That day that was passing had been her ninth day in that world, and she was trying to keep a positive attitude about all that would eventually befall her, and specifically this meant that she’d tried to soak in every amount of life that she were able to, even if that entailed letting the sea mist slash against her face, as she gazed out over those cruel and darkening waves.
And it seemed so silly and pointless to her then, to have spent a year counting down the days until she would return to Gleomu, knowing that, in hindsight, what she had really been doing was counting down the days until her kidnapping, when she would eventually be force into a world she had not wished for.
But for all of this, she found herself again counting down a set of days, till an unknown time and not for something wonderful, but a countdown until she would be reflected to the bottom of the ocean. And now feeling a tangible sense of all the days that she’d wasted with meaningless counting, she did not want this countdown till her death to be similarly wasted. So she closed her eyes and let the sea spray freckle across her eyelids, smelling the salt and the wetness of it.
���What are you doing?��� said a voice, that had come to sit down on the bench seat beside her.
���Looking for fish people again?��� he asked.
Barbara opened her eyes to see that it was Ata, confidently amused by his good-natured teasing.
���No, I wasn’t,��� Barbara replied, trying to appear stern and plain faced, but then opened up with a smile of her own. ���Not to worry though, I’ve already spoken with them about our globe. They said they’ll return it at once, and are sorry for the inconvenience it might have caused us.���
There was pleasant laughing at the front of the boat, which caught Timothy’s attention, as he sat at the rudder, while Eldemir trimmed their sails.
���See, I knew you were crazy,��� Ata joked.
���Hey,��� Barbara said aloud, still in good spirits, and they both laughed again. And as Timothy was keen to note from his spot at the rudder, this was the first time since they’d arrived that Barbara had allowed herself the freedom to fully laugh. And though, as glad as he was to see her this way, I believe a part of his self wished that he could have been at the forward portion of the ship, and that it was Ata instead, who had taken the job at the rudder.
Though there was not much time to think about things like these.
At once, gazing at the clouds above them, Eldemir said aloud, proud of himself that he had found the correct coordinate locations, and Ata translated for him, ���I give you the beauty of the sky: Aden, the city of the sky people.���
And the clouds broke apart, as the first sunset trickled over the horizon line, and what looked to be the peak of a mountain, covered over with ship’s sails (only reversed, flipped on its head, so that the mountain peak was facing downward, and the city itself was flatly built above it), it parted the previously white clouds, which were now painted red, and fiery orange, and royal blue from the sunset. It gently fell from the heavens, an island in the sky that had been built and floated above their world, truly a city in the sky.
It was so incredible that no one could find exactly the right words to say, or anything to say for that matter, until Barbara had noticed something so unusual that she couldn’t help but to make mention of it.
���Are those people?��� she asked Ata, as she pointed toward a swarm of flying objects, that from a distance looked like dragonflies, or bumble bees. Though as they came closer it was quickly apparent that they were in fact people. Or more rightly, they were men kneeling on winged platforms, each platform with rapidly fluttering wings built with a system of intricate gyroscopes, so that their ���dragonfly ships��� would always be flapping, very much like a hummingbird’s wings. They came swooping down from the sides of the island, and halted high above the mast of their sailboat.
One of these men wore a decorative helmet that folded down over his cheekbones, and he appeared to be their leader, flying at the front of the pack, and was closest to their ship.
He shouted a phrase that was somehow vaguely familiar, and as Ata translated they realized why. This was the same phrase that Eldemir had yelled to Can, the man from the market, as he left them at the ship’s dock that morning.
���May the God give you safe harbor,��� Ata spoke, translating their leader’s greeting.
And from their small ship, Eldemir called back, as if it had been a passcode, or a call and response answer, which Ata also translated, ���And a light to guide the voyage.���
Throwing open his arms, their leader shouted from his dragonfly ship, ���Ho�� geldiniz, arkada��lar,��� which in their dialect of ancient Turkish means, ���Welcome, friends.���
*
�� You must remember that this is not an English name, and is pronounced more like the name ���Jon���, which is what Timothy and Barbara had always thought his name had been.
�� Dear Reader, there are certain portions of history that are so uncomfortably sad, that you do not wish for them to be repeated, nor will you allow them to be dwelt upon. The end of Can’s life is such a story, and so I will not tell you how he died, but only that he did, and that he had done it bravely.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
In Aden
That evening in the center common area of the city, at the base of the steps to what in that place they called ���the House of Justice���, which was the main civil hall in the city. The sky people greeted their guests with a grand ceremony, and by the lighting of a fire, which in that place was considered to be a prestigious honor, seeing that trees were so incredibly scarce in Aden, the city of the sky people.
So that almost every other building, except for the House of Justice, was constructed of lighter and more plentiful materials, such as canvas and rope, instead of bricks and timber, and those heavier things you might find back on the Queen’s island, Sonsuz Su.
