uplift4.brightnessreef-第59部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　along　with　the　rest　of　the　Six。　Some　hoon　and　urs　members　of　Harullen's　society　yearned　for　a　time　of　transcendent　ending…the　urrish　apostates　because　of　their　hot　blood；　and　the　hoon　precisely　because　their　passions　stirred　slowly；　but　once　whipped；　they　stopped　for　nothing。
　　If　our　extremists　think　Ling's　folk　haven't　the　guts　to　do　the　job；　they　may　plot　to　provoke　genocide。　This　despite　his　speech；　urging　that　the　Six　cede　their　place　on　Jijo　by　consensus　and　birth　control。
　　Then　there　was　this　scheme　to　try　blackmailing　the　forayers。　Lark　had　helped　Bloor　set　up　candid　shots；　but　were　the　sages　aware　of　how　the　scheme　might　backfire？
　　Did　they　think　they　had　nothing　to　lose？
　　Lark　rubbed　his　stubbled　chin；　feeling　wearier　than　his　years。　What　a　tangled　web　we　weave；　he　pondered。　Then　he　licked　the　tip　of　his　pen；　dipped　it　in　the　ink；　and　began　to　write。
　　
　　The　Stranger
　　This　place　makes　him　want　to　laugh。　It　makes　him　want　to　cry。　So　many　books…he　even　remembers　that　word　for　them…lay　stacked　high　all　around　him；　in　row　after　mighty　row；　vanishing　around　corners　or　up　twisty；　spiral　ramps。　Books　bound　in　the　leather　of　unknown　animals；　filling　the　air　with　strange　scents；　especially　when　he　cracks　some　volume　taken　off　a　shelf　at　random　and　inhales　the　fumes　of　paper　and　ink。
　　It　jolts　something　within　him；　dredging　up　memories　more　effectively　than　anything　since　he　regained　consciousness。
　　Suddenly；　he　recalls　a　cabinet　of　books　like　these；　in　his　room　when　he　was　very　young。。。　and　that　brings　back　the　pinch　and　crinkling　flex　of　paper　pages；　covered　with　bright　pictures。　Grown…ups　did　not　use　books　very　much；　he　remembers。　Adults　needed　the　constant　flash　and　jangle　of　their　machines。　Machines　that　talked　at　you　faster　than　a　child　was　trained　to　hear；　or　cast　flickering　beams　directly　at　the　eyeball；　filling　it　with　facts　that　faded　the　moment　you　blinked。　That　was　one　reason　he　used　to　like　the　solid　promise　of　paper…where　a　favorite　story　would　not　go　away　like　smoke；　or　vanish　when　the　info…screens　went　dark。
　　Another　image　leaps　out　from　childhood…holding　his　mother's　hand　while　strolling　in　a　public　place　filled　with　busy；　important　people。　Several　walls　were　rimmed　with　bound　volumes；　much　like　the　books　surrounding　him　right　now。　Big　books　without　pictures；　filled　with　black；　unmoving　dots。　Filled　with　words　and　nothing　else。　Hardly　anyone　used　them　anymore；　his　mother　had　explained。　But　they　were　important　nonetheless；　as　decorations　lining　many　of　the　places　most　sacred　or　important　to　human　beings。
　　They　were　reminders　of　something。。。　of　something　he　cannot　quite　recall　right　now。　But　it　must　have　been　important。　That　much　he　knows。
　　Perhaps　it　might　even　be　possible　to　find　a　way　to　save　her　and　her　people。
　　Maybe　that　was　what　his　hands　had　said　to　Prity；　just　a　little　while　ago。
　　If　so；　no　wonder　the　little　chimp　broke　out　in　wry；　doubtful　laughter。
　　Patiently；　he　waits　for　the　two　women…Sara　and　Arianafoo…to　finish　their　meetings　and　return　for　him。　Passing　the　time；　he　sketches　on　a　pad　of　rich；　almost　luminous　paper；　first　refining　some　of　his　drawings　of　the　machinery　aboard　the　steamship；　then　trying　to　capture　the　eerie　perspectives　of　the　stone　cavern　where　all　these　odd　wooden　buildings　lay　sheltered　from　the　sky…under　a　cave　whose　roof　is　propped　up　by　incredible；　massive　stone　pillars。
