Between the Strokes of Night

by Charles Sheffield

  A loud, metallic voice was booming out directions. “Single file into the cars, please. Take your seats, and don’t overload them — there will be another one along every ten minutes.”

  The crowd took little notice, pushing and surging forward down a long broad hall toward a loading area.

  “Peron!” Elissa reached out and grabbed hold of his arm. “Keep a grip. We don’t want to be separated now.”

  It was like being in a river and swept along by the current. With no effort on their part, they found themselves carried forward into a semicircular chamber and seated on soft benches covered with a warm velvety material. On either side people were grinning at them and staring out of the half-circle of the ports. “Look down!” said a woman next to Elissa. Her accent had peculiar vowel sounds to it, but it was easy to understand. “It’ll give you the shivers. No wonder it’s called Skydown.”

  Elissa followed the other’s gesture, and found that the floor beneath their feet was transparent. She was looking directly down toward Earth, following the line of a giant silvery cylinder. As she watched, the doors of the chamber closed and they began a smooth, accelerated descent, their car riding an invisible path along the side of the cylinder.

  “Peron.” Elissa leaned close to him so that he could hear her above the clamor. “What’s going on here? Look at them. They’re like the mob at the end of Planetfest. And where are we going?”

  Peron shook his head. “It’s our own fault. I realized it as soon as we came out of the tanks there — we should have known we’re no different from anyone else. Don’t you see? Everybody from the planetary colonies and arcologies has been told about Earth since they were small children. They all want to visit. No wonder de Vries was amazed when you asked if he was coming with us — I bet people who live in the Sol system get tired of explaining things to the simpleminded visitors. Better face it, love, we’re just part of the tourist crowd.” Elissa looked around her at the restless, exuberant travellers. “You’re right — but they’re all having fun. You know what? I feel wonderful. I’m going to postpone solving the mysteries of the universe until we get back into orbit.” She grabbed Peron’s arm and pulled him closer. “Come on, misery. Let’s get into the spirit of it. Remember, a week down on Earth will only be five minutes in S-space — they won’t even notice that we’ve gone.”

  They bent forward to look down through the floor. Although the cylinder was rushing past them as one continuous blur of motion, Earth was not perceptibly closer. It hung beneath them, a glittering white ball blocking out over fifteen degrees of the sky.

  “I wonder how long the journey will be,” Elissa said. She reached out to the miniature information outlet built into the arm of her seat, and switched it on. “Speed, please, and arrival time.”

  “Present speed, forty-four hundred kilometers an hour,” said a cheerful voice. The vocal reply system had been chosen with as pleasant and soothing a tone as possible. “Arrival will be three hours and forty-one minutes from now. We are still in the acceleration phase. We have thirty-three thousand four hundred kilometers to go to touchdown.”

  “Where will we land?”

  “Half a degree south of the equator, on one of the major continents.” Peron was still staring down at the globe beneath them. “This doesn’t look the way I expected — it’s too bright. Why so much cloud cover?”

  There was a silence for a split second, as the on-board computer called back up to the synchronous station above them for assistance with the answer. “There is less cloud cover than usual today. You are probably mistaking snow cover for cloud cover.”

  “But that would mean there’s snow over two-thirds of the surface!” “Correct.” Again the machine hesitated. “That is not unusual.”

  “Earth was not snow-covered in the old days — is this a consequence of the old war?”

  “Not at all. It is a result of reduced solar activity.” The information system hesitated for a moment, then went on: “The amount of received radiation from the Sun has declined by a small fraction of a percent over the past fifteen thousand years. The increased glaciation is apparent even from this distance. It is predicted that this Ice Age will persist for at least ten thousand more years, to be followed by an unusually warm period. Within fifteen thousand years there will be partial melting of the polar ice caps, and submergence of most coastal lands.”

  Elissa reached out and switched off the set. She looked at Peron. “You don’t mind, do you? I had the feeling it was just getting into its stride. I hate being burbled at — whoever programmed that sequence needs brevity lessons from Kallen.”

  Peron nodded his agreement. The view below was enough for their full attention. From the poles almost to the tropics, blue-white shining glaciers coated the land areas. The old outline of the larger land masses was unchanged. Soon Peron could see where the Skyhook was tethered. It met the surface on the west coast of the continent that had been known as Africa. They were descending rapidly toward that touchdown point, a couple of hundred kilometers from the place where the region’s mightiest river flowed to the Atlantic Ocean.

  “We ought to decide what we really want to see,” said Elissa. “If we have a choice, I don’t care to travel around in the middle of a mob of sightseers.” “So let’s find out what the options are. Can you stand to have the information service on again for a couple of minutes?”

  He touched the switch and spoke into the tiny microphone. “Will we be free to move as we choose when we reach the surface?”

  “Of course.” The cheerful but impersonal voice answered at once. “There will be air and ground vehicles at your disposal, and personal information systems to go with you and answer any questions. Your account will automatically be charged for services.”

  Elissa looked at Peron. To their knowledge, they had no credit account of any kind. They might have to fight that one with Jan de Vries when they returned from Earth.

