by Nick Travers
Chapter 21
Ashcroft Ascent is one small island boasting many different building styles, stacked one on top of another; skyscrapers housing multiple floored hydroponic fields peek through the clutter of older style buildings crammed shoulder to shoulder. Below, smart terraces hang below the rocky bottom of the overcrowded land mass. An old island, probably one the first cities to fly; a cramped and claustrophobic place, where the wealthy have moved down instead of up.
Docked white airships claim this as part of the Microtough protectorate. Not strictly within the realms of the Engineering Guild, but allied to them in some fashion. Probably through agricultural treaties judging by the proliferation of hydroponic farms.
We are here in search of the third clue in my Mother’s journal: something called “The Eyes of Gaia.”
Sunlight struggles to reach warm fingers into the narrow alleys between towering buildings—gloom is the dominant feature at ground level. Port holes of sunlight, piped from upper stories, light the streets with garish patches of sun among the shade. No open plazas or wide sunlit streets here. I cannot imagine living in such a dark, cramped, claustrophobic space. No wonder the well-to-do have moved down to lighter, more spacious lodgings.
We provision the Shonti Bloom with fresh produce from the hydroponic farms—at a price, of course, then set out to find the museum.
As we exit the docks and enter the gloomy maze of streets, we pass a bespectacled statue of Bill, ‘The first Gates,’ patron saint of Microtough. The talk of the docks is how Chief Engineer Symons recently succeeded the late and unlamented General Molotoph as the new Gates—the Engineering Guild staking their claim once more on the Microtough Empire. Whether the Engineering Guild controls Microtough or Microtough controls the engineers is a relationship constantly in flux.
“Hail Gates, keeper of knowledge,” Scud mutters as he passes the statue.
The walls of the narrow street lean in on me, squeezing the breath out of the place. The residents ignore us, scurrying about their business in ubiquitous Microtough white suits.
“How did the ancients build such tall, thin structures?” Scud muses.
I turn doubtfully to the others. “Surely, this place won’t make room for anything that wastes space, such as a museum?”
“All Guild protectorates have museums,” Scud replies, “it makes them feel important.”
“Means they can tell history from their point of view,” Fernando chimes in. “Very important when it comes to controlling the masses.” Trust Fernando to always have a political eye on the situation.
We stop to ask directions at a little kiosk selling “Delicious” hot pies.
“In the base of hydroponic two-six-seven,” the pie lady says cheerfully while taking our money. The pies, as advertised, are excellent—roasted Butternut Squash and some spices I cannot identify.
The museum is indeed in the base of a towering hydroponics farm. ‘Gone for lunch, back in an hour,’ a sign declares. The door is not only unlocked, but standing wide open—a trusting lot. A lucky turn of events with no one about to disturb us. We should be in and out without anyone knowing.
We have no trouble finding the Eye of Gaia—it’s the main exhibit, almost the only exhibit. A huge heavy lidded eyeball, as high as my waist, carved in a heavy green luminescent stone. I know just how heavy, because after searching the visible exterior I try to roll it onto its side to see underneath. It nearly crushes my toes as I let it rock back into place. Fernando cracks up with laughter while I perform a stupid little jig to keep my toes clear.
Nothing. As far as I can see, the sculpture is devoid of unusual features.
“Can I help you?”
Jumping half out my skin, I spin round to see a scruffy individual, in an off-white suit, smiling blandly from the doorway. A badge on his chest says Curator. That was a quick lunch.
Did he see me looking under the eye of Gaia? I hope it has stopped rocking behind me. I decided to blag it anyway. “Yeah, possibly, we’re doing a school project on early post-industrial objects.”
The curator raises his hands dramatically in the air. “You got me.”
“I have?”
“The eyes of Gaia?”
The comment flies straight past me. “Sorry?”
“The eyes?”
I shake my head, perplexed.
“The sign,” he sighs, “says the ‘Eyes of Gaia,’ but there’s only one.”
“Oh.” Now I get it—one eye out of two.
Izzy’s there before me. “You mean there is another one?”
The curator beams like he’s just explained the source of the universe. “A pair. Even though Ashcroft Ascent’s most famous daughter discovered the eyes, the engineers have never let us keep both. Of course, we protest in the strongest terms on a regular basis, but who are we, just a gnat barking at the bull.”
The relevance of this information still eludes me. “There’s another eye. But not here?” I ask stupidly.
“Originally, we had nothing. Then, a couple of years ago, we thought we’d won our case. The engineers gave up both eyes, but they only let us keep them for a year before taking one away. Despicable, building up our hopes then demanding one back. We had a grand welcome home ceremony and declared a national holiday and everything.”
While the curator pauses for breath in his saga, I dive in. “So where is the other eye now?”
“Newtonsteign.”
Izzy gasps, “Newtonsteign?”
Scud wanders off looking worried and Fernando has trouble closing his mouth.
“We had to return it to Newtonsteign last year. A crying shame. The Engineers claimed it might have a more significant value than first thought. Just a ruse if you ask me…want all the glory for themselves.”
My heart sinks, Newtonsteign, center of the Microtough Empire, official residence of the Grand Engineer; and just about the most security conscious place in the world. How can we possible sneak in unnoticed, take a squint at the other eye, and get out again with our lives?