Feersum Endjinn

by Iain M. Banks

  And he woke from such dreams sometimes wondering whether all that he was being shown could possibly be true, and on other occasions so convinced that it had been real that he would have faithfully believed what he had seen was the inescapable future, rather than some mere possibility, projection or warning.

  He crawled ashore at dusk, collapsing onto the golden slope of the beach, the perfumes of the lush gardens beyond washing over his naked skin while his body shook and trembled with the after-effects of exertion.

  He stared ahead, panting, while the surf washed at his feet, then rose unsteadily and staggered up the smooth stretch of beach towards a low white stone wall separating the strand from the gardens. Steps led up. He stood, then sat, shivering a little on the stone parapet, just looking.

  Brightly coloured birds flitted through moss-hung trees, fountains played tinkling on shaded pools, paths meandered between plump lawns, and gaudy banks and beds of flowers offered up their bells and mouths to a lazy buzz of late-gathering insects.

  The grey tower towards the apex of the gardens looked dark and deserted against the deep bruised hues of the sky.

  He got his breath back and when he started to shiver again stood up and walked smartly towards the tower.

  He walked out from under the sheltering trees.

  The tower’s dark grey surface had the rough-smooth texture of eggshell. It stood on a plinth of veined porphyry surrounded by a shallow moat where lilies floated and over which bowed an ornamental bridge of red-painted wood.

  As he watched, something caught the faint light in the sky at the top of the tower and flashed, and floating down towards him there came an angel.

  He laughed out loud.

  4

  I get tired screemin. Evin moar I get tired ov gettin bashed on thi hed wif thi mask whot has cum off ma faice; itz stil atatched 2 thi air tank on my bak & itz slipt roun bhind ma nek & is goan fump fump fump on thi bak ov my bonce.

  I feel bhind me & tare it away.

  Ma eers r goan pop pop pop. Thi air iz blastin roun me so hard therz harly eny poynt in me screemin nway. Its olmost totily dark; Ive got a sorta gray sensation ov thi wols rushin past aroun me, & if I twist roun I can luke up & c a vaig impreshin ov a tiny patch ov dark gray on thi blakniss.

  Downwirds, thers jus blakniss.

  I try 2 kript but I cant; doan no if itz coz Im movin 2 fass or coz thi shaft is sheeldid or coz Im 2 terrifyd 2 consintrate proprly. I start screemin agen, then stop, gulpin 4 bref.

  Id ½ shat my pants by now but itz been so long sins I 8 I cant.

  Thi air is coald & am shiverin but its not freezin. I setil in2 a sorta floppi X-shape aftir a while, like Ive scene skydivirs do; I drift 2wards 1 wol, then manoovir myself away agen. I ½ 2 keep swaloin 2 keep my eers from burstin. I try 2 fink how far up I woz & how long itz goan 2 talk me 2 fol 2 thi botim, if its thi botim thats goan 2 brake ma fol. I reelize that ther mite b sumthin btween me & thi botim & I cude hit @ eny momint & I start screemin agen.

  I stop aftir a while. Teers get whipt off ma faice but itz not me cryin itz juss thi feercniss ov thi wind tearin @ ma Is.

  Ive nevir dyed b4. I doan no whot itz like. Ive herd from uthir peepil & Ive bin in thi minds ov bags whot ½ dyed & got ther impreshins but thay say itz difrint 4 evrybodi & I doan no whot itil b like 4 me & I woz hoapin not 2 find out 4 a while yet thanx very mutch but thare we go.

  I start wunderin if thayl resusitate me @ oll. O fuk; whot if Im in sutch big trubil thayl juss looz my ident from thi kript? Whot if thay catch ma dyin fots & then juss interogate me, or doan bothir sayvin me @ oll?

  I feel like am goan 2 b sik.

  Thi roarin aroun me goze on forevir. My Is r dry & soar. My eers hurt 2.

  O fuk I doan wan 2 dy.

