“So you don’t think it’s been created by the GoD?”
Jenine sighed and shook her head in puzzlement. “I don’t know what to think.” She stared into the mist. “We could’ve left an hour later. It’ll be ages before we see anything.”
“Don’t judge that light by the zargon lights in Arama,” Ewen cautioned. “It’s incredibly powerful.” He touched his face carefully because it was still smarting from the previous day’s brief exposure. “Try calculating the power it must be dissipating to heat everything up as it does.”
As if to prove his point, the mist started clearing with surprising speed. Within five minutes it was being rolled back like an expanding iris, exposing more and more of the forest, retreating down distance beaches to reveal the sea. Jenine caught her breath as she spun around to take in the scene. Her cry was a despairing lament.
“We’re surrounded! The poisoned water is all around us!”
For a moment Ewen was too stunned to speak. Perhaps it was an illusion caused by the low, bright light. But the fog’s retreat became a flight and he realised that this awesome challenge to his senses was not a mirage. They stood in shocked silence, contemplating the impossible. In Arama there were many recreational reservoirs and pools - small bodies of water surrounded by land. But this was the insane opposite: a tiny parcel of land surrounded by a vast body of water; a complete and devastating inversion of reason that assailed them just when they were learning to accept and rationalise the strange reality of this place that they had discovered.
“That’s what the message on your radio meant,” said Jenine dully. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? “Escape from the island”. That’s what this place is - an island.”
“But escape to what? There’s nothing to escape to.”
“There is,” said Jenine quietly.
The sudden chill in her voice alerted Ewen before he saw what she looking at. The fog had given way to a heat haze as the sun climbed higher. On the horizon, shining a brilliant white through the mist, were indistinct but regular shapes. Although their eyes were untrained at resolving familiar objects at great distances, especially when viewed under such difficult conditions, they both knew that the haze-shrouded objects could only be buildings.
7.
Jenine was first to break the silence.
“If it wasn’t for all that water, how long would it take us to walk that far do you think?”
Ewen tried calculating the distance to the far off buildings and gave up. The expanse of sea offered no reference points. “I’ve no idea,” he admitted. “A day? Two days? There’s just nothing to go on, and neither of us are used to looking so far.” He made a mental note of the layout of the their island’s beach that lay nearest the far land. He pointed to another opening in the tree-line. “There’s another path down there that looks like it’ll bring us out on the sand opposite the buildings. We’ll be a little nearer - maybe we’ll be able to make something out.”
Jenine was doubtful. “We don’t want to get lost too far from the drinking water. I’m already working up a thirst.”
“We can’t get lost if we work our way back along the beach.”
“Beach?”
“Along the edge of the water,” Ewen replied stiffly.
Jenine’s eyes twinkled in amusement. Beach was the term used for the apron around swimming pools. Its use for the foreshore struck her as incongruous and she said so.
“It seemed appropriate,” Ewen muttered.
“Beach!” She threw back her head and laughed. Ewen wanted to get mad at her but couldn’t; she looked so lovely when she laughed.
There was a low, distant rumble that rapidly got louder. They stared at each other and looked quickly around to establish where the sound was coming from.
“It’s the vent!” Jenine cried, clapping her hands over her ears and backing away.
The sound rose to a sustained scream. Ewen copied Jenine and run some way down the hillside with his hands pressed tightly over his ears. At a bearable distance they turned and stared at the spectacle of a few remaining wisps of mist being plucked from the sky and snatched into the depths.
The hideous sound of the earth roaring at the sky lasted for a minute and died away as quickly as it had started.
“Well now we know what that noise is,” Ewen commented. “Something to do with that amusement park I suppose.”
