circled over the city. The highways were asphalt runes, incomplete, leading only to the pit.
Her mind came closer to the ground and returned to her, rushing through the domes where people still slept, dolls thrown on the mats by a careless child. She was staring once again at the metal apparatus in front of her.
Almost ready. It was a whisper, in her mind but not of it. The Aadae rose and began to walk back to their dome, leading their blinded sisters by the hand. Suzanne blinked. There were black spots before her eyes and she realized that she must have been staring at the sun for part of the time.
Her body was a burden which she hoisted to its feet. She would rest, and feed herself, then let her mind roam again.
An Aada near her began to wail. Suzanne opened her mouth and sang with her; her soprano was a bird flying over, then alighting on, the alien’s clear mellow contralto. She soared effortlessly, and her crystalline tones circled over the lower voice, then flew on over the clouds to the sun.
Suzanne sat by the highway, away from the late afternoon shadows cast on the ground by the domes. She set her device in front of her and prepared her mind for its work.
She was suddenly frightened, and remembered the morning, long ago, when she had fled from the Aadae in fear. Throw it away. She recoiled from the metal construct before her. Someone, please, tell me what to do. The world was silent, the road empty.
Once more. She watched the blue stone on the device. It began to grow larger, drawing her mind into a blue vortex. She swam in a shimmering dark sea and shafts of light, sharp as spears of glass, pierced her eyes.
She was hurtling over the Earth, following the sun to the west. She moved through the eye of a storm and danced on the pinwheel of clouds. The Earth shrank beneath her and she turned to the moon, brushing against its rocky lifeless surface. Its craters were empty, its mountain peaks sharp, its shadows cold. She fled from the moon and was lost in darkness, heavy black velvet draped over her, pressing at her.
She pushed the blackness away. Now she was falling, spiraling uncontrollably toward the sun. Its flaming surface was a battleground screaming across space, crying for death, reaching out to immolate her. Two flares erupted on the surface and became wispy appendages, the arms of a lover seeking an embrace. No. The star thundered at her. Another flare rose and flung her into the emptiness.
A whisper reached her, almost as insubstantial as the flare dissolving around her. Not yet, you are not ready. Frightened, she flew from the conflagration, moving outward until the planets were round pebbles and the sun only a distant lantern.
An invisible web surrounded her, pulling her toward a far red ruby glittering among diamonds. She passed a young world, still boiling, streaked with red and yellow streams. The red star in front of her grew larger and she drifted through its diffuse strands, to be met on the other side by a shaft of blue-white light. A tiny white sun circled the red star, a fierce sentry ready to defend its tired companion. She was pulled on, past a large gaseous world where heavy tentacled beasts fought in green seas, past a blue star around which dead rocks revolved, past a yellow sun linking flare-arms with its twin. She struggled against the web around her. Take me back. The web traveled more rapidly and she could catch only a glimpse of the worlds she passed.
Ahead of her lay clusters of suns, crowded together in the galactic hub, revolving slowly with companions or shrieking in death, murdering servant worlds around them. She whirled over them and retreated into memory:
Herds of automobiles stampeded through the streets. Their motors were an omnipresent growl, a subliminal threat. Trucks, oblivious to the smaller beasts around them, rolled by majestically; smaller cars made up for their lack in size by the use of clever tactics and, occasionally, increased belligerence. Suzanne
Her mind came closer to the ground and returned to her, rushing through the domes where people still slept, dolls thrown on the mats by a careless child. She was staring once again at the metal apparatus in front of her.
Almost ready. It was a whisper, in her mind but not of it. The Aadae rose and began to walk back to their dome, leading their blinded sisters by the hand. Suzanne blinked. There were black spots before her eyes and she realized that she must have been staring at the sun for part of the time.
Her body was a burden which she hoisted to its feet. She would rest, and feed herself, then let her mind roam again.
An Aada near her began to wail. Suzanne opened her mouth and sang with her; her soprano was a bird flying over, then alighting on, the alien’s clear mellow contralto. She soared effortlessly, and her crystalline tones circled over the lower voice, then flew on over the clouds to the sun.
Suzanne sat by the highway, away from the late afternoon shadows cast on the ground by the domes. She set her device in front of her and prepared her mind for its work.
She was suddenly frightened, and remembered the morning, long ago, when she had fled from the Aadae in fear. Throw it away. She recoiled from the metal construct before her. Someone, please, tell me what to do. The world was silent, the road empty.
Once more. She watched the blue stone on the device. It began to grow larger, drawing her mind into a blue vortex. She swam in a shimmering dark sea and shafts of light, sharp as spears of glass, pierced her eyes.
She was hurtling over the Earth, following the sun to the west. She moved through the eye of a storm and danced on the pinwheel of clouds. The Earth shrank beneath her and she turned to the moon, brushing against its rocky lifeless surface. Its craters were empty, its mountain peaks sharp, its shadows cold. She fled from the moon and was lost in darkness, heavy black velvet draped over her, pressing at her.
She pushed the blackness away. Now she was falling, spiraling uncontrollably toward the sun. Its flaming surface was a battleground screaming across space, crying for death, reaching out to immolate her. Two flares erupted on the surface and became wispy appendages, the arms of a lover seeking an embrace. No. The star thundered at her. Another flare rose and flung her into the emptiness.
A whisper reached her, almost as insubstantial as the flare dissolving around her. Not yet, you are not ready. Frightened, she flew from the conflagration, moving outward until the planets were round pebbles and the sun only a distant lantern.
An invisible web surrounded her, pulling her toward a far red ruby glittering among diamonds. She passed a young world, still boiling, streaked with red and yellow streams. The red star in front of her grew larger and she drifted through its diffuse strands, to be met on the other side by a shaft of blue-white light. A tiny white sun circled the red star, a fierce sentry ready to defend its tired companion. She was pulled on, past a large gaseous world where heavy tentacled beasts fought in green seas, past a blue star around which dead rocks revolved, past a yellow sun linking flare-arms with its twin. She struggled against the web around her. Take me back. The web traveled more rapidly and she could catch only a glimpse of the worlds she passed.
Ahead of her lay clusters of suns, crowded together in the galactic hub, revolving slowly with companions or shrieking in death, murdering servant worlds around them. She whirled over them and retreated into memory:
Herds of automobiles stampeded through the streets. Their motors were an omnipresent growl, a subliminal threat. Trucks, oblivious to the smaller beasts around them, rolled by majestically; smaller cars made up for their lack in size by the use of clever tactics and, occasionally, increased belligerence. Suzanne
Similar Books
