Feersum Endjinn

1

The cell was dark. She had been troubled by strange dreams and awoke, restless and disturbed in her narrow cot. She tried to get back to sleep but could not. She lay on her back, trying in vain to remember what she had been dreaming about. She opened her eyes to the darkness, and when she rolled over again noticed a tiny glow of pale light coming from the floor. She gazed down at it. It was like a pearl, lit from inside, and so faint she could only see it when she didn't look straight at it. She put her hand out to touch it. It felt cold. It was stuck to the floor. She caught a hint of movement inside, and got out of the bed, kneeling on the floor and putting one eye up to the tiny glowing pearl.

Inside the pearl she saw ice and snow and cloud and somebody standing dressed in furs.

Without hesitating, she plucked the pearl from the floor. It was damp and cold in her fingers, like ice. The tiny hole in the floor glowed more brightly now; the scene below was clearer. She wished she could slip through into that other place, and found herself shrinking — or the hole and the cell around her expanding — until she was able to do just that.

She awoke on a frozen lake; a huge sheet of ice stretching smoothly away in every direction to a pale grey horizon. Above was a roof of white cloud.

It was very cold. She was dressed in a fur hat and a calf-length coat. Her boots were long and her hands were clasped together inside a fur muff. Her breath smoked in front of her.

In the distance she saw a black dot. It gradually enlarged until eventually it resolved into a man rowing a kind of spindly frame across the ice. He didn't turn round to look at her, but stopped rowing some distance away and coasted to a halt level with her and about a stone's throw distant. He wore a thin, tight-fitting one-piece suit and a thin cap. He sat, still not looking at her, breathing hard and leaning forwards to rest on the claw-oars he held.

She looked down at her boots, which became ice skates. She glided over and stopped neatly, facing him.

He was middle-aged but fit-looking in a stocky, compact sort of way. There was a sculpted leanness hinted at in his face and his hair was thick and black. He looked slightly surprised. 'Who the hell are you?' he asked.

'Asura,' she said, nodding. 'And you?'

'Hortis,' he said. He turned and looked around and behind him. 'I thought I was alone here. They don't usually…' his voice trailed off as he looked back at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'What do you want here?' he asked her.

'Nothing,' she said.

'They all want something,' he said, sounding bitter. 'You must, too. What is it?'

She shook her head. 'I don't know what I want,' she admitted. 'I wanted to be here, and I'm here.' She thought. 'I can't go anywhere else. They keep trying to make me answer questions. Apart from —'

'And you're not ill or sick or needing to be rescued?' he asked, a sneer on his face.

'No,' she told him, puzzled. 'Are you?'

'Only from this nonsense,' he said, not looking at her, but checking the angle of the claw-oars. He levered them back and flicked them down into the ice. 'Tell them nice try; at least they're getting more subtle.' He pulled on the claw-oars and the A-shaped frame rumbled off across the ice, gaining speed with each sweep of the oars the man made.

She hesitated, then set off after him, skating smoothly in his wake. He looked annoyed. He lengthened his stroke, trying to outdistance her, but she kept up with him. She loved the feel of the ice under the blades on her feet and the cold air on her face. Warmth spread from her legs as she pushed after the man in his strange, spindly craft. He was pulling quite hard now and she was struggling to keep up, but he didn't look comfortable with the pace he'd set either. His face grew more angry-looking.

She wanted to laugh, but did not.

'How long have you been here?' she asked him.

She thought he wasn't going to answer, but then he said, 'Too damn long.' He gave one explosive sigh and settled back to a more steady rowing rhythm, seemingly giving up his attempt to pull away from her.

'Why are you here?' she asked.

'I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours,' he said, smiling humourlessly, and shook his head as he watched his claw-oars flick and bite.

'Where did you come from?' she asked patiently.

Again, she thought he wasn't going to answer. It looked like he was thinking hard. Finally he said — suddenly looking straight at her —'The tower.'

She ceased to push after him and glided on for some time, skates parallel, then felt herself brake gently. The man had stopped rowing, though his own momentum was still drawing him further away over the ice from her. He was frowning.

She came to a stop.

'The tower,' she whispered to herself.

The man who had called himself Hortis slowed and stopped the fragile-looking ice-boat, some distance off. He was looking at her strangely, his head tipped to one side. Then he angled one oar behind him and the other in front and pulled them together to turn the craft and come back to her.

The small craft rumbled a length past her and stopped. He shipped the claw-oars, leaning forward and looking intently at her. He gazed at her for a while, then appeared to come to a decision.

