‘You appeared from a cloud; is that normal here?’
Christina chuckled. ‘I’ve spent centuries alone, so my actions are always normal. I spent my last century in my mental form, but voices without bodies can terrify people, so I changed. It’s fun to scuff my feet on carpet.’
‘Caliper mentioned ghosts.’
‘My image travels, but few see my face, and fewer hear my words. I sought to talk, but I only ever frightened the villagers. Our world decays, and each projection hurts more, and these days I cannot tell where my image appears.’ Christina paused and looked upward a fraction as if thinking. She knelt, and her hand touched Phos’s shoulder as their eyes met. ‘I have a task for you that will test your mind and body to their utter limits, but I believe you will find the strength.’
Phos stared into the pale blue discs of Christina’s eyes and the intricate tracework of lines ringing her irises. ‘Can I take Caliper?’
‘Of course. He’s trying to rescue you.’
‘I thought he might.’
‘We spoke earlier; I wanted him to reach me, and he still might, but your arrival alters everything, and I must protect you as far as I can.’
Christina rose and sauntered forward, and Phos fell silent. Questions brewed inside her, and all of them fought for her breath.
‘Here we are.’ Christina’s willowy body swished into a high chamber shaped like an upturned wine glass. Silver light drifted past paper streamers dangling from the domed ceiling. Two curved sofas surrounded a low glass table, and pictures dotted the walls to show the forests and grass of the world above. One image showed golden leaves cascading from an elm in a gentle breeze. Phos gasped. Moving pictures – was this a window?
‘Please sit.’
Cushions crinkled beneath her as a musky fragrance wafted past, and Phos breathed out as she settled back into the couch.
Christina’s robe shifted into an emerald green and rustled as she crossed her legs. Her hair turned auburn. ‘Caliper is trying to reach us, but he has centuries of decay to struggle through, and for now our link has broken. I sense a thousand questions inside you, but let’s start at the beginning. I will go slowly, but tell me if you need rest. I know of several beginnings, but one involves everyone; you have some of the facts, but you need a story.’
Phos swallowed and cleared her throat before gazing at Christina’s eyes – a blue taken from the clearest lake, quiet on the surface, but untold currents surged below. ‘Teachers say our world never changes, but our apples taste bitter and the trees stink. Are the teachers wrong?’
Christina’s eyes never blinked. ‘I dreaded telling Caliper this story, but you have less to unlearn. Your teachers have lied, but watching the world will teach you the truth.’
Phos nodded. ‘I’ve seen ancient books where trees have different shapes, and the trees on the carvings outside were shorter than ours, and I think they were older than anything in books. How did everything start? My father said I came from a seed, and plants and trees come from seeds and acorns. Why isn’t our world the same?’
‘Every world has a start, Phos, and our story begins there.’ Christina’s robe faded into a spring forest’s pale green. ‘Your distant ancestors lived far above your world. Their learning would astound you: they travelled hundreds of miles in an instant; their voices carried over immense distances; they could heal the most appalling injuries; and if they spoke of their desires, the earth spawned what they wanted.’
‘And they created us?’
‘Stay seated.’
Christina stood and approached the wall behind her before lifting both arms. The room’s walls blurred before melting into the floor to expose a velvet blackness. The chamber’s light faded, and Phos gripped the sofa cushions as Christina’s image became a silhouette.
A silvery sphere winked into view on her right. She couldn’t tell its size or distance, but the ball looked like a slow-spinning marble coated with a world’s skin. Mountain ranges pocked the surface, and darker flat patches looked like seas.
‘Your ancestors lived on this surface.’
Phos stood. ‘No walls, no vault, and curves everywhere? Nothing overhead?’
‘Nothing to protect them; their sky was too open. War came, and their enemies curdled daylight into a poison savage enough to kill anyone outside.’
‘They poisoned the sun’s arch?’
‘Not the sun’s arch, Phos: the sun.’
