The City And The Stars - Arthur C. Clarke [38]
He scarcely hesitated. He was afraid to hold back, being fearful that if he waited too long this moment might never come again—or that if it did, his courage might not match his desire for knowledge. Khedron opened his mouth in anxious protest, but before he could speak, Alvin had stepped through the entrance. He turned to face Khedron, who was standing framed in the barely visible rectangle of the doorway, and for a moment there was a strained silence while each waited for the other to speak.
The decision was made for them. There was a faint flicker of translucence, and the all of the machine had closed again. Even as Alvin raised his hand in farewell, the long cylinder started to ease itself forward. Before it had entered the tunnel, it was already moving faster than a man could run.
There had been a time when, every day, millions of men made such journeys, in machines basically the same as this, as they shuttled between their homes and their humdrum jobs. Since that far-off day, Man had explored the Universe and returned again to Earth—had won an empire, and had it wrested from his grasp. Now such a journey was being made again, in a machine wherein legions of forgotten and un-adventurous men would have felt completely at home.
And it was to be the most momentous journey any human being had undertaken for a billion years.
Alystra had searched the Tomb a dozen times, though once was quite sufficient, for there was nowhere anyone could hide. After the first shock of surprise, she had wondered if what she had followed across the Park had not been Alvin and Khedron at all, but only their projections. But that made no sense; projections were materialised at any spot one wished to visit, without the trouble of going there in person. No sane person would ‘walk’ his projected image a couple of miles, taking half an hour to reach his destination, when he could be there instantly. No; it was the real Alvin, and the real Khedron, that she had followed into the Tomb.
Somewhere, then, there must be a secret entrance. She might as well look for it while she was waiting for them to come back.
As luck would have it, she missed Khedron’s reappearance, for she was examining a column behind the statue when he emerged on the other side of it. She heard his footsteps, turned towards him, and saw at once that he was alone.
‘Where is Alvin?’ she cried.
It was some time before the Jester answered. He looked distraught and irresolute, and Alystra had to repeat her question before he took any notice of her. He did not seem in the least surprised to find her here.
‘I do not know where he is,’ he answered at last. ‘I can only tell you that he is on his way to Lys. Now you know as much as I do.’
It was never wise to take Khedron’s words at their face value. But Alystra needed no further assurance that the Jester was not playing his role today. He was telling her the truth—whatever it might mean.
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN THE DOOR closed behind him, Alvin slumped into the nearest seat. All strength seemed suddenly to have been drained from his legs: at last he knew, as he had never known before, that fear of the unknown that haunted all his fellow-men. He felt himself trembling in every limb, and his sight became misty and uncertain. Could he have escaped from this speeding machine he would willingly have done so, even at the price of abandoning all his dreams.
It was not fear alone that overwhelmed him, but a sense of unutterable loneliness. All that he knew and loved was in Diaspar; even if he was going into no danger, he might never see his world again. He knew, as no man had known for ages, what it meant to leave one’s home for ever. In this moment of desolation, it seemed to him of no importance whether the path he was following led to peril or to safety; all that mattered to him now was that it led away from home.
The mood slowly passed; the dark shadows lifted from his mind. He began to pay