'All right, then,' he said. 'Maybe I've been in here too long, or maybe I just can't resist a pretty face, but I suppose it can't do any harm.' He gave a small smile. 'I was one of a small group of scientists and mathematicians who opposed the Consistory. We believed their desire to hold on to power had entirely superseded any duty to govern for the general good; our conspiracy — which had started at university and never really been more than a secret club — became more serious when the Encroachment was discovered and we began to suspect that the Consistory — with the King as its puppet — was doing less than it might to find a solution to the emergency.

'We pursued many different courses. We tried to contact the Cryptosphere's chaotic levels, believing that at least part of the so-called chaos was in fact an AI nexus at odds with the Consistory's philosophy. We set up secret transmitters in an attempt to contact the deep-space monitoring system the Diaspora was supposed to have left in watch over us, and we tried to elicit some sort of response from the fast-tower, where rumours had it that either an uncorrupted crypt core existed, or, again, elements remained which were still in touch with the Diaspora.

'A couple of days ago, in base-time, we apparently received a signal from the heights of the fast-tower. It was… couched in slightly eccentric terms, but appeared to be genuine.

'The signal confirmed some of our suspicions concerning the Consistory's lack of sincerity in finding a way to defeat the Encroachment. It did not seem to indicate that it was in touch with whatever remains of our space-going ancestors, though it did talk of some system left behind by the Diaspora which might ensure the survival of all of us. The message — or at least its ramifications — led…' the man sighed, and looked sad, 'to our conspiracy being betrayed and me ending up here, and,' he said, looking straight into her eyes, 'it talked of another part of the crypt, some uncorrupted section which contained the key to the Diaspora-donated survival system. This key would be sent here, to Serehfa, and it would come in the form of something called an asura…' — he smiled, and in that smile she saw a kind of sadness, some defensive cynicism, and an unspoken hope —'… Asura,' he finished. He shrugged. 'Your turn.'

She looked down at him, while inside her mind what felt like great slabs of ice slipped and slotted, colliding, joining, fusing and interconnecting.

She took a deep breath.

2

'Chief Scientist Gadfia?'

The voice had come from the scrawny-necked bird squatting on the shoulders of the ape-human who in turn sat behind the head of the chimeric mammoth. The ape-human glared down at her, grinning inanely. The other mammoths to either side shuffled a little in the darkness, pale human faces looking down from each of them as well. She gulped. 'Well, sort of," she said.

– Hello? she said, inside, trying to find her own voice, but within was only silence.

'All praise,' the bird said, its voice echoing in the complex of hidden tunnels and galleries around them. The creature hopped to and fro from one foot to the other. 'Love is god. Well met by darkness, truth-seeker Gadfia. For darkness gives birth to light. All here are hallowed, hallowed in hollow, the hollowness that supports, the centre that is the absence that gives strength, the hollow darkness that underlies supporting light, seeker-after-illumination Gadfia. Please (Hiddier: trunk!); come with us. There is work to do.'

The mammoth extended its trunk towards her; a giant, tapered hairy snake with a naked, glistening double orifice at the end from which a damp, subtly fetid gust of air issued.

She stared.

– Back.

– Thank goodness. Where did you-?

– I was snooping where I shouldn't have been and I was almost caught by Security. Cut me off for a while.

– Good grief. Do you know where-?

– You're riding through vast dark dripping tunnels on the back of a chimeric mammoth with a dumb, naked and deformed semi-human and a lammergeier that talks like some ancient preacher and reminds you of the message from the fast-tower.

– Correct. And I can't get sense out of anybody. The bird spouts religious balderdash and the humanoid just grins, hoots and dribbles. I was thinking of asking the mammoth what was going on next.

– At least you went with them.

– Did I have a choice?

– I suppose you forgot about the gun.

– Oh.

– It doesn't matter. You did the right thing. Never mind; guess who I've been talking to.

– Surprise me.

– The fast-tower.

– What?

– Well, an emissary thereof; it can't get back in touch with the tower for fear of chaotic contamination, but it represents it.

– How? Where? What's-?

– The representation just appeared in the crypt; an old white man with white hair and flowing white robes. The thing prolif­erated illegally — set off system crashes everywhere; everybody thought it was some vast attack from the chaos until they found how easy it was to trap and kill; I don't think the tower is very good with humans. Anyway, the copies all started trying to talk to anybody who'd listen. The Cryptographers mopped most of them up and they're tracking down the others but I was able to find one of the copies and quiz it.

-And?

