Authors: Iain M. Banks
Feersum Endjinn (36 page)
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 2 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 crect 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 botits 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.
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