And there they sat after the final sunset, drinking full glasses of water, sweetened with pomegranate juice, while the whole city was gathered around to celebrate their visitors from the world of Land, the world of Arthur Greyford. And after they’d had their fill to eat and drink, an extremely aged man by Earth’s standards, though only a moderately aged man by theirs, he stood before the bonfire and the crowd that had gathered, to retell the history and the origins of the sky people. So that their visitors from Earth would know to feel welcomed in that place, and would learn more about the world that they had come to.
This man, at the time of his tale, had lived to the hearty age of seven hundred and eighty-seven. He had silvery grey hair, braided in thin plaits behind his head.
And he spoke in fractured English, having been a close personal friend of Arthur Greyford many years ago. His voice was hoarse, and yet he seemed generally good-natured and trustworthy, as if the hoarseness had not come from yelling, but from laughter.
���Arthur of Earth came to us in the days of dry months, when I am seven hundred and eight years,��� he said, in his best English, before repeating this same line in his native language; This he did after every sentence, he repeated his words in ancient Turkish, so that all that gathered would understand his story. And in this way, somewhere between his attempt at English, and Ata’s hurried retranslations, they got the full meaning of his story, which was as follows:
���Friend Arthur was wise. He showed us much of the knowledge and science of his Earth: We learned to make sails to fly in the air, and we taught him how to drink water from the sea.
He had many friends in islands abroad, but he had always a special place in his heart for the Queen, and she for him, and he would come to see her first during his visits. Yet, each year he grew older and we learned that we did not show the same age. But the Queen was bitter and proud, she would not have a foreign man for a husband, and she would not share her throne.
So Arthur continued to take his journe
ys to Earth, and other worlds, and was always older when he returned. And as the years passed, he continued to teach us many things, but not only of science: yet also of government, and of thoughts and philosophies, and the failures in the histories of his world, and the God.
But the Queen would not hear these things: She had come to believe that she is a god, the Divine Empress. She decreed new laws against the thoughts of Arthur. She made war against us, and many were killed in Sonsuz Su.
When Arthur returned, he saw the devastation of fires, and battles on every island. Only one island we had left, where the Queen had not ruled over us. He found us there, and made wings for our people and our island, to lift us from the waves and to hide us in our city in the clouds, where the Queen could not find us.
But his heart was broken, he believed the Queen would of all people hear him, and end her wars. So he left to make peace with the Queen, and to offer her his friendship once again, but he has not returned. And we are left here alone, to live in the sky, in hiding but in peace.���
And when the old man’s story had ended, there formed a long line of citizens come to greet their new guests: There were hugs given, as if they had been old friends, and ���Thank yous���, and gifts that all three travelers felt unworthy to receive, but they would not dare be so impolite as to refuse them.
When all was finished, Timothy snuck away to speak privately with the old man who’d been a close friend of Arthur Greyford, to ask him about something that had been weighing heavily on his mind since they’d arrived. Timothy and the old man, whose name was Destek, spoke in whispers by the fire, until the festivities had long ended, and until the fire had become embers, which smoldered into ash.
When Timothy finally returned to his quarters very late, almost morning, by then Ata and Barbara were of course already asleep in their private canvas tents, folded into comfortable hammocks that swayed in the wind. And while he had still so much running through his mind, he did eventually fall asleep for nearly a full two hours before awaking oddly refreshed for the glorious and busy day ahead of them.
���Barbara!��� Timothy blurted, nearly shaking her from her hammock.
Her eyes opened with an irritated squint.
���Are you trying to kill me, Tim?��� she said.
The morning winds lofted against her walls, and outside they could hear the constant motion of windmills, and of sails catching the breeze.
���No,��� he answered. ���But what if I told you it was exactly the opposite?��� And a very hopeful and contented smile came over his face, because he was so happy with himself for what he’d discovered.
���What do you mean?��� she asked, now more awake, and more curious than frustrated.
���Well…��� Timothy said, as if beginning a grand speech. ���I spoke with, Destek, the old man at the bonfire last night, until very, very early this morning. It was difficult at first, because his English is choppy, but with some hand motions, and some patience, we figured out that he can nearly pinpoint the place where we landed.���
[And here, Timothy went into a trailing explanation of exactly how this were possible, describing the predictable patterns of navy routes, and describing, in more detail than you’d care to know, the prevailing sea currents that move the Empire island of Sonsuz Su. It was not a particularly exhilarating topic for discussion, though because he’d slept so few hours over the past several days, everything seemed more interesting than it actually was, and also he slightly enjoyed bragging, and especially the times when Barbara would hear it. And so he continued on in this manner, until quite longer than would be reasonably tactful. So that, in the end, Barbara could no longer forbear it, and rudely interrupted him.]
���Yes, yes… I get it. But how does this help us, exactly?��� she asked, now sitting up on her hammock bed, having slept in her regular clothes.