– There is an asura and it's here, it's in Serehfa, it's on its way, but it's being held up. The tower seems pretty confused itself about who and what it is, but it believes it's here somewhere and it needs help.

– Are you sure this isn't some Security or Cryptographers' trick?

– Fairly. There is another aspect to all this.

– What?

– We have an ally.

– Who?

– Myself, ma'am, said another voice, a male voice, in her head, startling her. — How do you do.

– Oh. Hello, she thought, and felt flustered. Who are you?

– Call me Alan. Pleased to meet you, madam Chief Scientist, though in fact we have met before, in a sense. Whatever; I dare say we shall communicate again.

– Ah, right, yes, she thought, still not sure how to respond.

– That was him, said her own voice again.

– I guessed that, but who-?

– Another planetes, Gadfium, another wanderer in the system, though this one's been here a lot longer than I. He's kind of cagey about revealing who he really is but I get the impression his human original was pretty powerful and important. His current self is extremely well informed and knows his way about the crypt better than the Cryptographers. It would seem he came to the same conclusion the tower did about the efficacy of using chimeric agents rather than humans to slip past Security.

– I hate to sound a note of caution again, but —

– No, I don't think he's a plant for Security. He found me, lurking around where they're holding the asura. If it hadn't been for him Security would have got me.

– So you think.

– I know. Look, it was he who put me on to the chimerics you're with.

Gadfium looked at the back of the half-human thing in front of her. It was dark and matted and she suspected if the light had been better she'd have seen things crawling in the creature's hair. The giant bird which had been perched on the thing's shoulders had flown off down the black tunnel, cackling. Below her, the mammoth swayed from side to side with a surprisingly rapid motion as it led the twenty-strong herd down the huge tunnel. The other humanoids riding, legs clenched behind the heads of the mammoths, grinned widely and made excited fist-clenching gestures at her when she turned to look at them.

Gadfium scratched and tried not to think how far down the ground was.

– Well, tell him thanks for that, I think, she told her crypt self. But where exactly are we going and what precisely are we supposed to do?

– You're the cavalry; we're riding to the rescue, Gadfium! her other self said, excited.

– I thought I was the one needing to be rescued.

– Well, you've become the rescuer, Gad. We're going to free the asura.

– We're what?

– You're on your way to Oubliette, the sea-port under the fastness. That's where Security are holding the asura. Alan and I can do most of it, but physically, to rescue the girl, we may need you. And the chimerics, of course. The mammoths and the semi-humans seem to be under the influence of our friend, the lammergeier… Well, I'm still trying to work it out. Could be connected with the tower.'

Gadfium couldn't think what to say for a while. She stared into the darkness ahead, where she could just make out the heat signature of the returning lammergeier. She imagined the dark, buried city of Oubliette coming closer ahead, and herself riding with a preaching bird, twenty cretinous semi-humans and as many house-high mammoths to do battle with the elite of Security and probably the Cryptographers too.

The scaly-necked bird flapped and settled on the broad hairy shoulders of the creature ahead of her.

'Have faith in the nothing,' it said in a quiet screech. 'Faith is the eye that sees nothing and rejoices in it. Unknowingness absolves the future path of danger. The eye sees, sees nothing, and so has faith. Fair set, all are hallowed. Shanti.'

Gadfium shook her head and looked down at the matted fur of the huge animal she bestrode, feeling its damp, rank heat welling up around her like doubt.

– Are we both mad? she asked her crypt self, — Or is it just you?

3

The angel was tall and sleek and sensually asexual; its eyes and hair were gold, its skin shone like liquid bronze. Its clothes were confined to a loincloth and a small waistcoat. Its wings varied from the coppery tint of its body at their roots through every shade of blue to white at the very tips of the feathers. It flew with an elegant effortlessness and landed lightly in front of him.

He had stopped laughing, not wanting to appear impolite.

The angel bowed slowly and deeply to him.

When it spoke its voice was like something beyond music, each phoneme, syllable and word at once utterly clear and yet setting off a symphony of tones which fanned instantly out from the primary expression like an avalanche down a pristine slope.

'Welcome, sir. You have travelled a long way to be here with us at last.'

He nodded. 'Thank you. Had we met during any other day of my journey I would have greeted you somewhat better dressed.'

The angel smiled, but did not look at his nakedness. 'Please, sir,' it said, and like a conjurer flourished one hand, and was suddenly holding a large black cape, which it held out to him.

'I'm grateful for the gesture,' he said, not taking the cape. 'But if its utility is restricted to saving my blushes, I'd prefer to remain as I am.'

