Inverted World (13 page)

The most difficult and demanding aspect of the bridge-building came with running the chains across the chasm from the south towers to the north, then suspending the rail-way from them. Time was passing and Lerouex and the other guildsmen grew worried. I understood this was because as the optimum moved slowly northwards away from the bridge, the construction of the bridge itself would soon be laying itself open to the same problem that Malchuskin had shown me with the tracks to the south of the city: it was liable to buckle. Although the design of the bridge was intended to compensate for this to a certain extent, there was a definite limit to how long we could delay the crossing.

Now work continued through the nights, lit by powerful arc-lamps powered from within the city. Leave was suspended, and a system of shifts devised.

As the slabs of the rail-way were laid, Maichuskin and the others put down tracks. Meanwhile, cable-stays were being erected on the northern side, just beyond the elaborate ramps that had been built.

The city was so close by, we were able to sleep in our quarters inside it, and I found a confusing difference between the extreme activity of the bridge site and the comparatively calm and normal atmosphere of everyday work inside the city. My behaviour evidently reflected this confusion, because for a while Victoria’s questions about the work outside were renewed.

Soon, though, the bridge was ready. There was a further delay of a day while Lerouex and the other Bridges guildsmen carried out a series of elaborate tests. Their expressions stayed concerned, even as they pronounced the bridge safe. During the hours of the night the city prepared for the winching.

As dawn was breaking, the Traction men signalled the clear … and with infinite stealth the city inched forward. I had taken a vantage point on one of the two suspension towers on the south side of the chasm, and as the city’s forward wheels moved slowly on to the tracks on the rail-way itself I felt a tremble of vibration through the tower as the chains took the strain.

In the weak light of the rising sun I saw the suspension chains being tugged into a deeper curve by the weight, the rail-way itself clearly sagging with the immense burden being placed on it. I looked at the Bridges guildsman nearest to me, who was squatting on the tower a few yards away from me. His whole attention was on a load-meter, which was connected to the overhead chains. No one watching the delicate operation moved or spoke, as if the slightest interruption could disturb the balance. The city moved on, and soon the entire length of the bridge rail-way was bearing the weight of the city.

The silence was broken abruptly. With a loud cracking noise that echoed round the rocky walls of the chasm one of the winching cables snapped, and whiplashed back, slicing through a line of militiamen. A physical tremor ran through the structure of the bridge, and from deep inside the city I heard the rising whine of the suddenly free winch, sharply cut off as the Traction man controlling the differential drive phased it out. Now on only four cables, and moving visibly slower, the city continued on its way. On the northern side of the chasm, the broken cable lay snaked across the ground, curling over the bodies of five of the militiamen.

The most critical part of the crossing was done: the city moved between the two northern towers, and began to slide slowly down the ramps towards the cable-stays. Soon it stopped, but no one spoke. There was no sense of relief, no cry of celebration. On the far side of the chasm the bodies of the militiamen were being placed on stretchers, ready to be taken into the city.

The city itself was safe for the moment, but there was much to be done. The bridge had caused an unavoidable delay, and now the city was four and a half miles behind optimum. The tracks had to be taken up, the broken cable repaired. The suspension towers and chains had to be dismantled, and saved for possible future use.

Soon the city would be winching again … ever onward, ever northwards, heading for the optimum that managed somehow to be always a few miles ahead.

Helward Mann was riding. Standing in the stirrups, with his head down against the side of the neck of the large tan mare, he rejoiced in the sensations of speed: the wind blowing back his hair, the crunch of hooves against the pebbly soil, the rippling of the beast’s muscular loins, the ever-present anticipation of a stumble, a throw. They were riding south, away from the primitive settlement they had just left, down through the foothills and across the plain towards the city. As the city of Earth came into view behind a low rise of ground, Helward slowed the horse to a canter and guided her in a broad turn so that they headed back north. Soon they were walking, and as the day grew hotter Helward dismounted and walked by her side.

He was thinking of Victoria, now many miles pregnant. She was looking healthy and beautiful, and the medical administrator had said the pregnancy was going well. Helward was allowed more time in the city now, and they spent many days together. It was fortunate that the city was once again moving across unbroken ground, because he knew that if another bridge became necessary, or an emergency of any sort arose, his time with her would be curtailed drastically.

He was waiting now for his apprenticeship to end. He had worked hard and long with all the guilds save one: his own, the Futures guild. Barter Collings had told him the end of the apprenticeship was approaching, and later the same day he was to see Future Clausewitz and formally discuss his progress so far.

The apprenticeship couldn’t end soon enough for Helward. Though still an adolescent in his emotional outlook, by the ways of the city he was deemed an adult; he had indeed worked and learned for that status. Fully aware of the city’s external priorities, if still not sure of their rationale, he was ready to be accorded his title of full guildsman. In the last few miles his body had grown muscular and lean, and his skin had tanned to a deep healthy golden. He was no longer stiff after a day of labour, and he welcomed the sensation of well-being that followed a difficult task well done. With most of the guildsmen he had worked under he had become respected and liked for his willingness to work hard and without question, and as his domestic life in the city settled down to a steady and loving relationship with Victoria he became well known and accepted as a man with whom the city’s security could soon be entrusted.

With Barter Collings in particular, Helward had established a good and amicable working partnership. When he had served his obligatory three mile periods with each of the other guilds he had been allowed to choose a further period of five miles with any one of the guilds but his own, and he had immediately asked to work with Collings. The Barter work attracted him, for it enabled him to see something of the way of life of the local people.

