Echo (40 page)
“Alex, I think you should be the one who—”
He raised a hand to silence all protest. “A second chance to make history, Chase. How often does that happen?”
“Channel’s open,”
said Belle.
said Belle.
I cleared my throat and tried to think of something compelling to say. “Hello. Anybody out there? This is us, up here. Hello on the ground. How’s it going?” I think, by then, I’d become skeptical of a good outcome.
We got nothing back except static.
“Belle,” Alex said, “is there any movement in the streets? Any sign of life?”
“No, Alex. I thought I saw something minutes ago, but I did not have time to ascertain what it was. Possibly canines of some sort.”
It was another port city. The town itself was laid out in squares and rectangles, stone buildings with columns, statues, and colonnades clustered in the center, surrounded by wood and brick structures. The statues depicted humans. There were two overgrown areas that might once have been parks. A few carts were visible, mostly in sheds, a few out on the streets. “Belle, what time is it down there?”
“The sun disappeared below the horizon two hours and six minutes ago.”
Alex sat and watched the screens. I sent Belle looking for anything that might tell us who’d come out here, constructed a world, and gotten lost. There was nothing on the record. But that was no surprise. Over thousands of years, you tend to lose track of things.
We passed over the area a couple of times, and I must finally have fallen asleep. Then Alex was leaning over, pushing my shoulder, asking whether I was awake.
“Sure,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. But I want to show you something.” He looked discouraged.
Several views of the town were on the displays. “Something’s wrong,” he said.
I was surprised to see that I’d been asleep almost five hours. “How do you mean?”
He pointed at one of the images. “This is the first set of pictures. The way it looked when Belle first saw it. In the early evening.” Then he tapped the auxiliary screen. “
This
is the way it looks now.”
This
is the way it looks now.”
“It looks the same to me.”
He sat back in his chair. “That’s precisely the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“Chase, there’s no change in the lights.”
The streetlights were still on, and the lights at the park, but that was to be expected.
“Look at the houses.”
Again, I saw no difference. Lights burned everywhere. “What are we talking about?”
“Belle, what time is it down there?”
“Dawn will occur in about three hours.”
“And—?”
“Look at this group of houses. Lights are on in all of them. They form a U shape.”
“Oh.” I compared the two pictures. The same U shape was there in both. I checked other areas. A long line of lights along the perimeter had been on two hours after sunset. Now, in the middle of the night, they were still on.
Alex tapped his fingers on the edge of the display. “I don’t think there’s anyone down there.”
“Belle,” I said, “how long’s a day on this world?”
“Thirty-one hours, eleven minutes, and forty-seven seconds, Chase.”
“There’s your explanation, Alex. The day here is much longer than at home, and the inhabitants have adapted. Instead of nine or ten hours of darkness, they have roughly twelve. So they have a longer sleep cycle. They go to bed later.”
“Maybe,” he said. His tone suggested he didn’t buy it.
“Why not?”
“We’re looking at a town in which, over more than seven hours, no light that had not been on when we first saw it has been turned on. And no light has been turned
off
. Not one.”
off
. Not one.”
“You checked them all?”
“Belle?” he said.
“That is correct, Chase. The town looks exactly as it did during the first sighting.”
“We’re going to go down to find out why?”
“Would you prefer to pass on this?”
It seemed advisable to wait until daylight before paying a visit. Meantime, we took more pictures. The light pattern did not change. Nobody turned one off; nobody turned one on. It was impossible to be certain once the sun came up, but it looked as if, even then, everything stayed the same.
We were munching toast and drinking orange juice, getting ready to go, when Belle announced that she’d received a transmission from Audree. I excused myself and went up onto the bridge. A few minutes later, Alex joined me. “She was wondering how we’re doing.”
“I’d say not so well.”
“She asked me to say hello to you, Chase.”
Transmission time between Echo and Rimway, in one direction, was just under six days. Our first messages insystem had gone out about four days earlier, so they hadn’t heard from us yet.
I recorded a message for Robin. I showed him the lights, explained that we had no idea what was going on, that we were about to go down and look. “I’ll let you know what we find,” I said.
The sun was lost somewhere over the horizon when we arrived. Clouds were thick, and the sky was gray and gloomy.
We drifted over the town, surveying it, looking for signs of life. A couple of animals—four-legged creatures about the size of deer—stood at a street corner looking up at us. Otherwise, the streets were empty. A few carts and wagons had been abandoned. And, chillingly, we found occasional bones.
Up close, the place was deteriorating. Buildings needed paint. Shutters had fallen off houses. Front yards were submerged in weeds. One house had been smashed when a tree fell on it.
I eased us down into one of the parks and shut the engines off. We stayed in the cockpit for a while, blinking our lights, waiting to see whether we might draw any attention. And, as usual, trying to get accustomed to the added weight. The city remained quiet.
After a while, Alex got out of his seat. “You sure you want to come?” he asked.
We were two blocks from the ocean. A wide street, lined with buildings, separated us from the shorefront. They were short structures, no more than four or five stories. But lights burned in a couple of the windows in the upper floors. “Absolutely,” I said.