'As you wish,' the angel said, and the cape was gone.

'Tell me,' he said. 'Did I misinterpret something, or was I summoned here?"

'You were, sir. We would ask something of you.'

'Who is this "we"?'

'A one-time part of the data corpus charged with overseeing the functioning of the rest, and with the monitoring of our world's welfare.'

'No small brief. And your current intentions?'

'We will attempt to contact a system set up long ago which may help deliver us from what has been called the Encroach­ment.'

'And how exactly is it supposed to do that?'

The angel smiled dazzlingly. 'We have no idea.'

He could not help but smile too. 'And what part may I play?'

The angel lowered its head, its gaze still fastened on him. 'You can give us your soul, Alandre," it said, and Sessine felt something quail within him.

'What?' he said, crossing his arms. 'Aren't we being rather metaphysical?'

'It is the most meaningful way to express what we'd ask of you.'

'My soul,' he said, hoping he sounded sceptical.

The angel nodded slowly. 'Yes; the essence of who you are. If you are to help us you must surrender that.'

'Such things may be copied.'

'They may. But is that what you want?'

He looked into the angel's eyes for some time. He sighed. 'Will I still be me?'

The angel shook its head. 'No.'

'Then whom?'

'What will exist is what we create from you, and with you.' The angel shrugged; a magnificent and beautiful flutter of shoulders and wings. 'Another person, with aspects of yourself within them, and more you than anybody else, but not you.'

'But will something of me remain that will remember this, and my time here, and who I was, and so know what became of me from this point, and whether I… did any good?'

'Perhaps.'

'You can put it no more strongly than that?' ;

'I cannot. Partly, that aspect would depend on you, but I'd lie if I told you the chances are good.'

'And if I refuse to help you?'

'Then you may walk away. We can furnish you with items to replace those you lost in the water and you may resume your travels. On your funeral, in another fifty or so years of crypt-time, I assume you will have the usual courtesies accorded you and so take your place within the Cryptosphere. Twenty thousand years of crypt-time await even before the Encroachment is complete; there will be far, far longer than that before matters become desperate in the physical world.'

He felt he had to insist, even though he listened to himself speak and felt ashamed: 'There is a chance of some continuity though; some element of me might survive which will remember this and know the connection, know what I did?'

'Indeed,' the angel said, with what was almost a bow. 'A chance.'

'Hmm,' he said. 'Oh well, it's been a long life.' He gave a small laugh. 'Lives.' He smiled at the angel, but it looked sad.

Strangely, he felt sad for it, too. 'What do I do?'

'Come with me,' the angel said, and was suddenly a small dark-haired, white-skinned man dapperly dressed in a three-piece suit and carrying a hat, cane and gloves. He flourished the hand holding his pair of spotless white gloves, indicating the path back through the garden.

Sessine went with him, walking side by side along the path to where a rotunda set on a small hill was revolving slowly and ris­ing; its revealed base was in the shape of a huge cylindrical screw, and gradually an aperture came into view, rotating with the rotunda, its full size being revealed after a few more revolutions.

They climbed the path to the now motionless rotunda. The doorway faced them. It was dark at first, then it began to glow with a warm orange-yellow light, like side-lit fog.

'Merely enter, and you will have done all we ask of you. If you carry something of your being through what awaits here, you may do what you ask of yourself.'

He took a step forward. The doorway shone like hazy sunlight. He smelled the sea again. He hesitated and turned to the little man who had been in the form of an angel.

'And you?'

The little man smiled wryly and looked back over the trees at the grey heights of the quiet tower, proud against the sky's last dusky light. 'I cannot go back,' he said, and sounded resigned. 'I shall probably stay here, in the garden, to tend it.' He looked around. 'I have often thought it exhibits too perfect an elegance. It could do with some… love.' He turned back, grinning self-consciously. 'Or I may wander the level, as you have done. Perhaps both, consecutively.'

He put his hand on the small man's shoulder and nodded at the beautiful tower. 'I'm sorry you can't go back.'

'Thank you for having asked, and for saying so.' The small man frowned and seemed to hesitate. 'Perhaps,' he said, 'my "perhaps" earlier was overly pessimistic.'

'We'll see. Fare well.'

'And you, sir.'

They shook hands, and then Sessine turned and walked through the doorway into the glowing mist.

4

Hoo-wee! Am probly hier than nbody els in thi hole wyde wurld rite now, xeptin onli thi peepil in thi fass-towr assoomin thers nbody up thare ov coarse.

