Planets Falling (24 page)

My first thought is strangely not of danger.  Rather, I’m annoyed that these creatures from the north won’t let me get sleep.  “Flip, go tell the others.  What time is it?”

“About an hour until sunrise.”  He’s gone in an instant.

I pack my bag quickly, making sure to include extra blankets and as much hardtack and jerky as possible.  Shouting outside suggests that Flip’s message has been heeded.  I emerge into the dark, damp, cold to see Bets, Theo, and Samuel saddling up their horses.  English is not there.  “Where’s that shit at?”  I ask them.

“I dunno,” Bets exclaims.  “But if that boy's making us move for no reason, he’s going to end up with the rest of his village.”

Flip is right, though.  I can see three greenlings, as he calls them, standing on a hay bale pointing toward the south wall.  I presume that this is where the fog will enter the encampment.  The scent of lamp oil, manure, and decay drifts into the commons and the horses begin whinnying.  “Flip, are you still planning to stay?”  I ask.

His face is pale and his eyes wide with fear.  “No ma’am.  I’ll go with you for a bit.”

“You can ride with me on Phineus.”

The smell grows stronger.  Dim, greenish light appears and Samuel shouts for English, with no response.  The first tendrils of greyish-brown mist descend the south wall when we hear rustling underground. The sound emanates from the large root cellar and the fog moves toward it.  Then the groans begin.  At first I think it is English trapped in the ground, but I instantly realize that the moans are increasing in number – a symphony of dead throats singing to our doom.  The alien fog is waking the dead and apparently, the bodies are animated enough to scale the ladder because the door is rattling.  The large iron ring is flipping back and forth ominously.  I don’t want to see what might pop out.

“We need to ride,” Theo exclaims.  None of us protest. We exit the north gate and head up the road toward the clear morning light, riding hard for quite some time.  The air’s clear and calm and the horses are settled.  We pause to rest at high noon.  We left English’s horse in the clearing in the town.  I suppose we’re all expecting to see him galloping toward us.  Neither he nor the fog and its allies appear to be pursuing.

Theo is chewing on a piece of hardtack and studying the elder’s book.  I hand him a blade of grass.  “Do you think that idiot English will find us?”

“English may have drunk himself silly last night.  But he’s mighty capable in a fight.  He’ll catch up to us if he can.  We need him.”  Theo takes the grass and ties it into a knot.  “I’m leaving him markers to know where we’re going.”  He points to a small cairn on the side of the road. “We use these during hunting trips to find the best lots.  They’re hard to notice unless you’re looking for them.”

We ride two more days in brilliant, optimistic sunshine, making frequent stops to allow Theo to check his book and read the landscape.  We arrive at another fork in the road, with a rusted green sign hanging by a single bolt.  It screeches as it swings in the wind.  “By the symbols on this sign and the lay of the land, we are to head east here.”  Theo stacks a few flat rocks and we are on our way again.

We’re in the high desert now.  A small, ruined city lays ahead, dark and angry looking.  I see my first skeleton in the dust, looking as if was recently uncovered by the winds.  At the outskirts of the rusted buildings and scattered rubble, we again head north into sparsely wooded hills, following what used to be a paved road.  Theo slows Silius considerably and searches earnestly for some landmark.  “All of you, we’re looking for a large metal tower with a plate on top.  The trees here might be hiding the view.  The structure should be on a ridge.”

We fan out and shortly Bets exclaims, “Over here”.

She's standing before a vast metal lattice reaching above the trees.  A few straggly vines hang from it.  Otherwise, it looks well maintained, as if it is still in use.  Of course, none of us know what the purpose of such a strange thing might be.  Perhaps the ancients used it to climb and search for approaching enemies.  It appears that they are still using it, which makes me nervous.

Theo hops off Siluis and gives him a pat.  “From here we walk.”

“How far?” Bets asks.

“An hour, perhaps less.  Look for a metallic door in the hillside with a red circle on it. It was meant to be hidden, so we need to look carefully.”

