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"Indeed? What does she eat?"
"Fruits, vegetables, anything not of flesh."
"Then she will not find much here and we would waste time trying. You will be
at the border in a few hours and you can find something there. We are not
equipped for visitors, you see." He seemed to think a minute, then added, "I
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might be able to find some water, nothing more."
"No, let us go," she responded, feeling the coldness of this pair. "I have
fasted far longer than a mere day." She also wasn't sure whether the water in
this loathsome, smelly place would be drinkable anyway.
"Do you have any recording or photographic equipment?" the official demanded.
"Such things are forbidden here."
"You've examined us all the way down to our gullets," Shamish noted. "You
should know better than we that we have nothing of the sort, nor weapons, nor
anything else on the forbidden list. Our only interest is in expeditiously
travel-ing to Quislon."
"Everybody seems to want to go to Quislon all of a sudden. Once you've seen
it, you will not want to go there again. Very well, come with us."
They didn't take them far, for which all were grateful. Not only was the air
quite thin, affecting the two
Pyrons more than Jaysu, but it was also paradoxically thick, not in density,
but with odors most foul. It was getting near dark, but Jaysu swore she could
see clouds of yellow, purple, pink, and much worse hanging over the miserable,
densely packed region. She couldn't comprehend how anyone could live in a
place like this, let alone survive for long.
They were bundled into the back of a strange wheeled ve-hicle. Two armed
guards with nasty-looking rifles hung off each side of the tailgate, and two
more rode on the running boards on either side of the driver's central
cubicle. The truck itself was open, like the crawler's had been below. Never
had she felt so much like a prisoner.
The two Pyrons seemed lethargic, as if drained of much of their energy. She
was sure it wasn't the air, which was thinner than at the surface but not
debilitatingly so, and she decided it must be the chill. It was cold up here,
and the vast tablelands on the other side of the Wall were also of high
elevation. There was
no snow on the ground, but there were patches of white not far above them on
the mountainsides and in the high passes, and there was a crispness to the air
that she found at first bracing but, as the wind blew and the sun set, began
to feel raw and numbing to her exposed face and body. This was definitely not
fun.
Making things worse were the silent but menacing guards, ard the sights that
they passed as well: groups of people, each with their own uniform
combinations and armbands and funny hats and the like, all going here or
there, all silently, without any sense of joy or relief that one would expect
at the end of the day, nor even bantering bad jokes or light-hearted insults
as coworkers often did. They were dull-eyed and had gray souls, without life
or sparkle, without any sense of more than existence. They seemed like the
road crews below; prison inmates, even if they had no evident guards.
Of course, the omnipresent stalks with their tiny pencil-thin cameras and all
the rest were as good as any guards. She saw few females about, and, above or
below, it struck her that she'd seen no children. The oppressiveness of the
place al-most overwhelmed her. What a sad little race this was, so bereft of
joy or any other feeling that made life worth living. With all their ingenuity
and technology, they hadn't paused to enjoy what they had made, nor let their
great machines take the heavy work away, but instead they'd become like the
ma-chines they used.
It wasn't the frozen land that was so bad, but the frozen hearts within.
At least she didn't sense that Har Shamish was worried about their situation.
If she'd sensed that, she might have been close to figuring how to get out of
this situation. As it was, she nervously allowed the little creatures to drive
them to their train.
It was an even more unusual train than it had been a ride on the truck. It was
fairly wide, but had no wheels or crawler treads or anything else that she
could see in the well-lit sta-tion area. Instead it seemed to wrap itself
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around a single thick rail or post and just sit there.
Like everything else in this Heaven-forsaken place, it was painted a dull
gunmetal-gray and had few markings on it. There was an engine, of sorts, then
a passenger car in back, then what appeared to be several enclosed cars used
for freight or animals, and, finally, a series of cars that were sealed
tightly, contents or purpose unknown.
As soon as their truck stopped, the guards jumped down and took a protective
stance around it and finally them, as if they expected an attempt on their
life. It clearly didn't seem directed at them, except perhaps to impress them
with their importance.
The officer came around to the back and barked, "You will all get out now! The
train cannot be held for you and it is due to depart in seven minutes!"
Slowly, groaning, the two Pyrons managed to get down. She jumped down,
involuntarily flexing her wings to cushion the jump as she did so. This caused
the guards to suddenly whirl about as one and point their rifles menacingly in
her di-rection, but she folded the wings and stared at them and they backed
off.
"Follow me!" the officer ordered, and they walked behind him toward the
waiting train. As they did, another train from the other direction approached,
and she marveled that it seemed to make no sound at all.
That didn't seem right. Even feet made noise when they were put to work.
Har Shamish, in the lead as always, started for the open, warm-looking and
well-lit passenger car, but a rear guard snapped something and the officer
held up a hand, stopping them. "No, not that car," he said. "
This car!" He pointed to the freight car behind the passenger one.
Shamish was still lethargic, but forced himself to alertness. "I protest! That
car is clearly for hauling animals! Are you suggesting that we are animals to
be treated as cargo?"
The little officer was ready for him. "No. I am suggesting that, first and
foremost, you will not be able to fit in any seats in the passenger car, and
we are not in a position to modify it for your onetime requirements, which
are, you might recall, a courtesy we extended to your government although we
had no profit in doing so save exhibiting our goodwill. Also, your short
notice means that all of the passenger seats are taken by our people, who [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]