A Larger Universe

by James L Gillaspy

  "What must we do?”

  "We must have faith."

  More than an hour passed between when the priest had entered and the last person exited the labyrinth. The priest had long before returned to the room's center, a circle bounded by the labyrinth and those circling him. He stood, with his head bowed, chanting, until the last person left the labyrinth and rejoined the congregation standing in rows next to the walls. He raised his arms above his head and again led the complete chant and response, then, with head and arms lowered, the priest left the way he had come.

  Jack leaned over to Tommy's ear. "Now you can rest, if you want."

  Tommy jerked, as if splashed with ice water. He needed a moment to realize where he was and what he had been doing.

  When he considered what Jack had said, the idea no longer appealed. Well before the end of the service, the chanting and measured walking made him feel as if he drifted in the air. Now, he felt full of energy. He wanted to do something, to go somewhere, to at least begin to find a way out of this place.

  Tommy saw a person he knew among the crowd moving through the door. "Mark. Wait."

  Tommy worked his way to Mark. "I’m not as tired as I thought. What are you doing now? Do you want to go exploring in the woods?"

  "Can’t do that. Didn’t the first Jack tell you?"

  "In the passages, then. Does anybody care if we go there?"

  Mark shrugged his shoulders. "If we stay on this level or the level circling the floor of the Commons. What do you want to see?"

  "All I've seen are the Commons and the passages we live in. Something besides that."

  A short walk brought them to a door set at an angle to the end of the corridor. Beyond the double set of doors, a larger, dimly-lit passage led to the left and right. Mark turned to the left. "This is one of the fast ways from the center column to the route circling the Commons."

  That has to go by the room I woke up in that first day, if I can just find it.

  As they passed one of the doors facing the passageway, Tommy pointed at the image painted on its surface. "What does the symbol mean?"

  Mark glanced at him. His expression indicated that he thought Tommy should know the answer. "The wheat picture shows where wheat is stored, the corn picture where corn is stored. That's how the artisans mark the storage rooms.”

  Artisans? I’ll ask about that later. Tommy pointed at the face of another door. "No, I mean the symbols above the pictures. They look like letters, almost, but I can’t read them."

  "Letters?"

  "Letters in an alphabet."

  "What's an alphabet?"

  They walked quietly for a while, the only sound that of their footsteps. "You can’t read can you?" asked Tommy.

  "I can read horses pretty good," Mark replied, "but that’s not what you mean, is it?"

  "No, it’s not. It doesn’t matter. How much farther?"

  Mark pointed at some markings on the floor. "We just passed the three stripes, so two more stripes to go."

  He can count. I wonder how high? He would need to count to work with animals and crops. No need to read and write, though.

  A half-hour later, they came to a large door covering the end of the passage.

  "That’s always locked," Mark said. "We passed the stair door."

  A door with picture of a stair below more symbols led them up to the passage circling the Commons.

  After a brief walk down that passage, Mark opened another door, this one with a picture of an eye. "I haven't been here in a while," Mark said. "Sometimes there's something to see, usually not."

  At the end of a long, dimly lit tunnel, they stepped into a larger room. A mirror covered the far wall edge to edge and ceiling to floor, and Tommy saw himself for the first time since his kidnapping.

  "I'll have to turn out the light for us to see anything," Mark said, reaching for the light switch.

  "Wait a minute, will you?" Tommy said.

  Who is that person in the mirror? It has to be me but…

  The artificial sunlight of the Commons had browned his face and hands. He had grown taller, but it was more than that. He was bigger all over.

  He pulled the gray long-sleeved shirt he had been given over his head.

  Tommy had never avoided physical activity. Except for one period in his life, he usually just had something better to do. When he was not at school, he worked on his computer or read. In his mom’s full-length mirror, he had been scrawny, with ribs showing like ridges through his skin, and arms hanging straight down like sticks from his shoulders. He had never been bothered by the way he looked, except when one of the jocks at school had named him "Twig" and taunted him.

