‘What’s that?’
‘Bread. Food . . . I’ll explain it all. Mur, what’s happening here?’
‘We are - fewer.’ His gaze shifted from her face, and he glanced down at his feeding son, as if in search of distraction. ‘The last Glitch . . .’
‘The others?’
The child had finished the bread already. He reached up his hands wordlessly to Dura, imploring more; she could see the fragment he’d devoured as a distinct bulge, high in his empty stomach.
Mur pulled the child away from Dura, soothing him. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you to them.’
The Human Beings had established a crude camp in the fringes of the Crust-forest itself. The Air here was thin, unsatisfying in Dura’s lungs, and the Quantum Sea curved away from her, far below. Ropes had been slung between branches of the trees, and garments, half-finished tools and scraps of food were suspended from the ropes. Dura touched one of the bits of food gingerly. It was Air-pig flesh, so old it was tough and leathery between her fingertips. The tree-branches for some distance around had been stripped of leaves and bark, revealing how the people had been feeding.
There were only twenty Human Beings left - fifteen adults and five children.
They crowded around Dura, reaching to touch and embrace her, some of them weeping. The familiar faces surrounded her, peering through masks of hunger and dirt. Her heart went out to these people - her people - and yet she felt detached from them, distant; she let them touch her, and she embraced in return, but a part of her wanted to recoil from their childlike, helpless pressing. She felt stiff, civilized. The very nakedness of these upfluxers was startling. She felt massive, sleek and bulky, too, compared to their starved scrawniness.
Her experiences, her exposure to Parz City, had changed her, she realized; perhaps she would never again be content to settle into the small, hard, limited life of a Human Being.
She gave Mur her bag of bread and told him to distribute it as he saw fit. As he moved among the Human Beings she saw how sharp eyes followed each move; the aura of hunger which hovered over the people, focusing on the bag of bread, was like a living thing.
She found Philas, the widow of Esk. Dura and Philas moved away from the heart of the crude encampment, out of earshot of the rest of the Human Beings. Oddly, Philas seemed more beautiful now; it was as if privation was allowing the bony symmetry, the underlying dignity of her features, to emerge. Dura could see no bitterness, no trace of the rivalry which had once silently divided them.
‘You’ve suffered greatly.’
Philas shrugged. ‘We couldn’t rebuild the Net, after you left. We survived; we hunted again in the forest and trapped some pigs. But then the second Glitch came.’
The survivors had abandoned the open Air in favour of the fringe of the forest. It wasn’t particularly logical, but Dura thought she understood; the need for some form of solid base, to have a feeling of protective walls around them, would dominate logic. She thought of the folk of Parz in their compressed wooden boxes, their thin walls affording illusory protection from the wilds of the Mantle not half a centimetre from where they lay. Perhaps people all shared the same basic instincts, no matter what their origins - and perhaps those instincts had travelled with humanity from whatever distant Star had birthed the Ur-humans.
It was impossible to find Air-pigs now, no matter how widely the Human Beings hunted. The latest Glitch, savage as it was, had scattered the herds of Pigs as well as devastating the works of humanity. The people were trying to survive on leaves, and were even experimenting with meals of spin-spider flesh.
Of course, it was impossible to subsist on leaves. Without decent food, the Human Beings would surely die. (And so will I, now that my bread is gone, she thought with a surprising stab of selfishness.)
Dura turned in on herself, trying to understand her own motives for returning to her people. After Rauc’s death, and after she’d helped to cope with the worst of the destruction at Qos Frenk’s farm, she learned that most of the coolies were to be released from their indentures. Qos, roots of yellow showing in his pink hair, his small hands wringing each other, had explained that he intended to save what he could of this year’s harvest, and then start the slow, painful work of rebuilding his holding. It would take many years before the farm was functioning again, and in the meantime it would not generate any income for Frenk; so he couldn’t employ them any longer.
The coolies had seemed to understand. Frenk provided rides back to Parz City for those who wanted it; the rest, dully, had dispersed to seek work in the neighbouring ceiling-farms.
