Forests of the Night

by Tanith Lee

  As peter follows the woman, he is aware of a powerful brimming bursting within himself. This is like the feeling he has experienced in his penis, sometimes, in the seconds before his hands and the murmurs of the talkto have caused him to climax. But the feeling is not sexual, actually, although it is orgasmic, far more so than the jetting irritation of random lust.

  The woman walks up the never-altering face of the Machine.

  peter comes to wonder what he is doing, following her.

  Then his feet slip. There is no purchase. He falls.

  ‘Hush, you’re here,’ says the talkto. ‘Here you are. You’re safe.’ peter realises he has cried out.

  He listens to the talkto as it comforts him, then sinks back into sleep.

  anna arrives at the heart of the Machine, as she always does, in the one-seater air-car. It sets her down before d top two, and she enters the round office where, with three others, she overlooks the d levels of the Machine. As usual vaslav and rita are already at their panels. anna crosses to her seat and allows it to form itself about her before giving it her weight. This diurnal she is wearing a pale grey one-piece suit. In her two-room home, she is always offered a choice of clothing in off-white, pale or dark grey. rita is clad in dark grey, anna notes. Sometimes at meal-breaks anna and rita exchange a little conversation. They talk about the Machine, the abstract comeliness of its lines in some new area they have, on a free walk, discovered. Or they speak contemptuously of the workers who man the d levels. These do not seem as efficient as workers of other levels, q, for example, or y. But since all workers are efficient in deed if not in essence, nothing can be done. It is the aesthetic of the workforce that troubles anna, rita. Both anna and rita have, at prescribed times, met with vaslav for sexual union. However, they do not speak very much to him, nor he to them. At meal-breaks he tends to sit with han or olif from d top three.

  As anna sits into the chair, her panel shows her a portion of the d levels. After a minute, it shows her another portion. The panel continually shows anna portions of the d levels, as the panels of rita and vaslav show them, also, portions of the d levels.

  The coils and pipes are flickering with energies, the wheels turn, the levers lift and engage.

  anna is rested by these images. Only now and then, she has a wish to move the more human figures a little, put their bodies into slightly more effective angles, or simply to make them stand when they are sitting, sit when standing up.

  Sometimes she thinks of what she will order from the tops canteen at the meal-break, or sometimes of the poetry which her talkto has made for her. Although she discusses the Machine and the workers with rita, and intermittently meets with vaslav, for sex, anna prefers — as rita and vaslav do themselves — reticence, and the solitude of a home.

  At the end of the diurnal, anna’s talkto had recited:

  grey is the line for ever

  for ever is as the grey line

  and this fragment has become locked into the memory of anna, and as the panel shows her the parts of the levels where the workers touch and touch, the coils sparkle and the wheels turn, the poem weaves together with every view, contenting her in a deep and tender fashion.

  So that when an alarm goes off, like a tiny white firework somewhere in the screen, anna is horribly jolted.

  In the thirty years during which anna has watched the d levels, no incident has ever occurred. Nothing has occurred at all.

  Now she feels personally slighted. Threatened.

  She stands on the bridgeway, and looks down to where a mechanical medical is attending to one of the workers. Because something has happened to him while working, she will have to speak to him. anna knows this is the procedure, although such an event is unprecedented.

  anna waits until the medical is finished. Then the worker is taken by an overseer to the ramp which connects with the bridge. He gets onto the ramp reluctantly. As he rises towards her, anna looks away. She sees that none of the other workers has paid any attention. They regard their sections, and at the proper intervals their hands go out to touch the transmitters of the Machine.

  Despite the fact anna has sometimes walked three levels on a free walk, when the Machinery is quiescent and the workers in their homes, to be so near the manned levels makes her uneasy.

  The male worker is deposited ten metres away. He stares at his hands, which he holds out slightly in front of him. All workers resemble one another. anna accepts that her own class of watchers is not exempt from familial resemblance — but the worker is alien. He is a worker.