‘The sun? The….’ Phos played with the word. ‘This came before the sun’s arch?’
A second, featureless gold sphere appeared further off to throw a curved shadow over the silver ball. The golden ball inched around the silver, and its shadow crept over the model mountains.
Phos held her breath. ‘This creates night and day? Our sun’s arch mimics this sun?’
‘Is this too much for you? Would a pause help?’
‘You can’t stop now.’
‘The sun let people grow crops.’ Christina paused to choose her words. ‘The poisoned light withered their fields, and weapons cracked open their homes to let wind howl over the land. Night came, and everything froze, their food, their air, their bodies.’
‘They poisoned sun…light?’ Phos swallowed. ‘Are we safe?’
Christina nodded as golden light brushed her hair. ‘People sought darkness underground, but poison would stain their fields for centuries, and their shelter needed food. You must sit.’
‘I don’t need a break.’ The two spheres faded, and now their only light leaked in from the open doorway. A delicate mist bunched around Phos’s shadow.
‘The survivors rebuilt an ancient mine and used their skills to create fields and lights underground, and they believed themselves safe. If you’re ready, I should show you.’
Phos looked to her right, and a disc coated in green and brown patches floated in darkness. Phos stepped to her left; the disc was a bowl stood on its side.
‘That’s not our world.’
‘It’s part of your history. The war became one of sabotage and disguise, and this reforged mine was their first attempt at hiding. Imagine a bowl stamped into soil and covered by a plate.’
‘Their first attempt?’
Christina stepped forward. ‘This became known as the First Enclave. Your world lies underneath, and it was called the Second Enclave.’
Phos’s cheeks flushed in the darkness. ‘There’re fields and buildings inside the bowl, and roads bunching at the centre.’
‘Villages and towns, together with fields for crops.’
‘Those fields near the rim look like cliffs.’
‘There’s a force called gravity that lets you fall, and the First Enclave’s makers twisted it to their demands. Reach the First, and wherever you stand, the force tugs you towards the ground, and after time, it will feel normal.’
‘So we’re not surrounded by rock?’
‘I tried to spread the truth, but only Caliper heard my voice. Shall we continue with this flood of learning?’
Phos blushed. ‘Yes, I’m ready.’
Silver light drifted from overhead to pick out Christina’s hanging streamers.
‘War had devastated the surface, but people had started families in the First, and for decades the crops were rich and succulent. They hoped to stay underground until the poison above faded, but within fifty years their soil turned rancid and their crops withered.’
‘Did the sun leak in?’
‘No. Waste built up. Nature couldn’t endure being crammed into such a tiny world. People knew this from the start, and they’d created tiny machines to ferry food between plants and cart away waste or cure new diseases.’
Phos gasped. ‘Tiny machines?’
Christina’s eyes studied Phos’s face. ‘Imagine a windmill turning wind and grain into flour. Now imagine a windmill your size, and now imagine one a tenth that size.’
‘Like a toy?’
‘Now imagine one an inch high, a tiny windmill with gears and sails and grindstone
s, but it still works. Think of a smaller version, the size of a grain of wheat, and now one a tenth that size, next one so small you could stack a thousand inside an inch. Imagine one a thousandth that size, but again, the windmill still works.’
‘Toys for tiny children?’
‘Your world’s builders made the tiniest blocks of matter dance to their music; they made machines like windmills, waterwheels, looms, ploughs, distilleries, any machine required, and their machines talked. A tiny loom might ask a tiny delivery cart for more wool.’
‘Frinelia had a story….’
‘These tiny machines brought life to the First Enclave, and newer versions support your world.’
‘They’re not called tiny machines, are they?’
Christina smiled and walked around the sofa before sitting. ‘None of my pupils had your thirst, Phos. They’re called nanotechnology, or nanotech, as small as anything can be.’
‘Are Caliper’s exploits part of this?’
‘Some people could command hidden nanotech functions. I thought the ability lost, but both Caliper’s parents had skill, and your miller has talent beyond imagination. He shapes the world as a potter shapes clay.’
