Dark Universe

CHAPTER SEVEN

Living alone and served his necessities by the widowed women of the Lower Level, Cyrus spent his time immersed in himself. When the opportunity to speak materialized, however, his tongue diligently set about the task of making up for long stretches of idleness.

Now, for instance, the Thinker was holding forth on many subjects, seemingly all at the same time:

“Jared Fenton. Prime Survivor Jared Fenton, mind you! Back for another session — just like we used to have gestations ago.”

Jared shifted impatiently on the bench beside him. “I wanted to ask about—”

“But I’m afraid you’ve got your work cut out for you — what with the hot springs trickling out and those monsters running around the passages. Have you decided what’s to be done about the river going dry? And that thing the monster left behind yesterperiod — what do you suppose it was?”

“It seems to me that—”

“Hold it! I’d like to think this thing out a bit.”

Jared was more than grateful for the few moments’ silence. It brought relief to his pounding head, which threatened to split like a manna shell each time he coughed. He’d had fever before — when he was bitten by a spider, for instance. But it was never like this.

Cyrus’ grotto was shielded from most of the world’s sounds by the thick drapery that hung in its entrance. But the recess was so small that Jared had no trouble concentraiting on the echoes from his words to hear how much the Thinker had changed.

How fortunate it was the old man had never developed a preference for protecting his face with a curtain of hair. For now he was completely bald. And the wrinkles, deposited by a lifetime of muscular tension to insure closed eyes, were etched even more deeply.

“I was just considering,” Cyrus said, explaining his silence, “whether the monster could have purposely left that thing in the entrance. And I’m convinced it did. What do you think?”

“It sounded that way to me.”

“What do you suppose its purpose was?”

Jared listened to the fervent supplications of the Litany of Light from the Revitalization Ceremony across the world. Audible, too, was the conversation of his Official Escort, waiting outside to take him to the Upper Level.

“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk about,” he said finally. “Tell me about — Darkness.”

“Darkness?” There was the sound of Cyrus’ chin wedging itself between thumb and forefinger. “We used to talk a lot about that, didn’t we? What is it you’d like to know?”

“Is it possible Darkness can be connected with” — Jared hesitated — “the eyes?”

After a few beats the other said, “Not that I can hear — not any more than with the knee or little finger. Why do you ask?”

“I figure it might be close to Light in some way or other.”

Cyrus weighed the proposition. “Light Almighty — infinite goodness. Darkness — infinite evil, according to the beliefs. The principle of relative opposites. You can’t have one without the other. If there were no Darkness, then Light would be everywhere. Yes, I suppose you could say there is a negative relationship. But I don’t hear where the eyes would fit into the composite.”

Coughing, Jared rose and swayed against the dizzying effects of his fever. “Have you ever felt Effective Excitation?”

“In the Optic Nerve Ceremony? Yes. Many gestations ago.”

“Well, in Effective Excitation you’re supposed to be feeling Light. And if the existence of Light depends in a negative way on the existence of Darkness, then the eyes must also be designed to feel Darkness.”

Jared listened to the other rub his face in deep thought. “Sounds logical,” the Thinker conceded.

“If one found Darkness, do you suppose he might also find—”

But Cyrus wouldn’t let his running thoughts be repressed. “If we’re going to talk about Darkness as a material concept, let’s ask ourselves: What is Darkness? We find it could — now mind you, I say could, because it’s just an idea — could be a universal medium. That means it exists everywhere — in the air about us, in the passageways, in the infinite rocks and mud.”

Jared’s fever turned into a sudden chill, but he kept his attention on, the other’s words.

“Point number two,” Cyrus went on, his voice, now reflecting against a second upthrust finger. “If it’s so universal, then it must be completely undetectable through the senses.”

Disappointed, Jared sank back on the bench. If the Thinker were correct, he could never expect to find Darkness. “Then why would it exist at all?”

“It might be the medium by which sound is transmitted.”

They were both silent awhile.

“No, Jared. I don’t think you could ever expect to find Darkness anywhere in this universe.”

Eagerly, Jared asked, “Would there be less Darkness beyond infinity?”

“If you have our so-called Paradise in mind, then we can forget about Darkness as a physical medium. In that case I would say — yes, there must be less Darkness in Paradise since Paradise is supposed to be full of Light.”

“What’s your composite of Paradise?”

