Chapter Twelve
A rap on the door of my quarters roused me from a fitful sleep.
“It’s time, lad,” said Bedford. “Report to the mess. Bring your gloves and helmet.”
When I opened the door to my room, I noticed the big gears across the pit were slowly turning. The portal was almost completely open. I walked down to the railing of the inner ring to get my first look at the Below. I don’t know what I expected, but I was disappointed to discover I could only see the craggy walls of the hole that opened onto the Below. Well, at least there were no wandering kons floating up. I shrugged and made my way to the mess.
Everyone welcomed me warmly. Some greeted me with the open palm sign of peace. Others shook my hand and wished me luck. After they greeted me, they left to man their positions and ready for the descent. Only Missus Grier and Bedford sat with me as I ate a hearty meal.
“You’ll have a basket with an ample supply of water, bread and cheese with you,” said Missus Grier, “So you won’t go hungry or thirsty.”
“Your sketching materials are stowed and ready,” said Bedford, putting a hand upon my shoulder. “Today is the day of truth, lad, and you are its courier.”
I felt the weight of my responsibility in that hand. Tears began to well up in my eyes. “I'll do my best, sir.”
Missus Grier rubbed my back with a gentle hand. “Don’t be frightened, Fallon. Everything will go smoothly. I am sure of it.”
I smiled at the lady. “I'm not frightened in the least, ma’am. I'm overwhelmed with joy. My life, even if it ends today, will mean something. How can I thank…”
She cut me off. “None of that, young man. Our thanks to you is as great, so we need not mention it at all. But I will say this: I envy you. I have dreamed of this moment since I was a child. Only, in my dreams, I was the descender. I was the explorer.”
Bedford accompanied me to the sphere where he secured the netting around my high-collared shirt. “Wear this and the gloves as a precaution. If bugs are, as I suspect, not a problem, feel free to strip down to comfortable clothing. No matter what, you’ll need to shed the gloves to do your sketching.”
I stepped into the sphere and took my seat.
Bedford closed the hatch and latched it. “Remember to check the skies. They should be clearly visible above you. At the first sign of light, you start your ascent, do you hear me, lad? I want you back here before the Fount starts to recycle.”
“I will.”
He patted the side of the sphere, almost affectionately, then withdrew his hand and gave me the open palm sign. As I returned the gesture, I heard the winch disengage and felt the sphere begin to move. I quickly decided that sitting was not the position I wanted to be in. I knelt on the floor and looked out one of the lower view ports. The base was awash with light. Many of the team stood by the railing encircling the portal, watching my gradual descent. The pit looked like a gaping mouth, ready to swallow me. Its rock-walled throat was a one way path to the dark bowels of the world. The walls were soon all around me, the reflected light from the base diminished, and the black disk below grew steadily. Then, there was nothing. I simply cannot convey the utter blackness of the void. Even on the darkest night of HighConjunction with neither sol in the sky, there was still starlight. Enclosed in a darkened room you could still sense the walls and furniture about you. Here, I was looking into nothingness. My mind had naught to fill the void. All I had to ground my mind was the vibration of the sphere and an ever-deepening thrum that seemed to resonate from the suspension cables.
I could feel the rate of descent increasing. I got to my feet and looked up through the top port. The launch bay was no more than a small wafer of light, then a solitary star in a pitch black sky, then nothing at all.
I returned to the floor and started to crank the static box. Fifty, fifty-five, sixty turns as fast as I could. I dropped to the view port with the control wheels and guided the light in what should have been a complete arc. Nothing. Damn it. The light had failed. The mission would be a total failure. Then I noticed it. A brief streak of light, like a shooting star. I stared patiently. Minutes went by. Nothing. Had I imagined the flash? There was a loud "thunk!" on one of the upper view ports. I cranked my helmet light so I could investigate. The greenish-yellow beam revealed beads of water scattered across the view port. I switched off my helmet light, returned to the light controls, and gazed down again. My patience was rewarded when I saw another shooting star. Only I knew it wasn't a shooting star. It was a drop of water falling though the beam of my search light. The light was working, but the air was so clear that I could not detect its beam.
I got up and settled myself back into the seat. There would be nothing to see until I reached the first stopping point at 2.8 kilometers.
Nothing to see? I began to think about what I was taught since childhood and what Missus Grier and the others could only hint at. I was in the Below where our kons return and are renewed through the Fount. I cranked the helmet light to life once more, swept it about the sphere, and made note of how calm and clear the air was about me. The Fount was a turbulent column of water upon which kons could ascend to the world. But there was no Fount now. Were no children being born in all of Neworld? If there were, were they born without a kon?
