“Welcome to Gomorrah,” Ariel says triumphantly.

Looking around, I debate pinching myself to make sure this isn’t an elaborate dream.

Though five in the evening at JFK, it’s already night in this world. The sky is clear, which allows me to take in the impossible view.

A view that drives home the point that we’re not in Kansas (or New York) anymore.

There is no moon in the sky. Instead, the darkness above us is dominated by what looks like a majestic nebula—an interstellar cloud of dust and gasses. The yellows and reds in it form long columns, eerily reminding me of fire and brimstone about to rain down from above.

Unpeeling my eyes from the surreal heavens, I look around. We’re in a colosseum-like outdoor space that serves as a gate hub, only—and I can’t believe I didn’t notice this at first—it’s on top of an enormous skyscraper.

Spellbound, I walk behind the gate to look down.

The building is mind-bogglingly tall. It stands higher than any on Earth by at least a factor of ten. How are we not freezing at this altitude? The planet must be much warmer—that, or there’s some invisible heater around us. Not to mention, some kind of oxygen supply.

The building top must also be a tourist attraction, because there are helpful telescopes around the perimeter. I dash toward one and peer into it.

If you took all the skyscrapers from Earth cities such as New York, Dubai, Shanghai, Paris, and Moscow, and crammed them all together into one super city, the result would still look shabby in comparison to this. There’s a Disneyland-meets-Times-Square vibe to this sprawling megapolis that makes me want to get down and explore every nook and cranny.

“I take it you’re impressed?” Ariel puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t feel bad if you are—that’s what this place was designed to do.”

“It must be enormous.” I step away from the edge of the building.

“The City of Gomorrah is bigger than the United States of America. The world—or planet—of Gomorrah is about the same size as Earth, though, so the rest of the planet’s land is used to feed the insane population of the City.”

I whistle under my breath and turn to look at Ariel. Noticing something amiss, I rub my eyes to make sure it’s not some byproduct of awe overload.

“Your aura,” I say when nothing changes. “It’s missing.”

“Well, yeah,” Ariel says nonchalantly. “So is yours. We don’t need it here in Gomorrah.”

I look down at the mirrored floor and verify that, indeed, mine is missing as well. Lifting my head, I ask, “Is the aura specific to our world?”

“No,” Ariel says, and I don’t know if I’m imagining an undertone of smugness to her words. Perhaps after all the magic effects I’ve baffled her with, she’s enjoying knowing something I don’t. “The aura is human specific.”

“What do you mean ‘human specific?’” I massage my forehead in the hopes that I can get more blood flow to my currently sluggish brain.

“Gomorrah is one of the worlds with no humans living on it.” Ariel heads toward the middle of the roof and gestures for me to follow.

Catching up, I say, “What do you mean no humans living on it?” I wave at the gargantuan city. “Someone clearly lives in that.”

“All Cognizant,” Ariel says over her shoulder. “Hence no aura needed.”

“Wait.” I stop walking. “Is this the original world where our people are from?”

“No.” Ariel also stops. Turning toward me, she tilts her head. “I should’ve waited until you finished Orientation before bringing you here. This will be a night of ‘whys,’ won’t it?”

“So it’s not the home world, but everyone is Cognizant,” I repeat, ignoring her complaint. “Why?”

“I’m going to give you four more questions; then we just enjoy the night,” she says, though her exasperation seems a little false to me. “Obviously, the Cognizant live here because they discovered this uninhabited-by-humans world, found it pleasant, and decided to make their home here. At least those who didn’t have powers to start with.” She resumes walking toward the middle, where I spot some small structure.

“What do you mean ‘didn’t have powers to start with?’” I speed up to fall into step next to her.

“Not every Cognizant has a measurable power. But the rest of us, who do, lose it on worlds like Gomorrah,” she explains. “Worlds with no humans around.”

“We do?” I say, unsure how I should feel about losing my hit-and-miss powers just to go to some club—no matter how cool.

“Don’t worry.” Ariel picks up her pace. “It’s a very slow process. It takes a long time before you’re completely drained.”

“Drained?”

“Is that the third question?” Ariel stops next to the structure that was our destination. It looks like an elevator shaft—an impression confirmed when Ariel presses a button next to the mirrored doors.

“Will you stop counting my questions?” I narrow my eyes at her.

“Will you explain all your tricks to me?” She vindictively grins. “Especially the one when you levitated in our kitchen?”

“Fine.” Getting a taste of my own medicine sucks. I briefly contemplate explaining something aside from the effect she just mentioned, but the whirlwind of questions in my head makes it hard to think of an example of something I wouldn’t mind giving up.

“What do you mean by ‘completely drained?’” I ask again. “Or more to the point, did you mean to say that by living on this world, a Cognizant would lose powers completely? If so, do you mean permanently, and if that’s the case, why would anyone live here? Aside from the powerless, I mean? Also, why? Do we need humans for the powers to work?” The elevator doors open as I pause to catch my breath.