  “Do you have a site selected?” went on the service computer. “If so, we can schedule something to be available at once upon touchdown.”

  “Wait a minute.” Peron turned away from the microphone. “Elissa? Let’s get away from everybody for a while. Maybe we’ll take a look at one typical Earth city, then let’s see some wild country.”

  At her nod, Peron relayed their request to the machine. There was the longest silence so far.

  “I am sorry,” said the voice at last. “We cannot grant your request.” “It is not permitted?” said Elissa.

  “It would be permitted. But the environment you describe no longer exists.” Elissa said, “You mean there is no natural country left, anywhere on Earth?” “No,” said the voice. Peron imagined he could hear an element of surprise in the overall joviality of the machine’s tones. “There is natural country, plenty of it. But there are no towns or cities on Earth.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Earth

  The steady march of the glaciers had been more effective in the northern hemisphere. In Africa, Australia, and South America, the great oceans had moderated temperatures and checked the spread from polar regions. Occasional snow-free pockets could be found as far as forty degrees south of the equator. But in the north, the glaciers ruled everywhere past latitude thirty-five. Even at Skydown the temperature was chilly. Peron and Elissa emerged from the cable car at the foot of the Beanstalk to bright sunshine and clear skies, but they stood in a blustery east wind that encouraged warm clothing. While most of the visitors headed for a briefing on the sights of Earth, the two took an aircar and flew north.

  They spent the first evening on the lush southern shore of the Mediterranean Sea near the ancient site of Tripoli. The information service computer informed them that they had reached the border for true forest land. Farther north, in what had once been Europe, only stunted stands of spruce and juniper persisted, clinging to south-facing slopes.

  Night came quickly, sweeping in with a scented darkness across the white sandy beach. The aircar contained two bunks,
but they were on opposite sides of the cabin. Peron and Elissa chose to sleep outside, protected by automatic sensors and the car’s warning system. Holding each other close beneath a moonless sky, they watched the wheel of unfamiliar constellations. Against that slow-moving backdrop, the space stations swept constantly overhead, one or more of them always visible. Sleep would not come easily. They whispered for a long time, of Pentecost, Planetfest, and Whirlygig, and of the accident to Peron that had plunged them across light-years and centuries.

  The night was full of unfamiliar sounds. There was wind rustling in tall trees, and the steady beat of waves on the seashore. Somewhere to the south a group of animals called to each other, their voices tantalizingly familiar, like humans sobbing and crying out in some foreign tongue. When Peron at last fell asleep, it was to unpleasant dreams. The voices called to him through the night; but now he imagined he could understand their lamenting message.

  Your visit to Earth is a delusion. You are hiding from the truth, trying to put off unpleasant actions. But they cannot be put aside. You must return to S-space… and go farther yet.

  The next morning they took to the air again and headed north and east into Asia. Two days’ travel convinced Peron and Elissa of two things. Apart from the general location of the land masses, Earth bore no resemblance to the fabled planet described in the old records of Pentecost and the library records on the ship. And there was no chance that they would choose to live on Earth, even if it were to be colonized again in the near future. Pentecost was more beautiful in every way.

  They left the information service on all the time. It described a link between the old, fertile Earth of legend and the present wilderness.

  The post-nuclear winter had been the first cause of the trouble. It was far more influential as an agent of change than the Ice Age that now held Earth in a frozen grasp. Immediately after the thermonuclear explosions, temperatures below the thick clouds of radioactive dust dropped drastically. Plants and animals that fought for survival in the sunless gloom of the surface did so in a poisoned environment that forced rapid mutation or extinction.

  In the air, the birds could not find enough food over the land. A few remaining species skimmed the surface of the tropical seas, competing with sea mammals for the diminished supply of fish. Their high energy-need killed them. The last flying bird on Earth fell from the skies within two years of the thermonuclear blast that obliterated Washington. The penguins alone lived on, moving north from the Antarctic to inhabit the coastlines of South America and Africa. Small colonies of emperor penguins still clung to the shores of the Java Sea and Indonesia.

  The larger surface animals — including all surviving members of homo sapiens — were early victims. Long life spans permitted the build-up of lethal doses of radiation in body tissues.

  The small burrowers, driven farther underground to seek out deep-lying roots and tubers, fared much better. One circumstance had assisted their survival. The hour of Armageddon came close to the winter solstice in the northern hemisphere, at a time when many animals were fat for the winter and preparing for hibernation. They had burrowed deeper and settled in for the hibernal sleep. The ones too far north had never wakened. Others, returning to consciousness in a cold, dark spring, foraged far and wide for food. The lucky ones moved steadily south, to the zone where a pale, sickly sunlight still permitted some plant growth. Of all Earth’s land mammals, only a few small rodents — mice, hamsters, ground squirrels, and woodchucks — lived on to inherit the earth.

  Their competition had been formidable. The invertebrates were fighting for their own survival. Insect life dwindled at first, then adapted, mutated, grew, and multiplied. They had always dominated the tropical regions of Earth; now the larger ants and spiders, aided by their formidable mandibles and stings, strove to become the lords of creation.