Thi baloon is a grate enormis shado abuv me. Am hangin undir it by whot lukes lyk a pair ov freds from a wispy net ov moar freds whot loop ovir thi big sfeer. Thi lammergeiers strapt theez 3 oxijin tanx 2 my chest & gaiv me this lite litil pakidje 2 put on my bak. Av got anuthir mask on now, 2.

& a botil ov wotir.

& wormir cloves.

& a torch,

& a nife.

& a hedake, tho thats probly thi leest ov my problims, but nevermind.

& av got a parashoot 2, tho that mite ½ go when I get a bit hier up.

Thi birdz @ thi botim ov thi shaft seemd 2 b in a bit ov a hury & I only got about 10 minits ov instruxin on how 2 control thi baloon while I woz getin kittid out wif thi hi-alt clovin & stuf, but it boils down 2 yoosin a cupil ov pairs ov lines 2 pool hinjd flaps like airbrayks whitch shude steer me a bit, + (2 control my speed ov assent) waitin 4 thi baloon 2 slo down & then cuttin off lenfs ov plastic tyoobin sikyoord 2 thi same freds holdin me.

Thi lammergeiers brot thi baloon out ov a big shed in thi cavern @ thi foot ov thi shaft; it ran on rales atatchd 2 thi seelin. Thi baloon is juss a big sfeer fool ov vacyoom; iss as simpil as that. It lukes greyish & akordin 2 thi birds iss made ov sum sorta stuf simla 2 thi fabric ov thi cassil, so it muss b prity strong. Thi freds wer olredy draped ovir thi baloon.

Whot if busts? I askd, jokin reely, but thi hed bird luked kind ov awkwird & sed sumfin about uthir modils wif litlr baloons inside them not bein up 2 thi job & if it was goan 2 burst it wude b low down probly & they wude giv me a parashoot 4 lowir altitoods.

Nway, not 2 wury I sed, kinda wishin I hadnt askd in thi 1st place.

I got my flyin lessin, they wayd me, then they gave me thi vayrayis bits ov stuf, strapt me in, pooshd thi baloon — wif me hangin undir it — along thi rales out in2 thi botim ov thi shaft & along 2 juss b4 whare thi rales endid. They atatchd thi lenfs ov plastic toobin 2 thi harnis in frunt ov me & that was us redy.

Gude luk, mastir Bascule, thi hed bird sed. We wish u ol thi best.

Me 2, I sed, witch mite not ½ been very grayshis, but @ leest it was tru. O, & fanks 4 ol yoor help, I sed.

U r welcum, thi hed lammergeier sed. It seemd 2 stifin, then sed, We'd betir get on wif it; things apeer 2 b cumin 2 a hed. It went qwiet 4 a moment, then seemd 2 nod 2 itself. I wude advise u not 2 yoose thi kript 4 thi momint, it told me.

Ritey-ho, I sed, & gave thi fums up sine.

They poold sum leevirs & thi rales abuv me swung up & opin; thi baloon took off with a whoosh ov air, draggin me & thi lenfs ov plastic toobin up wif it. It was like follin upwirds. Felt like my stumik was poold down 2 ma boots.

They ithir cloasd thi doars 2 thi caverin alongside thi botim ov thi shaft or poot thi lites out, bcoz it ol went dark down thare & I was left wif juss thi dark greyness ov thi shaft wols. Thi slipstreme wind tugd @ my cloves.

Thi baloon seemd 2 go up prity strate, tho I poold on thi control lines conectid 2 thi hinjd flaps juss 2 make shure they wurkd.

Evin wif ol that toobin & stuf we fairly shot up & I had 2 keep yawnin 2 cleer ma eers. Sum ov thi lammergeiers had floan up inside thi shaft, & I wayvd 2 ther shadoy shapes as I wen past. Thi hoal hooj sirkil ov thi shaft botim seemed 2 shrink like sum cloasin shuttir as me & thi baloon wissild upwirds; prity soon thi birds wheelin roun inside thi shaft had groan 2 smol 2 c, & thi botim ov thi shaft was juss a blak sirkil gettin sloly smolir.

I doan no how meny minits it took 2 get 2 whare I needed oxijin, but it had got prity bleedin coald by then, I can tel u. I woz glad ov thi fermils & stuf they'd givin me. My hed was a bit soar by this time.

I turnd on thi furst oxijin tank & took a bref. Thi baloon had sloed down a lot & I didn want 2 yoose eny moar oxijin than I had 2, so I cut a lenf ov thi toobin off; it was fik stuf like yood make a drane or sumfink out ov & it fel away like a big stiff wurm; thi baloon pikt up speed agen & thi fin air hissd past me.