  I cant bleev how long this is takin. I feel like Im in kript-time. It okurs 2 me mayb I am, mayb I kriptid without noin about it. But I cant b. Im obveyisly not. I’m heer, follin down this shaft, damit. I try kriptin agen.

  It wurx. Im on thi sekind basemint levil, praktikly @ c levil.

  How mutch furthir down can this bleedin shaft go?

  / I port acros in2 thi kript; @ leest I can avoid thi momint ov impact. My implants will pool me bak when I dy, so ther woant b 2 ov me, but @ leest ... wait a bleedin minit.

  Accordin 2 thi loakil hardware Im stil on thi saim levil. Thi kript finks Im staishinry. Wots goan on heer?

  I dubil chek, trebil chek, kwadroopil chek. Yep; thi kriptosfeer finks Ive stopt.

  I giv a sorta mentil gulp, then port bak acros 2 my bod.

  /Thi air iz stil screemin up roun me. Itz stil totily blak but wif thi thermil bit ov my vizhin I can stil make out thi wols 2 ither side. Shurenuf, they do luke a bit difrint; no impreshin ov them hurtlin past no moar. I stare down.

  I doan c nuthin but blakniss but now I fink about it thi sound is diffrint sumhow; evin moar ov a roar.

  Then suddenli thers lites evriwhare, blindin me.

  I cloas my Is. I fink; blimey, I nevir felt a fing. Thass me ded & this is thi long tunnil wif thi lite @ thi end whot evribody getz 2 c & I muss ½ hit thi botim & not evin felt it.

  Xsept thi roarins stil thare & thi wind is stil pushin in2 ma face. I opin my Is agen.

  Im stairin strate down @ a sorta a hexagonil grid ov wires or metil or sumfin, & beyond thi grid, a few metirs furvir down, thers ol these big propelir fings, 7 ov them, ol whirlin away & roarin & sendin thi air screemin up past me.

  I luke 2 thi side.

  Thers a doar in thi wol levil wif me & a cupil ov big black meen lookin birdz wif skaley nex perchd thare, lookin @ me, beedy-Id, ther fevirs rufflin in thi draft.

  I cant fink whot else 2 do. So I wave 2 them.

  That woz how we used 2 reech our hoam, 1 ov thi birdz tells me.

  Am wokin along a brod britely lit tunnil. Thi 2 lammergeiers r keepin pace wif me by sorta ½ hoverin in thi air 1 on ither side ov me, ther wings goan whuf whuf, whuf whuf. I didn evin no they cude do this.

  Am wokin kinda funy coz I think I did crap my pants juss a litil, but they doan seem 2 notis, or thayr 2 polite.

  U meen u got blastid up thare by thoaz fans? I say, suriptishisly poolin @ thi seet ov ma pants.

  Krect, sez thi bird (½in 2 shout abuv thi noise ov its wings goan whuf whuf).

  So whyd u leev? I shout. & who woz that up thare pooshd me down?

  We left bcoz it woz no longir safe, & we wer needid down heer, yelz thi bird. As 2 who pooshd u in2 thi shaft, I imajin it woz probly a state employee.

  Whot, a Security geezir or sumfing? But—?

  Pleez; I cant tel u eny moar. Our comandir may b abil 2 ansir eny uthir qwestions u ½. Luke; wude u mind runnin?

  Runnin? I sez, Why, is ther sumbidy aftir us? I glans bhind expectin 2 c Security peepil pursooin us but thers juss thi long brite tunil stretchin way in2 thi distins.

  No, shouts thi bird, itz juss this pace is very tyrin 4 us.

  Sorry, I sez, & braik in2 a run. Dozent do my chafed bum no gude but it keeps thi 2 lammergeiers happy, beetin alongside.

  & so that woz how I arrivd @ thi lammergeiers HQ; brefliss, on thi dubil & wif my pants spottid wif kak.