  Actually, he had looked like a smaller, skinnier, version of his kidnappers.

  If Mark were right, he had been here for almost six months, working at hard labor every day except this one. Those months of farm work had changed him. The person staring back in the mirror still looked like a boy, but his arms were muscled and his shoulders were wider. His chest had filled out and the ribs didn't poke through his skin. The waist was small, but not flabby.

  Mark poked him. "What are you looking at?"

  "I'm different."

  "You've always been different."

  "That's not what I meant. Different from the way I looked when I was brought here." He glanced at Mark. "Could you do me a favor and take off your shirt?"

  Mark tilted his head and gazed at Tommy for a moment, then shrugged and complied.

  Mark was muscular--he had to be to work in the barn--but his narrow shoulders gave him the appearance of a tube with arms and a head balanced on top. Just like everyone else Tommy had seen.

  "How old are you, Mark?"

  "Our Priest says I’m fourteen."

  "I was almost fourteen when I was kidnapped. I must be fourteen now." Tommy turned to the mirror. The top of Mark’s head was even with Tommy’s eyebrows. He had definitely grown taller. "I hope I'm not hurting your feelings, but why are all of you so small?"

  Mark’s answer was abrupt. "Because the lords want us that way." He put his shirt back on. "Can I turn off the light now?"

  At first, the room was completely black, but, as Tommy’s eyes adjusted, he saw a soft luminance coming from the mirror. The glow resolved into tiny, moving, hard spots of light gleaming into the room, making faint shadows behind his legs. As his eyes adjusted more, a swirling powder of shining dust became visible among the harder lights.

  Tommy slumped to the floor and crawled to the wall. He was either watching the largest television screen he had ever seen, or he was looking out a window at the stars. If it were a window, he should see ground below, but all he saw when he looked that way was more stars and blackness. He turned to look at Mark, standing against the far wall. "Where are we?”

  "This is a viewing room," said Mark. "I like coming here on rest days because the other boys never do. I thought you might like it, too. Sometimes I sit here for hours."

  "No. I mean what are we looking at outside this window?"

  "How would I know?" said Mark. "We're wherever the lords want us to be, looking at what's there."

  A white and blue crescent appeared at the bottom of the wall and slowly expanded until the crescent became a ball, filling the window and the entire room with its light.

  "When we're traveling, the window's black," said Mark. "I think I've seen this world before. If I'm right, we'll be getting some new animals in the stable."

  The ball rolled out of the window and the room was dark again, except for light from the hard points of stars.

  "We're in a spaceship," Tommy almost whispered the words. "I'm in a spaceship."

  Tommy felt tears rolling down his cheeks. He thought he was done crying.

  "Yes. Where did you think we were?"

  Tommy pushed away from the emptiness beyond the window. "In a big cave. A hidden colony, but somewhere on Earth." His voice was hoarse. "I never thought about being on a spaceship. How could we be in a spaceship? I n
ever feel anything moving. It's not possible."

  The planet rolled into the window again. Light glinted from an oval object growing larger in the window.

  "That's one of the landers," Mark said. "It’ll be bringing something from that planet."

  "A lander. Is that what was used to kidnap me?"

  "I don't know anything about that."

  "I'll never see my parents again," Tommy said. "I'll never go home."

  Mark's voice seemed to echo, "I don't know why you ever thought you would."

  Forset

  Forset, the priest, hesitated in front of Tommy’s cabin. He made a few unnecessary adjustments to his robe, and then rapped firmly on the door. Three heavy thuds from within, followed by a quick drum roll of softer thumps, forced him back half a step. This is silly. Four farmer boys live in this room. There’s nothing to worry about.

  He turned the latch and stepped into a dimly lit four meter by five meter room. Looks like the one I lived in, including the piles of clothes on the floor. The light switch should be... He flipped a recessed switch and the room brightened.

