Authors: Christopher Priest
She called out: “Helward!”
I took no notice, pushed on through the crowd and into the interior of the city. I went down a flight of steps, walked through the passageway beneath the city and out again into the daylight.
I headed north, moving between the tracks and cables.
Half an hour later I heard the sound of a horse, and I turned. Elizabeth caught up with me.
“Where are you going?” she said.
“Back to the bridge.”
“Don’t. There’s no need. The Traction guild have disconnected the generator.”
I pointed up at the sun. “And that is now a sphere.”
“Yes.”
I walked on.
Elizabeth repeated what she had said before. She pleaded with me to see reason. She said again and again that it was only my perception of the world that was distorted.
I kept my silence.
She had not been down past. She had never been farther away from the city than a few miles north or south. She hadn’t been with me when I saw the realities of this world.
Was it perception that changed the physical dimensions of Lucia, Rosario, and Caterina? Our bodies had been locked in sexual embrace: I knew the real effects of that perception. Was it the baby’s perception that had made it reject Rosario’s milk? Was it only my perception that caused the girls’ city-made clothes to tear as their bodies distorted inside them?
“Why didn’t you tell me what you’ve just said when you were in the city before?” I said.
“Because I didn’t know then. I had to go back to England. And you know something? No one cared in England. I tried to find someone, anyone, who could be made to find some concern for you and your city … but no one was interested. There’s a lot going on in this world, big and exciting changes are taking place. No one cares about the city and its people.”
“You came back,” I said.
“I had seen your city myself. I knew what you and the others were planning to do. I had to find out about Destaine … someone had to explain translateration to me. It’s a dull, everyday technology now, but I didn’t know how it worked.”
“That’s self-evident,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“If the generator’s off, as you say, then there’s no further problem. I just have to keep looking at the sun and telling myself that it’s a sphere, whatever else it might look like.”
“But it’s only your perception,” she said.
“And I perceive that you are wrong. I know what I see.”
“But you don’t.”
A few minutes later a large crowd of men passed us, heading south towards the city. Most of them were carrying the possessions they had taken with them to the bridge site. None of them acknowledged us.
I walked faster, trying to leave her behind. She followed, leading her horse by its harness.
The bridge site was deserted. I walked down the river-bank to the soft, yellow soil and walked out along the surface of the bridge. Beneath me the water was calm and clear, although waves still broke on the bank behind me.
I turned and looked back. Elizabeth was standing on the bank with her horse, watching me. I stared at her for a few seconds, then reached down and took off my boots. I moved away from her, to the very end of the bridge.
I looked over at the sun. It was dipping down towards the north-eastern horizon. It was beautiful in its own way. A graceful, enigmatic shape, far more aesthetically satisfying than a simple sphere. My only regret was that I had never been able to draw it successfully.
I dived from the bridge head first. The water was cold, but not unpleasantly so. As soon as I surfaced an incoming wave pushed me back against the nearest bridge pile, and I kicked myself away from it. With strong, steady strokes I swam northwards.
I was curious to know if Elizabeth was still watching, so I turned on my back and floated. She had moved away froni the ridge and was now riding her horse slowly along the uneven surface of the bridge. When she reached the end she stopped.
She sat in the saddle and looked in my direction.
I continued to tread water, waiting to see if she would make any gesture towards me. The sun was bathing her in a rich yellow light, stark against the deep blue of the sky behind her.
I turned, and looked towards the north. The sun was setting, and already most of its broad disk was out of sight. I waited until its northern spire of light had slipped down below the horizon. As darkness fell I swam back through the surf to the beach.
AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The notion that provides the basis of this novel first came to me in 1965. For eight years I wrestled with it, and in so doing talked out the idea to many of my friends. To them I at last offer my thanks for listening, and the hope that the book is worth their while. Such was the extent of my boorishness that there are too many people to list individually, but I owe especial thanks to the following friends:
Graham Charnock, who suggested the guilds.
Christine Priest, who persuaded a computer to draw me a hyperboloid planet.
Fried. Krupp GmbH, of Essen, who unknowingly provided the computer.
Kenneth Bulmer, who listened longer and more patiently than most, and who gave me positive encouragement to write first the story and then the book.
Brian Aldiss, who wanted the city to go the other way.
Virginia Kidd, who finally convinced me I might be on to something when she told me the physics had a hole so large a city could be driven through.