Killing Rhinos

by Herb Hughes

  “So we were doomed to start everything all over again,” Sheffie commented.

  “That is essentially what historians believe. Of course, it is all guesswork since there are so few early records, but I must admit that I agree. You have to remember that technology developed on Earth over many centuries. Our ancestors on Agrilot had something of a head start since they knew what was possible, but without the tools to get there and the knowledge of how to do so…” Vishay held his hands, palm up, in front of him as he shrugged again.

  “Hmmm,” Jack mumbled to himself. This was much more interesting than he had expected.

  “So what exactly are these people doing?” Sheffie asked, waving her arm in the direction of the noisy people in the science room.

  “These ladies and gentlemen are all scientists, but there are many types, many different fields. They look at what is possible, as can be seen in the few old Earth books we have, then speculate and theorize about how it can be done. The key is that we have people who are experts in many fields all talking to each other. We set this room aside for them about twenty years ago, after reading an old Earth book that said how the greatest discoveries in history tended to happen when a scientist dabbled in a field other than his or her own. Indeed, this cross-field communication has paid many dividends.

  “We regained the knowledge of mining and processing raw materials some decades ago. Now we are moving to the next level of technological development, doing things with the raw materials we have. You’ve seen our telegraph lines and the motor cars that are popping up on the streets. They aren’t the sleek automobiles that were available on Earth, but they do work. There were twelve automobiles at last count, though few stay running for long periods. Avery Witherstone’s is, perhaps, the best of the lot. But one day, maybe not too many years from now, dependable automobiles will be commonplace. It will be the preferred method of travel.”

  “Avery said he designed and built his automobile himself,” Jack said.

  “Yes,” Vishay replied. “Avery is quite the inventor. He does not have the typical education of a scientist, but he does seem to have an inclination toward tinkering with things and making them work.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought it,” Jack said. “He seems so, so... well, a little befuddled.”

  “Don’t let his absentmindedness fool you,” Vishay responded. “He is one of the most brilliant men in Lisbon. He has been instrumental in our technological development and has inspired others to do more.

  “We have made many advances other than the automobile, some of which you will see becoming a part of everyday life over the next few years. We have a few steam-driven boats that can quickly outdistance a sailing ship. We have dependable hot air balloons, and we even have one group working on developing an airplane. We have a disadvantage in that Agrilot, for some reason, does not have the significant oil deposits that Earth had, but there are alternatives. We have distilled alcohol from various plants, and some scientists are experimenting with alcohol as a motor fuel instead of using steam.

  “Lisbon has become the center of learning and technology for the entire planet. We are all proud of what we have accomplished and look eagerly toward the future. One day, in the not too distant future, we will regain the ability to travel in space. We could revisit Earth and answer all our mysteries.” With that, Vishay smiled and nodded his head and closed the door. The scientists had been so involved in their activities that few had even afforded the onlookers a glance.

  “That’s fascinating,” Sheffie said.

  Vishay began to stroll slowly down the hall, Sheffie and Jack following dutifully.

  “Is anybody working on laser rifles?” Jack asked. “The ones we have are so old and are failing at an accelerating rate.”

  “What we can gather from the limited information in the Earth books is that laser rifles are a technology that is highly sophisticated, far beyond anything we will be able to do in the next few decades, perhaps centuries. We must walk before we can crawl, so to speak. So we must first improve our homebuilts. We understand from the few books we have that it is possible to make rifles which do not require reloading after every shot. They are called ‘repeating’ rifles. They hold small racks of projectiles, or ‘bullets,’ and can fire one immediately after the other until the entire rack is empty. This alone would be a great advancement.”

  “Repeating rifles,” Jack mused. “That could be exactly what we need to fight the Rhinos. Is this being done? Now?”

  “I do not know of such a project, but I do not know what all the scientists are working on. They communicate among themselves and have their own system of making sure their work does not overlap.”

  Jack made a mental note to talk to Alexandre about it. If there were no project to make repeating rifles, one should be started right away.

  “On your left,” Vishay said as he continued down the hall, “Is the general reading room.” He indicated the main room. It had a tall ceiling filled with skylights and walls lined with thousands of books. There was no door, only a wide opening. Half of the floor space was covered with free-standing wooden shelves that contained even more books. This area was cordoned off by a series of thick fluted columns that climbed up to the tall ceiling. The rest of the floor space contained a few tables and a handful of readers, all of whom looked up curiously. It was a testament to the building construction that the noise from the science room could not be heard inside this room, even without a door.

  “This is where we keep all our novels, the handful of classics from Earth and a large number of novels by Agrilot’s writers. We also have newspapers and magazines, the most complete selection on the planet. The mail riders bring them from the surrounding cities every morning. And we have biographies and similar non-fiction, the books that are of no scientific interest. This room covers fully half of the floor space on this floor.”

  “What about the floor below?” Sheffie asked.

  “That is not open to the public,” Vishay responded. “We call it a basement, but in reality, it is the first floor. We use it as a storage room since there are no windows.”

  “Why no windows?”