With the Fount “settled” and the atmosphere clear, what should I see dangling beneath the lowest reaches of Neworld? Shouldn’t I see stars in every direction, except straight up? I switched off my light, rose and proceeded to look out every available view port. No stars were visible below or to the east, south, west, or north. As Bedford had told me, I did see a ragged patch of stars above, stretching off to the east. I sat down again, removed my helmet and pondered what the lack of stars below and around me meant. I was at a loss.
Little by little, I became aware of a deep, rumbling noise rising from below. I decided to return to the floor port and give the light another try. I was half up from my seat when the sphere jolted to a halt. My knees buckled beneath me and I crashed, gracelessly to the floor. Thank Below, it was padded.
2.8 kilometers. I excitedly cranked the static box at least fifty times to be sure I had maximum brightness. I scanned the Below in every direction. Nothingness. I got to my feet, gave the DESCEND light three swift cranks, and quickly took my seat. I learned my lesson. I'd remain seated until the next stop.
2.9 kilometers. I repeated the process with the same results. The only difference was the level of the distant roar, which steadily increased as I descended.
3.0 kilometers. Nothing.
3.1 kilometers. When pointed straight down, the beam glinted of something. It was like the reflection of SolMin off evening water. Was there water below me? I sent the signal to descend.
3.2 kilometers. Yes! There was water as far as the beam could reach. Then I noticed it. The distinct reflections of a wake. There was something moving below the surface. I swung the light in the direction of the wake. There was a sudden roiling of the water, and then all was calm. Was this a pool of restless kons? I needed to be closer. I sent another signal then resumed my seat. The sphere did not descend. I had forgotten that 3.2 kilometers was the planned limit. I rose and cranked the signal again, paused, then gave another three cranks. Resigned to the fact that this was as close as I was going to get, I retrieved my drawing materials, and sat cross-legged on the padded floor. The wake wasn’t much to draw, but at least it gave me something to do.
To my surprise, the sphere started to descend. But it only went down maybe another 10 meters. The team must have discussed what to do and decided to let me request lower depths, but in smaller increments. Five more times I was lowered closer to the surface of this great body of water. At the last stop I was able to see the creatures, great and small, that populated this mysterious world.
Something birdlike flew through the beam of light, skimming the surface of the water over what must have been a school of fish. It didn't have feathers or distinct wings, or even a head. Its smooth, grayish body was roughly triangular in shape, with a wide end being its front and the opposite point being its rear. As I studied it, I could see it had a definite, elongated body and two bony arms that attached where the head should have been. The triangular shape was the result of skin that stretched from the tail point to the end of the arms. From above, I could not see any claws or talons. It dragged a long appendage in the water behind it. When it snagged a fish, the tail coiled forward, bringing the fish to the flying creature. In an instant, the fish was gone, and the tail uncoiled to troll the water once more.
Two more of these skimmers appeared. I can only guess that they were attracted by the success of the first. They each caught a fish.
A fourth skimmer glided toward the school. Its tail just contacted the surface when the water erupted in a frenzied froth. I can't describe the creature that leaped out of the water devouring the entire school of fish and the fourth skimmer with it. From my vantage point, it appeared to be all mouth and teeth. The shock of the unexpected display of violence left me breathless, my heart pounding. How high could that thing jump? Was there something even larger and more vicious lurking just beneath the surface? Perhaps I should have them raise me few meters. I was going to crank the ASCEND box but I remembered what the twins had told me. Once I signaled to come up, there would be no stopping until I was back at the base.
I took in several deep breaths and exhaled slowly to calm myself down then concentrated on my sketches. I became so immersed in my drawing, that I was barely aware of the passing time. I didn't stop to eat or drink. After a considerable length of time, I remembered that I had not cranked the search light since my first stop at 2.8 kilometers. I charged it to full power, then returned to my scanning of the Below. I hadn’t realized how dim it had gotten. The light now penetrated much further, revealing an even greater surprise–a shoreline directly east of my position. There was an island in the Below. It was rocky, wet, and barren, from what I could see; but it was land.
I was sketching a span of shoreline when I noticed a faint glow in the far distance, about level with the sphere. How long had I been down here anyway? I had not once checked the sky above to see if dawn was approaching. I looked up and saw the rough-edged disk of stars in the blackness above. I turned my attention back to the distant smudge of light. It was interesting, but how could I sketch something as indistinct as that?
