The Errant Tree

Oslo

The ride to Oslo had taken Dylan a full twenty-four hours. The light had already begun to wane as she disembarked in the clean, modern station. Beneath each traveler's feet, the floor displayed labeled arrows pointing toward various amenities: fast food, shopping, other shortly departing trains, and taxi service. This last option lit up for Dylan, and a message on the floor in front of her read, You have a car waiting for you in Bay 7.

She could not remember the last time she had had a car waiting for her.

"Where are we going?" Dylan asked the car once she was inside.

"Our destination is Rådhusbrygge Three, Sentrum District, Oslo."

That meant nothing to Dylan, so she asked, "What do I do when I get there?"

"You are scheduled to catch the twenty-sixteen Aagard Estate Ferry to the Aagaard Estate and Grounds."

"What's the Aagaard Estate?"

"According to the Oslo Tourism Board, the Aagaard Estate and Grounds is the erstwhile home of Senator Hallbjorn Aagaard, one of Norway's most infamous figures. The manor is built on an artificial, floating island using recycled materials and then-state-of-the-art botanical construction techniques. Originally designed by Senator Aagaard at the height of the Sustainability Crisis to promote the benefits of maritime residency, it has since been transformed into a full-service resort free and open to the public by way of lottery."

"Lucky me. And my audition is there?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know anything about an audition. Would you like me to search for auditions happening nearby?"

"No."

The taxi whisked her along streets that were clean, understated, and modern, the buildings practical and stately. Crowds passed over the road on regularly spaced foot bridges. It was all much more orderly and homogenous than the idiosyncratic jumble that was Great London. Dylan rolled down the window and scented brine on the air.

She also scented herself, which made her conscience of her appearance: she had developed a sheen of sweat on her journey, and her t-shirt had been stained by an errant sip of coffee. She could cover the stain with her hoodie, but even that was not the cleanest it could have been. Her jeans were worn at the knees, and her sneakers were far from pristine.

"I look like shit," she said aloud.

The car didn't reply to that.

"Is the Aagaard Estate like, fancy?"

"The Oslo Tourism Board suggests formal dress is preferred but not required."

"Great."

She changed her t-shirt in the car but was stuck with the rest. As she stuffed her old shirt into her bag, the car turned onto an avenue running along the fjord levee, which obscured the water. When the taxi declared they had reached their stop, Dylan slid out onto the sidewalk, donned her hoodie, then climbed the steps to the levee walk. At the top, she was greeted with the sight of the bay, which was not so much open water as an extension of the city; a network of apartment complexes chained together by footbridges floated like lily pads beneath the darkling sky, leaving lanes for boat traffic between them—relics from a time when the city looked for ways to expand without spilling into the surrounding hills and forests that had for so long been preserved as parkland. Ahead of her, a pier jutted out from the levee, and she followed it to a crowd of well-dressed Norwegians who had just begun to board a moored double-decker boat. A couple of them looked her up and down, which she pretended to ignore. The man managing the gangplank confirmed to Dylan that this was the ferry headed to the Aagaard Estate and Grounds. He took her name, nodding when she gave it, and helping her onboard with a gloved hand, another first for Dylan Force.