Page 24 of Water Moon

Chapter Twenty-four

The Museum of Education

A double helix crystal staircase spiraled from the center of a circular white hall, its top hidden by clouds. The clouds hovering inside the museum might have surprised Keishin had henot been distracted by the tiny folded paper cranes flying around and weaving between the stairs’ floating steps. A crane the color of the sunset landed on his shoulder and playfully pecked at his ear. Keishin gently ushered the origami bird onto his finger. It settled on its new perch and preened its triangular wings. Keishin lifted the crane to examine it. “Is it alive?”

“As alive as a bird made of paper can be,” Hana said. “It seems to like you. It can probably sense that you are from the same place.”

“Same place?”

“This crane is from your world. All the cranes are.”

“What?” Keishin said, startling the crane on his hand. It flew away and sought refuge in the clouds. “But I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“In your world, they look quite different. No. Wait. That’s wrong,” Hana said. “In your world, they don’t look like anything at all.”

—

Wisps of mist swirled around Keishin as they ascended the spiral staircase. Cranes sailed in and out of the clouds. “This museum doesn’t seem to be very popular.”

“Why do you say that?” Hana said.

“I haven’t seen any other visitors since we got here.”

Hana smiled and pulled out her mother’s glasses from her bag. “Look again.”

Keishin put the glasses on and nearly tripped over a step. He pulled the glasses off, glanced around, and put them on again, blinking rapidly. People made their way over both staircases, some stopping to offer their arms as perches to the paper cranes. He took the glasses off and scanned the empty museum. “Where did they go?”

“They’re still here.” Hana took the glasses from him. “Just not at the exact time as we are. When the museum admits us through its doors, it shifts time for each of the visitors so that we’re not all crowding around the same second. This way, we can all have the museum to ourselves.”

Keishin clamped his hand over a gasp. “My god.”

“Let me guess,” Hana said. “You are currently trying to think of ways to do this in your world.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. This is incredible. I can’t wait to see the exhibits. Are the galleries upstairs?”

“This is the gallery. The cranes are the Kyoiku Hakubutsukan’s prize exhibit. All of them are crafted by the museum’s origami artist.” Hana whistled and extended her hand. A crane swooped down and rested on her wrist. Hana examined it closely. “This one is from a ship called the Titanic. Do you know of it?”

“The Titanic ? Yes, of course.”

“This crane is fifteen seconds of the life of one of its crew masters. He was replaced at the last minute before the ship set sail. This is the exact fragment of time where, in his hurry to leave the ship, he neglected to turn over the keys to the locker where the ship’s binoculars were stored. Because of this, the crew master who took his place failed to see the iceberg the Titanic collided into. Fifteen seconds cost one thousand five hundred people their lives.”

The crane flew away. Hana whistled for another one. A second crane burst from the clouds and perched on her shoulder. Hana scooped it up and weighed it in her hand. “This is a lot heavier than the first one. Thirteen minutes. They belonged to a man named Georg Elser. He attempted to assassinate someone called…” Hana squinted at the crane as though trying to read something in small print. “Adolf Hitler. Have you heard of him?”

“I have,” Keishin said stiffly.

“Elser planted a bomb at a beer hall where Hitler was speaking, but Hitler cut his speech short and left early. The bomb exploded thirteen minutes later, killing eight people and injuring sixty-two others.”

“What kind of museum is this, Hana?” Keishin said, his jaw tight.

“The kind that collects the tiniest moments from your world, seconds and minutes that shifted the course of your history.” Hana pointed to the clouds enveloping them. “These are part of the exhibit too. It saved one city and caused the destruction of another.”

“How?”

“A bomb was supposed to be dropped on the city of Kokura on August ninth, 1945. But because of the heavy clouds over Kokura, the plane carrying the bomb decided to drop it over the city of Nagasaki instead.”

“Why…” Keishin’s voice caught in his throat. “Why put such things on display?”

“The Shiikuin built this museum, and everything they have curated serves a single purpose: to show everyone what happens in a world that is free to chart its own course, and to remind us that the worst thing about choices is…” Hana bit her lip.

Keishin remembered the softness of her mouth. “Is what?”

“Is having to live with them.”

—

The clouds thinned, revealing a thick bamboo grove at the top of the museum’s steps. Tall green stalks swayed in the breeze and filled the silence between Keishin and Hana with the rustling of leaves. Keishin stared at a crane that had followed them up the stairs. He watched it fly into the grove without speaking.

“Bringing you here was a mistake,” Hana said. “It has clearly upset you.”

“I’ll admit that it’s unsettling, but I’m glad you took me here. It’s one thing to read about these events in history books and quite another to come face-to-face with the very seconds that made them.”

“I apologize. I neglected to consider how the museum might make you feel. In this world, this museum is a history book, a cautionary tale from a place that, for most of us, does not even feel real.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s not even the Shiikuin’s. Every single second on exhibit in this museum was spent, squandered, or forgotten by my world. It was our time, and we did with it as we pleased. I’m not angry that your world has a place like this. I’m saddened that my world does not.” Keishin took Hana’s hand in his. “I don’t want to make the same mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to waste another second of my time here hiding what I need to say.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come with me, Hana.” He closed his hands around hers.

“What?”

“After we find your father and the missing choice… come with me. I know that my world isn’t perfect, but you’d be free. You don’t belong here, Hana. You can have a life. A real one.”

“With you?” Hana said quietly.

“That would be your choice to make. All I am asking is that you leave this place.”

Hana let go of Keishin’s hands. “I cannot cross over to your world. None of us can. We will fade away. That is how my mother was sentenced to die, remember?”

“But she wasn’t executed. She’s still alive. I’m a scientist, Hana. I believe what I can prove. Do you know of anyone who has crossed into my world? Have you seen them fade away? What if the stories are just that? Myths made up by the Shiikuin to keep you afraid?”

“And if they aren’t?”

“What if I could come up with a way to prove that it was safe? Would you come?”

A chorus of urgent whispers rose from the bamboo. Stalks shivered.

“What’s going on?” Keishin said.

“They sense that somewhere in this grove, other stalks are being cut down to be turned into washi, the paper used for the cranes,” Hana said. “We need to make our way to the orizuru maker before they get too upset.”

“Why?”

“They may not let us pass if they do.” Hana stroked a bamboo stalk until it grew still, and then whispered something to it Keishin couldn’t hear. Rows of bamboo parted, giving way to a narrow gravel path. Hana bowed to the grove. “Thank you.”