  One of the piles moved, and an orange cat raced under one of the bunks. “Lords!” He quickly shut the door. “Letting you out would be a bad start.”

  He crouched and addressed the cat under the bunk, “Were you told when to expect anyone to return?” He straightened. “I suppose not. You won’t mind if I wait?” He shrugged and sat on the edge of another bunk on the opposite side of the room.

  A tentative “meow” came from behind his feet.

  “Another cat.” Forset bent over, moving his hand in a scratching motion near the floor. “Come out. I won’t hurt you.” He made a chirping sound with his tongue.

  The cat meowed again. The overhead light reflected from yellow eyes, and a black head with a diagonal white stripe across the forehead appeared.

  “You’re Tommy’s cat, Potter, aren’t you? Is this Tommy’s bunk?”

  As if in answer, the cat leaped in one smooth motion onto the bunk and sat primly on the pillow, black front legs straight and white paws together, white chest thrust forward.

  “It’s your bunk then.” Forset turned to face the cat. “But you do share it with Tommy?”

  They stared at each other for a moment. “I really should stop talking to cats as if they were people. You never answer back.”

  The cat meowed again and lay down on the pillow.

  “That was an answer, I suppose. Not much information, though.” He reached out, holding his hand where Potter could sniff it. “As close as you are to the boy, if you could talk, you could answer some questions that are troubling.”

  Potter leaned his head into Forset’s fingers. “Decided to be friends?” He scratched along the cat’s jaw and behind his ears. Potter responded with a barely audible purr. “I saw you that first day, in case you’re wondering how I know you. I was behind the glass, watching, when Tommy woke up.” Potter lifted slightly on his front legs so Forset could scratch under his chin. “You act like you don’t get enough attention. Has Tommy been working too much? I know the first Jack has been keeping him busy.”

  Potter leaped from the pillow into Forset’s lap. “Lords!” The cat ignored Forset’s exclamation and curled into the hammock his robe made between his legs. “Make yourself at home!”

  Forset carefully shifted to a more comfortable position on the bunk, his back against the wall. “I haven’t seen you again, but I have been watching Tommy. That’s what I wish I could ask you about.” He absently stroked the cat’s back. “He was so skinny and fragile I thought he wouldn’t survive a week. At his age, I know I wouldn’t have survived the treatment he’s getting.” He laughed abruptly. “Or now either. The lords saved me from the other boys by making me a priest. Tommy has not only survived, he’s gotten bigger and stronger.”

  Footsteps in the passageway drew his attention to the door. When the sound faded, he resumed stroking the cat. “This is very soothing, you know. Almost like meditation.” Potter kneaded Forset’s knee, claw tips denting his skin through the robe. “Something to do while I wait, anyway. Lord Ull ordered me to begin Tommy’s training today, so I’ll be here until he returns.”

  Potter lifted his head. “Eeow?”

  Chapter Four: You've Got To Be Kidding

  Tommy and Mark stayed in the observation room for another hour, watching the landers come and go. He hadn't said another word to Mark. Each time his mouth opened to ask a question, something new would catch his attention. What he saw through that window removed all his hopes of escape. What hope could he have now? Every person he knew here, every place he had been was on a spaceship. They were alien. How was it possible?

  He still felt numb when he got back to his room. There, he found the priest from the service sitting on his bunk.

  "Hello, Tommy. My name is Forset. It’s time for us to talk."

  Forset--he said he was the third Forset--led Tommy to a private cabin, two decks below and almost directly under the dining room. (A few hours before, he would have said two floors below. He was on a spaceship!) From Forset's small front room, Tommy could see an even smaller bedroom, and beyond that a bathroom. The front room had a desk, a shelf with a few books, and three chairs.

  "Books! You’ve got books! I haven’t seen a book since I got here. May I look at them?"