Three hours pass.  We’ve walked up and down the hillside several times.  Samuel and Flip have given up and Bets is cursing and kicking small rocks.  Theo is perched on a reddish boulder, rubbing his forehead, patiently reading the leather book, and sipping a little flask of shine. I continue to walk around, more curious about the plants and animals I see than finding the door.  I marvel at the variety of life in such an apparently dry and desolate place - very different than the moist, warm gardens of my home.  I’m chasing a tiny tan lizard through the brush and trip over a long, braided metallic cable, unlike anything I’ve seen before.  The metal isn’t corroded and was clearly buried at one time.  I follow it up the hill, as it snakes in and out of the ground.  And then I see an indentation on the side of a small outcropping.  I touch it and a sheet of dust, sand, and rubble falls away to reveal two metal doors, both with faded red circles on them, and a box that resembles what I’ve seen in so much of the junk in the rubbish piles.  There are nine symbols on squares, each representing a number from 1 to 9 in the writing of the ancients, according to Teacher.  I presume that these numbers represent some sort of puzzle that will open the doors.  I hope desperately that the answer to Eliza’s disappearance is in there.  Maybe Fromer, father, and Wenn are waiting for us.

I hop down the hill to Theo.  “Found it.  Give me some of that shine to celebrate.”

Theo jumps up, dropping his book. A piece of parchment falls out and whips toward me in the wind.  I pick it up and notice that it is a sketch of a young woman who resembles me or perhaps mom.  Theo rushes toward me and grabs the picture, tucking it back between the pages.  “Nothing to that, Sprouter.  Just some notes.”  He’s counting that I didn’t have time to study it.  I decide to leave it be.

We scurry uphill to the door.  The wind picks up and dust devils scour the landscape.  Theo studies the structure and smiles broadly.  “The book talks about a puzzle board like this one.  It has an answer for solving it, I think.  Here, hold the book.”  He concentrates on the pages and begins pushing each square as per the book’s instructions.  He finishes and nothing happens.

“Perhaps we wait,” I say.  Theo looks annoyed and punches the boxes again.  I then notice another button below the three rows of three.  “What happens if we push this?”  I step forward, press it, and a red light appears above the box.  “Well, something just happened.”

A strange whirring sound like nothing I’ve heard before emanates from deep inside the hillside.  The light begins pulsing and then forms a strange beam that zags across us.  We both duck and step back, but the red strips seem to follow us. “Theo, should we be concerned?”

“Dunno Sprouter.  It’s just light.  Can’t see how that’d hurt us.”

“Don’t you remember Teacher’s stories about how the ancient ones used light to kill their enemies?”

“Do you really believe those stories?”  He thinks for a moment.  “Let’s maybe step back then.”

As we retreat behind a large reddish rock, the light vanishes and the doors part with a hiss.  The whirring approaches us and then a small, metal box adorned with what look to be eyes and strange black wheels appears in the doorway.  A bright red circle is painted on its side with the symbols F-R-E-E-D-O-M E-A-R-T-H underneath.  It speaks in a strange monotone that is nonetheless similar to our own tongue.  “Hello.  You can stand up.  I will not hurt you.”

Theo falls back in the dirt while my jaw hangs limply.  “Should we run for the others?” I ask.

“Not sure,” Theo replies.

“There are others?”  The metal box sounds curious.  Its voice is neither male nor female.  I have no idea how it is talking without a mouth.  It continues.  “By all means, please gather them.  I have not had visitors for quite some time.”

I head down the hillside to gather our troops.  Samuel decides to stay with the horses and scout for English while Bets and Flip join us.  He’ll check on us occasionally and make sure that we can get back out through the door.  As we walk toward the door, I warn Bets and Flip about the talking box.  “We have no reason to trust the thing.  Keep your weapons ready at all times.”

Bets looks at her sword.  “How’s this going to stop something made of metal?”

“I don’t know.  It didn’t seem to have any weapon that I could see.  So, hopefully there are no worries.”

Theo seems more relaxed but is still hunkered behind the boulder.  The box has shifted slightly and is talking with him.  Theo turns to us. “So, this box thing is tough to understand.  It calls itself an inter farce and that its job is to talk with people.  Why’d the ancient ones need a talking box?”  He laughs.

“I am an interface.  The humans of which you speak need us to accomplish many tasks – order food, arrange travel, communicate with others, schedule meetings, maintain their homes…”

“Sounds to me that the ancient ones were helpless children and very lazy,” Theo interrupts.