  Thi hed lammergeier iz a feerce big bugir ov a burd; tolir than me when heez perchd & wings longir than Im tol. He iznt no ole gie neevir, heez in hiz prime wif sleek blak & wite fevvirs, steely lookin talins, a naykid nek that lukes oild & brite, & jet-blak Is. I doan no if heez got a naim; we ½nt bin propirly introdoosed.

  Heez sittin on a perch, Im sat on thi floar. Thi room iz funnil shaped & thi brod sirkulir roof has a imidje ov a blu sky wif litil flufy clouds in it. Thers anuthir ½ dozen or so uthir lammergeiers perchd aroun thi room 2.

  U ½ been a propir pest 2 sertin peepil, mastir Bascule, thi big bird sez, stairin @ me & rokin from side 2 side & sorta stampin itz feet on thi perch. A moast persistent pest.

  Thang u very mutch, I sez.

  That woz not a complimint! thi bird screetchiz, flapin.

  I sit bak, blinkin (m
y Is r stil a bit soar aftir ol that wind roarin past me when I fel). Whot do u meen? I ask.

  Itz qwite possibil that we ½ givin away our noo posishin heer by turnin on thi lift fans so we cude save yoor miserabil hide! thi bird shouts.

  Wel, sory Im shure, but I woz toald u mite ½ sum informayshin about thi whareabouts ov a frend ov mine.

  What? thi hed bird sez, soundin puzzld. Who?

  Itz a ant. Hir name is Ergates.

  Thi bird starez @ me. Yoor lookin 4 a ant? he sqwaks, & sounz increduliss.

  A ver speshil ant. (I naro my Is.) Whot woz taikin by a lammergeier.

  Thi bird shaiks itz hed. Wel, it woznt dun by 1 ov us, it sez, shakin its fevirs.

  O yeh? I sez.

  We r chimerix, mastir Bascule. This . . . ant muss ½ bin taikin by a wild lammergeier.

  & whare r they then? I ask. (Dam, fot I woz on thi rite trak @ last!)

  Ded, thi hed bird sez.

  I blink my Is. Ded?

  Thi state had them kild during yesterday evening when it reelized we opoasd it; moast ov them wer mobbed by chimeric crows & brot down. We bleev we wer thi reel targets. 2 ov us wer cot & distructid. Ol thi wild lammergeiers r ded.

  O, I sed. O deer, I thot.

  Hmm, I sed, I doan supoase u no if eny ov them sed anythin about—?

  Wait a minit, thi bird sez, waivin 1 wing @ me. It cloases its Is 4 a momint. It opinz them agen.

  It lukes stedily @ me 4 a momint, then sorta ½ shaiks its hed. Wel, mastir Bascule, it sez. As I sed, u ½ been nuthing if not persistint. & u ½ not been fritind 2 risk yoor life. It stamps its feet agen. Ther is sumthin u mite do.

  Do 4 what, 4 who?

  I cant tel u 2 mutch, yung sir; itz best 4 u if u doant no 2 mutch, beleev me; but ther r sum very importint things happening rite now, things whitch affect - & whitch wil affect - ol ov us. Thi state — thi peepil who ½ atakd owr frends thi sloths & ½ tried 2 kil u - r tryin 2 prevent sumthing happening. Wil u giv us yoor help in making it happin?

  Whot happenin? I ask, suspishiss. They say thers a emisiry from thi kaotic bits ov thi kript aroun, wantin 2 infect thi uppir layers.

  Thi big bird shayks its wings impayshintly. Thi emisiry, it sez, is kold an asoora & it is from 1 ov thi few parts ov thi kript whitch haz not bin tutched by thi kaos. It carrys within it thi meens ov our salvayshin, but its mishin is in jeperdy; the state oposes it 2 bcoz thi fulfilment ov its mishin wude — conseevibly - meen thi end ov thi presint power structyoor. Ov coarse thi state has used thi bogey ov thi kaos 2 atemt 2 turn uthirs agenst thi asoora & those who wude aid it. Thi fact remanes it iz our only hoap. If it duz not sukseed we r ol lost.