Jenine took his hand and they set off down the new path. This time they were on the northern slope of the island that received the full blast of the sun, where the vine-festooned trees grew to prodigious heights in their battle with each other for a share of the life-giving light. Although it was cooler under the vast canopy, the humidity was such that their suits were soon soaked through with sweat, making walking uncomfortable. They tried removing their jackets and hastily donned them again when the strange, slow-moving flies attacked in swarms. They stopped for a rest in a clearing that afforded a magnificent view over the bay that they were heading for. Jenine screwed up her eyes in the harsh light.
“Those buildings don’t look so tall now.”
Ewen stared at the faint markings on the horizon. The haze was clearing and clouds were gathering. “I think you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. See that one on the extreme left? It’s half the height it was. Do you suppose they’ve sunk into the ground?”
“Why?”
“Well I don’t know, Ewen. Maybe it’s to shelter from the zargon?”
“Surely it would be easier to reduce the power of the light?”
Discussing the problem seemed unlikely to solve it so they continued walking, glad to be in the shade of the trees again.
“Do you remember that technician-scholar we talked about with Calen?” said Ewen. “The one who had a theory about a negative universe?”
“Blader Zallen?”
“That’s him.”
“Branded a heretic,” said Jenine, brushing angrily at a mosquito. “What about him?”
“I wonder if he was right? I mean, we’ve always known that rock is infinite and is filled with a finite number of spaces - spaces like the domes of Arama. Whereas Blader Zallen theorized about a negative universe in which space was infinite and rock was finite.”
“It was only a theory,” Jenine pointed out.
Ewen stumbled on a root and caught at a vine to prevent himself falling. “This place makes me think that maybe it’s more than a theory,” he said when he had recovered his balance.
“Because it’s so large?”
“Yes.”
“Why should scale be grounds for invalidating what we know about the universe? We’re in a dome. We have to be. It may be vast, but it’s still a dome.”
“With no visible means of support?”
“Air pressure,” said Jenine.
“What?”
“You’re not the only one capable of lateral thinking, Ewen. Air pressure holds this dome up. We have to live in air under pressure, correct?”
Ewen thought about the laboratory work he had done on vacuums and agreed that she was right.
“This is an enormous dome with a colossal surface area. I wouldn’t like to calculate the total pressure that must be acting on the inside of this dome. And that leads to something else that puts your negative universe theory back in its box. We need air to live, and so do the trees and grass need air, and I daresay the flies do as well. Air under pressure has to be contained. How could a negative universe contain air? It would escape and disperse throughout space.”
It was a good point and Ewen could not think of an explanation to counter it. “That reminds me of something,” he said. “You’re right about us needing air under pressure in order to survive, but where in Arama is the machinery to maintain the air under pressure? To compress it into the domes? We’re serviced plant to filter the air, to remove carbon dioxide, to humidify it, or dehumidify it - to do everything to the air except pressurise it.”
Jenine gave a muffled cry as a giant l
eaf settled over her face and moulded itself to her features like a second skin. The leaf’s material was so thin and it all happened so quickly that at first Ewen though that Jenine’s face had turned green. The fine membrane had even fastened over her lips and teeth, and was forming a lining in her mouth as she struggled ineffectually to pull it free.
“Keep still!” Ewen yelled, forcing her hands away from her face. “Just keep still!”
Jenine stopped plucking at the hideous stuff. The real horror was that it was even clinging to her eyeballs. Ewen pushed her head back and found the boundary between her skin and the leaf. He tried getting a purchase with his nails but it was like trying to prise up a coating of dye. He managed to get a finger under the leaf by forcing his fingers into her hair and along her scalp. Once he had a good grip, he was able to peel the membrane away in one piece without difficulty, and without it tearing. Jenine sucked air gratefully into her lungs once her mouth and nose were clear.
“What is that thing?” she gasped, rubbing her eyes.
Ewen studied her face carefully. “Are you all right?”
“I am now, but it gave me a fright. Thanks, Ewen - I nearly panicked.”