Thi wols ov thi dark shaft wer plane & boarin, juss lines & rales & okayshinil sirkulir outlines that mite ½ been doars but witch were nevir opin.

Id let 5 ov thi 8 bits ov plastic toobin go when I saw flashes down below, in thi depfs ov thi shaft. A bit later I herd sum muffild bangs.

Ther wer moar breef flashiz, & then I saw a litil wayverin spark ov lite whot didn fade; in fact thi bugir seemd 2 be gettin briter & cloasir.

O fuk, I thot, & cut thi strings holdin thi uthir 3 lenfs ov plastic toobin. Thi baloon whooshd up thi shaft; thi harnis bit in2 my fys & my arms wer dragd down 2 my sides. Thi air roard distintly aroun me & my hedake got wurse.

I wotchd thi 3 bits ov toobin folin away, hopin theyd hit whotevir it woz wos cumin up aftir me, but they didn. Thi rokit — witch is whot I woz assoomin it was — climed on aftir me. I didn want 2 cut my parashoot free & I didn think that wude make mutch difrinse nway + ther woz juss a chanse if thi rokit destroyd thi baloon Id survive & b abil 2 yoose thi parashoot (Ha! Who woz I kidin?). I felt my bladir gettin redy 2 liten me a bit.

Wotir, I thot. I got my wotir botil out & woz about 2 chuk it away when thi fire aroun thi tale ov thi rokit went out. It stil kept cumin 4 bleedin ages mind u, & I woz ½ waytin 4 sum sekind stage or sumfin 2 ignite, & stil hesitaytin about chukin away thi watir botil.

Nevir hapind; thi rokit got 2 wifin about ½ a kilomitir or so & then juss sorta topild ovir & sloly startid 2 fol away, tumblin end ovir end bak in2 thi darkniss & eventyooly disapperin.

I breevd a si ov releef that mistid up my fayce playt. Thi baloon almost scraypd thi side ov thi shaft but wif a bit ov dextriss poolin & a modicum ov swayrin & panikin I got thi dam fing bak on thi erect coarse.

Ther woz a xploshin @ thi botim ov thi shaft.

No moar rokits.

I cuden c upwirds natchirily, but thi base ov thi shaft woz a ofil long way away & I fot I had 2 b neer thi top ov thi fing by now. On thi uthir hand, thi baloon woz stil farely rayssin upwirds, so I gesd I was wrong. Shurenuf, thi clime went on 4 sum time aftir that. My feet & fingirs was startin 2 get reely coald. My hed was aykin fit 2 burst.

I didn feel I woz breevin rite, but cuden remember whot u were supposed 2 do 2 breev rite. I startid 2 wury about whot wude happin if they'd taken thi top off thi tower or I driftid out thi side thru a hoal & went on up in2 spaice. Whot'd I do then? I wunnerd. I luked down; my gluvd fingers wer fiddlin about wif thi valvs on top ov thi litil botils strapt 2 my chest. I shuke my hed. Doin this hurt a lot.

I think I muss ½ blakd out 4 a bit coz when I awoke I was stayshiniry.

My hed stil hurts like hel but @ leest Im alive. Thi baloon iz floatin agenst 1 wol ov thi shaft wif & sorta bobbin me up & down very gently. Its a bit liter @ last. I can c thi traks goan up thi side ov thi shaft in grate detayl, but no doors. I try 2 fink whot I can throw away. A oxijin tank; thers 1 empty. I muss ½ chaynjed ovir 2 thi sekind 1 aftir ol.

I unscrew thi tank wif very coald gluvd fingerz & let it drop.

Thi baloon floats up very sloly.

My hed feels tite & buzzy like itz goan 2 burst & my hoal body feels bloatid like am a baloon maself. Lites sparkin in frunt ov my Is & roarin in ma hed.

Thi baloon stopz, bobbin agen.

Stil no sine ov a doar.

I rok bak & forward as if Im on a swing; this scrapes thi baloon agenst thi side ov thi shaft, but it cant b helped. Swinging qwite hard, I can c a doar — a opin doar! — a bit furthir up thi shaft.

I take a drink from thi watir botil, then let it drop in2 thi darkniss. Thi baloon bobs a bit hier ovir thi next few minits. Neerly thare but not qwite.

