Bayley, Barrington J - Novel 10 (14 page)

 
          
Spellbound,
they watched until it came fully into view, even though the process took
several minutes. It was like a mobile castle supporting clusters of round,
moulded towers, and it gleamed like gold as the sun caught it.

 
          
Suddenly,
a fear of the unknown entered Pout's brain. He stabbed at the buttons on his
gun, returning it to kill mode. Then he returned it to his bib, and beckoned.

 
          
"Come."

 
          
The
moving city appeared to be making for the north of the plain; its progress
would take it round a long promontory, though at the rate it went it probably
would not get there for a day or two. The grass of the plain was taller than on
the higher ground; it came to their mid-thighs (in Pout's and Sinbiane's case,
to their hips) and they waded through it as they half-ran towards the gorgeous
vision.

 
          
How
do they know we'll be allowed in? Hesper thought. But no such doubt seemed to
have entered the others' minds. They stopped running after ten minutes,
panting, with the city seeming no nearer.

 
          
After
that they walked, for about three miles, while the structure grew and grew.
Hesper could not keep her eyes off it. One did not normally think of a city as
a
thing
—it was a place. But this was
a thing, and at the same time, it was undeniably a city.

 
          
Or
rather, it was like the centre of a city translocated, its skyscrapers torn
away from its suburbs to live a freelance life of their own. Hesper found it
almost incredible that such a massive object could be mobile, at least on the
ground (in space was a different matter). Perhaps, she thought, it
had
to keep moving to stop itself from
sinking into the Earth! As they approached she could see that it was surrounded
by a skirt of casings which presumably covered whatever it rode on, and from
this emanated a low quivering, rumbling sound.

 
          
She
estimated the city's speed at about half a mile per hour. At length they found
themselves below the outer wall, peering up at towers, balustrades and
walkways. Pout scampered to and fro, desperately searching for an entrance.

 
          
It
was one of the sneakthief brothers who eventually let out a penetrating whistle
and guided them to a ramp which sloped down over the tread casings (gigantic
treads, Hesper decided probably
were
the
most economical method of locomotion), gliding over the grassland like the
front end of a lawnmower.

 
          
The
slope was gentle, but quite long. It ended in a portico fifty feet wide, the
way barred by a silver grille. This withdrew; they entered, found their way
barred by yet a second grille, while the first fell back into place behind
them. The area between was capacious. From the floor, a table emerged, bearing
flagons, cups, and a large platter of fruit and breads.

 
          
There
was a gentle tone, followed by a pleasant female voice.

 
          
"To our visitors, greetings!
You stand at the entrance
to Mo City, one of twenty mobile cities that inhabit the flat veldt known as
Flatland on the maps. The levelness of the terrain is of assistance, not to the
mobility of the cities which are able to negotiate inclines, but so that the
human inhabitants may not find their floors and other surfaces tilting. Before
entering Mo, it is as well that you should know something of the reason for the
existence of the moving cities. They were originally the brainchild of the
social scientist and historian Otto Klemperer, whose thesis was that there is a
particular form of political constellation which has been especially fruitful
for civilisation. This is where a number of independent city states exist
within the same geographical area, sharing a common language and a common
culture to some extent, but rivals in every other sense. Cases of particular
note are the city states of ancient Greece, the city states of the central
plain of China of the same period, and the city states of Italy at the time of
the Renaissance. In each case, the ideational foundations were laid, within a comparatively
short space of time, for the subsequent development of entire civilisations.

 
          
"Klemperer,
with the backing of the then Emperor of Eurasia, decided to reinstitute the
arrangement in modern form, resulting in the cities of the plain of which Mo, named
after a scientific philosopher of the Chinese period, is one. To ensure that
each city would remain distinct Klemperer placed its government and
administration in the hands of a machine mind, so that a city is, in a very
real sense, an intelligent entity in its own right. The citizens live in
symbiotic relationship with this entity, and are not normally permitted to
leave their city. To establish a common cultural heritage with the proper
degree of cultural intercourse, the cities were made mobile. From time to time,
under the direction of the city minds themselves, they meet up, and then—if you
will pardon the term—a kind of cultural copulation takes place. The two cities
are connected by bridges and walkways and the two populations mingle with an
air of festivity. This is a great occasion in the life of a city.

 
          
"The
cities of the plain are now three hundred and forty-seven years old. To be
honest, the scientific and artistic renaissance Klemperer had anticipated has
not yet come about. Nevertheless, Mohists, together with the inhabitants of the
other mobile cities, can claim to be the most leisured and continuously
educated people in the universe.

 
          
"You
are welcome to enter. To distinguish you from Mohists proper you will wear an
orange badge on your foreheads. Along with all other citizens, you will be
required to attend daily lectures in various subjects. For you I have selected
a talk entitled 'Basic Physics.'

