figured twenty minutes was enough of a break since I was supposed to work until 5. That left roughly three hours after work to explore. 

I smiled the entire time I ate my bagel. Finally, one of my dreams had come true. I had a job that wasn't at my mother's bookstore. I made my own money. It was the type of independence I'd craved since I was a little girl - something Mom had known. She'd made it a point to tell me horror stories about the Nomads, those that didn't belong in either the Above or the Below. They refused to abide by the rules and did as they pleased, finding hidden portals to traverse the two worlds. They were the bogeymen of my world, and I knew to steer clear of them. They weren't on Below trap streets - not ones in use at least - but they lurked in the Above world. Every Belower was told of them as a child, warned to stay away. 

I'd always been curious about them. Were they as bad as everyone claimed? Or were they simply loners or adventurers? Some of the romance novels I'd read had hot, sexy Nomads and tough curvy women like myself. I'd never told Mom about them - she would've had a coronary. 

My father, who I'd never met, had abandoned my mom while she was pregnant. Hopped on the train to the Above and never returned. Since Mom couldn't find any records of him, the whole family had assumed he'd went Nomad since no death certificate had ever appeared. 

Part of me longed to know him. And the rest longed to punish him for hurting my mom so badly she never truly trusted men again. Sure, she dated, but never seriously. He'd scarred her.

That was one reason I'd wanted to work in the Archives, aside from my love of history. I hoped to find my father and get some answer for my mom. Maybe kick his butt. 

Glancing at the clock on the wall, I noted my twenty minutes were up. Throwing away my trash and leaving my dishes on the counter to be washed, I left the baker I'd decided would be my go-to lunch spot.

Work beckoned, and I couldn't wait to get some free time to delve deeper into the Archives.