The view of the rest of the Seatrees filled out as he climbed. From above, he could see the black dots of birds wheeling around the platforms. Now and then one flew close enough for him to observe properly – a dull black, compact bullet of a body with oddly slender wings the length of his arm, and a hooked beak. He hadn’t seen them before, anywhere in this vreality or in any of the others.
He had climbed thirty-one turns of the spiral before his head was level with the bottom of the platform. The ropes angled up through an open hatch; another two metres and he was through it and standing on a floor of closely jointed timber.
He turned around slowly, trying to take the place in. It took more than one turn.
He was in a mechanism. It was the only word that would do; he had emerged in the middle of an intricate cloud of things – globes and dots and skinny connecting rods and complicated tracks that were only circular if he looked at them from a certain angle. It was big – the space was perhaps fifty metres across and the same high, and the thing filled at least half of it.
He heard the woman behind him. Without turning he asked, ‘What is it?’
And then looked up sharply. Somewhere above him a male voice had answered, ‘Think of it as a puzzle. Do you like it?’
‘I don’t know.’ He felt a rush of impatience. ‘I don’t know anything, right now. In fact, if you don’t start telling me things I might break something, just to see what happens.’
The voice laughed. ‘That wouldn’t matter now. But I’ll answer your questions. Walk to the edge. I’ll join you there.’
Zeb bore down on his temper. This doesn’t matter, he told himself. Nothing in here matters, not now, not for the last thousand years.
He walked to the edge. When he was outside the mechanism he turned round and looked at it properly, and then he realized.
‘Planets,’ he said out loud. ‘It’s not a puzzle. It’s planets.’
‘It’s both.’ The voice was closer, but still above him. He looked up.
Now he wasn’t surrounded by the planet machine, he could see the rest of the space. It was roughly hemispherical. There was an opening at the top, a few metres across, covered by translucent stuff that let a diffuse light through, and there were other openings set seemingly at random around the curved walls.
Everything else was shelves and pigeon holes and racks and circular walkways and ladders, with stacks and blocks and rolls of paper tumbling out of them.
Someone was hand-over-handing slowly down a ladder. They reached the floor, pushed aside a roll of paper with one foot, and turned to walk over to Zeb.
It was a tall, thin man dressed in what Zeb took at first to be rags. But they weren’t, he realized. The man wore a long jacket and a kilt that came almost to the floor, made from sewn patches of some dark brown stuff that looked at the same time shiny and a bit hairy.
The light from above showed untidy brown hair, but hid the features.
The man nodded. ‘Hello,’ he said.
‘Hello.’
There was silence again. Then the man said, ‘Are you going to break something?’
Zeb looked around. ‘Not yet. Are you going to tell me what’s going on? She won’t,’ and he gestured over his shoulder to where the woman was standing.
‘Yes. I’m going to explain everything. It will take a while.’
‘I’ve got a while.’ Zeb shrugged.
‘And so has she, for the same reason. But I haven’t.’ The man smiled sadly and stepped forward. The light from another of the openings glanced across his face, and Zeb found himself looking into eyes which made those of the woman look new-born. There was something else about them, too: just for a moment he thought another creature was looking out through them, and his hind-brain filled in a slight chirrup, like hard wings.
Then the impression was gone. He looked away. ‘Okay, then. Tell me.’
It was late, and the sky had darkened to purple.
They had left the place the tall man called the Second Machine Room, and were in something much more like living quarters – another hemispherical room, but much smaller. The top of the coral stem poked up through the floor and opened out into a shallow cup. A fire flickered in it, and the smoke drifted up and through a blackened grid of open-weave at the top.
The tall man’s name was Skarbo, and he had told.
Now they sat in silence. Skarbo had cooked spears of meat over the fire pit and offered one to Zeb. A sharp flavour cut through the smokiness. He realized he was hungry.
‘It’s good,’ he said, for something to say. ‘What is it?’
‘Did you see the black birds?’
‘Yes. I’ve never seen them before.’
