The City And The Stars - Arthur C. Clarke [37]
And that had been a thousand million years ago. Even then, Lys must have lost touch with Diaspar. It seemed impossible that it could have survived; perhaps, after all, the map meant nothing now.
Khedron broke into his reverie at last. He seemed nervous and ill at ease, not at all like the confident and self-assured person that he had always been in the city above.
‘I do not think that we should go any further now,’ he said. ‘It may not be safe until—until we are more prepared.’
There was wisdom in this, but Alvin recognised the underlying note of fear in Khedron’s voice. Had it not been for that, he might have been sensible, but a too-acute awareness of his own valour, combined with a contempt for Khedron’s timidity, drove Alvin onwards. It seemed foolish to have come so far, only to turn back when the goal might be in sight.
‘I’m going down that tunnel,’ he said stubbornly, as if challenging Khedron to stop him. ‘I want to see where it leads.’ He set off resolutely, and after a moment’s hesitation the Jester followed him along the arrow of light that burned beneath their feet.
As they stepped into the tunnel, they felt the familiar tug of the peristaltic field, and in a moment were being swept effortlessly into the depths. The journey lasted scarcely a minute; when the field released them they were standing at one end of a long narrow chamber in the form of a half-cylinder. At its distant end, two dimly lit tunnels stretched away towards infinity.
Men of almost every civilisation that had existed since the Dawn would have found their surroundings completely familiar, yet to Alvin and Khedron this was a glimpse of another world. The purpose of the long, streamlined machine that lay aimed like a projectile at the far tunnel was obvious, but that made it none the less novel. Its upper portion was transparent, and looking through the walls Alvin could see rows of luxuriously appointed seats. There was no sign of any entrance, and the entire machine was floating about a foot above a single metal rod that stretched away into the distance, disappearing in one of the tunnels. A few yards away another rod led to the second tunnel, but no machine floated above it. Alvin knew, as surely as if he had been told, that somewhere beneath unknown, far-off Lys, that second machine was waiting in another such chamber as this.
Khedron began to talk, a little too swiftly.
‘What a peculiar transport system! It could only handle a hundred people at a time, so they could not have expected much traffic. And why did they go to all this trouble to bury themselves in the Earth, if the skies were still open? Perhaps the Invaders would not even permit them to fly, though I find that hard to believe. Or was this built during the transition period, while men still travelled but did not wish to be reminded of space? They could go from city to city, and never see the sky and the stars.’ He gave a nervous laugh. ‘I feel sure of one thing, Alvin. When Lys existed, it was much like Diaspar. All cities must be essentially the same. No wonder that they were all abandoned in the end, and emerged into Diaspar. What was the point of having more than one?’
Alvin scarcely heard him. He was busy examining the long projectile, trying to find the entrance. If the machine was controlled by some mental or verbal order, he might never be able to make it obey him, and it would remain a maddening enigma for the rest of his life.
The silently opening door took him completely unawares. There was no sound, no warning, when a section of the wall simply faded from sight and the beautifully designed interior lay open before his eyes.
This was the moment of choice. Until this instant, he had always been able to turn back if he wished. But if he stepped inside that welcoming door, he knew what would happen, though