Dura slowly realized that she had lost the indenture which should have paid for Adda’s Hospital treatment. Overwhelmed and shocked, she resolved to return to her people, the Human Beings. Later, perhaps, when things had settled down, she would return to Parz and address the problems of Farr, of Adda’s debts.
Now, studying Philas’s dull, silent face, she wondered what she’d been expecting to find, here among the Human Beings. Perhaps a hidden, childlike part of her had hoped to find everything restored to what it had been when she’d been a small girl . . . when Logue was strong, protecting her, and the world was - by comparison - a stable and safe place.
Of course, that was an illusion. There was nowhere for her to hide, no one who could look after her.
She raised her hands to her face. In fact, she thought with a stab of shameful selfishness, by returning here she’d only placed herself in danger of starvation, and had taken on responsibility for the Human Beings once more.
If only I’d gone straight back to Parz. I could have found Farr, and found a way to live. Perhaps I could have forgotten that the Human Beings ever lived . . .
She straightened up. Philas was waiting for her, her face grave and beautiful. ‘Philas, we can’t stay here,’ Dura said. ‘We can’t live like this. It’s not viable.’
Philas nodded gravely. ‘But we have no choice.’
Dura sighed. ‘We do. I’ve told you about Parz City . . . Philas, we must go there. It’s an immense distance, and I don’t know how we’ll manage the journey. But there is food there. It’s our only hope.’
‘What will we do, in Parz City? How will we get food?’
Dura felt like laughing. We’ll beg, she thought. We’ll be hungry freaks; if we’re lucky they will feed us rather than Wheel-Break us. And . . .
‘Dura!’
Mur came crashing through the forest towards them; his eyes were wide with shock.
Dura felt her hands slip to the knife tucked into the rope at her waist. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘There’s something outside the trees . . . A box of wood. Drawn by Air-pigs! Just as you’ve described it, Philas . . .’
Dura turned, peering out through the thin foliage. There, easily visible beyond the stripped twigs of the forest fringe, was an Air-car, huge and sleek. It was calling, in a thin, amplified voice.
‘ . . . Dura . . . upfluxer Dura . . . If you can hear me, show yourself. Dura . . .’
‘Tell me about the Xeelee,’ said Hork V.
The Palace anteroom was a hollow sphere about five mansheights across, anchored loosely in the Garden. Fine ropes had been threaded across the interior, and light, comfortable net cocoons were suspended here and there. Smaller nets contained drinks and sweetmeats.
Adda, Muub and Hork occupied three of the cocoons. The three of them faced each other close to the centre of the room. Adda felt as if he were trapped in the web of a Crust-spider.
Adda found Hork’s demanding tone, his stare over that bush of ludicrous face-hair, quite offensive. This was the new Chair of the Parz Committee. So what? Such titles didn’t mean a damn thing to Adda, and the day they did would be a sorry one, he reckoned.
Let them wait. Adda allowed his gaze to slide around the opulence of this chamber.
The painted walls were the ultimate folly, of course. They were designed to give an illusion of the open Air. He studied the drawn-in vortex li
nes, the purple paint that represented the Quantum Sea. How absurd, thought Adda, for these City people to close themselves away from the world in their boxes of wood and Corestuff, and then go to so much trouble to reproduce what could be found outside.
The centrepiece of the anteroom was a tame vortex ring. And, Adda conceded, it was impressive. It was contained in nested globes of clearwood which revolved continually about three independent axes, maintaining the spin of the Air trapped within. Every child knew that if an unstable vortex line threw off a ring, the torus of vorticity would rapidly lose its energy and decay away; but this trapped ring was fed with energy by the artful spinning of the globes, and so remained stable.
Of course, it wasn’t as impressive as the million-mansheight-long vortex lines which spanned the Mantle and arced over the Garden, and which were available for viewing without charge or effort . . .
‘I’m glad you’re finding the room so interesting.’ Hork’s tone contained patience, but with an undercurrent of threat.
‘I wasn’t aware you were in a hurry. After all, you’ve lasted ten generations without talking to the Human Beings; what’s the rush now?’
‘No games,’ Hork growled. ‘Come on, upfluxer. You know why I’ve asked you here. I need your help.’