  “Rhinos,” Vishay answered. “The walls are brick and are thick enough, two meters, to withstand a charging Rhino. Even though a set of brick stairs are no deterrent for a Rhino, they move much slower climbing stairs than they do on flat ground. From the second floor, a Ranger with a laser can bring down a Rhino before it can reach the top of the stairs. It is an expensive method of construction, but one that has been used for our most important buildings since it is effective as a Rhino deterrent.”

  “What do you store in your basement?” Sheffie asked.

  “Old books that are of no interest to the public, broken shelves that I do believe I might repair some day, cleaning equipment, items such as that. Surely you understand, Ms. Jarrett,” Vishay said as he turned toward Sheffie. “You must have a storage room in your library.”

  “Old books! I would love to see them.”

  “Ah…” Vishay began slowly, “We do not usually allow anyone outside of staff to descend to the first floor. Of course, guests of your distinction are welcome to go wherever you wish, but I do hope you chose not to go into our basement. It is storage, nothing more. And, I’m afraid, it is not attended to regularly. In fact, it is quite in contrast to the neat, clean library you see here.” He waved his arm in a circular motion to take in the entire room.

  “Oh, but I couldn’t resist the chance of rummaging through your old books. I’m sure you wouldn’t resist the chance of rummaging through mine.”

  “Very well,” Vishay laughed. “You shall have your chance to look under our carpet.”

  Vishay led the couple out of the main room and a few steps further down the hall. There were two more doors, both on the right. Vishay opened the first as he said, “This is our reproduction room, where we make fresh copies of books that are in bad condition.”

  It was a much smaller room, though still
large by Borderton standards, with three young men and two young ladies working at desks. All glanced up, but all returned immediately to their labor.

  “I’m sure you are aware of the problem with deterioration of Earth books, Ms. Jarrett.”

  “Yes,” Sheffie answered. “Of course, I don’t have many Earth books, but I’ve had some problems with that myself. I try to be delicate with them. I don’t have a budget that would allow me to do anything else, but I am aware of your efforts here. It’s good to know someone is doing something about the problem.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Vishay responded. “We are fortunate in that we have a budget which is sufficient to allow these activities. There are only two other libraries on the entire planet that are able to do so, and we coordinate our efforts so as not to duplicate.

  “In our operation,” Vishay continued, “We have three typesetters and two artists carving the plates. Once we have recreated a book, we print ten copies: three for ourselves, five for neighboring cities, and one each for the two larger libraries that are also restoring books. As is our current charter, our priority is any book that deals with science or technology in any way. However, we have managed to get a few classic novels done. Many of our classic novels from Earth are in such bad shape that restoration will soon be hopeless. Sadly, many have passed that point. The typesetters have donated their personal time to the restoration of novels.”

  “How generous of them,” Sheffie said. “It would be such a shame to lose all these novels forever. Now, this last door must be the basement. You promised a look.”

  Vishay’s face finally lost the gentle smile and nod he had carried throughout the tour. He changed to a look of both concern and resignation at the same time. “Very well. If you insist. But I must warn you that this is not a public area, and has been treated accordingly. You must please excuse the unkempt nature of everything in our basement. We have been so busy with the restoration project.”

  “Don’t worry,” Sheffie said. “I’m not interested in cleanliness and order. I’m interested in books. And I’ve always loved rummaging through attics and basements for old things. It’s such fun.”

  “If you insist,” Vishay sighed, shaking his head, but the smile did come back to his face. “Follow me.” He led them the few short steps to the door at the end of the hall then reached into his pocket, retrieved a key, and unlocked the door. A small oil lamp hung on the wall immediately inside, above the top of a narrow staircase that led downward and turned to the right. Further on it turned to the right again. Vishay lifted the lamp off its hook, raised the glass, and lit the wick with a flint that also hung from the wall.

  As he lowered the glass, he said, “We have had some success with electricity. For instance, the working telegraph lines. But we have yet to develop it to the point of being the source of energy it was on Earth. Also, we have yet to invent the ‘light bulbs’ which were plentiful on Earth. They are in picture after picture in Earth books. A group of scientists has been assigned to this project for several years, but they have not come up with the right material for the ‘filament,’ the device inside the bulb that glows and gives off light. I have been told that they have succeeded in getting bulbs to work, but they burn out in a matter of seconds. One day, however, we will be able to throw these dirty, dangerous oil lamps away. And I believe that day is not too far in the future.”

  With that Vishay, oil lamp in hand, began to walk down the creaky wooden stairs. “Here we are,” he said as he held the lamp up at the bottom of the stairs.

  In the dim, flickering light they could see bookcases haphazardly laden with books, many of the cases broken and collapsed. There were boxes overflowing with books and piles of books on the floor between the boxes and between the bookcases so that walking without stepping on a book would be difficult if not impossible.

  While the books and cases nearest to them were relatively clean, a few feet into the room everything was a light dun color. Dust. It was thick, and it was everywhere. The further into the room they looked, the thicker the dust. Virtually everything in the distance was covered in a layer of dust so thick the original color was lost altogether.

  “I must apologize once again for this… this mess. You see, the back area hasn’t been cleaned in decades, perhaps longer.”

  “Nothing to apologize for,” Sheffie answered.