 
          
"Normally
I would add that after three days you may decide whether you wish to become
citizens or not. However, astronomical irregularities indicate a strong
possibility that our planet may be destroyed in the next few hours. If so, let
us endure our fate with philosophical calm and fortitude!"

 
          
At
this members of Pout's party stared at one another. "What
irregularities?" Hesper said harshly. There was no answer, other than that
the inner grille withdrew, disclosing a path leading, after a few yards, to the
interior of the city.

 
          
As
they stepped onto it, Hesper noted that on the foreheads of her companions
circular orange patches had appeared. She put a hand to her own forehead, could
feel nothing, but was sure the patch was there.

 
          
But
there was one exception. The
kosho
still
kept to the rear of the party. Looking back, Hesper noticed that his forehead
remained unmarked. She fancied she saw the hint of a smile on his face as he
received her attention, as though to convey to her some private joke.

 
          
Then
they were in Mo. The path gave onto a broad esplanade paved with hexagonal
slabs a pale gold in colour. At its fringe people sat at tables under awnings
before arcaded doorways, talking and drinking, attended by flimsy-looking
robots. At intervals, avenues led to other places.

 
          
Hesper
lifted her eyes. Up, up and up rose the moulded towers, connected by bridges,
interspersed with terraces, suspended plazas and esplanades, all shining in
the evening sun.

 
 
          
They
stood on the ground floor of the city, so to speak, but it had many floors, at
dizzying levels.

 
          
It
was
,
she had to admit, the most entrancing urban
construct she had ever seen.

 
          
And
to think that all this moved.

 
          
She
pulled on her clothing again, no longer feeling overheated. She reminded
herself that she was here for a purpose: to try to join up with whatever
remnants of rebel forces there might be, or failing that, to get home.

 
          
Pout
was staring about himself with a look of idiocy. He seemed to be in shock:
culture shock, perhaps.

 
          
She
patted him on the head. "Well thanks for the company, ape.
So long."

 
          
With
that, she skipped off lightly to join the Mohists.

 
          
Later,
she lay back with a sigh on the divan in the delightful accommodation she had
been given.

 
          
Her
conversations with the Mohists had not proved helpful. They seemed
disinterested in the outside world beyond the plain. For news of or travel to
other planets, she would have to go to some other part of Earth, they had told
her. And how did she do that?

 
          
She
would have to walk. Mo offered no transport facilities, beyond its own enormous
treads whose rumblings could, occasionally, be heard in quieter moments.

 
          
They
had smiled in dazed fashion when she questioned them on the coming end of the
world. Earth, they claimed, was about to collide with its own moon. Nothing
could prevent it. Mo himself had confirmed the likelihood of it happening.

 
          
Recalling
what Sinbiane had said, she felt perplexed, almost frightened. Then one of the
robots, who seemed to take care of everything, had approached and offered to
take her to her apartment. There she had showered, removing the dirt and sweat
of the last few days. Now she rested.

 
          
The
pending satellite collision could not be taken seriously. The universe could be
a violent place, but sudden events did not happen without lengthy warning. If
this planet's moon had an orbit so unstable as to decay into its primary, the
fact would have been known the Simplex knew how long ago. It would have been
the talk of Escoria.

 
          
Her
own private explanation was that she was being told a cultural fable. The
satellite probably had an orbit with van-able eccentricity which made it
approach closer to the planet at long intervals. That would explain why the boy
hadn't seen it grow visibly bigger before.

 
          
As
for the Mohists, they were probably crazies, no longer able to separate fable
from reality. Centuries of enclosed life, no matter how pleasant the
surroundings, under the tutelage of a city-mind that was virtually a god as far
as they were concerned, could hardly produce anything else.

 
          
A
tone suddenly
sounded,
the same she had heard at the
gate. The voice that followed, however, was masculine.

 
          
"Visitor,
this is Mo speaking. It is time for your evening lecture."

 
          
Hesper
started, thrilled despite herself. The voice was that of a young but mature
man, vigorous and confident. It brought to mind the sort of visage she had seen
on ancient statues, framed in dark curls, handsome, intelligent and
strong.
The face of a
deity
...

 
          
A
thought struck her. Could it be that some of the city minds had
female
gender?

 
          
There
could be more ramifications to this society than she had penetrated so far.

 
          
Almost
coyly, she said, "I'm tired. I'll skip the lecture, thank you."

 
          
"Education
is obligatory," the godlike voice replied gently. "The whole point of
a leisured class is that it may cultivate the mind. Your weariness is in body
only. Since you are too tired to walk to the lecture hall, I shall bring it to
you by
sensurround
. Just relax."

 
          
The
room darkened. Hesper seemed to be transported to some other place: a semidark
hall, quite small in size though she became aware of its slightly echoing
acoustics. It had a plush smell, quite different from her perfumed apartment.

 
          
In
reality she was also aware that she still lay on her bed; sensory beams were
being aimed at her. Down the slope of the lecture room, the display area
suddenly lit up with the words: