“He had been talking non-stop, and no one listened. Then he abruptly stopped, looked directly at me, and wrote two words on the paper in front of him: Blue Algebra.
I felt a strange urgency.
Before I could ask, a distant rumble began to grow louder. Outside, the train sped along the edge of Lake Champlain, its windows flickered with ghostly images—faces from another time, another reality.
He glanced out at the train, eyes filled with understanding. Blue Algebra. The paper shimmered slightly, as if it held more than just ink, as if it were a portal to another dimension. He had spoken of a labyrinth beneath the waters, a place where time twisted and reality bent.
The landscape around me began to blur, reality melting away.
I looked back at him, but he was gone. In his place stood a figure cloaked in mist, eyes glowing.”