‘I bred them.’ He shrugged, and Zeb saw another flash of insect in the movement. Now, of course, he knew why. ‘I needed a hobby, and it amused me. They serve to remind me of someone – something, perhaps – I knew for a long time.’
‘And it amuses you to eat them?’
‘Oh yes. Yes, very much. Immensely satisfying. You haven’t said anything about what we told you.’
‘No.’ Zeb’s back was stiff. He leaned back and rotated his shoulders. ‘It’s a lot to take in. Eight hundred years out there, and then all that time here … well, what do I say?’
‘I understand. I generally don’t think about it. Besides, the years out there, as you say, often seemed to me to be wasted. I was trying to work out something which proved to be wrong – utterly so. Whereas in here I began in the right place.’
Zeb nodded. ‘And you have succeeded?’
‘Yes. Quite easily. And I suppose the old work wasn’t wasted. Those rolls of paper? That’s it. All my models, rendered in ink.’ He laughed. ‘I expect it was the only way the ship could drop them into the vrealities. Either that, or it thought it would be funny. It took me virtual centuries just to read it all.’
‘And then you knew?’
‘And then I knew. Had known, really. It was a chance remark that made me realize what I knew.’ He fell silent for a moment, and looked down at the spear of bird-meat in his hand. ‘Just because they were powerful, why do we assume that our predecessors were perfect? Or that nothing interrupted them? The Spin was falling apart because it had never been finished. All those impossible orbits and peculiar force fields and things? They were just the scaffolding. It was the biggest building site in the galaxy, and it was – is – falling down.’
‘And you think you know what to do about it?’
‘Oh, I know that I know. I just don’t know if I could. That would depend on others, if it came to it.’
‘Would? If?’ Zeb looked at the man. He was sitting, hunched forward towards the flames, his face flickering to the yellow glow. Now he looked up, and the dark eyes were pained. He drew a breath, but then the woman spoke.
‘You should go. Nothing has changed.’
‘Should, should …’ Skarbo shook his head.
Zeb looked from one to the other. It felt like an argument that had been played out many times. ‘So,’ he said. ‘What …?’
The woman smiled. ‘The old fool has convinced himself that he has to stay for me.’
‘You?’ Zeb stared at her. ‘But wouldn’t you go back too?’
‘No.’ She shook her head gently, but it was a very final gesture. ‘There’s nothing to go back to. I was fatally injured out there, and now I’m dead. I’ve been dead for a long time.’
Zeb wanted to ask how. We have something in common, he thought, and the words formed themselves into a baleful thought. He swallowed, and turned to Skarbo. ‘So how long would you have to stay? If you did?’
The man shrugged. ‘I don’t know. For as long as the vreality lasts. Millions of years, possibly. I brought her, you see.’
‘Yeah, it’s all his fault.’ She laughed. ‘See, in his world everything’s his fault. Trying to hold up the world with your stomach muscles.’
‘I wasted eight hundred years …’
‘Oh shut up.’ She was still
smiling, but there was a serious edge in her voice. ‘Get back out there and fix the thing you can fix. I’m beyond fixing.’
Zeb cleared his throat. ‘And what does that make me?’
Her smile faded. ‘Ah. Well, tell me. How long have you been in here?’
He thought for a moment. ‘I don’t know. I can remember some things, when I want to, but there are so many …’ He stopped, and shook his head.
She nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s how it feels. That’s how you know.’
The baleful thought was ready to be thought.
I’m dead too.
He stared into the fire and watched the swell and fade of heat washing over the coals. The changing colours reminded him of something.
The Skylid, that was it. And there, between him and the memory of the Skylid, was Aish – and if he was dead, presumably so was she, and Shol, and all the rest.
The memories seemed suddenly very fresh. And too brief.
The price of addiction, indeed. He could almost hear Aish saying it.
The coals blurred. He dragged a hand over his face and looked up to see the woman looking at him.
She smiled sadly. ‘I’m sorry, Zeb.’
He nodded. ‘Thank you. Why were you looking for me?’