  The overseer approaches anna and she is glad to have it between her and the worker. The overseer says: ‘The worker peter climbed up onto the panel-housing of his section. He then attempted to climb up the wall-surface above the panel. He then fell. Injuries are superficial and have been corrected.’

  anna is forced to look at the worker, peter.

  She speaks clearly. ‘Why did you do this?’

  The worker peter opens his mouth. Then he closes it.

  ‘You must tell me why you climbed up onto the housing,’ says anna. ‘Such a thing is unheard of.’

  ‘There was a light over the panel,’ says the worker peter. Abruptly water pours out of his eyes. He drops on his knees and anna beholds a man weeping, which she has never been shown before. She knows the idea of weeping. She knows what tears are, although she has never grasped the notion, and does not really grasp it now. She sees the man is shaking from head to foot. She is amazed. She can think of nothing to say. And so she says, ‘This must never happen again. Do you understand? Now go back to your section.’

  The overseer takes hold of the man and helps him up and the man says distinctly, ‘A woman walks over the Machine. Her eyes — her eyes — ’ Then he stops and the overseer puts him on the ramp and he is carried back down into the levels.

  anna watches from the bridge and sees peter return to his section where, standing before the dial, after a moment, and at the correct instant, he touches, once, twice, three times.

  She lets out her breath and finds her ribcage is aching from holding the sigh pent within herself. Her nails have dug into her palms.

  She peers down at the housing over peter’s section, where the shimmering grey wall runs up and up and up and away and away.

  The wall of course is empty.

  ‘anna,’ says the talkto in her two room home. ‘Grey is grey. The Machine is the Machine is the Machine is the Machine…’

  The concave walls are done in grey and off-white. The bed has a pillow in a dark grey case. There is a window, that reveals the horizontals, verticals, parallels of the streets of the limitless complex that is the Machine.

  ‘… is the Machine is the Machine…’

  anna summons a soporific from her dispenser.

  She drinks it, lies down with her head on her pillow, and closes her eyes.

  ‘The Machine.’

  anna sleeps. She dreams. The worker peter is walking up the wall above his section. His face is full of a wild joy. anna approximates the look to that of successful sexual climax, which she has seen on the face of vaslav. anna herself finds coitus debilitating. When she experiences pleasure, for several diurnals after she cannot bear the sight of vaslav.

  No, the look of rapture on the face of peter is more profound than anything she has ever seen. anna stares beyond peter, and there is a glimmering incoherent pinkish light wavering on the surface of the wall. anna thinks of roses, of which somehow she has been informed, which she has never been shown. A ghost of a rose glides over the Machine.

  anna wakes up. Her face is wet and this frightens her. She has been crying in her sleep.

  At six hours, the levels of d are empty, and as she walks along them absently, anna can hear only the faint tympanic hum of the Machine. The walls slide up, and the coils descend down and down. When she looks from the bridges, anna sees eternity stretching away below and above, and on all sides. Caught in this web, she searches after the accustomed peace such vistas
have always brought her. But there is a slight vertigo, too. Perhaps there always was.

  She is drawn towards the section of the worker peter. She reaches it, and stands there, where peter habitually stands or sits. anna can see nothing unusual. She finds she is straining her eyes. To see — something. What? A woman. But what kind of woman? A worker? A watcher? Intuitively anna knows that she will never see, or learn, by looking.

  At twenty-one hours that evening, anna arrives for her quarterly meeting with vaslav, at a cell in tops building. She had almost forgotten the appointment, and her talkto had had to remind her twice. anna is always perturbed when she goes to have sex, although sometimes she is also uncomfortably eager. She has come to dislike such eagerness. It generally means she will be disappointed, but that in turn ensures more cordial after-relations with vaslav.