The Thinker laughed. “If you’ve an ear for the beliefs, you’ll have to admit it must have been wonderful. Man was supposed to be godlike. Thanks to the presence everywhere of Light, it was possible to know what lay ahead without smelling or hearing it. Nor did we have to go about feeling things. It was as though’ our senses were all rolled up into one and could be projected many times the distance that even the strongest voice carries.”

Jared sat there thinking how uninspiring had been this visit with Cyrus. He hadn’t even gotten encouragement in his quest for Light.

“Your Escort’s waiting,” the Thinker reminded.

“One more question: How do you explain the Optic Nerve Ceremony?”

“I don’t know. It bothers me too. And Light knows I’ve done enough thinking about it. But here’s something: Effective Excitation could be some sort of normal body function.”

“In what way?”

“Close your eyes — real tight. Now — what do you hear?”

“There’s a roaring noise in my ears.”

“Right. Now, suppose for generations we had to live in a place where there was no sound. Nobody now alive would have ever heard anything. But perhaps the legend of sound has been passed down — through a touch language, let’s say.”

“I don’t hear what—”

“Can you imagine that there might now be such a thing as an Excitation of the Hearing Nerve Ceremony? That’s what you just did when you tightened your facial muscles. And there might now be a Guardian of the Way who would make you squinch up your face and feel the Great Sound Almighty.”

Jared rose excitedly. “Those rings of silent sound we feel during Effective Excitation — you mean they might have a connection with something people once did with their eyes?”

He plainly caught Cyrus’ shrug as the Thinker said, “I mean nothing. I’m merely posing a theoretical question.”

The old man’s breathing became shallow with meditation.

Jared stepped toward the curtain, then paused and listened back in the direction of the Thinker. Long ago he had believed he might find less Darkness in the Original World and recognize it for what it was. But Cyrus had concluded Darkness was a universal medium which couldn’t be sensed.

Wasn’t it possible, however, that Light could have a canceling effect — could erase some of the Darkness? And if one were lucky enough to hear the cancellation taking place, might he not get a clue as to the nature of both Light and Darkness?

Then something vastly more important occurred to him: Cyrus had said the presence of Light Almighty in Paradise made it possible for man to “know what lay ahead without smelling or hearing it”!

Wasn’t that exactly what the Zivvers could do? Was it that the Zivvers, too, shared some peculiar relationship with Light — a relationship which they themselves probably didn’t even suspect?

He had already sensed an intrinsic association among Light, Darkness, the eyes, the Original World and the Twin Devils. Now it seemed he would have to include the Zivvers with that group. For, whenever they zivved, there must be less of something around them as a result of that zivving — just as there was less silence when a normal person listened to noise. And that lessness, in the Zivvers’ case, might well be the lessness he was seeking — a lessness of Darkness!

Recalling that Della was a Zivver, he was suddenly anxious to return to the Upper Level so he could keep an ear on her and perhaps hear what there was less of in her vicinity whenever she zivved.

Jared brushed the curtain aside.

“Good-by, son — and good luck,” Cyrus called, then sneezed.

Jared dismissed his Official Escort at the last bend before the entrance to the Upper Level. There would be no need for them to wait for the runner who had come ahead, since it had been decided that the man would remain here for a while.

In a way, he was glad to get rid of the others. The Captain had kept on complaining of a sore throat and another of the crew had coughed so much it was hard to hear the tones of the clickstones.

Moreover, those who had no complaint over personal discomfort had been on edge over the fact that they thought they detected the scent of the monster from time to time. Jared himself could smell nothing — not with his nose stopped up the way it was. Nor could he hear very much, since the general stuffiness in his head seemed to have extended to his ear passages too.

Shivering with a chill, he sounded his stones for maximum volume and staggered on down the passageway, wishing all the while that he’d reported in to the Injury Treatment Grotto instead of going on with Declaration of Unification Intentions.

He rounded the sweeping curve and paused, listening ahead. There was brisk activity up there — rock being cast down on top of rock, methodically but swiftly. Voices — the voices of two men mumbling in desperate tones, swearing and invoking the name of Light Almighty.

Rattling his pebbles more intently, he listened to the clicks echo against the men as they darted about collecting rocks and depositing them in a heap against one wall of the Upper Level entrance.

Then he realized he was hearing silent sound — in front of the pair! It was attached to the wall.

The small bundle of frozen echoes seemed to be plastered there and the men were frantically covering it up with stones. One of them belatedly heard Jared’s presence, shouted fearfully and bolted back into the world.