“Oh no, they were fully grown adults.  Many were quite brilliant.  I miss them.  I apologize.  I have not been a gracious host.  Please follow me into the facility.  My masters have been gone now for centuries.  I would enjoy serving you.”

We look uncertainly at Theo.  He nods and we follow the whirring, talking box into the dark tunnel.  I look over my shoulder as the daylight recedes. 

Chapter 49 - Hm

My eyes adjust to the dimmed light of the corridor.  Most everything I see I cannot comprehend - much like the junk we plow from the fields every spring.  The difference here is that the windowpanes with no apparent use, the square buttons, and the strange knobs and levers all seem to be in working order and to have a purpose.  Light surrounds us, and as Teacher said, there's no heat.  The smells of earth and growing things are absent.  In their absence, another scent is present, but I don’t recognize its pleasant flowery notes.  There’s something else.  I can’t place it but I know that I’ve smelled it before.  The air is dead.  I already miss the wind on the hill.

We shuffle on.  I’ve never been this far underground before.  My heart pounds.  Sweat slicks my back.  The walls seem closer - I desperately want to turn and rush back to the sunshine and open spaces.  Theo puts his hand on my shoulder and my nerves recede.  I’ll have to accept the feeling of being buried like a corpse in this cramped tunnel.

Thankfully, the corridor opens into a vast circular room, the ceiling stretching impossibly high into the space above. Brilliant light trickles down on us.  At first I think it is the sun, but the color's all wrong.  Sunlight is warm and comforting, while this light is cold as snow.  Flip, Bets, and Theo stand next to me, stone still, soaking in the sight.  If this is a mere reflection of the grandeur of the ancient ones, their dwellings and cities must have been magnificent.  Red, blue, and yellow banners hang from the walls. 

“This is where my masters lived before the fall,” the box says.  “Please follow me to the dining area.  I will prepare a meal for you.”

Bets looks confused.  “How’re you going to prepare food down here?  There’s no place to make a fire, no chimney.  And where do you hunt or harvest if you live under the ground?”

“I must apologize.  You must be living under primitive conditions on the surface.  I will be happy to explain any questions you might have to the best of my ability.  But first, you require sustenance.”

The metal box rolls away and we wander around the vast, sterile area.  The walls above us are lined with stairs, walkways, and hundreds of doors.  The floor is arranged into areas with seats, benches, and tables, all built with colorful materials that I’ve never seen before.  The floor is covered with a strange, soft material that looks like fabric.  All is in perfect order, with no signs of the messiness of humans.  In the center of the room, there’s a large, round platform - a stage perhaps.

The metal thing reappears from nowhere, startling all of us.  “Please follow me.  I do hope you enjoy what I have prepared.”  We follow the box into a large, well-lit room adjacent to the central hall.  The walls are made of rough hewn pine, while a fire crackles in an enormous hearth. A wooden table waits, adorned with platters of the most beautiful and strange-looking food.  We cautiously sit down and begin exploring the dishes.  I take a helping of something too pretty to be edible.  I've never tasted something so delicious, the creaminess of the freshest butter and a savory like no herb I’ve ever experienced. Bets, Flip, and Theo are similarly enthralled.

“My sensors indicate that you are enjoying the meal very much.  Your pupils are dilated, your heart rate has risen, and endorphins are increasing.  I am pleased.”  The box is speaking in riddles.  We don’t care.  If this is what the ancient people experienced all the time, they must have been fat and enormously lazy.  I’m enthralled and appalled simultaneously.  I also have to pee.

The box approaches me, somehow sensing my discomfort.  “Excuse me.  Would you like to use the facilities?”  It moves toward a thin door at the back of the room that I swear wasn’t there earlier.

“Facilities?  Does that door lead out to a cess-house?”  I whisper.

“I am unsure of what you speak.  The door leads to a washroom.”

“How on gods’ earth do you know that I have to relieve myself?”

“Human biosigns are quite easy to interpret, with the proper programming.”