‘Not so much looking, but I recognize a rumour when I hear it. Someone coming back after an absence of generations?’ She shrugged. Then her mouth twisted upwards. ‘And having left an unpaid bar bill the last visit made you seem interesting. You were both off the usual timeline and either forgetful or just naughty. I wondered if you were a kindred soul. I’m going to need one of those soon, Zeb.’
‘Well, that’s lovely.’
They jumped at the voice. Zeb saw Skarbo staring at something behind him. He got to his feet and turned round in time to see a thin figure walking into the circle of firelight.
It was Keff.
Zeb sat down again. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ he whispered.
Keff sat down next to him. ‘Sorry, what was that?’
Skarbo was on his feet. ‘Did you bring – that – with you?’
Zeb shook his head. Keff giggled. ‘Not exactly, but you could say I’m his fault. I’ve been following you around for centuries, Zeb, through all those different vrealities and all those lives and lives and lonely lives. I thought of weighing in sometimes, but you seemed to be having a pretty miserable time all on your own, so I left you like that. On your own. Oh fuck, this is so funny. All those crap lives and you’re still here?’ It looked up. ‘Found some friends now?’
The woman walked up to Keff and stared down at it. It stared back, for a long moment. Then it looked away. ‘I see,’ it said. ‘You think you can control things in here? I watched you heal his bullet wounds, but you’re a long way from being in charge, I promise.’ It nudged Zeb. ‘Mind you, I watched her kick you in the guts, too. That was a lot more fun. I was hoping she’d kick you in the balls, but never mind.’
Zeb looked at the creature for a second. ‘At least I’ve got balls,’ he said eventually.
‘Remember that, do you?’ Keff stood up and turned to Skarbo and the woman. ‘You were about to tell him the good bit, weren’t you? Don’t let me interrupt. I’ll enjoy this.’
She shook her head. ‘What are you?’
It laughed. ‘I’m his personal pain in the arse. How does it feel, being dead? It’s one way of being sure you have nothing to live for.’
Zeb felt something hardening within him and he looked up at Keff. ‘So, if I’m dead, what does that mean for you?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Well, now I’m some kind of ghost in the machine, that’s it, isn’t it? You’ve won. I can’t go back. And that means you’ve lost too.’ He grinned, feeling air around his teeth. ‘It’s over, creature. End of your purpose.’
Keff’s voice rose a little. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. You weren’t my only purpose, and you still have centuries of misery and loneliness in front of you. So much to look forward to.’
The woman shook her head. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said.
Keff laughed again. ‘Oh really? Given that you’re dead too? What are you going to do, whoever you are?’
‘My name is Chvids.’ She pointed at Keff. ‘What’s your name?’
It didn’t answer. Zeb looked up and said, ‘It called itself Keff.’
‘Did it really? Was that your name out there too, creature?’
It still didn’t answer. Suddenly Skarbo laughed. ‘I begin to see,’ he said.
Zeb looked from one to the other. ‘Well, I don’t. Someone explain.’
‘It’s easy.’ Skarbo leaned forward and put his hands on the edge of the fire pit. ‘Keff is dead too, aren’t you, creature?’
It looked petulant. ‘What if I am?’
Zeb began to smile. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Three ghosts.’
‘So what?’ Keff’s voice was almost a whine. ‘I can still do what I like. I can make things happen! I can make his life shit. Shit! For ever! How does that sound?’
‘I don’t think so.’
Chvids glanced at him. ‘You’ve thought of something,’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘What?’ Keff looked genuinely confused.
Zeb spread his arms. ‘Easy. If we’re the same, then whatever you can do, I can do. Maybe I’ll even do it better. Maybe I’ll make your life shit instead. A duel! What do you say?’
‘You wouldn’t.’ The voice was rising. ‘You couldn’t!’
‘Oh yes he could.’ Chvids sat down next to Zeb. ‘You said I healed his bullet wounds, right?’
‘You did!’
‘No I didn’t.’ She took Zeb’s hand. ‘He did.’
‘Did I?’ Surprise flooded Zeb.