What could it be? Another sphere? My own reflection, somehow? It seemed to lie far beyond the island, which meant that the smudge of light was very large. The smudge gradually grew brighter until a shaft of light slashed through, slanting in my direction. I was facing east. The shaft of light must been the combined rays of the suns. The rugged outline of the island was highlighted in the distant light. As the suns rose, the shaft receded from me, leaving the island in silhouette. I sketched furiously, not noticing the sharp-edged shaft dissolving into a milky blur or the gentle breeze wafting through the sphere.
I glanced through the top view port and saw that the disk of stars was dissolving into a pinkish glow. It was sunrise. I should have started my ascent. I shot to my feet, stowed my ream of sketches, and cranked the ASCENT light vigorously. I was barely seated when the sphere started to rise, only to find myself drawn back to my viewing position on the floor, stunned by something amazing. I rubbed my eyes, to make sure they were clear. The light from above cast a glow on the Below. The size of the island and the vast hole in the Basin that was the Fount were revealed. By my estimation, both were the same size and shape.
But that is not what stunned me. A vast object, or was it a structure, rested on a plateau some distance from the shore. The complex detail of its construction was staggering, so I hurried to retrieve pencil and paper. I had to hold the fluttering paper in place to draw. After only a few minutes of sketching, a wall of mist obliterated the view of the object and, finally, the entire island.
The wind picked up and the sphere began to sway. I stuffed that last, most important sketch into the pouch, sat down and braced myself. As I rose at an agonizingly slow rate, I thought about all that I had seen: the large body of water with its creatures, the island, the distant shaft of light, and the hole in the Basin above me. The Fount was definitely a hole in the floor of the Basin, not the boundary between the world and the heavens. From its sides poured a half-dozen waterfalls of proportions too large to do justice with words. Their torrents plummeted thunderously to depths of the Below.
What was that other source of light, then? Another hole? But why did it appear so much lower than the Fount?
The wind began to whistle through the mesh. The sphere began to swing in ever increasing arcs like the pendulum on a clock. Why wasn't the sphere rising faster? The constant motion set my stomach churning and my head spinning. I braced my hands against the structural ribs on either side of the seat and looked longingly out the top view port. I was still at least two-and-a-half kilometers from the underside of the basin.
The cables groaned. The rising sphere shuddered to a stop. I sat, stricken with fear as the sphere continued to sway precariously in the wind. Then a terrifying screech descended from above as if it was being transmitted down the length of the cables. It grew louder and nearer until the entire sphere resonated with sound. The vibration rattled me to the core and I was forced to put my hands over my ears.
The sphere suddenly plummeted, lifting me from my seat before it came to a bone-jarring halt. The iron-laden balance bags banged dangerously against the mesh. My body collapsed under the impact and I crumpled to the floor.
A cable must have snapped or the winch must have broken. I was flat on my back, staring upward. I could see that both cables were secure. Then it was the winch…
"Shit!" The problem hit me like a ton of scrap iron. I struggled to my feet. My legs felt limp. My vision was swirling. I tried to focus. My fingers fumbled over the knot. At least it was a neat bow. I yanked on one rope, the bow released, and the balance bag fell away.
The sphere did not rise. The twins had instructed me to release the bags so the weight would remain evenly distributed around the sphere, so I clawed my way to the far side and let loose another bag.
No upward motion.
I discharged a third bag, then a fourth and a fifth. The cables groaned as they had before the fall. I feared the coming screech as I rapidly released another bag and another. The groaning lessened. Two more bags plunged to the Below. I felt the sphere begin to rise. I did sit down until all the bags had been set free.
I looked out one of the eye-level view ports towards the far blur of light that lie somewhere beyond the island. Then I looked up through the upper view port at the far reaches of the massive hole in the Basin that was the Fount. I could see the thickness of the bedrock glowing in the rosy light of dawn. That’s when it struck me why the distant light was so low. I shifted my eyes between the two view ports. If the upper view port represented the Fount, and the lower, more distant, view port represented the far light… It was the exact same relationship as the two view ports! The source of the far light was another hole in the Basin, and the Basin was curved, just like my sphere. I was riding in a sphere, within a sphere.
The atmosphere thickened with mist. The Fount became just a bright patch in a thick fog. The motion of the sphere became so violent that I lowered myself to the floor, unfastened two sides of the padded matting and wrapped it around me. I closed my eyes, hoping to ride out the ascent in this manner. That was a huge mistake. With my eyes closed, my head swirled even more. I felt the bile rise in my throat. I unfurled the matting and struggled to kneel before the seat. I lifted the lid, and emptied the sparse contents of my stomach into the chamber pot. The sphere lurched unexpectedly, causing me to fall forward, striking my neck against the lip of the stool. I gasped for air as I tried to push myself back. The last thing I remembered was the seat crashing down on my skull.
– End Chapter Twelve –