I mite need thi nife; cant thro that away. I luke @ my boots & my gluvs, but I suspect it wude be crazy 2 thro them away. I cude throw away thi parashoot but then Id ½ no chanse @ ol ov gettin bak down.

It lukes prity lite up heer; I take thi torch out & throw it downwirds as hard as I can.

I keep thi baloon goan from side 2 side as it floats up a bit hier. I'm levil wif thi doar; its hoomin sized & like a sorta sqware O shape. Lukes dark inside there. I can olmost reech thi doar but I need 2 make thi baloon rok sum moar. Thi baloon floats down a bit & I shout & curse but I keep swingin & swingin & eventyooly I'm whippin bak & forward in a olmost complete ½ sircil & the doars juss about in ranje; I fling out 1 leg & hook on2 thi sill ov thi doarway, then pool myself in wif my legz.

I dunno; I muss b dopey wif thi altitood or sumfin coz I juss undo thi harnis & ov coarse thi baloon races off up thi shaft, neerly draggin me out ov thi doorway @ thi same time; I staggir wif 1 hand flailin out ov thi doar while thi uthir gluv slides along thi flanj inside thi doarway.

I pool maself bak in, gaspin 4 bref. I luke up thi shaft. Thers a big blak coan hangin down filin thi top ov thi shaft, & thers big long hoals like sorta upwirdly-sloapd gill slits lettin in sum lite aroun thi wols ov thi shaft oposit thi coan. Thi lite looks like daylite, tho it must be cumin from a fayr distins as this is thi centir ov thi towr & evribody nose it doan taypir mutch.

Ther's anuthir cupil ov baloons up thare whare thi 1 that brot me up is heddin. I watch mine fump agenst thi side ov thi black coan. It goze on up, neerly disappers out ov 1 ov thi big long slits, then cums 2 a stop @ thi top ov thi shaft, between thi coan & thi shaft side, bobbin like a baloon lost 2 thi seelin @ a kids party.

O u silly fool Bascule, I fink 2 maself. I luke down thi shaft. How am I goan 2 get bak down now? Stil got thi parashoot but wifout thi baloon 2 slo me down inishily thi lammergeiers rekin thi parashoots neerly yoosless. O wel, mite as wel leev thi dam fing heer. I take it off & dump it by thi doarway.

Blimey its coald. I peer in2 thi darkniss beyond thi doar.

Thers anuthir doar & a sorta control-panil lookin thing. Cude b a lift I supose but I shude b so luky. Shurenuf, nuffink hapins when I press thi simbols. I try kriptin, very carefily & short-rainje, so it's reely not like kriptin @ ol. Blimey; ther's nuffink here! Not evin eny lectrix neerby! I never been so far away from thi kript, from sivilizayshin.

Nway, thi poynt is, this elivaiters ded.

Thers anuthir doar 2 1 side. It isnt qwite cloasd. I poosh it opin. Very dark, but thers steps thare ol rite. Ver dark indeed. Wish I stil had that torch. Spyril steps. Bludy big deep steps, 2; muss b only 3 2 a metir. O wel, I fink, tryin 2 encuridje myself; I didn ½ eny uthir plans 4 2day.

I start climein.

I count thi steps in hundreds, tryin 2 keep 2 a stedy rithim. It dozent get eny darkir or eny briter.

I try not 2 think about how hi I am, evin tho thers a kind ov pride in me that Ive got this far. I also try not 2 think about how Im goan 2 get down, or about thi peepil who shot thi rokit @ me & whithir they wil stil b thare if I am abil 2 find a way bak down. I pass anuthir side doar; its lokt. 500 steps. & anuthir doar. Its lokt 2. I also try not 2 fink ov ol thi fings u heer about thi fass towr; about reel ghosts or monstirs from b4 thi Diaspora or from thi depfs ov spaice or juss poot here 2 gard it & stop silly bags from attemptin 2 xploar it. I spend qwite a lot ov my time tryin not 2 fink about ol these fings.

Anuthir doarway. Thi doars r spaiced every 256 steps. Ol lokt so far.

1000 steps.

Suddenly thers sumthin ahed ov me, roun thi turn ov the stare; sumthin that lukes like its alive & waitin & crouchd lukein @ me.

Its stil olmost pitch blak but this things blakir, + its hooj & its poysd ovir me like sum avenjin ainjil ov darkniss. I feel 4 my nife. Thi fing abuv me on thi steps dozent moov. Id like 2 kid myself it iznt reely thare but it is. Cant find my nife. Itz hangin on a bit ov string sumwhare heer but I cant find it; o blimey, o fuk.

