Read Online The Chamber in the Sky by M. T. Anderson - Free Book Online

few seconds …
    He knew it was just panic. He knew he had to control himself. But he didn’t know how he was going to.
    â€œDo you think there are other Great Bodies?” Gregory asked. “I mean, outside of this one?”
    Brian felt like he was about to scream.
    Gwynyfer shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not a theologian. There are people who say that if we could just get outside the Great Body, we’d find ourselves in a herd of them, all these massive thingies progressing toward some burning light. And that there would be whole other civilizations inside the other bodies, and we could travel and meet them, which would be jolly.” She played with her hair, twisting it around her fingers. “But I don’t —”
    â€œI JUST CAN’T TAKE IT!” Brian shouted suddenly. “I CAN’T! I CAN’T! I CAN’T!”
    He started pounding on the hull. The whole thing wobbled with his blows. He scrabbled around on the cushions. Gregory reached out to grab him.
    â€œBrian! Bri! Bri!”
    Brian was having trouble breathing. Felt like he was choking. No air. His breath came hard. He gagged. Grabbing at his throat. Nothing left in his chest.
    Gregory was saying something to him — he had to get out — he had to —
    Gregory put his hand over Brian’s eyes. “Stop it, Brian!” he said firmly. “Stop it. Picture us on a … a wide plain. With lots of grass.”
    â€œWe’re not! I can’t breathe!”
    â€œ Picture yourself. As much space as you need. Sure, it’s a little hot. That’s cause we’re in Iowa in the middle of the summer. Big sky. Big, big sky, Bri.”
    â€œThere’s a gas station by the side of the road,” Gwynyfer sang out seductively, and not entirely kindly, “where you can get a double-pack of snack chips …”
    Gregory insisted, “Picture the big sky. Picture the field.”
    â€œPicture the snack chips. Picture the mini-donut gems. Picture the beef jerky.”
    â€œAll right,” said Brian, not entirely gratefully.
    They could hear his breathing slow down. They all just sat there. No one moved.
    The dinghy dropped deeper and deeper into unknown territory.
    And then Gwynyfer called out softly, “As it happens, chappies, we’re saved.” Her voice was drunk with excitement. “Looky, looky. An extraction station.”
    They looked out the portholes and saw some vast factory floating in the ooze, a huge assemblage of metal cylinders turning slowly in the currents. Each arm of the thing was capped with a sieve or a funnel. The arms swung past them — or they puttered between them. Huge black shapes wheeled in the green darkness.
    â€œThey’re run by mannequins, usually,” said Gwynyfer. “They get various minerals and things out of the blood. Then they sell them to us. They’ll let us dock there. They’ll tell us how to get back to the Dry Heart — or down to Two-Gut where the Umpire is. And most important, they’ll arrange a lavatory.” She beat for joy on the port-hole glass.
    Then a light flashed on them. It shot through the portholes. Gwynyfer waved. She blew a kiss. The spotlight moved on past, cutting through the gloom. It disappeared.
    â€œHey!” said Gregory, as if someone out in the bloodstream could hear him. “Where do we go to land?” Hesteered his way around the facility, looking for someplace they could dock. The whole metal surface of the extraction station was slick with algae, or something like it.
    They found a row of hatches of different sizes. There was a small lamp lighting them.
    â€œThere are no other subs here,” said Gregory. “Shouldn’t there be other people? Where’s the spotlight that caught us a minute ago?”
    No one knew.
    With a magnetic clank, the dinghy attached to the skin of the factory and hung there.
    The doors were right up against one