  When Forset sat down without saying no, Tommy took a book off the shelf and opened it. His excitement died. "This is written using the same alphabet as on the doors." He took down another, and another, until he had scattered all the books on the desk. "They’re all the same. Don’t you have books in English? I can’t read these."

  "No, none in English. Priests have no need of them. Many of the artisans read and write English, and some of them have books written in English. The farmers don't read. All priests and artisans must be able to read, write, and speak the lords’ language. That's what you must learn to do." He picked up one of the books from the desk. "This is written in the language of the lords. The lords have commanded me to teach you to read and write their language."

  Kidnapped by aliens for this? "I don’t understand," he shouted. "What's an artisan? Why do I need to read and write the lords’ language?"

  "The artisans maintain this ship for the lords. I was told the lords obtained some special books on their trip to Earth. They want them translated. They've decided you will do it."

  Tommy threw up his arms. "That’s crazy. I don’t know anything about languages. The only language I've studied in school is English. People translate for a living. Why didn’t you take one of them? Why can't the artisans translate your books if they can read English? Why did you pick me? Why have you had me shoveling horse shit since I’ve been here, if that's what you want me to do? You separated me from my Mom and Dad to translate some books?” He sprawled across a chair and repeated, "That’s crazy."

  Forset chuckled. "The first Jack told me you ramble on when you’re upset. I’ll answer your questions if I can."

  "You are working in the stable to calm you down and to get you used to being here. The lords seldom take adults permanently--they haven’t in generations--and you’re close to being an adult." He paused. "You told Jack your cat was feral when you first saw him?"

  "Yes."

  Forset leaned forward. "And what did you do to tame him?"

  Tommy sat up straighter in his chair. "I fed him, and talked to him, and made sure he knew I wasn’t going to hurt him."

  "Did you do that in one day?"

  "No, I tried for a long time before he would come up to me, then almost as long before he would let me pet him."

  "How old was your cat when you started?"

  "The vet wasn’t sure, less than two years old, maybe about one."

  ”Would he have been so easy to tame if he had been older? More set in his ways?”

  Tommy stood and picked up one the books. He flipped pages for a while, his eyes on the strange alphabet. "OK. I get it. But why the stables? Why shoveling hors
e shit?"

  Forset made a steeple of his hands. "Jack told you one of the reasons. We all work here. Even I work in my fashion. We couldn't let you lie about like a contented cat while you got used to things, and we had to take your mind off of your situation. The first time I saw you--you didn’t see me--you were crying. The lords decided you needed to be too tired to brood." He smiled. "I'm afraid your lessons won't take all day. I do have other things to do. When you're not here you will continue at the stables, 'shoveling shit' as you say.

  "As to why the lords picked you over some other child? Well, you did advertise yourself on that broadcast program. They showed me the transmission after you arrived. Maybe that just gave them a convenient target. Perhaps not the smartest thing to do, even if we hadn't seen it. You may have said something that made them want you. If so, you will find out eventually, but I don't know. By the same logic, I suspect you know something that the artisans don't that will help you with the books. I've never seen the books, so you can satisfy my curiosity at the same time you satisfy yours."

  The priest stood and took the book from Tommy's hands. "You will be coming here in the afternoons for quite some time. The artisans learn the lords' language from birth, but you and I don't have that advantage. When I entered the priesthood, I studied the lords' language for three years before I became fluent. Some take more time, some less. The lords understand how long it takes. Their language is nothing like English."

  Tommy turned to face Forset. "Different from any language on Earth, right? The lords aren't human, are they?"

  Forset smiled again. "Are you just realizing that?

  "We'll start tomorrow. As for today, this is a rest day, and I only get the afternoon to rest, anyway." He tugged on a cord beside his desk. "I suppose you would like to rest, too. I'll have someone take you back."

  The person who entered the room also wore a priest's robe but seemed younger than Forset. Forset confirmed this in his introduction. "This is the fourth Forset, my alternate. He will show you the way to your barracks. Make sure you can find your way back here."