Infinity Beach - Jack McDevitt [35]
They were twenty meters over the ocean, running along the side of a cliff, when Kim returned her attention to Veronica King and “The Demon Lamp.” The gimmick in the stories was that critical information was inevitably hidden in plain sight. “The Demon Lamp” was set at an archeological dig several layers deep on the large desert island Kawahl. Two people have been murdered, and the motive is said to be concealed in a tower. But there is no tower anywhere on that baking landscape. Except, of course, that there is: the dig site is the tower, now buried after several hundred years and a climate shift.
Kim finished the story as the Seahawk dropped gradually to sea level and the mountains fell away. She was on the wrong side of the train to see it, but she knew that the skyhook was now visible.
There were always a few gasps from travelers who were looking at it for the first time. Skyhooks were, if not the most incredible of human engineering marvels, then certainly the most spectacular. Five of the nine worlds had them, and one was under construction on Tigris. Greenway’s skyhook, which was connected to Terminal City, was now about twelve kilometers away. Its enormous bulk rose out of the downtown area and soared into the clouds.
People were out of their seats, crowding to the right side of the car. Kim caught a glimpse of it, watched the sunlight strike its weathered sides. It always made her proud in some indefinable way.
Minutes later the train pulled into the terminal building and stopped. Passengers filed out into a vast agglomeration of shops and concourses, waiting areas and restaurants. Kim took a minute to locate herself, and then moved off at a leisurely pace toward the lift. There were people distributing religious literature, others soliciting signatures for political and social campaigns. Some wanted the board chairman of one of the train lines removed, others hoped to get support for a drive demanding research on increasing longevity.
Kim had some spare time, so she stopped on the main promenade for a glass of fruit juice. It occurred to her she’d put herself in Sheyel’s position: unless she was careful, Ben-ton Tripley was going to conclude she was a lunatic.
The lift went up every other hour. The vehicle was divided into a lounge area, a VR facility, a souvenir shop specializing in Sky Harbor mugs and T-shirts, a coffee shop, and the Four Moons, a private club where members could relax around a leather-lined bar, shoot billiards, take over a VR booth, or nap.
The coffee shop was Nik’s. It was overpriced and the sandwiches tasted like plastic, but the coffee was good. The walls were covered with autographed pictures of celebrities who had passed through. Once on board, Kim headed directly for Nik’s and found a corner table.
The lift’s capacity was listed at 120 people. On this day it was carrying half that number. Kim ordered coffee and cantaloupe, looked out her window at the vast interior of the mall, and heard the announcement that they would be departing in a moment. The gates closed with a click.
The floor trembled and unseen engines engaged. The concourse, with its crowds and brightly decorated shops, began to fall away. Then Kim was passing through a tangle of struts and cables.
It was all she’d be able to see for about ten minutes. The lift would rise on the inside of the central support until it cleared the lower atmosphere. Then, when it was beyond potential wear and tear from weather conditions, it would emerge into the sunlight.
Several of her fellow travelers were VIPs also headed for the Star Queen. She finished her snack, leaving most of the cantaloupe, and wandered through Nik’s, saying hello, renewing acquaintances. McWilliam was there from Extron Industries, and Larry Dixon from the National Philanthropic Society, and Jazz White, the counterball player who was featured in the Star Queen’s promotional campaign.
The lift came