“It’s only Fenton — from the Lower Level,” the other called.

But it was audible that the man didn’t intend to return.

Jared started forward and drew back, dismayed. Again he was certain the screaming silence wasn’t reaching him through his ears. He was actually hearing (if that was the word for it) the stuff with his eyes! He proved that much by turning his head the other way; he instantly became altogether unaware of its presence.

When he turned back, the bundle of soundless noise was gone — completely. And it seemed significant that he had heard the man put the final rock on the pile, thereby finishing the echo barrier.

“You’d better get inside,” the other warned, “before the monster comes back!”

“What happened?”

Reflections of his words fetched a composite of the man raising a trembling hand to wipe perspiration off his face. “The monster didn’t take anyone this time. It only stayed out here swabbing the wall with—”

He screamed and shook his hand violently in front of him. Then he plunged deafly down the passage, sobbing, “Light Almighty!”

Jared readily heard what had frightened the other. The palm of his hand was full of the roaring silence!

He advanced curiously on the rock pile. But a seizure of coughing drove home the realization of how sick he was and he stumbled on into the Upper Level World.

There was nobody at the entrance to meet him this time, so he used the clacks of the central caster to sound his way to the Wheel’s grotto. He found Anselm pacing behind the curtain and muttering to himself, grim-voiced and tense.

“Come in, my boy — rather, Prime Survivor,” the Wheel invited. “Wish I could say I’m glad to have you back.”

He returned to his pacing and Jared dropped miserably down on a bench. He cupped his feverish face in his hands.

“Sorry to hear about your father, my boy. I was shocked when the runner told me. We’ve had three people taken by the monsters since you left.”

“I came back,” Jared said weakly, “to Declare Unification In—”

“Unification Intentions — compost!” Anselm boiled over as he faced Jared with hands on his hips. “At a time like this you’ve got Unification on your mind?”

When Jared didn’t answer, he said, “Sorry, my boy. But we’re on edge up here-with monsters running all over the place and hot springs drying Up. Five more boiled out yesterperiod. I understand you’ve been having the same trouble.”

Jared nodded, not particularly caring whether the Wheel heard.

Anselm mumbled some more and said, “Unification! Didn’t the runner tell you I’d decided to put things off until we can do something about all these other complications?”

“I haven’t heard the runner. Where is he?”

“I sent him back early this period.”

Jared slumped on the bench, his body boiling like a turbulent spring. The runner had already left but hadn’t reached the Lower Level. And they hadn’t passed him on the way up. Only ominous significance could be attached to the fact that several members of the Official Escort — those with clear noses, at least — had told of smelling the lingering scent of the monster in the passageway.

His lungs convulsed in a coughing spell and when he finished he was aware the Adviser had entered the grotto and was standing there listening intensely down at him.

“Well, Fenton,” Lorenz said bluntly, “what do you make of all this monster business?”

Jared trembled with another chill. “I don’t know what to think of it.”

“I’ve told the Wheel what I think: The Zivvers have gone back to their old tricks. They’re taking Survivors as slaves. And they’re in league with the Twin Devils to accomplish their purpose.”

“And I say that’s ridiculous,” put in Anselm. “We even heard the monsters take a Zivver!”

“How do we know that wasn’t something they wanted us to hear?”

Anselm snorted. “If the Zivvers are going to start taking slaves again, they’d just do it.”

Lorenz was silent. But it was an adamant silence. It was readily audible he was going to insist the monsters and Zivvers were working together. And Jared could understand why: If the Adviser intended to accuse him of being a Zivver, he was going to make certain the accusation also included indirect blame for the presence of the monsters.

“I’m sure Della will want to hear your decision on Unification, my boy.” Anselm took the Adviser by the arm and swept the curtain aside. “I’ll send her in.”

Jared coughed, spanned his steaming forehead with a trembling hand and shivered.

A short while later the girl entered and drew in a sharp breath as she stood with her back against the curtain.

“Jared!” she exclaimed with deep concern. “You’re boiling! What’s wrong?”

He was surprised at first that she could hear his fever all the way across the grotto. But fever was heat. And heat was the stuff Zivvers zivved, wasn’t it?

“I don’t know,” he managed.

For a moment he had almost generated interest in the fact that she was here and zivving. And that now was his chance to listen closely and perhaps hear whether there was a lessness of something around her while she zivved. But his purpose faded away in another jarring shiver.