  “Oh, but it is,” Vishay insisted. “I am ashamed of it, but our budget is not unlimited. We must concentrate all remaining resources on book restoration, so spending time and money on the basement is not a priority for me, nor was it for my predecessors.

  “I am afraid to admit,” Vishay continued, “I have never even been all the way to the back of the room. Indeed, you would have to scale several piles of books to do so. We store old newspapers and books that no one wants to read, books that are deteriorated but have already been copied, and books that are in far too bad condition to even be copied. I suppose we should throw them away, but I cannot quite bring myself to do it. Perhaps one day we will develop a technology to read the deteriorated pages even though they are little more than a fine powder.”

  “Believe me,” Sheffie insisted, “I understand. I know what it’s like to work on a limited budget. Why, I’ve got areas in my library that are quite unkempt as well.”

  This seemed to ease Vishay’s feelings, though Jack could not think of an area in the Borderton library that wasn’t neat and clean and completely dust free, not even the stable out back.

  “And I do hope,” Sheffie added, “That you will allow me to rummage through and organize the basement during my stay in Lisbon. Books that others might not be interested in may well be exactly what I’m looking for. I could always use a few more volumes, especially if you’re thinking of getting rid of them.” Then she smiled her beautiful smile and added, “And I might even do a little cleaning as I look.”

  “Of course, Ms. Jarrett. If that is your wish. There are boxes of books in the back that were donated to the library when it first opened. They were deemed uninteresting or completely useless and were never placed on the shelves. The boxes haven’t been opened since. If your pleasure is old and boring books, you will be in heaven.”

  They all had a quick laugh before Vishay led them back to the lobby.

  “Thank you so much for showing us around,” Sheffie said. “That was an enjoyable tour. I look forward to returning in the morning. And I do look forward to rummaging through your basement.”

  “Of course, Ms. Jarrett,” Vishay said politely, once again smiling and nodding. “You are welcome anytime. Will we see you again, Mr. Wheat?”

  “Thank you,” Jack said, “But I’ve come to Lisbon for other purposes. I’m afraid I may not have another chance.”

  “If not,” Vishay said, extending his hand, “It was indeed a pleasure meeting a celebrity such as yourself.”

  Jack and Sheffie said their good-byes then walked back to the street. Jack started toward the hotel.

  “Where are you going?” Sheffie asked.

  “Ahhhh... Back to the hotel?”

  “I seem to remember a promise about going shopping with me. Avery said the most fashionable ladies’ stores are this way.”

  “But...” Jack didn’t finish. He knew a protest was futile. Instead, he groaned and turned around. The dark gray clouds chose that moment to open to the world below as drops the size of thumbnails began to fall. The couple rushed back into the library. Thank goodness, Jack thought. This gets me out of the shopping trip. Vishay had come to check when he heard the drops falling and opened the door for them.

  “Vishay, could you send a telegraph message for me?” Sheffie asked.

  “Of course, Miss Jarrett. To whom would you like it sent?”

  “To The Lisbon Hotel. Please ask them to send our carriage around for us. With this rain, we’ll need it for our shopping trip.”

  Chapter 21

  Crazy Mac tossed the full water skin over Toadstool and strapped it down. “Can’t go back the sam
e way we came,” he told the mule. “We’ve got to get to Jack quick, and it’s too darned far that way. Besides, I’m not for sure where we’d need to leave the Spine and turn back toward the oasis. It’s been a long trip, and everything looks the same out here. And the water! We know two water skins are cutting it too close. I’d hate to die of thirst a klick or two from the oasis because you refused to go any further, but I couldn’t leave you standing there all by yourself, Toadstool. I’d have to lie down and die with you. No, we don’t want to go back that way.”

  Filling the skins and drinking all they could hold had been a lengthy process, taking hours of Mac’s now precious time. But it wasn’t as long as it could have been. Once Toadstool had water, he was willing to walk to the hole in the earth, significantly shortening each of Mac’s forays down into the underground world.

  The wrinkled old man was filthy, bone weary, and exhausted from climbing up and down the rope. He was practically walking in his sleep. Still, there was nothing he could do but move ahead. There was no time to sleep. Somehow, Crazy Mac understood that even though this strange underground place was a mess, it was an important mess. He needed to find Jack.

  Finally, with two full water skins across the mule’s back, Mac climbed on top of Toadstool and said, “Borderton’s this way.” He pointed southeast. “I ain’t so sure where, but we got to make a best guess and go. If I miss it some little offedness either way, when we get back to civilization, we’ll turn whatever direction we need to. It might be out of our way a little, maybe, but it’ll be a whole lot shorter than going back along the Spine. We can use the sun to guide us. Let’s see now. If it’s morning, then the sun should be over my left shoulder. No, no. Morning it would be shining at me. Yeah, that’s right! Shining at me. Uh, from the left? Or is it the right? It wouldn’t be directly at me. Not traveling southeast. Let me think, Toadstool… Ah… This way,” Mac pointed east by southeast this time. “I’m pretty sure that’s where Borderton is.” The mule dutifully moved forward in the direction Mac’s finger had pointed.