Muub interposed smoothly, ‘You must make allowances for this old rascal, sir. He rejoices in being difficult . . . a privilege of age, perhaps.’
Adda turned to glare at Muub, but the doctor would not meet his eye.
‘I ask you again,’ Hork said quietly. ‘Tell me of the Xeelee.’
‘Not until you tell me that my friends will be returned from their exile.’
‘From their indentures,’ Muub said impatiently. ‘Damn it, Adda, I’ve already assured you that they’ve been sent for.’
Adda watched Hork, his mouth set firm.
Hork nodded, the motion an impatient spasm which caused ripples to flow over the front of his chest. ‘Their debts are dissolved. Now give me my answer.’
‘I’ll tell you all you need to know in five words.’
Hork tilted his head back, his nostrils glowing.
Adda said slowly, ‘You - can - not - fight - Xeelee.’
Hork growled.
‘That’s your intention, isn’t it?’ Adda asked evenly. ‘You want to find a way to beat off Xeelee as if they were rampaging Air-boars; you want to find a way to stop them smashing up your beautiful Palace . . .’
‘They are killing the people I am responsible for.’
Adda leaned forward in his sling. ‘City man, they don’t even know we’re here. Nothing you could do would even raise you to their attention.’
Muub was shaking his head. ‘How can you respect such - such primal monsters? Explain that, Adda.’
‘The Xeelee have their own goals,’ said Adda. ‘Goals which we do not share, and cannot even comprehend . . .’
The Xeelee - moving behind mists of legend - were immense. They were to the Ur-humans as Ur-humans were to Human Beings, perhaps. They were like gods - and yet lower than gods.
Perhaps gods could have been tolerated, by the Ur-human soul. Not the Xeelee. The Xeelee had been rivals.
Hork twisted in his sling, angry and impatient. ‘So the Ur-humans, unable to endure the aloof grandeur of these Xeelee, challenged them . . .’
‘Yes. There were great wars.’
Billions had died. The destruction of the Xeelee had become a racial goal for the Ur-humans.
‘ . . . But not for everyone,’ Adda said. ‘As the venom of the assaults grew, so did Ur-human understanding of the Xeelee’s great Projects. For instance the Ring was discovered . . .’
‘The Ring?’ Hork growled.
‘Bolder’s Ring,’ Adda said. ‘A huge construct which one day will form a gateway between universes . . .’
‘What is this old fool babbling about, Physician? What are these universes of which he speaks? Are they in other parts of the Star?’
Muub spread his long, fine hands and smiled. ‘I’m as mystified as you are, sir. Perhaps the universes reside in other Stars. If such exist.’
Adda grunted. ‘If I knew all the answers I’d have spent my life doing a lot more than carve spears and hunt pigs,’ he said sourly. ‘Look, Hork, I will tell you what I know; I’m telling you what my father told me. But if you ask stupid questions you are only going to get stupid answers.’
‘Get on with it,’ Muub murmured.
‘Even if they could have been successful,’ Adda said, ‘wise Ur-men came to see that to destroy the Xeelee might be as unwise as for a child to destroy its father. The Xeelee are working on our behalf, waging immense, invisible battles in order to save us from unknown danger. We cannot understand their ways; we are as dust in the Air to them. But they are our best hope.’
Hork glared at him, raking his fat fingers through his beard. ‘What evidence is there for any of this? It’s all legend and hearsay . . .’
‘That’s true,’ Muub said, ‘but we couldn’t expect any more from such a source, sir ...’
Hork shoved himself out of his sling, his bulk quivering in the Air like a sac of liquid. ‘You’re too damn patient, Physician. Legend and hearsay. The ramblings of a senile old fool.’ He Waved to the captive vortex ring and slammed his fist into the elegant spheres encasing it. The outermost sphere splintered in a star around his fist, and the vortex ring broke up into a chain of smaller rings which rapidly diminished in size, swooping around each other. ‘Am I supposed to gamble the future of the City, of my people, on such gibberish? And what about us, upfluxer? Forget these mythical men on other worlds. Why are the Xeelee interested in us? ... and what am I to do about it?’