There were shops at street level, and one of those was also illuminated.
I followed him outside and closed the hatch.
The park was a tangle of weeds and underbrush. There were benches, and sliding boards and swings. And a sculpture that had probably been a fountain: four stone fish erected in a circle around a pair of gaping serpents.
It wasn’t as cold as it had been on our last trip down. But there was the same sense of desolation. More so in the town, I guess. Empty buildings are more oppressive than empty forests. And maybe it had something to do with the lights as well.
We took pictures, listened to the murmur of the ocean, and gazed at the serpents.
We walked toward the cluster of buildings, looked up and down the road, an
avenue
, really, and listened to the sound of the surf and the echo of our footsteps. The streetlights were about twice as tall as we were. We stopped at the first one we came to, and Alex stood looking up at it. The light did not emanate from a bulb or a panel. Instead, it flickered and burned at the top of a tube. “Gas,” he said.
avenue
, really, and listened to the sound of the surf and the echo of our footsteps. The streetlights were about twice as tall as we were. We stopped at the first one we came to, and Alex stood looking up at it. The light did not emanate from a bulb or a panel. Instead, it flickered and burned at the top of a tube. “Gas,” he said.
There was a sidewalk, of sorts, covered with dirt and sand. We strolled past the faces of the buildings. The display windows were mostly broken. Those still intact carried a thick layer of dirt. Whatever had been in the windows was gone. One bedroom set had survived, and, at another place, several chairs and a footstool. We found a small furnace in the middle of the street, and a couple of corroded pots. “Maybe it was a plague,” I said.
The buildings were lackluster in design, more or less like large blocks. Sometimes, the upper floor protruded a bit over the lower levels, but that seemed to be as much embellishment as the architects had attempted.
We picked a building with one of the lighted windows and broke in. We climbed staircases and looked down long hallways. Interior doors were all locked. We cut through a couple, into offices. The lighted one was on the top floor, so we broke into that one also. A desiccated corpse slumped behind a desk.
In a second building, we came across what appeared to have been a massacre. It was hard to determine how many dead there were because animals had apparently gotten in and dragged the bodies around. But we found bloodstains in several rooms. Bones were scattered everywhere.
“Alex,” I said, “there’s a major creep factor here. This is not worth whatever money we might make out of it. Let’s let it go. We’re dredging up a nightmare.”
I hadn’t intended to insult him, but I did. We stood in that terrible place on a carpet that might have been made out of wire, and he fought to contain his anger. “Just for the record,” he said, “this has nothing to do with profits. Or with Rainbow. I’m not sure it ever did.” He took my arm and led me outside. “Something unimaginable happened here. And we have an obligation to these people to find out what it was.”
We turned south. The buildings and shops were replaced by smaller buildings that had either housed offices or served as private homes. One place had a stone shingle mounted beside the front door.
We stopped and examined it. Alex had a picture of the tablet on his link, and he compared the characters with those on the shingle. They bore no resemblance to each other. “Just as well,” he said.
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t think I’d want to discover we’ve been looking for a lawyer’s office.”
I laughed. We both did. The laughter echoed through the empty streets. “I wonder how long it’s been,” he said, “since a sound like that has been heard here?”
We peeked through a window into one of the lighted houses. There were chairs and a circular table. Curtains hung everywhere. And the light, the light that had drawn us across the world, was provided by a pair of lamps, one on the table, one standing alone in a corner. A connecting room that might have been a kitchen was also illuminated.
I saw a pair of legs jutting out from the other room. They were desiccated, shrunken, clothed in trousers whose original color was no longer discernible.
Alex took a deep breath and indicated the table lamp. “See the duct at the base?”
“Yes.”
“It supplies the gas. There’s a switch somewhere that allows you to turn it on and off.”
“Then the lights were turned on and
left
on?”
left
on?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
There were other lights and other bodies in other houses. “There’s a natural gas supply nearby,” Alex said. “It’s piped in. Everything in town, apparently, gets a share. The lights will stay on as long as it lasts.”
Finally, we turned back toward the park. The wind was getting stronger. “How long do you think it’s been like this?”
“I don’t know. Awhile.”
THIRTY-FOUR
There is no more telling representation of the quality of a civilization than its art. Show me how it perceives beauty, what moves it to tears, and I will tell you who they are.
—Tulisofala,
Mountain Passes
(Translated by Leisha Tanner)
Mountain Passes
(Translated by Leisha Tanner)
We found what had once been, as far as we could tell, a shoe store. We weren’t sure because there were no shoes anywhere. But there were some boxes, and their dimensions seemed right. And a shoehorn.
There was a food market, with empty shelves. And a shop that we couldn’t be sure about but which might have sold guns. Like the food store, it had been cleaned out. The same was true of a hardware store. “Whatever happened,” Alex said, “they saw it coming.”
Then there was the art gallery. The walls had been stripped, and the only reason we were able to identify it was that some printed leaflets were scattered across the floor. Everything else was gone.
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