Read Online Gray Matters by William Hjortsberg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: William Hjortsberg
Ads: Link
authorities were forgiving all transgressions and would soon reconnect her memory-file hookup. But, after the sailboat and the balmy California morning dissolved in a vortex and she was back in her deposit drawer, nothing had changed. Vera still floats in solitary confinement. Even her communicator antenna has been disconnected.
This is the worst punishment. Before the merge she never used her communicator; she had nothing to say to any resident of the subdistrict. But now Vera longs to find the tousle-haired sailorboy who saved her from drowning. She remembers his tanned body and gentle voice. The time they spent together in the drifting sloop seems happier than any episode from her first girlhood. The boy was so tender and kind. His smile haunts her like distant music. For the first time in centuries, Vera Mitlovic is in love.
Obu Itubi navigates the Amco-pak beyond the outer limits of the subdistrict, down unknown corridors and labyrinthine passageways. Everywhere the burnished gun-metal walls glow with the luster of recent cleaning. The floors are immaculately waxed and polished. The scanner lens adjusts to triple power, but no trace of dust or grime is revealed. Itubi can find nothing, not a single crumb or cobweb strand to indicate even the transient presence of organic life.
After endless hours traveling through silence, the Amco-pak’s auditory system picks up a distant noise. Itubi follows this clue like an owl homing in on the faint rustling of a mouse. Any new development will be welcome, even combat with another maintenance van is preferable to treading eternally down deserted corridors. The sound grows louder, a smooth, machined humming. Turning a final corner, Itubi confronts the source: a spiral conveyor ramp in perpetual motion. It threads upward from some mysterious level deep beneath the polished floor and continues on through the luminous ceiling like the interior of a mechanized snail’s shell.
Itubi wastes no time maneuvering the Amco-pak aboard; his power supply is critical and any opportunity for conservation is welcome. With the stateliness of an ascending angel, he spirals up through the ceiling, triumph and hope resonant beneath the shining surface of his stainless steel armor.
Itubi remains on the ramp as it carries him past level after level. He sees nothing that would encourage him to get off. Each new plateau seems exactly like the subdistrict he left behind: the same shining floors and metallic walls, the identical egg-crate ceilings. He might as well be standing still.
Without warning Itubi is disgorged onto a rotating platform in the center of a vast dome-covered arena. As the Amco-pak turns slowly on the revolving disk, Itubi studies his new surroundings. The dome above is transparent and the astonished cerebromorph thrills to the nearly forgotten sight of clouds and sky. At measured intervals around the wall enclosing the arena, large open doorways stand waiting.
Itubi rumbles off the turntable, urging the Amco-pak across the arena at top speed. But before he can reach the nearest doorway, a warning buzzer sounds and a solid steel portcullis slides securely into place. All around the arena his scanner shows every doorway firmly sealed.
Itubi is undeterred. He pulls to a stop in front of the armored door and sets to work. The Amco-pak is a mobile workshop, equipped with diamond-tip drills, high-frequency sound torches, and an all-purpose laser. In minutes the maintenance van has burned an opening through solid steel.
Itubi works at this aperture, widening the gap until he carves a space broad enough to permit the passage of the Amco-pak. Beyond the steel door is a long low-ceilinged chamber and, once inside, Itubi makes an incredible discovery. Arranged along each wall stands a series of large transparent cylinders, all glowing with radiant artificial sunlight. Housed within each of these tubular caskets, as perfectly formed as Adam or Eve, is the naked body of an adult human.
3.
This is the worst punishment. Before the merge she never used her communicator; she had nothing to say to any resident of the subdistrict. But now Vera longs to find the tousle-haired sailorboy who saved her from drowning. She remembers his tanned body and gentle voice. The time they spent together in the drifting sloop seems happier than any episode from her first girlhood. The boy was so tender and kind. His smile haunts her like distant music. For the first time in centuries, Vera Mitlovic is in love.
Obu Itubi navigates the Amco-pak beyond the outer limits of the subdistrict, down unknown corridors and labyrinthine passageways. Everywhere the burnished gun-metal walls glow with the luster of recent cleaning. The floors are immaculately waxed and polished. The scanner lens adjusts to triple power, but no trace of dust or grime is revealed. Itubi can find nothing, not a single crumb or cobweb strand to indicate even the transient presence of organic life.
After endless hours traveling through silence, the Amco-pak’s auditory system picks up a distant noise. Itubi follows this clue like an owl homing in on the faint rustling of a mouse. Any new development will be welcome, even combat with another maintenance van is preferable to treading eternally down deserted corridors. The sound grows louder, a smooth, machined humming. Turning a final corner, Itubi confronts the source: a spiral conveyor ramp in perpetual motion. It threads upward from some mysterious level deep beneath the polished floor and continues on through the luminous ceiling like the interior of a mechanized snail’s shell.
Itubi wastes no time maneuvering the Amco-pak aboard; his power supply is critical and any opportunity for conservation is welcome. With the stateliness of an ascending angel, he spirals up through the ceiling, triumph and hope resonant beneath the shining surface of his stainless steel armor.
Itubi remains on the ramp as it carries him past level after level. He sees nothing that would encourage him to get off. Each new plateau seems exactly like the subdistrict he left behind: the same shining floors and metallic walls, the identical egg-crate ceilings. He might as well be standing still.
Without warning Itubi is disgorged onto a rotating platform in the center of a vast dome-covered arena. As the Amco-pak turns slowly on the revolving disk, Itubi studies his new surroundings. The dome above is transparent and the astonished cerebromorph thrills to the nearly forgotten sight of clouds and sky. At measured intervals around the wall enclosing the arena, large open doorways stand waiting.
Itubi rumbles off the turntable, urging the Amco-pak across the arena at top speed. But before he can reach the nearest doorway, a warning buzzer sounds and a solid steel portcullis slides securely into place. All around the arena his scanner shows every doorway firmly sealed.
Itubi is undeterred. He pulls to a stop in front of the armored door and sets to work. The Amco-pak is a mobile workshop, equipped with diamond-tip drills, high-frequency sound torches, and an all-purpose laser. In minutes the maintenance van has burned an opening through solid steel.
Itubi works at this aperture, widening the gap until he carves a space broad enough to permit the passage of the Amco-pak. Beyond the steel door is a long low-ceilinged chamber and, once inside, Itubi makes an incredible discovery. Arranged along each wall stands a series of large transparent cylinders, all glowing with radiant artificial sunlight. Housed within each of these tubular caskets, as perfectly formed as Adam or Eve, is the naked body of an adult human.
3.
Similar Books
