Lost and found_ a novel - Alan Dean Foster [111]
Exiting the tower by a different portal than the one through which they had entered, they rode a smaller transport over cityscape that alternated with open woodland and glistening bodies of water. Half an hour later they slowed and began to descend into what appeared to be a forest of gigantic trees. For a second time that day, physical appearances proved deceiving. The impossible forest was as much composed of run-of-the-mill wood as the tower had been of ordinary water. Instead, the colossal “trees” were fashioned of another synthetic, mimicking material that had been employed as much for aesthetic as structural effect.
It felt as if they were entering a huge, hollowed-out tree. The interior smelled like thriving, flower-fraught vegetation. There were even hosts of tree-dwelling creatures skittering about. They reminded him of the individual iridescent flashes he had noticed in the floor and walls of the not-water tower. Such, apparently, was the nature of Sessrimathe construction. Elsewhere on Seremathenn there might be edifices fashioned of faux sand, buildings built of warm ice, structures composed of fake flesh. On a world of incredibly advanced technology, would not ordinary housing make as much use of advanced physics and new materials as starships and weaponry? The Vilenjji had built a better cage. The Sessrimathe built a better habitat.
Leading them into a vein in the “wood,” Cheloradabh guided them to a knot in one branch. Having noted earlier the aversion of some of her charges to heights, she had thoughtfully chosen a vertical offshoot of the central structure instead of a horizontal one. A wave of her forward limb caused the apparently solid wall in front of her to shimmer into sparkling sawdust. Once beyond, they found themselves standing in a large room whose perfect oval shape was marred only by bumps and protrusions in the walls and floor. Eyeing these suspiciously, Walker suspected they served some purpose other than mere decoration.
About the far side of the chamber there was no wondering, at least. It consisted of a floor-to-ceiling transparency, lightly tinted to mute the bright sunlight pouring in from outside. Walking to the center of the room while her flanking limbs gestured to left and right, Cheloradabh beckoned with her middle hand for them to follow.
“This is your common area. Private dwelling spaces for each of you are located on opposite sides of the common.” She pointed out each individual’s entryway. “Anything you need, you may speak for within your personal zones, and it will be provided to the best of the abode’s ability.” A unified wave utilizing all three arms took in their immediate surroundings and, by implication, much that lay beyond them and out of sight.
“Even for a Sessrimathe, the joy and success of moving into a new residence is the result of an ongoing learning process between dweller and dwelling. Mistakes may—no, will—be made at first. But the building will learn. Sessrimathe buildings are good learners. Be patient with yours, and with your individual dwelling zones, and you will be rewarded with comfort and contentment.”
“‘Rewarded.’” George trotted over to the expansive transparency to take in the panoramic view it provided of gigantic tree-buildings and lakes. “I don’t recall earning any rewards. Your people are the ones who brought in the Vilenjji, not us.”
Cheloradabh hesitated before replying, as if slightly embarrassed. “Funds are made available for such things. Work will not be required of you. The relevant details of this matter have been discussed and approved at higher levels.” All three arms gestured reassuringly. “It is felt that this is the least that can be proffered to make up for what you endured at