I find thi nife & hoald it out in front ov me wif 1 shakin hand. Thi blak thing stil dozent moov. I glanse bhind me. I cant go bak. I stare @ thi motionless thing blokin my way.

It takes a few moar moments 4 me to reelize.

Its thi frozin ded body ov thi lammergeier they sent up b4. I breev a bit eesier (if u can b sed 2 b breevin eesier when yoor lungz feel like thare about 2 cum out down yoor nose 8t yoor skin feels tot & about 2 split like a ripe froot), but when I go up past thi bird I try not 2 tutch it.

I keep goan.

Thers a doar @ 1024 steps, blokin thi way up. I try kriptin but thi doars lectricly ded. Thers a big sorta wheel thing on thi front so I spin it & aftir stikin @ furst, it turns. Aftir a offil lot ov wheel whirlin thers a clik. Thi doar stiks 2 but it opins eventchirly, hissin & skraypin.

On & up.

1500 steps.

I ½ 2 switch 2 thi furd & last oxijin botil @ 1540 steps.

Keep goan, keep goan, keep goan. Round & roun & roun & roun 4evir & evir & evir…

2000. Keep climein. Roarin ears, flashin Is, sikniss in ma stumik, coppery tayst ov blud in ma mouf.

Am xpectin sumthin @ 2048 steps but I cant remember whot it is. I get thare & its a cloasd doar. I remembit thi last 1. Saim performins heer xept this 1 stiks wurse & can hardly moov thi bugir.

2200. 2202. 2222. I want 2 stop here, I keep bashin in2 thi wols & am fritind ov follin ol thi way bak down 2 wharevir it woz I startid from. Its so coald. I cant feel ma feet or ma hands. Tutch my nose wif ma gluv & cant feel that neevir. Hak & spit. Spit goze krik in mid-air. That meenz sumfin but I cant remember whot. Sumfin bad, I fink. 2300. 2303. 2333. Not sutch a good playce 2 stop. Fink Il keep goan.

2444. 2555. 2666.

I doan no whare Im goan nor barely whare I am eny moar. Im in a hooj screw fing what is windin down in2 thi erf as I clime up inside it.

2777. 2888. 2999, 3000.

Then thers a emptiness in ma lungz. I try hard 2 fink.

Im in thi fass towr, in a stareway. 3000 steps. I can c sum lites, but thare juss in ma Is. Nufink in thi tank, nufink in my lungz, nufink in my hed.

256, sumfin keeps tellin me. 256. 256. 256. I doan no whot it is but it keeps bleedin bangin on about 256 256 256 ol thi dam time. 2560; ther woznt enythin thare woz ther? I stand thare, swayin, suddnly finking, O no! Whot if I missd a opin doar? Whot if Ive gon past wharevir it wos I wos suposed 2 b goan?

256 256 256.

O shut up.

256 256 256.

O hel, ol rite; 256; whot's 12 tyms 256?

Bugird if I no. 2 dificult 2 work out.

256 256 256.

Fukin hel Im goan 2 keep goan juss 2 get away from this dam noyse in ma hed.

256 256 256.

3050. Tunil vishin. No noyse but roar. 3055. Sparks gon. Not shure if Im stil climin or not. 3060. Hiest corps in thi cassil miby. Shit, am goan 2 dy & am outa reech ov thi bleedin kript; am goan 2 reely reely dy, 4evir.

Try kriptin but its hard, juss like keepin ma Is opin is hard. Get a hint ov a reply tho. A wee tiny smol voyse goin:

Bascule! Keep going! Keep going! We're almost thare!

O, its Ergates. Ergates thi litil ant. Cum bak 2 me now.

Thass nice. But I ½ 2 brake thi conexin, iss 2 hard 2 mayntayn.

3065. Taykin off thi harnis now; iss yoosless, like thi kript. I can c 2 do it tho. Very coald now. Very very coald.

3070. Moar lite.

3071. Lite; doarway. Doarway 2 thi side. Doan bleev it. Juss anuthir haloosinayshin.

3072. Opin doarway, brite & warm. Lungz on fire. Goan 2 keep goan.

Fol.

Fol in2 thi doarway. Hit thi floar.

Iss gude 2 ly down.

Lites lite up, sounds sound.

Flash!-flash!-flash! Hiss. Vhoot!-vhoot!-vhoot! Clunk. Flash!-flashl!flash! Hiss. Vhoot!-vhoot!-vhoot!

Blimey, I fink, cloasin my Is, I didn no dyin involvd such a bleedin comoshin…