　　A　few　names　are　ing　easier　now；　so　he　knows　that　it　is　Prity　who　brings　him　a　cup　of　water；　then　checks　his　dressing　to　make　sure　it's　still　tight。　Her　hands　seem　to　flutter　and　dance　before　her；　then　his　do　likewise。　He　watches；　fascinated；　as　his　own　fingers　make　movements　independent　of　his　will　or　mand。　It　might　be　frightening　to　behold。。。　except　that　Prity　suddenly　grins　broadly　and　slaps　her　knee；　chuffing　hoarse；　appreciative　chimpanzee　laughter。
　　He　feels　a　wash　of　pleasure　to　know　his　joke　had　pleased　her。　Though　it　puzzles　and　slightly　miffs　him　that　his　hands　never　saw　fit　to　share　the　humor　with　him。
　　Well；　well。　The　hands　seem　to　know　what　they　are　doing；　and　he　draws　some　satisfaction　from　their　work。　Now　they　pick　up　the　pencil　once　again；　and　he　lets　time　slip　away；　concentrating　on　the　moving　pencil；　and　on　the　stretch　and　tilt　of　line　and　shadow。　When　Sara　returns　for　him；　he　will　be　ready　for　whatever　es　next。
　　Perhaps　it　might　even　be　possible　to　find　a　way　to　save　her　and　her　people。
　　Maybe　that　was　what　his　hands　had　said　to　Prity；　just　a　little　while　ago。
　　If　so；　no　wonder　the　little　chimp　broke　out　in　wry；　doubtful　laughter。
　　
　　XVII。　THE　BOOK　OF　THE　SEA
　　Should　you　succeed　in　following
　　the　Path　of　Redemption…
　　to　be　re…adopted；　uplifted　anew；
　　given　a　second　chance…
　　that　will　not　mean　an　end
　　to　all　your　strivings。
　　First　you　must　prove　yourselves
　　as　noble　clients；　obedient　and　true
　　to　the　new　patrons　who　redeemed　you。
　　Later　you　will　rise　in　status；
　　and　uplift　clients　of　your　own；
　　generously　passing　on　the
　　blessings　that　you　earned。
　　But　then；　in　time；　there　oft
　　begins　to　glimmer　a　light
　　on　the　horizon　of　a　species'　life；
　　hinting　at　other　realms；
　　beckoning　the　tired；　the　worthy。
　　This　is　said　to　be　a　sign　post。
　　Some　will　call　it　The　Lure；
　　or　else　The　Enticement。
　　Aeon　after　aeon；　old　ones　depart；
　　seeking　paths　that　younger
　　races　can't　perceive。
　　They　vanish　from　our　midst；
　　those　who　find　these　paths。
　　Some　call　it　transcendence。
　　Others　call　it　death。
　　…The　Scroll　of　Destiny
　　　
　　Alvin's　Tale
　　ONE　THING　ALWAYS　STRUCK　ME　ABOUT　THE　WAY　tales　are　told　in　Anglic…or　any　of　the　other　Earthling　tongues　I've　learned…and　that's　the　problem　of　keeping　up　suspense。
　　Oh；　some　human　authors　of　Twencen　and　Twenty…One　had　it　down　cold。　There've　been　times　that　I　stayed　up　three　nights　straight；　taken　with　some　yarn　by　Conrad　or　Cunin。　What's　puzzled　me；　ever　since　I　got　the　notion　of　being　a　writer　myself；　is　how　those　old…timers　managed　it。
　　Take　this　account　I've　been　scribbling　lately；　whenever　I　get　a　chance　to　lie　down　on　this　hard　deck　with　my　notebook；　already　gone　all　ragged　at　the　corners　from　the　places　I've　taken　it；　scrawling　clumsy　hoon…sized　letters　with　a　chewed…up　pencil　clutched　in　my　fist。　From　the　very　start　I've　been　telling　my　story　in　〃first　person〃…like　in　a　diary；　only　with　all　sorts　of　fancy…gloss　tricks　thrown　in　that　I've　picked　up　from　my　reading　over　the　years。
　　Why　first　person？　Well；　according　to　Good　Fiction　by　Anderson；　that　〃voice〃　makes　it　a　whole　lot　easier　to　present　the　reader　with　a　single；　solid…feeling　point…of…view；　even　though　it　means　my　book　will　have　to　be　translated　if　a　traeki's　ever　to　understand　it。