I have no idea what it’s talking about, but I take it up on its offer.  The room is impossibly white with a basin on one wall and a loo-like seat in the center.  I gingerly do my business, stand up, and the thing jumps to life, scaring the daylights out of me.  I turn to see that the seat is gone and a voice, not unlike the boxes’ speaks from nowhere.  “Please wash your hands.  Would you like to take a shower or freshen up your clothing?  Do you require make-up?”

The walls are no longer white but shining like silver, reflecting everything as clearly as the finest mirror I’ve ever seen.  Water scented like rose flowers appears in the basin.  I cautiously wash my hands and splash my face.  A robe made of a spongy blue fabric is draped on a chair.  I consider wrapping myself in it, then think better of letting this place entrap me.  I stare at my image in the mirrors.  My sandy hair’s a matted, curly mess and my eyes are drawn deep in their sockets.  I’ve always been thin, but I can see the outline of my bones under my arms.  I breathe deeply and leave.

“What happened to you, Marksman?”  Bets is sitting back with her hands on her belly.

“Looks like she saw a ghost in there.”  Theo laughs, with a strangely serene look.

“Give it a try,” I say.  “It’s the strangest shithouse I’ve ever seen.  Doing your business indoors.  Doesn’t seem dignified to me.  And you have company while you’re in there.  Apparently, these people weren’t capable of passing gas without assistance.”

Bets pushes her plate away and suppresses a belch.  Flip heads to the washroom.  Bets turns to Theo.  “This is great fun, Theo.  But we came here seeking answers to questions.  I’m sure Marksman wants to know where her daughter, father, and husband are.  And we need to know how to stop the coming war.  We shouldn’t stay here.”

Theo looks at his glass cup and marvels at the frozen chunks of water floating in it.  He turns to the metal thing on the floor.  “Box.  We need to know where Amy Marksman’s family is.”

The box does not answer.  Theo boldly taps on it.  It responds, “Yes, master, what do you desire?”

“Do you have a proper name?” Theo asks.

“I am called a Human Machine Interface.  My masters called me Troll, although I never understood why.  They considered it a source of humor.  What are your names?”

Theo pauses for a moment, considering whether it is wise to give the thing too much information.  It continues, “I am only asking out of politeness.  I know from your conversations that you are Theo and appear to be the leader.  The thin, raven-haired, fetching woman in the animal skins and plant fiber is called Bets.  Is that an abbreviation or a nickname?”  Bets shuffles uncomfortably, but says nothing. “The young man enjoying a shower in the washroom is Flip and I surmise from his dress and manner that he is a new arrival to your party.  Finally, there is Amy Marksman, an attractive, tawny haired but sad young woman.”  Troll turns toward me with its dead, black eyes of glass.  “I am sorry but I know nothing about the whereabouts of your family.”

“But that’s impossible, uh, Troll.”  Theo says as he sits back down.  “The book handed down to me brought us this far.  The answer has to be here somewhere, somehow.”

I lightly touch Theo’s hand.  “Theo, did you think it’d be that easy?  This is like a puzzle.  The answer to our questions is here somewhere.  Troll, we need to know many things.  I suppose it’s best for us to know a little about where we are and what you’re doing here.  We didn’t know that anything survived after your masters left.”

“Oh, my masters never left,” Troll answers.

“What do you mean by that?”  Bets asks.  “They were punished by the gods and forced to leave earth to the moon.  Or killed, right?”

Troll sits silent for a moment.  Thinking?  Then it answers, “You poor souls.  After so many generations, you have experienced significant information loss.  It will be better for me to show you images of the incident so that you may understand the conditions leading to the loss of our society and my isolation.”

Flip appears from the washroom, hair dripping wet and wrapped in one of the blue robes.  “That was great,” he says with a grin.

“Boy, you smell like flowers.”  Theo waves his hand past his nose.

A blinding light fills the room and all the food and dishes vanish.  The walls, fire, and table are wiped away, replaced by the same mirror-like surface in the washroom.  Flip falls to the floor, panicked.

“I apologize for alarming you,” Troll responds.  “This room and most of the others have special surfaces that can be shaped in many ways based on your desires and needs.  I programmed this room to resemble a dining area that you might experience in the world as you know it.  It really is quite harmless and very convenient.”

