The Ascendant Stars - Michael Cobley [168]
Robert turned away and hurried off along the curving tunnel, wincing as he heard the repeated impacts. Yet this was the meta-quantal thoughtscape of the Godhead and since his own subconsciousness was determined to have Reski Emantes as a companion it was very likely that the drone would show up again.
The tunnel was strewn with pebbles and grit and lit by strange veinlike growths that erupted from the walls every ten paces or so, giving off an amber glow. The curve tightened into an upward spiral and the tunnel floor began to look clean, swept and surfaced in some dimpled plastic material. The glowing veins became chevron-shaped light sources pointing in the direction he was going, which made him smile.
At last he came to a large triangular entrance with double doors which smoothly swung upwards when he approached. As he walked through he was met by a tall woman in a dark trouser suit and carrying a slim datapad. She had short black hair and pretty features offset by a formal, somewhat impassive air.
‘Thank you for coming, Ambassador,’ she said with a slight Scottish accent. ‘Now that you’re here, we will shortly bring in the guests. If you follow me I’ll introduce you to the observers.’
Robert smiled and nodded, feeling almost used to the incongruities being presented by the Godhead’s subconscious. But is this merely an elaborate stage for me to caper across, or some form of challenge or test?
Through a pale blue lobby he was led into a high-ceilinged auditorium, emerging from a side door. To the left was a curved bank of empty seating and on the right was an elevated platform with a cluster of low easy chairs, two of which were occupied. Behind the platform a row of tall windows looked out on an astonishing sight, what appeared to be the towers, blocks, domed gardens and covered walkways of a city in the sky. Architectural styles seemed to derive from the old sleek, mirrored teknokratia school but its application to an airborne metropolis was breathtaking.
And made up, he thought. All this is just the fancy and spectacle of the Godhead’s subconscious reflecting my own experiences back at me via the meta-quantal flow. He smiled. But this is one place that I could imagine being real. In fact, it does have a certain consistency to its design, a kind of purposeful authenticity.
His guide led him up to the platform, where two other women were waiting.
‘Ambassador, this is Observer Catriona and Observer Corazon.’
They were both diminutive women, dressed as formally as the first, but the contrast in their demeanour was marked. Observer Catriona was slight as a dancer with straight, shoulder-length brunette hair and an expression as unperturbed as that of Robert’s greeter. Observer Corazon, on the other hand, had black curly hair and an elfin face that positively glowed with a kind of bold charisma. When she smiled it was like being dazzled.
He shook hands and was offered a chair between them. As he sat, he looked questioningly at the woman who had welcomed him.
‘Pardon me, but are you not allowed to tell me your name?’
‘I am Supervisor Julia. We will now admit the guests.’
Behind the top tier of seats a line of doors opened and the audience, all women, filed steadily, quietly into the hall. Although they were all ages and various physiques, they all had sandy blonde hair and the same unmistakable features.
They were all Rosa.
Robert could feel the hairs prickling on the back of his neck. There had to be at least three hundred versions of Rosa arriving, settling into seats, chatting with neighbours, glancing or peering or staring at him with expressions of delight or accusation or indifference.
A new species of nightmare, he thought, wondering if he would be allowed to leave. But when he glanced over at the door by which he had