　　But　the　trouble　with　a　first　person　chronicle　is　this…whether　it's　real…life　history　or　a　piece　of　make…believe；　you　know　the　hero　survived！
　　So　during　all　of　the　events　I'm　about　to　relate；　you　who　are　reading　this　memoir　（hopefully　after　I've　had　a　chance　to　rewrite　it；　have　a　human　expert　fix　my　grammar；　and　pay　to　have　it　set　in　type）　you　already　know　that　I；　Alvin　Hph…wayuo；　son　of　Mu…phauwq　and　Yowg…wayuo　of　Wuphon　Port；　and　intrepid　explorer　extraordinaire；　simply　have　to　escape　alive　the　jam　I'm　about　to　describe；　with　at　least　one　brain；　one　eye；　and　a　hand　to　write　it　all　down。
　　I've　lain　awake　some　nights；　trying　to　see　a　way　around　this　problem　using　some　other　language。　There's　the　GalSeven　tentative　case；　for　instance；　but　that　doesn't　work　in　past…explicit　tense。　And　the　quantum…uncertain　declension；　in　Buyur…dialect　GalThree；　is　just　too　weird。　Anyway；　who　would　I　be　writing　for？　Huck's　the　only　other　GalThree　reader　I　know；　and　getting　praise　from　her　is　kind　of　like　kissing　your　sister。
　　Anyway；　the　waters　of　the　Rift　were　all　a…froth　at　the　point　where　I　last　left　our　tale。　The　hatchet　shadow　of　Terminus　Rock　cut　across　a　patch　of　ocean　where　both　hawser　and　hose　still　whirled；　chopping　the　normally　placid　surface；　spinning　with　tension　energy　released　just　moments　before；　by　a　disaster。
　　It　was　all　too　easy　to　picture　what　had　happened　to　Wuphon's　Dream；　our　little　vessel　for　exploring　the　great　unknown　below。　In　reluctant　imagining　I　saw　the　hollow　wooden　tube…its　wheels　spinning　uselessly；　the　bulbous　glass　nose　broken…tumbling　into　black　emptiness　trailing　its　broken　leash；　carrying　Ziz；　the　little　traeki　partial　stack；　to　perdition　along　with　it。
　　As　if　that　weren't　enough；　we　all　had　fresh　in　memory　the　sight　of　little　Huphu；　our　noor…beast　mascot；　thrown　by　the　recoiling　crane；　screeching　and　gyrating　till　her　tiny　black　figure　vanished　into　the　blue　waters　of　the　Rift。　As　Huck's　Earthling　nicknamesake　might've　said…〃It　warn't　a　happy　sight。　Nor　a　lucky　wun。〃
　　For　a　long　time；　everybody　just　stared。　I　mean；　what　could　we　do？　Even　the　protestors　from　Wuphon　Port　and　The　Vale　were　silent。　If　any　felt　smug　over　our　euppance　as　heretics；　they　felt　wiser　to　withhold　jubilation。
　　We　all　backed　away　from　the　ledge。　What　point　in　peering　at　a　velvety…smooth　grave？
　　〃Retract　the　hawser　and　hose；〃　Urdonnol　manded。　Soon　the　drums　began　rotating　the　other　way；　rewinding　what　had　unreeled　so　hopefully　just　duras　before。　The　same　hoonish　voice　called　out　depths；　only　this　time　the　numbers　grew　steadily　smaller；　and　there　was　no　great；　booming　enthusiasm　in　the　throaty　baritone。　Finally；　at　two　and　a　half　cables；　the　hawser's　frayed　end　popped　out　of　the　sea；　dripping　water　like　white　lymph　fluid　from　a　traeki's　wounded；　dangling　tentacle。　Those　cranking　the　drum　sped　up；　eager　to　see　what　had　happened。
　　〃Acid　vurn！〃　Ur…ronn　declared　in　shock；　when　the　severed　end　was　swung　onto　the　bluff。　She　lisped　in　anger。　〃Savotage！〃
　　Urdonnol　seemed　reluctant　to　leap　to　conclusions；　but　the　older　urs　technician　kept　swinging　her　narrow　head　back　and　forth；　low　and　snakelike；　from　the　burned　cable　to　the　crowd　of　protestors　standing　on　the　bluff；　gaping　at　our　tragedy。　The　urrish　apprentice's　dark　suspicion　was　clear。
　　〃Get　away　from　here！〃　Huck　shouted　angrily；　rolling　toward　the　dissenters；　spinning　up　gravel　with　her　rims。　She　swerved；　just　missing　the　toes　of　several　humans　and　h