Read Online A Deepness in the Sky by Vernor Vinge - Free Book Online
Authors: Vernor Vinge
Tags: Science Fiction:General
Ads: Link
appeared to be mortarless stonework, the higher floors slightly outset from the lower. "Wait, I see where you're pointing. There's some kind of...a ceramic box bolted to the second overhang. Vinh, you're closest. Climb up there and take a look."
Ezr started toward the building, then noticed that someone had helpfully killed the marker. "Where?" All he could see were shadows and the grays of stonework.
"Vinh," Diem's voice carried more than its usual snap. "Wake up, huh?"
"Sorry." Ezr felt himself blushing; he got into this sort of trouble far too often. He enabled multispec imagery, and his view burst into color, a composite of what the suit was seeing across several spectral regions. Where there had been a pit of shadow, he now saw the box Diem was talking about. It was mounted a couple of meters above his head. "Just a second; I'll get closer." He walked over to the wall. Like most of the buildings, this one was festooned with wide, stony slats. The analysts thought they were steps. They suited Vinh's purpose, though he used them more like a ladder than like stairs. In a few seconds he was right next to the gadget.
And it was a machine; there were rivets on the sides, like something out of a medieval romance. He pulled a sensor baton from his coveralls and held it near the box. "Do you want me to touch it?"
Diem didn't reply. This was really a question for those higher up. Vinh heard several voices conferring. "Pan around a little. Aren't there markings on the side of that box?" Trixia! He knew she would be one of the watchers, but it was a very pleasant surprise to hear her voice. "Yes, ma'am," he said, and swept the baton back and forth across the box. There was something along the sides; he couldn't tell whether it was writing or an artifact of overly tricky multiscan algorithms. If it was writing, this would be a minor coup.
"Okay, you can fasten the baton to the box now"—another voice, the acoustics fellow. Ezr did as he was told.
Some seconds passed. The Spider stairs were so steep he had to lean back against the risers. Airsnow haze streamed out from the steps, and downward; he could feel his jacket heaters compensating for the chill of the steps' edges.
Then, "That's interesting. This thing is a sensor right out of the dark ages."
"Electrical? Is it reporting to a remote site?" Vinh started. The last words were spoken by a woman with an Emergent accent.
"Ah, Director Reynolt, hello. No, that's the extraordinary thing about this device. It is self-contained. The ‘power source' appears to be an array of metal springs. A mechanical clock mechanism—are you familiar with the idea?—provides both timing and motive power. Actually, I suppose this is about the only unsophisticated method that would work over long periods of cold."
"So what all is it observing?" That was Diem, and a good question. Vinh's imagination took off again. Maybe the Spiders were a lot more clever than anyone thought. Maybe his own hooded figure would show up intheir recon reports. For that matter, what if this box was hooked up to some kind of weapon?
"We don't see any camera equipment, Crewleader. We have a pretty good image of the box's interior now. A gear mechanism drags a stripchart under four recording styluses." The terms were straight out of a Fallen Civ text. "My guess is, every day or so it advances the strip a little and notes the temperature, pressure...and two other scalars I'm not sure of yet." Every day for more than two hundred years. Human primitives would have had a hard time making a moving-parts mechanism that could work so long, much less do it at low temperatures. "It was our good luck to be walking by when it went off."
There followed a technical dispute about just how sophisticated such recorders might be. Diem had Benny and the others ping the area with picosecond light flashes. Nothing glinted back; no lensed optics were in a line of sight.
Meanwhile, Vinh remained leaning against the stair ramp. The
Ezr started toward the building, then noticed that someone had helpfully killed the marker. "Where?" All he could see were shadows and the grays of stonework.
"Vinh," Diem's voice carried more than its usual snap. "Wake up, huh?"
"Sorry." Ezr felt himself blushing; he got into this sort of trouble far too often. He enabled multispec imagery, and his view burst into color, a composite of what the suit was seeing across several spectral regions. Where there had been a pit of shadow, he now saw the box Diem was talking about. It was mounted a couple of meters above his head. "Just a second; I'll get closer." He walked over to the wall. Like most of the buildings, this one was festooned with wide, stony slats. The analysts thought they were steps. They suited Vinh's purpose, though he used them more like a ladder than like stairs. In a few seconds he was right next to the gadget.
And it was a machine; there were rivets on the sides, like something out of a medieval romance. He pulled a sensor baton from his coveralls and held it near the box. "Do you want me to touch it?"
Diem didn't reply. This was really a question for those higher up. Vinh heard several voices conferring. "Pan around a little. Aren't there markings on the side of that box?" Trixia! He knew she would be one of the watchers, but it was a very pleasant surprise to hear her voice. "Yes, ma'am," he said, and swept the baton back and forth across the box. There was something along the sides; he couldn't tell whether it was writing or an artifact of overly tricky multiscan algorithms. If it was writing, this would be a minor coup.
"Okay, you can fasten the baton to the box now"—another voice, the acoustics fellow. Ezr did as he was told.
Some seconds passed. The Spider stairs were so steep he had to lean back against the risers. Airsnow haze streamed out from the steps, and downward; he could feel his jacket heaters compensating for the chill of the steps' edges.
Then, "That's interesting. This thing is a sensor right out of the dark ages."
"Electrical? Is it reporting to a remote site?" Vinh started. The last words were spoken by a woman with an Emergent accent.
"Ah, Director Reynolt, hello. No, that's the extraordinary thing about this device. It is self-contained. The ‘power source' appears to be an array of metal springs. A mechanical clock mechanism—are you familiar with the idea?—provides both timing and motive power. Actually, I suppose this is about the only unsophisticated method that would work over long periods of cold."
"So what all is it observing?" That was Diem, and a good question. Vinh's imagination took off again. Maybe the Spiders were a lot more clever than anyone thought. Maybe his own hooded figure would show up intheir recon reports. For that matter, what if this box was hooked up to some kind of weapon?
"We don't see any camera equipment, Crewleader. We have a pretty good image of the box's interior now. A gear mechanism drags a stripchart under four recording styluses." The terms were straight out of a Fallen Civ text. "My guess is, every day or so it advances the strip a little and notes the temperature, pressure...and two other scalars I'm not sure of yet." Every day for more than two hundred years. Human primitives would have had a hard time making a moving-parts mechanism that could work so long, much less do it at low temperatures. "It was our good luck to be walking by when it went off."
There followed a technical dispute about just how sophisticated such recorders might be. Diem had Benny and the others ping the area with picosecond light flashes. Nothing glinted back; no lensed optics were in a line of sight.
Meanwhile, Vinh remained leaning against the stair ramp. The
Similar Books