  In the cell, beside the couch which can be adjusted to complement a number of positions outlined in diagrams on the walls, a beaker of alcohol is served to anna. She drinks it as vaslav, tonight rather impatient, begins to touch her in the ordained manner.

  anna tries to respond, and succeeds to a certain extent. vaslav wishes her to mount him, a position she finds awkward and in which, never, has she been able to climax. As she moves obediently to vaslav’s rhythm, she feels a warm contempt for him, quite friendly and acceptable. He climaxes and she pretends to be satisfied.

  As they are putting on their clothes, anna says, ‘Do you know the word vision?’

  ‘That is a sight; to see,’ says vaslav. He too, after pleasure, is morose, not wanting further bodily contact.

  ‘No, I mean in the sense of an image conjured or witnessed. A hallucination, possibly.’

  vaslav orders a second glass of alcohol.

  ‘Workers in d have seen — ’ anna breaks off.

  ‘The worker peter,’ says vaslav. ‘Probably there’s something wrong with the brain. He will have to have a medical check.’

  This reassures anna. She feels a bright flash of gratitude, and turns to vaslav impulsively.

  ‘You’re awkward in that position, anna,’ says vaslav. ‘rita is better.’

  anna does not know what she is doing. She reaches out and pushes vaslav’s glass so that the alcohol spills over him.

  In the air-car on the way home, anna begins to cry again. She runs into her two rooms and the talkto shines and says to her: ‘Here you are, anna. You’re safe.’ But for several terrible moments, anna does not feel safe in the least.

  With its trilling the mechanical lark signals peter. He gets up from the sleeping place before he is quite awake. He has responded to a mechanical lark since his first year. His body knows exactly what to do. It walks him to the hygiene cubicle. It relieves itself of waste matter and is cleansed. As it stands beneath the shower, peter, carried by his body, wakens in fact.

  peter leaves the shower, before it can dry him. He goes to his bed and lies down, on his back. He looks at the ceiling, and presently the talkto says, ‘peter, get up, peter.’ peter takes no notice. He blinks sometimes but makes no other movement. ‘peter,’ says the talkto, ‘you will be late, peter.’

  After an hour, the talkto falls silent. It continues to shine, but peter does not notice.

  On the platform, at his section in d level, ted looks round, quite suddenly. He has become aware that peter is not working near him. ted has not defined the absence until now because, as ever, the dial at peter’s section has turned regularly and the energy has gone flickering down the coil to the lever below.

  ted gazes at peter’s empty place. He assumes at last that peter is ill, which is uncommon among the workers.

  ted looks back at his own section, in proper time to touch touch touch the button under his panel.

  There is a pink light over the panel. ted has a jumbled notion he has seen it before. The colour, however, is so novel. He stares at it. The pink unfolds like paper, or a flower. ted sees a woman walking up the wall of the Machine. Involuntarily, he exclaims.

  In the cage-lift to upper top two, anna avoids glancing at the levels of d. The vista makes her dizzy, the long, pure lines slipping effortlessly down, like the striations in an ancient rock she has never seen, perhaps never been told of, perhaps does not even genetically recall.

  anna vacillates mentally between annoyance and nervousness. What she is about to do it seems no one can ever have done. The choice has always been open to her, but has gone unconsidered. Now, sometimes, in a rush of strength, anger braces her. But it fails to last out the long smooth journey in the lift.

  What will she say? How phrase it, to throw the maximum of blame upon the other? Simple. Her very request will see to that.

  The lift reaches upper top and anna gets out.

  Before her is office corridor p nine. anna walks along the corridor briskly, ignoring the side ramp. Watchers like exercise. She begins to feel virtuous, strong again.

  A door opens. The robot assistant speaks, inquiring who she is and whom she wishes to contact.

  ‘Co-ordinator shashir.’

  The assistant assures her her request is being delivered, and she will soon know whether or not co-ordinator shashir is available to attend to her.

  anna stands biting her lip. She becomes aware she has been gnawing it since leaving her home early today. Should she not have come here? Will the co-ordinator be able to give her an appointment? Will he question her thoroughly? What will he say?

  anna has an uncomfortable burned feeling in her stomach. She swallows and finds she needs to swallow again.