Ariel slinks into the elevator and presses the large Lobby button. “That was five, maybe even six questions.”

“Come on.” I make my best puppy eyes at her. “Pretty please? Explain this, and I won’t ask any more today.” I cross my fingers behind my back and add, “I promise.”

Ariel rolls her eyes. “You realize I can see you cross your fingers in the mirror? And that you’re not five?”

“If I answer your condescending rhetorical questions, will you bump up my own question count?” I put my hands on my hips.

The elevator doors open. Considering the height of this building, that was the fastest elevator ride ever.

Ariel exits and says over her shoulder, “Okay. I’ll explain until we get to the club—”

The building lobby is every architect and museum curator’s wet dream. It looks like the lovechild of New York’s Oculus train station and the Guggenheim Museum.

“You’re not even listening to me,” Ariel says as I bump into her, my mouth agape.

“I’m listening.” I meet her gaze.

She sighs. “There are empty worlds, worlds with both Cognizant and human inhabitants, and Cognizant worlds only. And there might be human-only worlds as well—though they, by definition, will not have gates leading to them, as we built those.”

My head feels like it’s about to explode. I have a million more questions, but I know if I interrupt, she might stop explaining for good.

She resumes walking. “For worlds where both exist, we do seem to need humans in order to keep our powers.”

“Sounds like we’re symbiotic species,” I can’t help but mutter under my breath.

“What was that?” Ariel frowns.

“Symbionts.” I pick up my pace to catch up with Ariel’s long-legged strides. “Like those cleaner fish that help out bigger fish. Or the beneficial bacteria that make up a huge chunk of everyone’s bodies.”

“Symbionts,” she says. “I know what that is. And, gross. But in any case, if we stay on a world without humans, eventually we permanently lose our powers—but again, the effect is negligible in one evening. As to why anyone would bother living here, most are born here and thus stay where they are born. Just like people born in inhospitable places on Earth often stay there, despite the existence of New York.” She glances at me, and we exchange knowing New Yorker smiles.

“How did humans make it onto more than one world?” I ask next. “And what about aliens? Do these worlds have any other sentient species besides us?”

“Even if I knew the answers, you’re officially out of questions.” Ariel looks back to make sure I’m following, sees my crestfallen expression, and more kindly says, “I don’t know, anyway. Humans typically can’t go through the gates, so I don’t think that’s how they spread to more than one world. I doubt even Dr. Hekima can satisfy the size of your curiosity. You’re like a freak of nature—some people have big index fingers; you have a giant ‘why’ center in your brain.”

Even though I know it wasn’t Ariel’s intent, I take her comments as a compliment.

We reach the revolving doors leading out of the building, and Ariel pushes the heavy contraption with barely a touch, rotating them for the both of us.

I guess I don’t have to waste a question on, “Can we at least use our powers on this world?” since she clearly can. Besides, the question is somewhat moot in my case, unless I decide to take a nap.

“Wow,” I say when we get outside. “This place is like Vegas on crack. And steroids.”

The cacophony of entertainment posters, exotic structures, 3D holograms, lights, and colorfully dressed people threatens to give me a migraine.

“We don’t have to go far,” Ariel says and points at a large building covered by a collection of bulky neon signs in German, Italian, Portuguese, Dutch, and every other Earth language, plus a rune-like writing that reminds me of the symbols Beatrice carved into the corpses she animated. Perhaps it’s the original Cognizant tongue? The English version of the sign declares, “Earth Club.” In smaller font, it boasts, “The best vodka in all of Otherlands.”

There is a huge line to get in, but that doesn’t faze Ariel. Grabbing my hand, she drags me toward the ocean-blue doors that seem to be made out of marble.

A bouncer is guarding them.

A huge bouncer who’s green.

He looks like the lost brother of the orcs who almost killed me, but he’s not wearing makeup.

Hopefully, he’s not working with them—a hope supported by the completely blank look he gives me before looking approvingly at Ariel.

“Is that an orc?” I whisper to her as softly as I can.

The bouncer must have preternaturally sharp hearing because he raises his eyebrow and looks at Ariel, as if to say, “Who is this idiot you brought with you? She’s too green to enter.”

“She’s with me,” Ariel says firmly and grabs my hand so tightly my bones creak. Holding it, she walks straight at the bouncer. “This is Sasha. She works for Nero Gorin,” she states when the guy doesn’t move. “He’s her Mentor, too.”

I don’t think the bouncer would’ve moved this quickly out of her way if she’d punched him with all her power-boosted might.

“They know Nero here?” I ask Ariel as we enter the club.

If she answers, I don’t hear her over the earthquake-loud beat that assaults my eardrums and vibrates my internal organs.

“Welcome to Earth Club,” Ariel screams into my ear. “Let the fun begin.”