“Come now, Wallace,” said Gelmann calmly. “If it was going to harm us …”
“It would’ve done so by now; yeah, yeah. You’re anthropomorphizing a ball of airborne blue glitter.”
“And you’re afraid of it,” said the supercilious Follingston-Heath.
“Damn straight I’m afraid of it! And don’t you go making accusations here. Colonel. Just because you were in the Victoria League forces doesn’t mean that …”
“You are arguing among yourselves,” the Autothor observed aloud. “Interesting, but it does not tell me what to do next. Therefore, I will engage initial post-hiatal action based on my own analysis of the present situation.”
“Wait a minute.” Gelmann looked alarmed. “It’s not that we don’t have any orders to give you, it’s just that …”
“Not to worry.” The blue ellipse rose a couple of meters higher. “Everything is under control. Post-hiatus operations have already commenced.”
As they waited apprehensively the huge chamber slowly filled with light. Its source remained elusive: there were no bulbs, tubes, or panels. The illumination seemed to emanate from the ceiling itself.
Follingston-Heath called out a warning. “Everyone, look out, there.”
Instinctively they retreated from the immense door behind them as it sank with impressive silence into the floor. So silent was the descent it was as if the barrier was melting into the pavement.
“Oh well,” Gelmann murmured, “we should at least comport ourselves like good guests. As long as we’re waiting to get out, we might as well have a look around.”
“Maybe there is another exit through here.” Iranaputra started toward the expansive new opening.
“Sure. And if there ain’t, we’ll drop pebbles behind us to find our way back,” said Hawkins. “What if we lose our way?”
“Typical human response.” The serving robot trundled forward in Iranaputra’s wake.
“You can stay here if you want to, old boy.” Follingston-Heath followed his friends forward. “Me, I’m going to have a bit of a stroll.”
Shimoda had a new thought. “If you can’t make an opening to let us outside, can you perhaps take us to a place where we can see outside? Surely that wouldn’t violate your internal integrity?”
“That is not possible at the moment.” The Autothor drifted alongside, keeping pace with the seniors. “However, it should be shortly. Post-hiatus procedures remain engaged. If you will follow me, I will take you to where your directive may soon be fulfilled.”
Hawkins held back, watching as his companions followed the pulsing ellipse across the next floor, through a passage only slightly narrower than the one they were vacating. He glanced down. The massive door might decide to ascend at any moment. That would trap him in the chamber. Alone.
Muttering dire imprecations under his breath, he broke into an old man’s jog in an effort to catch up with the others.
The Autothor led them through multiple chambers. Some were much larger than the huge room they had left; others were decisively smaller. Some were filled with massive, towering objects and protrusion-filled ledges of unknown purpose. Follingston-Heath ventured the opinion that they were in a vast warehouse or factory.
As they were crossing one floor they experienced an abrupt yet subtle disorientation. There was a distinct sense of movement. The Autothor did not comment, but it was apparent they had just traveled an unknown distance by unidentified means.
“Couldn’t find our way back now even if we’d had the damn pebbles.” Hawkins looked uneasy.
“You must have been a wonderful boss to work for,” Iranaputra commented.
Hawkins raised a wooly eyebrow. “My staff and work crews hated my guts. I let ’em. The extra adrenaline made them work harder. We always completed our contracts ahead of schedule. Reconstruction Authority always gave me the toughest jobs because they knew I’d get ’em done fast and right. Sure my people hated me … but they didn’t hate the bonus money they got on job-completion day.”
A brief eternity later they found themselves in an immense domed chamber dominated by soaring monoliths of diverse design and size. Smaller structures hung from the ceiling or protruded from the walls. Some of the latter were alive with bright lights of many colors. Gelmann was reminded of the inside of a computer, or possibly an old-style amusement ride.
A six-meter-wide transparent panel ran in a sweeping arc upward from the floor to terminate against a small domed bulge that protruded from the wall twenty meters overhead. The Autothor drew them in its direction.
Up next to it they found they could see outside. There wasn’t much to look at. Smooth stone and in a few places fractured rock, all dimly lit by the light from within the chamber.
“You requested a means for looking outside.” The Autothor bobbed lazily in midair.
“Yes, but we had something else in mind.” Gelmann beckoned to Follingston-Heath, who helped her to sit down on the smooth gray floor. “Muscles don’t work as well as they once did, you should only see the obvious. I’m tired.” The Colonel drew a tumbler of cold water from the compliant Ksarusix and brought it over to her. She drank gratefully.
“What we wanted was to see the tunnel we walked down.” Shimoda ran his fingers along the perfectly transparent panel. There wasn’t a scratch or mark on it. “Even better, we’d like to see out to the surface.”
“That may soon be possible,” the ellipse announced. “Without violating internal integrity, of course. Post-hiatal initialization is nearly complete.”
“What does that mean, old thing?” Follingston-Heath eyed the incorporeal Blueness uncertainly.
“It means that I will soon be more fully able to comply with directives.” While this response was not particularly enlightening, the gentle vibration which began beneath their feet was.
Hawkins sat down fast. Iranaputra kept his feet, wondering at the sensation. It felt just like the Repadd vibrating pillow he kept on his bed back at the Village. On a larger scale, of course.
Dire groaning noises reverberated through the chamber, punctuated by an occasional loud metallic bang like a hiccup from a steel throat.
“There, you see?” The Autothor darted up to one cluster of protrusions, returned as quickly. “We’re already getting under way.”
“You should pardon my prying,” inquired Gelmann from her seat on the floor, “but just what exactly do you mean by ‘under way’? Do we have another definitions problem here, I hope, maybe?”
“You’ve brought us into some kind of ship.” Shinto solemnity or not, Shimoda was looking decidedly nervous. “Are you going to take us out of the city as well?”
“What city?” The Autothor had to raise its voice because the walls and floor had begun to hum softly.
“This city. The one we’re in now.”