They looked up. Hanging from strange, gnarled branches, were countless hundreds of the gossamer-like leaves, many even larger than the one that had covered Jenine’s face. Even as they watched, a leaf separated from the branch. It didn’t so much fall, as undulated down; twisting and tumbling in the eddies. It crossed a beam of sunlight and rose with the warm air where it wrapped itself around a branch.
They looked down at the strange leaf that was now clinging to Ewen’s hand.
“What weird stuff,” he breathed. “It must be only a few molecules thick and yet it’s incredibly strong.”
“Well it certainly frightened me,” said Jenine with feeling.
“And me. But only because we’re not used to it. It’s nothing to be scared of. Look - it comes away quite easily.” Ewen peeled the clinging green membrane from his fingers. He dropped it and they both watched as it fell with remarkable slowness. Ewen spread his hand under it; the rising heat from his palm caused the leaf to spread out and convulse gently. He grasped it in both hands. It eventually tore, but it required considerable effort.
“Make a mental note of the position of these trees,” said Ewen.
“Why?”
“Those leaves may come in useful if we’re stuck here for any length of time.”
They resumed walking. The forest was particularly dense where it levelled out, but they maintained a reasonably straight line by using the sun as a reference point. The forest ended abruptly at the shoreline. They emerged onto the unfamiliar stretch of beach and stared at the horizon. The haze had cleared completely.
“We must’ve gone wrong,” said Jenine quietly.
Ewen glanced around, taking in the landmarks he had fixed in his mind from the top of the hill. “No - this is the right place.”
“Then where-”
“I don’t know!” Ewen suddenly shouted. “I tell you, I don’t know anything! Everything’s gone mad!”
Jenine bit back the opening of an argument. There was no point in quarreling. Instead they gazed in silence at the hard, clear line of the horizon.
The buildings and distant land had vanished.
8.
“Maybe we imagined them?” said Jenine tentatively after a brief silence.
Ewen was contemptuous. “We both saw them. Buildings don’t rise and fall. What would be the point? And how could the ground they’re on also vanish?” He squinted up at the sun. “There’s still plenty of time before it gets dark. I’m want to go back to take another look. Just to make doubly certain.”
Jenine grimaced and stretched out on the warm sand. “I couldn’t walk another step.”
“You won’t have to,” said Ewen, dropping the holdall beside her. “I’ll go by myself. I can walk quicker than you. I’ll be back in two hours.”
“Ewen - no! Don’t leave me!”
“You’ll be okay. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Before Jenine could raise further protests, he jogged up the beach and disappeared into the trees.
He drove himself on for twenty minutes, trying to ignore the stinging sweat that streamed into his eyes. He reached the glade where the membrane trees stood and twisted some of the fallen gossamer leaves into a rope which he knotted around his forehead. The strange material did not have absorbent properties, but it least it channelled the rivulets of blinding sweat away from his brow. Passing through clearings where the sun beat down made him feel light-headed. He realised that what he really needed was some form of protection for his head.
He pressed on, at one point taking a more direct route to the top of the hill by climbing rockfalls. The forest gave way to scrubland, and the strange ventilator shaft chimney lay before him. He reached the parapet and rested in its shade, eyes closed, chest heaving, not daring to look at the horizon. When his heartbeat slowed to normal, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve and focussed his gaze on the horizon.
The buildings were there, much plainer now that the haze had completely cleared. He could even make out details such as windows, and the white fringe of breaking waves on the beach. He stared at the tallest building and tried counting the floors by counting the windows. He kept losing tally due to minute variations in humidity, but after six attempts he was able to arrive at a definite figure of thirty stories. The clarity of the air lent a degree of perspective that had been missing that morning, enabling him to see strange shapes beyond the tower blocks. Gleaming hemispheres. Domes within the blue dome? That didn’t make sense, but they definitely had the appearance of domes seen from the outside. He shifted his gaze to the right and caught his breath. There were vague shapes that looked like the scattered sections of a sliced-up cylinder. If they were beyond the buildings as he was certain they were, then they had to be truly enormous.