Della closed the curtain securely behind her and came over. He turned his head and coughed and she knelt before him, feeling the heat in his arms and face. And he heard her features twist with concern.

But she pushed the expression aside for something that was evidently more urgent. “Jared, I’m sure the Adviser knows you’re a Zivver!” she whispered. “He hasn’t come out and said so, but he keeps reminding everybody how remarkable your senses are!”

Jared swayed forward, caught himself and sat there trembling and perspiring, his head roaring, spinning.

“Don’t you hear why he made you shoot at that target among the hot springs?” she went on. “He knows what too much heat does to a Zivver! He was just trying to find out if you—”

The girl’s words faded into oblivion as he toppled forward off the bench.

When finally he awoke, there was the waning taste in his mouth of medicinal mold and the vague memory of having been forced to swallow the mushy substance several times.

Too, he sensed that during the entire period — or was it longer? — he had lain semiconscious in the Wheel’s grotto, Kind Survivoress had tried to force her way back into his delirious dreams. Perhaps she had even succeeded. But he could recall neither her successful intrusion nor the dreams themselves.

Now he felt only an inner calm and comfort. His throat was smooth again and the pounding fever had left his head. Even if he was not entirely well, he felt certain that only a full return of his strength stood in the way of complete recovery.

Gradually, he became aware of restrained breathing at the other end of the grotto and recognized the rhythm and depth of the breaths as Della’s.

There was the firm, supple sound of thigh and calf muscles working together as she paced — nervously, he could tell by the erratic steps — to the curtain and back again.

Then she came abruptly over to the slumber ledge and shook him desperately. “Jared, wake up!”

He could tell from the urgency in her voice that she had been trying to arouse him for some time.

“I’m awake.”

“Oh, thank Light!” Some of her hair had come out of the band that held it tightly behind her head and had fallen across her face. She brushed it aside and he got a clearer impression of smooth, precise features that were taut with solicitude.

“You’ve got to get out of here!” she went on in a strained whisper. “The Adviser’s convinced Uncle Noris you’re a Zivver! They’re going to—”

There was the sound of nearby conversation in the outside world and Jared heard the soft current of air swirl around her face as she jerked her head toward the curtain, then back again.

“They’re coming!” she warned. “Maybe we can slip out before they get here!”

He tried to rise but fell back down, weak and puzzled, as he suddenly realized the girl didn’t customarily bend an ear toward an interesting noise, as everyone else did. She always kept her face pointed directly at anything that held her attention. Which meant she didn’t ziv with her ears! But, then, what did she ziv with?

The voices outside came more clearly through the curtain now.

Adviser: “Of course I’m dead certain he’s a Zivver! As good a marksman as he is, he couldn’t hit a simple stationary target in the manna orchard. And you know as well as I do that Zivvers are confused by excessive heat.”

Wheel: “It does seem incriminating.”

Adviser: “And what about Aubrey? We sent him out to cover over that silent sound the monster left on the wall outside. That was two periods ago and he’s been missing ever since. Who was the last one to hear him?”

Wheel, coughing hoarsely: “Byron says that when he ran back into the world, Fenton was still out there with Aubrey.”

Adviser, sneezing: “There you are! And if you need any more proof that Fenton’s a Zivver who has conspired with the monsters, you have one of our basic beliefs to go by.”

Wheel: “The one that says any Survivor who consorts with Cobalt or Strontium will become deathly sick.”

They stepped deliberately toward the grotto entrance.

Wheel, with a sniffle: “What’ll we do with him?”

Adviser: “The Pit’ll hold him for the moment.” Another sneeze. “Being a Zivver, he’ll be worth something as a hostage, no doubt.”

When they drew the curtain aside Jared heard several armed Protectors taking their posts outside the grotto.

Wheel Anseim came and stood beside Jared, edging Della aside. “Has he made any wakeful noises yet?”

“He’s not a Zivver!” she pleaded. “Let him alone!”

Jared heard that her face was turned directly toward the Wheel. And again he caught the fleeting impression of her hand brushing hair away from her forehead — away from her eyes, actually.

And now he remembered that just before she had handed him the tubular object the monsters had left behind, she had brought it up before her and held it on a level with her face.

It was her eyes that she was zivving with!

Anselm seized his arm and shook him roughly. “All right — up off that ledge! We can hear you’re awake!”

Feebly, Jared struggled to his feet. Lorenz seized his other arm, but he shook off the grip.

“Protectors!” the Adviser shouted anxiously.

And the guards hurried in.