‘I should demand lessons.’
‘I have never described the nanotech to him; he’s strong in mind and body, but he’s passed the age where learning is easy.’ Christina paused. ‘Half of me expected you to run away screaming.’
‘It explains what I’ve seen, and true stories have their own weird flavour; no one invented this. What happened in the First?’
‘Their nanotech couldn’t remove the waste piling up, so the builders granted their tiny machines new powers. Still more plagues attacked their crops, and the builders became desperate. They absorbed nanotech into their bodies to ward off illnesses and taught the machines how to read minds. At first this worked: the skilled turned stone into metal or glass, and fashioned new plants or powerful medicines.’
‘What went wrong?’
‘The human desire for power never wavered. Before, people had debated with words, but once nanotech entered their bodies, any arguments drew weapons from the ground – talking weapons that redesigned themselves. Ambition spilled blood, and over time humans passed more and more control to the machines until the nanotech worked only for itself, and it claimed the First. Poison still coated the surface, so the builders clawed deeper and built a new enclave. Failure forced lessons into their heads, and they made your world far larger and with gentler machines. Even so, there was no staying in the First; they sealed its nanotech inside.’
Christina leaned back on her sofa and gazed at Phos’s face. ‘The builders created this city to house the engines that shaped your hills and mountains, and carpeted them with plants. Your people were born here.’
‘My people?’
‘Nurseries, classrooms, dormitories and play areas – everything your size.’
‘My size?’
‘My builders made me their size. Larger humans needed potent nanotech, but they designed the smaller people to survive with gentler machines, and they work inside you now.’ Christina’s dress flashed a vivid crimson and shone like foil as a black belt emerged to cinch her waist. ‘The surface poison lasted longer than anyone expected, and the Second Enclave needed to last thousands of years as your kind kept the human fire alive.’
Phos twiddled her hair.
‘The Second’s nanotech couldn’t keep the First Enclave people alive, but a few survived their final catastrophe and clustered by the entrance to this world. We became parents to their children, and for centuries, we projected our images into their countryside to teach farming and fishing; how to sow seeds or carve wood. Even ancient history – stories from America, Asia or Africa. Over time, our machinery here faltered, and by machinery, I mean constructs like me’ Christina paused. ‘You look tired, Phos. Would a short break help?’
‘A nap? No, thanks. You talked about friends?’
‘Constructs, friends, two words for one idea. There were nine of us and sometimes I murmur through their names. Isabella, Sophia, Charlotte, Emily, Michael, Peter, Emma. We laughed while sharing stories and remembering friends. But over those centuries our bodies failed, and one by one my friends slowed before stopping forever.’ Christina glanced downwards. ‘I spent most time with Gwendoline. Like me Gwen was a construct, and we worked to educate our adopted children and illustrate their world’s workings. She lasted for centuries, but one day I came here to find her sitting where you are now – sitting without moving. I touched her arm, but she never twitched or breathed, and her eyes stayed blank. I laid her beside the other constructs, and the last five thousand years won’t have touched her. There’s been little reason to materialise since, but here I am, hoping to carry out a construct’s final duty. I couldn’t tell you why I’ve lasted seven thousand years. The First’s machines lasted decades, and the Second’s until now.’
‘Until now?’
‘You have evidence.’
‘Dying plants and stinking trees?’
Christina nodded and rested her hands on the sofa’s cushions. ‘No one can make an immortal machine, but the builders let their creations breed. For thousands of years, child machines in the Second copied their parents, but each birth added errors. Now the machines are unsure; tree branches twist back into their trunks, and leaves die as soon as they bud.’
Phos brought her legs up and sat cross-legged on the sofa. Her life was an inch-long thread on a thousand-yard tapestry, and fatigue closed her eyes, but she forced them open. ‘The First failed, and the Second dies, so is there a plan?’
‘I have half a plan, and maybe a direction,’ Christina said.