���Our globe is still at the bottom of the ocean,��� she continued. ���Even if we find out where I’ll be reflected to, I’ll still be sent to the sea floor. I’ll still be drowned, we’ll just know where it is. It doesn’t help us.���
���No, I realize that,��� Timothy explained. ���And that’s why we need to get there first, and find the globe before you’re reflected.���
Barbara tried to give a look of skepticism, but it came out as intrigue. And before she could ask how this were possible, Timothy gave the answer.
���We’re building an underwater vessel. It’s a rough idea now, but we’re working on the drawings,��� he said.
Her excitement was so complete that Barbara had to use both hands over her mouth to try to contain herself. This helped a little, but her ecstatic joy did come out as a muffled squeal, and partial crying. She hopped up from her hammock, throwing her arms around Timothy’s neck to give him such a sincere hug.
���Thank you,��� she said into the folds of his collar.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Things that are Built
As you may happen to find, it is that tender moments such as this, are somehow more likely to be interrupted, than less likely. And such was this occasion, as Ata pulled back the door flap on the canvas tent, saying a loud, ���Hello,��� as he did so, to announce himself.
Both Barbara and Timothy pulled back from their hug, awkwardly caught in something that was not what it appeared to be.
Seeing them, Ata instantly looked away, and down toward the ground as he spoke. ���I didn’t know. I’m sorry,��� he said shyly.
���We were… I was just excited about the good news, that’s all,��� Barbara answered back, as if she’d needed to explain away her reaction.
There was a moment’s break in the conversation, then Ata responded. ���I’ve been working all morning with their scientists, and I think I’ve discovered a way to make it work,��� he said, raising his glance at them. ���I thought you might like to see what we’ve come up with, before we start building,��� he said directing his words to Timothy.
Although it was, in a way, a good attempt for novices, you should know that their first design that morning was a ghastly failure. More exactly, there was an issue with their ballast tanks�� that caused them to burst during simulations. Yet once this was sorted, they soon found that ballast tanks were not the hardest part of building an underwater vessel. It was the air supply.
(Within the next few paragraphs I shall try to explain the issue in its entirety, so that you may fully grasp the complexities relating to the supply of air to a submersible vessel. This will contain very ���sciency��� examples, and so I ask in advance for your forgiveness in the matter. Howbeit, if you happen not to be a very forgiving person, then you may like to skip ahead, which, being a reasonably forgiving person myself, I will allow.)
The problem with air supply:
Imagine, if you will, that the sky were an ���ocean��� made of air. And you, as a person on land, would be at the bottom of that ocean. Above you would be miles and miles of air layered on top of itself, until you reached the upper atmosphere of our world, and then nothing, at that point you would have traveled beyond the surface of our ���ocean���, so to speak.
Now, as it is, at the bottom of this ocean of air, you would literally feel the weight of every bit of air that sat on top of you, miles and miles of this substance pressing on you at all moments of the day. Which, coincidentally, is not a hypothetical. In actuality, we feel this weight pressing on top of us at all times: as we brush our teeth, and get ready for bed, as we walk to school, as we fall in love, or fight with our brothers and sisters. At all times, we feel this ���pressure���, or the weight of the air above us.
Thankfully, however, air is exceptionally light, and we are not harmed in the least. Which is why you may cup your hand and fill it with air, yet you will not feel a thing, but if you cup your other hand and fill it wi
th only a few droplets of water, that you will feel, because water as a substance is much heavier than air.
Yet, notwithstanding, as you may have noticed, this does not explain the problem of air supply, which is this:
If you were to take a bit of normal air, the air we breath at all moments of the day, if you were to take this same air down below the surface of the water, to a depth of thirty-three feet, then, under the pressure of the water above it, this seemingly ordinary air would start to become toxic, and increasingly more toxic as you’d descended.
So now you can understand the gravity of their situation. In order for them to travel to the bottom of the ocean, they not only needed to build an underwater vessel, but also, they’d needed to create entirely new air, air that could be breathed at such great depths. Which is something they may have found to be nearly impossible, if Ata were not with them.
And it was because he’d been an apprentice in his father’s workshop for several years by that point, that he was able to recreate the appropriate chemical formulas. So that by the evening of their twelfth day on that planet, they had a breathable mixture of air, and had positioned the city directly above the spot where the globe might be.
That evening, around second sunset, Barbara had climbed a ladder to a windmill tower, and was seated on a platform with her legs crossed, overlooking the ocean and the flying city of Aden, below her.
She’d grown frustrated with herself, feeling useless when it came to the study of chemistry, and especially the chemistry needed to create new air. And though she was oftentimes determined to be self-sufficient, the strain of having to rely on the efforts and ingenuity of others, over the past several days, had begun to wear on her.
���You want a friend?��� a voice said, climbing up the ladder behind her.
She turned to see Timothy, who was admirably and willfully making his way up the ladder, not allowing himself to look down, as he climbed wrung by wrung.
The Histories of Earth, Books 1-4: In the Window Room, A Prince of Earth, All the Worlds of Men, and Worlds Unending Page 35