I have no idea what Troll is talking about, but the ancient ones were far more amazing than anything Teacher ever described.  It makes sense that the gods crushed them for over-reaching.  We follow the box into the vast central area.  Troll stops near the central platform and asks us to sit.  Bets stands defiantly, while the rest of us find large, stuffed chairs and sigh in comfort.  The space above the plaza sparks to life.  Empty air is now filled with unimaginable buildings of glass and metal reaching toward the sun.  Colorful boxes, carts maybe, shuttle around the buildings.  Some have wings and fly while others roll on the ground.  People adorned in strange, colorful clothes saunter on streets of strange black and red rock.  They move with no apparent purpose.  I see one sickly tree jutting from the surface.  I have no idea how it can survive locked in that suffocating, artificial world, which looks like it could be summoned from a child’s painting.

“We are looking at New Reno, the city that you invariably passed through on your travel to this place.  It like all the others is ruined now.”

The image vanishes.  We are now gazing at a night sky with brilliant stars.  A huge red ball, not all that unlike the moon, hangs before us.

“This is mars.  It appears as a wandering red star in earth’s –our - sky.  In this holovideo, we are hovering 1,000 kilometers above the surface of this planet.  Your ancestors lived on mars before the fall.  I do not know whether they still live there.  If they do, this would give us hope that they may return someday.”

Theo clears his throat.  “Ancestors?  So it’s true that we’re brood of the ancients?  How’d they get to such a little star in the sky?”

“Of course, you are their descendants.  You lost their technology when it was destroyed by terrorists.  You are no less capable of reaching the same level of sophistication they had.  It will just take time and a grasp of science.”

Troll’s using strange words.  He explains science to the best of his ability.  We all are curious about terrorists.  They don’t sound like gods.  “Troll, were the terrorists the gods?” I ask.

“Goodness no, Amy Marksman.  They were people, although I am unsure whether they were human or some other species.  They released a tiny substance onto earth that very quickly degraded human-made materials called plastics.  These materials were part of most manufactured materials and wreaked havoc on society.  The motives of the terrorists are unknown, although they likely perished along with most of the human population.”

The viewing space before us transforms into a chaotic fugue of images of crumbling cities, boxes falling from the sky or crashing on the ground, widespread fires, and a thing Troll called a train piled on its side and burning.  The images then go blank.

“As you can see, the end was traumatic.  I think it is time for you to rest.  Your biosigns show that you all are exhausted.  It is late and we can continue tomorrow morning after breakfast.  Let me show you to your rooms.”

After a very brief, lackluster debate, we decide to follow Troll’s advice.  We presume Samuel will be fine camping on the hillside and that he probably is already resting or drunk.  It must be midnight outside.

Troll guides us to a large, glass box he calls a lift.  We step in and it rises high along the wall.  It opens onto a walkway with a series of doors.  My room's magnificent, augmented by Troll’s magic I surmise.  The bed is impossibly large and soft, with cloud-like pillows.  There’s another adjacent room with a shower.  This time I soak in steaming water and wrap myself in a soft robe.  I’m unconscious before I hit the bed.

I awake with no idea of the time of morning.  I decide to explore this place, peeking cautiously in the walkway.  No one is stirring and the light of the artificial sun is dim, I guess to make us think it is early morning.  I shuffle barefooted down the walkway to the lift.  Troll’s box sits in the hallway.  I step in, Troll asks me where I want to go, and I tell it to take me up.  The lift responds instantly, with me leaving part of my stomach below.  Troll’s box, still sitting in the walkway below, shrinks rapidly as I ascend.  The lift stops at the highest level - the plaza and seats on the ground floor seeming tiny as fleas.  Up here, there’s only one door.  It’s labeled with the symbols M-U-N-I-T-I-O-N-S.  The smell I noticed when we first descended into this place is strong here.  I suddenly recognize it as the scent of the oil used on the guns in father’s armory.

The door slides open and I tip-toe in. The room before me has hundreds of shelves leading far into its recesses.  Each shelf is loaded with guns, boxes of strange devices I cannot comprehend, and occasionally blades made of a strange, very light, exceptionally sharp black material rather than metal.  This place did not have a peaceful purpose.  I’m a little glum, realizing that these enlightened people still had the need to kill each other.  I shove a sheathed blade into the pocket of my robe and turn to leave.  I must tell the others.