‘Yup. Listen, why not? For however long you’ve been around here, you must have got hurt sometimes, right?’
‘I suppose. I don’t remember. Apart from the times I got killed.’
‘Sure, but it must have happened. Same as it happened earlier.’ She grinned. ‘Try it now.’
‘I don’t know how.’ He attempted to look inside himself, feeling almost as if there should be some sort of control panel.
Keff sighed theatrically. ‘Well, while you try to work that out, shall we do something else?’
‘Such as what?’
It looked around. ‘Well, having a fight looks like a way forward just now.’
‘Fight?’ Zeb was on his feet.
‘Yes. I would, if I was you. Or you could just give in.’
The room rocked slightly. Zeb looked around, eyes wide. There was a smell of smoke, and it wasn’t from the fire pit.
Skarbo stepped forward. ‘Is this you, Keff?’
‘Nope.’ It shook its head. ‘Seems you might have enemies apart from me. I’ll always be your best enemy, of course.’
Red light flickered through the walls.
Zeb stared at Chvids and Skarbo. ‘Do Seatrees burn?’
Skarbo shook his head. ‘No. But paper and wood do.’ He nodded upwards and out. ‘And they are.’
Zeb ran to the door and looked out. He watched the flames for a moment. Then he whispered, ‘Oh, shit.’
A hundred metres above them, the Second Machine Room was blazing.
He turned round. ‘What do we do?’
Skarbo and Chvids said nothing.
Desperation built. He felt like shouting. ‘There must be something! That’s your life – your lives …’
‘There isn’t.’ Skarbo’s voice was flat. ‘Let it burn.’
‘Oh, come on.’ Keff looked from him to Chvids. ‘Really? No fight? No fun?’
‘There’s no one I want to fight. The only person I could, I’m not going to.’ Skarbo turned away and spoke to the fire pit. ‘Chvids? Am I right?’
She nodded. ‘I’m sorry. But it had to be done. You would never have left if I hadn’t.’
Zeb felt his mouth hanging open. He closed it. ‘You’re kidding. You torched the Machine Room?�
�
‘Yes.’
‘Wow. I’m – impressed.’
Keff laughed. ‘I’m more than impressed. I’m guessing it took a while to build that thing?’
Skarbo smiled. ‘A thousand years.’
‘Woah. Go, girl!’ Keff made the trace of a bow towards Chvids. ‘Wanna be friends?’
She didn’t answer.
Zeb looked from her to Skarbo. ‘What now?’
She shrugged. ‘We should leave. Skarbo?’
He looked at her for a moment, then nodded slowly. ‘Yes. Yes. You’re right, of course. I would have wanted to stay. I still do, in a way, and you can’t set fire to the reason for that.’
‘But you’re going?’
He smiled. ‘Yes. I can take a hint.’
She seemed to hesitate. ‘What do you have to do? To … go?’
‘Nothing physical, I believe. But I’d rather not simply vanish.’ He stood up and stretched. ‘I’ve enjoyed this body. Goodbye, Zeb. I’m sorry not to have known you longer.’
Zeb looked down. ‘Oh well, you’d probably have ended up hating me.’
‘I doubt it. Goodbye, Chvids.’ And that was it; he turned and walked out. Zeb watched him walk across the swaying ropewalk and begin the climb up to the inferno of the Second Machine Room. Then he turned back to Chvids.
‘Are you all right?’ It seemed a ridiculous thing to say.
She nodded. ‘I’ve had a very long time to get ready for this. Now, what are we going to do with that?’ She was pointing at Keff.
Zeb grinned. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘That.’
Spin, Outer Rotate, Unknown Planet
SKARBO CAME OUT of the vreality and found he was in the wrong body. He hadn’t been sure what this was going to feel like. Physically, surprisingly neutral. He supposed his real brain, in here, had only been out of action for a day or so. Perhaps it was like waking from a long dream?
A thousand-year dream …
Then a wave of fear. Were the thousand years still there? He explored his mind, testing for the answers he had stored there.
Yes. Still there. The fear subsided a little.
Stone Clock Page 26