‘Do we tunnel down again?’
‘We lost the talent. You must revisit the First Enclave with an argument.’
‘Do I climb the world walls?’
‘No. There’s a direct path. Once I realised the Second was dying, I called people here, but only Caliper approached.’
‘And you got me.’
‘The rim of the First Enclave’s bowl touches the surface, and that’s where the builders forged our nanotech. Reach the rim, and you’ll see vast maps of the First, where the builders planned their work; the First Enclave used to listen for instructions.’
‘Used to? Did it stop?’
‘I’ll write an instruction package, an argument, take it to the rim, and the First might listen and understand. Orders won’t work, but we may persuade the nanotech to recreate the Second’s tiny machines.’
‘So this map room works like the tiny huts workmen use when they’re building houses?’
Christina nodded. ‘I can create the package, but I can’t touch the First. A light you can’t see cascades through this city. It holds me together, but I can’t walk where it doesn’t reach. Take friends and learn the secrets we’ve forgotten. I’ve seen you scurry beside your miller; I’ve seen you ask questions and run tests, and you’ve rediscovered ways of thinking we should never have lost. The new thinking may help you survive.’
‘May?’
‘The First must have changed beyond recognition, so you’ll face unimaginable threats, but you must leave before dawn, and there’s no time to plan. Learn once you’re there, and your new way of thinking will help.’
‘Who designed the first tiny machine, and can we forge our own tools in the First?’
‘Time has ripped up many records, and my mind stutters. It forgets, and recalls events that haven’t happened, but I know the First’s machines have the strength to rip your body apart. Avoid the nanotech until you reach the map room. We erected barriers to protect the Second, and I must weaken those barriers to let you enter the First, and the nanotech may take advantage. I’ll take you back to the upper city and help you break through the vault, and I’ll write the argument to persuade the First’s machines, but before any of that happens, I’ll need your permission.’
‘What?’
‘Humans built me to teach words and num
bers to children, to clear furniture after lessons and comfort the fretful. I can do more, but my powers festered unused because my body scared my creators, and they demanded I wait until a human standing beside me gave permission. I hoped Caliper would come, but in extreme times, I can accept a child’s orders.’
‘Your lessons must have been fun.’
‘I can reset this city to its ancestral design and make it a place where journeys start and end. Materials and people shuttled between here and the First, and your permission will rebuild the path.’
Memories of Leester’s classroom surged through Phos; she’d seen hands weave threads into vivid pictures of crimson roses – talent could conjure worlds from nothing.
Phos sat and her suit crinkled. ‘How did people appear on the surface? Was there a seed?’
‘There’s much my builders kept from me, and they never expected me to hunt knowledge. I can’t prepare you for the First’s dangers, and you must work out the rules.’ Christina played with her sleeves before looking at Phos. ‘I need your permission to restore this city and the pathways.’
‘We called this place Morzenthal.’
‘Morzenthal? Fascinating. Do I have permission?’
‘You’re asking a thirteen-year-old for permission? What if I refuse?’
‘We stay here while I create food you’ll hate, and we wait as our world dies.’
‘That’s not what humans are for; you have permission.’
Christina’s eyes closed, and she sighed, and her chin lifted as her breathing stopped.
Phos stood and trotted around the table. ‘Christina?’ No sleeper looked this silent; the woman’s neck was as ashen as Dad’s unbreathing face. Christina’s hands twitched and her fingers vibrated before life poured back into her body, and a harsh rattle escaped.
‘Don’t try that yourself, Phos.’ A metallic taint clawed her voice.
‘You’ve reset the city?’
‘The process has started, but the walls in upper Morzenthal will take several minutes to shift, and most areas won’t alter until all humans are safe.’
‘Most? Those elders won’t expect change.’
Christina pursed her lips. ‘We must avoid suffering, but small shocks can stimulate. Your next journey awaits. It will start difficult and get harder, but there is little choice.’
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