  On the wall of the office cubicle she supposes there is something pink… it must be a trick of the eyes — she did not sleep very well. The murmurs of her talkto, and the soporifics her dispenser offered her, have rendered her up to the diurnal cloudy but not rested.

  A screen in the wall comes on and shines, putting out the pinkness which she had imagined was there a moment before.

  With tension and relief, anna beholds the face of co-ordinator shashir.

  ‘anna. What is it that you wish to discuss?’

  ‘I — ’ anna swallows again. She drags in a breath and says tightly, ‘I want to discontinue my sexual meetings with watcher vaslav.’

  The face of shashir does not alter. Perfect and whole, he hangs there. What is this like? The word icon enters anna’s mind. She is not sure what an icon is. With slight difficulty she realigns her brain with the image of the co-ordinator. He has started to speak.

  ‘… to your liking?’

  anna guesses. She does not desire an interrogation. She says swiftly, ‘My pleasure in sex isn’t great, and vaslav has told me he’s unhappy with my performance. Watcher rita suits him better. He won’t be sorry, I’m sure, if we don’t meet again.’

  ‘But for yourself, anna? You understand that you are highly sexed, and that these meetings are, for you, preferable to other more solitary methods?’

  anna does not know what reply to give. She feels her face grow very hot.

  Finally co-ordinator shashir says, ‘Your view has been filed, anna. I suggest that now you return to top two. At the next period for sex, if you still decline to meet with watcher vaslav, you may omit the visit.’

  anna turns. She is cold and sluggish now.

  She takes the ramp back to the lift.

  Along the platform, marion turns to see why ted has cried out. She glimpses a female figure which seems to float about ted’s panel, but glancing quickly away, marion finds the figure is actually poised directly before her, looking down into marion’s face. marion tries to avoid contact with the eyes of the figure, for they seem to contain a dreadful depth, or electric fire…

  marion is not able to avoid the contact of these eyes.

  She falls to her knees.

  ted has done the same.

  All along the line of the platform, the workers of the d levels are sinking down, as if it is some new procedure of their service to the Machine.

  As anna reaches the round office, she discovers an event is in progre
ss. Both rita and vaslav are on their feet, and vaslav is busily pressing the emergency button in the wall.

  On the levels, small mechanics of maintenance and overseeing and medicine are whirling to and fro.

  The workers have adopted strange attitudes.

  The Machine contrives to function flawlessly, although no one, any more, appears to be engaged with or upon it.

  The mechanical lark has fallen from the ceiling and landed on an area of floor, where it made a weird noise, hinting damage, and then became silent.

  peter has no notion why this should have happened, but then he does not really care. He is not even disturbed that the light has gone out of his talkto, as if, indeed, he were not presently at home.

  He lies on his back, on the bed, his half-closed eyes fixed without focus on the convex ceiling.

  He has been lying here, in this way, for hours. He does not analyse how many. Time has ceased to matter. His body, which once or twice had itched, or disconnectedly wished to urinate, he ignores. All feeling seems to have left it now.

  On the ceiling, she comes and goes. Whenever she comes back, at each appearance, she is more clear, better defined.

  Day young, in her robe of roses, and dawn-veiled in yellow, under which fair fountains of hair flow out. On her feet are painted little silver flowers, and there is a golden flower between her brows. Her eyes are summer blue, or green, it is difficult to be sure which, but the colour is less urgent than the intensity of the eyes. This terrible wild emotion that is in them — peter does not recognise it, even now, but it no longer frightens him. He has surrendered. He has drowned himself in her eyes.

  All bodily needs, all thought, all senses — these are unimportant. Only the vision, the icon, adrift there as if in the pale space of sleep or death, has power. And silver and golden flowers sift from her hands, and he believes they brush his face, and there is a perfume in the room he has never smelled until these moments.