  I shift my bum a bit. I reely shude ½ askd 2 cleen up a bit b4 ol this. Not that a playce whare lammergeiers r iz likely 2 b big on washrooms, judjin from thi state ov sum ov thi floars Ive seen aroun her. Im finkin fru whot thi hed geezirs juss toal me. It mite b tru, but I ver mutch dout am been toald thi hoal trufe heer.

  & whot am I suposed 2 do? I ask.

  Thi hed bird lukes distinkly uncumfortabil, & flaps itz wings a bit. Itz danegeris, it sez.

  Id kinda gessd that, I sez urbainly, feelin pritti groan-up, thangu ver mutch. Whot did u ½ in mind? I ask.

  Thi lammergeier fixiz me wif its ice-blak Is. Goan bak up thi fass-towr, it sez. Only hi-er this time. (It stamps its feet, 1 aftir anuthir, & thi uthir burdz do thi saim thing.) Mutch hi-er.

  I sit bak. Frotes gon a bit dry.

  U got a toilit I cude yooz? I ask.

  Lukes like thi hoal bleedin fass-towrs juss pakd wif shafts. Weer heer @ thi foot ov anuthir 1. Itz biggir than thi 1 I fel down; a lot bigir. This is thi 1 in thi centir ov thi towr & it muss b eesily ½ a kilometir acros. Very faynt lite filtirs down from . . . blimey, I doan no; helluva far up, thas 4 shure.

  We r heer curtisy ov thi war, thi hed bird telz me. Both sides think thi uthir controlz this space.

  O reely.

  Yes; thi fact they may b about 2 reech an acomadayshin shortly is anuthir reezin 4 ther bein a degree ov urjinsy about thi presint sityooayshin.

  Thi hed bird is perchd wif his ½ dozen pals on whot lukes like a peece ov crumpild, soot-blakind missile rekidje neer thi centir ov thi shaft base. Uthir lammergeiers r flittin about thi place fru thi shados. Thi rok floar ov thi shaft lukes like it used 2 b smooth but itz ol chipt & skard now & literd wif bits ov broakin mashines. Thers a dubil set ov rales leedin in from thi side ov thi shaft whitch is whare we came from; thers a big cavern thare whot lukes like a mooseum ov rokit flite or sumfing; fool ov big sheds & misteeryus bits ov eqwuipmint & rustin missiles & big sferikil tanx & telescopes & radar dishis & deflatid silvir baloons like discardid bolgounz.

  I luke strate up. Didn no u cude get vertigo lukin up.

  This iz thi mane shaft, thi hed bird sez, & poziz. 1nce it led 2 thi stars.

  I luke up agen & I can bleev it. My hed spins @ thi thot & I olmost fol ovir.

  Thi top ov thi fass-towr has bin inaxessibil 4 as long as enybodi or anything can remember, thi lammergeier telz me. Meny atemts ½ bin made, moastly in secrit, 2 reetch its hites. Ol ½ fayled, as far as we no. It lifts up 1 foot & lukes down @ thi bit ov missile itz perchd on. U c sum ov thi rekidje around u.

  Uh-huh, I sez. Sumfin up thare keeps shootin them down, yeh?

  No; but ther apeers 2 b an armurd conical base 2 thi towrs upir reetches @ about 20 kilometirs whitch nobody has bin abil 2 penitrate.

  I luke roun @ ol thi missile rekidje. Thi offorities doan yoozhily let airplanes operate wifin thi cassil 4 feer ov a crash weekinin thi struktyir, let aloan missiles. U cant help wunderin whot sorta damidje has bin dun up thare by ol this rekd hardware.

  So? I sez.

  We ½ a final vacyoom baloon, thi lammergeier sez.

  A whot?

  A vacyoom baloon, it repeets. Teknikly, a very strong impermeebil membrane encloasin a hi vacyoom & fitid wif a harnis.

  A harnis, I sed.

  +, we ½ sum hi-altitood breevin eqwipmint.