He sat down and tried to think things out carefully and rationally. The buildings were visible from high ground, but not from low ground.
What could that mean?
The heat made thinking difficult and yet there was only one answer; one that didn’t make sense and yet what other conclusions could be drawn?
He screwed up his eyes, trying to pick out more details. Tiny dots that could be people, so vague that when he blinked they were gone. He wished that he had his datapad so that he could make a sketch. He had an idea, unwrapped his headband, and spread two of the gossamer leaves over a smooth rock. The idea worked: he found that he could make durable marks on the leaf with a pebble. He made a crude sketch of the strange shapes on the horizon. In doing so he also discovered that exerting pressure on the leaves caused them to form an unbreakable bond to each other at the points where pressure had been applied. That gave him another idea.
By now the cougane’s hunger was a madding ache that gnawed into its shrunken gut with the ferocity of an infected wound. Earlier it had found one of the last of the little monkeys, apparently blinded and injured. It had provided a meagre meal for the cubs, but there had been nothing left for her.
Unaware of the big cat watching her balefully from the tree line, Jenine sat with her back propped against a rock, and tried to doze, but the heat and her thirst made it impossible. She prayed for Ewen’s return so that they could return to the spring. She squinted at the sun. Why was he gone so long? The dried, bleached seaweed that she had gathered to sit on crackled as she shifted her position to remain in the shade. She had no idea what the material was, but it was more comfortable than hot sand.
She stared at the sea. What could have happened for so much water to be polluted on such a massive scale? Why was the blue dome so hot during the day and so cold at night? Why the amazing profusion of trees? What purpose could they possibly serve?
Some seabirds glided in and scavenged along the surf-flattened sand. They longer frightened her quite so much. The birds that somehow entered Arama always flew about in a blind panic w
hereas here they conducted themselves with purpose. She watched their quarrelsome antics with curiosity and then amusement. Some black-headed birds came in, swooping low along the shoreline, skimming the water. One suddenly dived into the sea and emerged with something wriggling in its beak which it swallowed whole. As if responding to a signal, a small flock of the black-headed gulls along the water’s edge began a massed dive-bombing and feasting in the surf. They suddenly abandoned the banquet and wheeled off, uttering angry cries at Jenine’s approach. She paddled a little way into the water, peering into the clear shallows, trying to see what had attracted the birds. And she saw them - shoals of darting silvery shapes moving just below the surface. A larger shape, but sleek and streamlined like the smaller creatures, moved quickly among them, snatching at the fry.
She returned to the spot where she had been sitting and wondered at the purpose of the varied lifeforms. Nothing about this place made any sense. Everything seemed so utterly wasteful and pointless.
Where was Ewen?
The cougane judged the expanse of sand between it and its quarry. A rush and a leap, that was all it would take, although the distance was greater than it preferred. One rush, one leap, and she and her cubs would survive.
It tucked its hind legs under its belly so that they were in the best position for powering its weight forward when the right moment had arrived.
Jenine looked up at the sun. The blinding zargon light was dipping towards the horizon. In three or four hours it would be dark again, and the cold would return. She thought about the great bogey of Arama.
Fire.
In the laboratories at the GoD Centre she had, like all technician-students, been required to make fire in order to understand it.
The cougane wriggled, tucking its hind legs tighter against its flanks.
Maybe a controlled fire? Jenine wondered. Would that be possible in this dome? She looked closely at a handful of sand. Silicates - ground-up rock. No chance of that catching fire, so it ought to be safe as a base for a fire, but what about fuel? The dried-up fronds that fell from the palm trees in Arama were always gathered-up because they were a fire risk. Under the trees here was plenty of dried vegetation - they had used it to sleep on - but would it burn? And if so, what was its ignition temperature? What about the husk-dry stuff she was sitting on? Surely that would burn? Practical problems intervened in her chain of thought. What am I thinking of? she asked herself. I’ve no way of making a fire.
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