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Question
     
    Paul had been waiting for this day for a long time. A mission for the Realitants for which he was in charge. Of course, Sofia probably thought she was the boss, and he’d let her keep thinking that, but he knew the truth.
    This was Paul’s time.
    Master George had ushered them into his little office, where they sat on a small couch, and he was perched on a wooden chair with his Barrier Wand balanced on top of his lap. He had a grave look on his face, which was business as usual since the whole world had fallen into chaos.
    “Are you both ready?” the old man asked.
    Paul nodded.
    Sofia cleared her throat. “Of course we are. But you haven’t really told us much about what we’re supposed to do.”
    Their fearless leader pursed his lips, looking as if he had a whole bunch of nasty thoughts in his head that he didn’t want to share. “The Third Reality is one we haven’t charted very well, and, given recent events, we’ve lost all other means of communication with the Realitant we originally sent there. She can be quite . . . difficult, and she’s made it clear that supervising the Third Reality is her job and her job alone. I need you to find her and ask her a very important question.”
    “You said something about her wanting to eat us,” Paul said. “This chick a wolverine or something?”
    “No, no, no,” Master George grumbled. “And I highly suggest you not say such things to her when you meet. And most certainly, I recommend you not call her a . . . what did you say? A chick?”
    Paul shrugged. He wasn’t worried—he’d have this lady cooling her jets with some of his simple charm and good looks. No biggie.
    “I think I’ll do the talking,” Sofia muttered. “Don’t worry.”
    “Her name is Gretel,” Master George continued. “The woman has a nasty temper, the worst I’ve ever seen. She makes Mistress Jane look like a princess on a pony. And she’s been a bit . . . at odds with me for some time now. But she’s brilliant, and I plan to send you with full means to communicate back to me through your nanolocators. Your first task is to reach her. Make sure she is calm. And then ask the question.”
    Paul thought the whole mission seemed a little strange. “What’s this big question we’re supposed to ask?”
    Their leader hefted the Barrier Wand in his hands and studied it, though his gaze was distant, as though he was trying to stall for time.
    “Well?” Paul pushed.
    “You may not understand it, but I need you to say these exact words to her. Are you ready? Though short, I’ve taken the liberty of writing it down on pieces of paper I’ve slipped into your packs.”
    “Sheesh,” Paul said. “Just spill it already.”
    “Here it is,” the man said, looking very serious indeed. “Six words: May I please use your bathroom? ”

    Paul was still snickering about the ridiculous question when the old man winked them to the Third Reality. Master George had refused to explain any further, saying that those six words were all they needed to know. They’d be sent to a place near a path. Follow the path. Find a house. Knock on the door. Ask the question: “May I please use your bathroom?”
    Easy peasy.
    Well, worst-case scenario, they’d be able to utilize the facilities before heading back.
    Paul and Sofia stood on a soggy, muddy trail that cut ahead of them through marshland and swamp. The air was muggy and seemed to stick in Paul’s lungs when he breathed, and the heat made it worse. They’d only been there for half a minute, and he was already sweating head to toe.
    Trees rose up out of the black waters of the swamp, moss and vines hanging from their branches. There were the sounds of frogs and crickets and a million other bugs and creatures, and a fragrance that was an inch short of disgusting. Rotten eggs and burnt toast.
    “Let me get this straight,” Paul said. “This lady could live pretty much anywhere in the thirteen Realities, and she chose to live