  U ½, ½ u? I sez. (& am finkin, 0-0 ...)

  Yes, mastir Bascule. We r askin u 2 take thi baloon up as far as u can & then clime sum way beyond thi levil thi baloon attanes.

  Iz that posibil? How far up we tokin?

  It is sertinly posibil, tho not without risk. Thi altitood is aproximitly 20 kilometirs.

  Haz enybudy els bin up that hi?

  They ½.

  They get bak down agen?

  Yes, thi lammergeier sez, stampin from side 2 side agen & flappin its wings out a bit. Sevril mishins ½ ataned sutch hites in thi past.

  Whot am I suposed 2 do up thare?

  U wil b givin a pakidje 2 tak wif u. Ol u ½ 2 do is diliver it.

  Whare? Who 2?

  U wil c when u get thare. I cant tel u eny moar.

  If this is so urjint, how cum u gies cant do it? I ask, lukin roun @ thi othir birdz.

  1 ov our numbir tryd, thi hed bird sez. We beleev he is ded. Anuthir woz about 2 mount a sekind atempt juss b4 u apperd but we wer not veri hoapful ov suxess. Thi problem is that we canot fly 2 a ½ ov thi altitood reqwired, & 1ce thi baloon wil rise no moar simply woking up steps apeers 2 b thi best meens ov gainin hite. We r not bilt for wokin. U r.

  I fink about ol this.

  It is a simpl task in a sens, thi hed lammergeier sez, but without it thi asooras mishin wil shurely fale. Howevir, this is a danejiris undertaikin. If u lak thi curidje 2 taik it on then b shure that moast hoomins wood feel thi saim way. Probly thi sensibil fing 2 do is 2 turn it doun. U r bairly an adolesint, aftir ol.

  Thi hed bird lowirs his nek a litil & lukes roun @ his 2 neereist pals.

  We ask 2 mutch, he sez, soundin sorofool. Cum - & he starts 2 opin his wings as if 2 fly away.

  I swolo hard.

  Il do it, I sez.

  NINE

  1

  The cell was dark. She had been troubled by strange dreams and awoke, restless and disturbed in her narrow cot. She tried to get back to sleep but could not. She lay
on her back, trying in vain to remember what she had been dreaming about. She opened her eyes to the darkness, and when she rolled over again noticed a tiny glow of pale light coming from the floor. She gazed down at it. It was like a pearl, lit from inside, and so faint she could only see it when she didn’t look straight at it. She put her hand out to touch it. It felt cold. It was stuck to the floor. She caught a hint of movement inside, and got out of the bed, kneeling on the floor and putting one eye up to the tiny glowing pearl.

  Inside the pearl she saw ice and snow and cloud and somebody standing dressed in furs.

  Without hesitating, she plucked the pearl from the floor. It was damp and cold in her fingers, like ice. The tiny hole in the floor glowed more brightly now; the scene below was clearer. She wished she could slip through into that other place, and found herself shrinking — or the hole and the cell around her expanding - until she was able to do just that.

  She awoke on a frozen lake; a huge sheet of ice stretching smoothly away in every direction to a pale grey horizon. Above was a roof of white cloud.

  It was very cold. She was dressed in a fur hat and a calf-length coat. Her boots were long and her hands were clasped together inside a fur muff. Her breath smoked in front of her.

  In the distance she saw a black dot. It gradually enlarged until eventually it resolved into a man rowing a kind of spindly frame across the ice. He didn’t turn round to look at her, but stopped rowing some distance away and coasted to a halt level with her and about a stone’s throw distant. He wore a thin, tight-fitting one-piece suit and a thin cap. He sat, still not looking at her, breathing hard and leaning forwards to rest on the claw-oars he held.

  She looked down at her boots, which became ice skates. She glided over and stopped neatly, facing him.

  He was middle-aged but fit-looking in a stocky, compact sort of way. There was a sculpted leanness hinted at in his face and his hair was thick and black. He looked slightly surprised. ‘Who the hell are you?’ he asked.