Past Hork’s wide, angry face, Adda watched the captive vortex ring struggling to reform.
15
Bzya invited Farr to visit him at his home, deep in the Downside belly of the City.
The Harbour workers were expected to sleep inside the Harbour itself, in the huge, stinking dormitories. The authorities preferred to have their staff where they could call them out quickly in the event of some disaster - and where they had an outside chance of keeping them fit for work. To get access to the rest of the City, outside the Harbour walls, Bzya and Farr needed to arrange not only coincident off-shifts but also coincident out-passes, and they had to wait some weeks before Hosch - grudgingly and reluctantly - allowed the arrangement.
The Harbour, a huge spherical construction embedded in the base of the City, was enclosed by its own Skin and had its own skeleton of Corestuff, strengthened to withstand the forces exerted by the Bell winches. The Harbour was well designed for its function, Farr had come to realize, but the interior was damned claustrophobic, even by Parz standards. So he felt a mild relief as he emerged from the Harbour’s huge, daunting gates and entered the maze of Parz streets once more.
The streets - narrow, branching, indecipherably complex - twisted away in all directions. Farr looked around, feeling lost already; he knew he’d have little hope of finding his way through this three-dimensional maze.
Bzya rubbed his hands, grinned, and Waved off down one of the streets. He moved rapidly despite his huge, scarred bulk. Farr studied the street. It looked the same to him as a dozen others. Why that one? How had Bzya recognized it? And...
And Bzya was almost out of sight already, round the street’s first bend.
Farr kicked away from the outer Harbour wall and plunged after Bzya.
The area around the Harbour was one of the shabbiest in the City. The streets were cramped, old and twisting. The noise of the dynamo sheds, which were just above this area, was a constant, dull throb. The dwelling-places were dark mouths, most of them with doors or pieces of wall missing; as he hurried after Bzya, Farr was aware of curious, hungry eyecups peering out at him. Here and there people Waved unevenly past - men and women, some of them Harbour workers, and many of them in the strange state called ‘drunkenness’. Nobody spoke, to him or anybody else. Farr shivered, feeling clumsy and con
spicuous; this was like being lost in a Crust-forest.
After a short time’s brisk Waving, Bzya began to slow. They must be nearly at his home. Farr looked around curiously. They were still in the deepest Downside, almost on top of the Harbour, and the buildings here had the shrunken meanness of the areas closest to the Harbour itself. But in this area there was a difference, Farr saw slowly. The walls and doors were patched, but mostly intact. And there were no ‘drunks’. It was astonishing to him how in such a short distance the character of Parz could change so completely.
Bzya grinned and pushed open a doorway - a doorway among thousands in these twisting corridors. Once again Farr wondered how Bzya knew how to find his way around with such unerring accuracy.
He climbed after Bzya through the doorway. The interior of the home was a single room - a rough sphere, dimly illuminated by wood-lamps fixed seemingly at random to the walls. He felt his cup-retinae stretch, adjusting to the low level of light.
A globe-bowl of tiny leaves was thrust into his chest.
He stumbled back in the Air. There was a wide, grinning face apparently suspended over the bowl - startlingly like Bzya’s, but half-bald, nose flattened and misshapen, the nostrils dulled. ‘You’re the upfluxer. Bzya’s told me about you. Have a petal.’
Bzya pushed past Farr and into the little home. ‘Let the poor lad in first, woman,’ he grumbled good-naturedly.
‘All right, all right.’
The woman withdrew, clutching her petal-globe and still grinning. Bzya wrapped a huge hand around Farr’s forearm and dragged him into the room, away from the door, then closed the door behind them.
The three of them hovered in a rough circle. The woman dropped the petal-globe in the Air and thrust out a hand. ‘I’m Jool. Bzya’s my husband. You are welcome here.’
Farr took her hand. It was almost the size of Bzya’s, and as strong. ‘Bzya told me about you, too.’
Bzya kissed Jool. Then, sighing and stretching, he drifted away to the dim rear of the little home, leaving Farr with his wife.
Xeelee: An Omnibus: Raft, Timelike Infinity, Flux, Ring Page 69