  The mammals took the only paths left to them. The invertebrates were limited in maximum size because of passive breathing mechanisms and their lack of an internal skeleton; and they were cold-blooded. The rodents grew in size to improve their heat retention, developed thick coats and hairy paws, and moved away from the equator to regions where there was no insect competition. Some of them were totally vegetarian, browsing on the sparse, chlorotic plant life that still grew in the dust-filtered twilight. They developed thick layers of blubber, for food storage and insulation. The other survivors became super-efficient predators, preying on their herbivorous relatives. As the nuclear winter slowly ended the insects moved north and south again, away from the tropics. But the mutated mice and woodchucks were ready for them. They had increased in size and ferocity, to become a match for any pre-civilization wolf; and now they wore thick coats of fur and protective fat that rendered impotent the fierce mandibles and poison stings. The insects were a new convenient source of protein. The carnivores followed them back into their tropic habitats, and on to the southern regions.

  The changes to animal life on Earth were easiest to see; but the changes to the vegetation were in some ways more fundamental. The grasses were gone; in their place a dwarf form of eucalyptus covered millions of square kilometers with flat, bluish-green leaves. Waving fields of corn and wheat would never be seen again on Earth. Their nourishing seeds had been replaced by the red clusters of berries that hung from every euclypt stem. After being assured that it was safe to do so, Elissa sampled a couple. They were filled with a fatty syrup, and at their center sat an oval, impenetrable seed. The seeds, berries and roots of the euclypts sustained a thriving animal community beneath the foot-high canopy of their leaves, where in the blue-green gloom devolved mice fought finger-long giant ants for the best food and living space.

  * * *

  As they travelled on across the face of an Earth where no vestige of human works remained, Peron became gradually more silent and withdrawn. Elissa assumed that it was a reaction to their surroundings. She was reluctant to interfere with his thoughts. But as they skirted the barren western seaboard of South America, where the continuous line of glaciers stretched down to the Pacific, Peron’s need to discuss his worries became overwhelming.

  They had landed in the Andean foothills to watch sunset over the Pacific. Neither spoke as the broad face of Sol, red in the evening twilight, sank steadily past a thin line of clouds far out over the western ocean. Even after the last of the light had faded, they could turn to the east and see the sun’s rays still caught by the summits of high, snow-covered peaks.

  “We can’t stay here,” Peron said at last. “Even if we liked it better here than on Pentecost, even if we thought Earth was perfect, we’d have to go back — to S-space.”

  Elissa remained silent. She knew Peron. He had to be allowed the time to work his way into a subject, without pressure and with minimal coaxing. That was the way that he had first managed to speak to her of their own relationship, and the way that she had finally learned of his continued doubts over leaving his family to take part in Planetfest.

  The last of the light vanished, leaving them sitting side by side on the soft earth next to the aircar. Stars were appearing, one by one, twinkling brightly in the crisp night air.

  “We’ve had a great time here,” Peron went on at last, “but for the past two days I’ve had trouble getting a thought out of my head. Remember the colony of mouse-monkeys, the black ones with the fat tails?”

  Elissa squeezed his hand without speaking.

  “You asked me how the head of the colony could control the others so easily,” he continued. “He didn’t seem to fight them, or bully them, or try to dominate them at all. But they climbed the trees, and brought him food, and groomed him, and he didn’t even have to move to live in comfort. Well, for some reason that reminded me of something my father said to me when I was only ten years old. He asked me, who controlled Pentecost? He said that was the third most important question to answer in a society, and the most important ones were, how did they control, and why did they control? If you knew all three, masters, mechanisms, and motives,
you were in a position to make changes.”

  “Did he ever tell you the answers?”

  “He never knew them. He spent his life looking. The answers were not on Pentecost — we know now that the true controllers of Pentecost are the Immortals, with the cooperation of a nervous planetary government. They control through superior knowledge, and they use the planet — so they say — as a source of new Immortals. Those ideas were beyond my father’s imaginings. But he was right about the important questions.”

  Elissa stirred at his side. She was lightly dressed, and the air was cold on her bare arms, but she was reluctant to suggest a move.

  “I finally tried to ask the important questions myself,” said Peron at last. “Not about Pentecost — about the Immortals themselves. They have a well-developed society. But who runs it? How, and most of all why? At first I thought we had the answer to the first question: the Immortals were run from The Ship. As soon as I was in S-space, I found that wasn’t true. Then I thought we would have the answer at Sector Headquarters. But we learned that was false — headquarters is nothing but an administrative center with a switching station and cargo pickup point for travelling starships. So what next? We decided control had to be back at Sol, and we came here. But we have no more answers. Who runs the show in the Sol system? Not Jan de Vries, I’ll bet my life on it. He’s a good follower, but he’s not a leader. And even if we find out who, that still leaves how and why.” “So what do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know. Look harder, I suppose. Elissa, we’ve been on Earth for nearly five days now. How do you feel?”

  “Physically? I feel absolutely wonderful. Don’t you?”

  “I do. Do you know why?”

  “I’ve wondered. I think maybe part of the reason is our ancestry. We come from millions of years of adaptation to Earth as the natural environment — gravity, air pressure, sunlight. We ought to feel good here.”