The area through which the city was currently passing was high and barren, and the soil was poor. Settlements were few, and those that they approached were almost invariably clustered around one or another collection of ramshackle buildings. The squalor was terrible, and disease was widespread.

There appeared to be no kind of central administration, for each of the settlements had its own rituals of organization. Sometimes they were greeted with hostility, and at other times the people hardly seemed to care.

The Barter work was one largely of judgement: assessing the particular outlook and needs of a chosen community, and negotiating along those lines. In most cases, negotiations were fruitless; the one thing all settlements seemed to share was an abiding lethargy. When Collings could initiate any kind of interest, the needs became immediately apparent. By and large, the city could fulfil them. With its high degree of organization, and the technology available to it, the city had over the miles accumulated a large stockpile of foodstuffs, medicines, and chemicals, and it had also learnt by experience which of these were most required. So with offers of antibiotics, seeds, fertilizers, water-purifiers—even, in some cases, offers of assistance to repair existing implements—the Barter guildsmen could lay the groundwork for their own demands.

Collings had tried to teach Helward to speak Spanish, but he had little ability with languages. He picked up a handful of phrases, but contributed very little to the often lengthy periods of negotiation.

Terms had been agreed with the settlement they had just left. Twenty men could be raised to work on the city tracks, and another ten were promised from a smaller settlement some distance away. In addition, five women had either volunteered or been coerced—Helward was uncertain which, and he did not question Collings—to move into the city. He and Collings were now returning to the city to obtain the promised supplies, and prepare the various guilds for the new influx of temporary population. Collings had decided that all of the people should be medically examined, and this would place an additional burden on the medical administrators.

Helward liked working to the north of the city. This would soon be his territory, for it was up here, beyond the optimum, that the Future guild did its work. He often saw Future guildsmen riding north, away into the distant territory where one day the city would have to travel. Once or twice he had seen his father, and they had spoken briefly. Helward had hoped that with his experience as an apprentice, the unease which dogged their relationship would vanish, but his father was apparently as uncomfortable as ever in his company.

Helward suspected that there was no deep and subtle reason for this, because Collings had once been talking about the Future guild, and had mentioned his father. “A difficult man to talk to,” Collings had said. “Pleasant when you get to know him, but he keeps to himself.”

After half an hour Helward remounted the horse, and walked her back along their previous path. Some time later he came across Collings, who was resting in the shade of a large boulder. Helward joined him, and they shared some of the food. As a gesture of goodwill, the leader of the settlement had given them a large slab of fresh cheese, and they ate some of it, relishing the break from their more normal diet of processed, synthesized food.

“If they eat this,” Helward said, “I can’t see that they would have much use for our slop.”

“Don’t think they eat this all the time. This was the only one they had.

It was probably stolen from somewhere else. I saw no cattle.”

“So why did they give it to us?”

“They need us.”

Some time later they continued on their way towards the city. Both men walked, leading the horse. Helward was both looking forward to returning to the city, and regretting that this period of his apprenticeship had ended.

Realizing that this was probably the last time he would have with Collings, he felt the stirrings of an old and long buried intention to talk to him about something that still caused him to fret from time to time, and of all the men he had met outside the city Collings was the only one with whom he could discuss it. Even so, he turned over the problem in his mind for some time before finally deciding to raise it.

“You’re unnaturally quiet,” said Collings suddenly.

“I know … sorry. I’m thinking about becoming a guildsman. I’m not sure I’m ready.”

“Why?”

“It’s not easy to say. It’s a vague doubt.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes. That is … can I?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Well … some of the guildsmen won’t,” said Helward. “I was very confused when I first came outside the city, and I learnt then not to ask too many questions.”

“It depends what the questions are,” said Collings.

Helward decided to abandon trying to justify himself.

“It’s two things,” he said. “The optimum and the oath. I’m not sure about either of them.”

“That’s not surprising. I’ve worked with dozens of apprentices over the miles, and they all worry about those.”

“Can you tell me what I want to know?”

Collings shook his head. “Not about the optimum. That’s for you to discover for yourself.”

“But all I know about it is that it moves northwards. Is it an arbitrary thing?”

“It’s not arbitrary…but I can’t talk about it. I promise you that you’ll find out what you want to know very soon. But what’s the problem with the oath?”

Helward was silent for a moment.

Then he said: “If you knew I’d broken it—if you knew at this moment—you’d kill me. Is that right?”

“In theory, yes.”

“And in practice?”

“I’d worry about it for days, then probably talk to one of the other guildsmen and see what he advised. But you haven’t broken it, have you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’d better tell me about it.”

“All right.”

Helward started to talk about the questions Victoria had asked him at the very beginning, and tried to confine his account to vague generalities. As Collings stayed silent, Helward began to go into more and more detail. Soon he found himself recounting, almost word for word, everything he had told her.

When he had finished, Collings said: “I don’t think you’ve anything to worry about”

Helward experienced a feeling of relief, but the nagging problem could not be dispelled as quickly as that.

“Why not?”

“No harm has come of your saying anything to your wife.”

The city had come into view as they walked, and they could see the customary signs of activity around the tracks.

“But it can’t be as simple as that,” said Helward. “The oath is very firm in the way it is worded, and the penalty is hardly a light one.”

“True … but the guildsmen who are alive today inherited it. The oath was passed to us, and we pass it on. So will you in your turn. This isn’t to say the guilds agree with it, but no one has yet come up with an alternative.”

“So the guilds would like to dispense with it if possible?” said Helward.

Collings grinned at him. “That’s not what I said. The history of the city goes back a long way. The founder was a man named Francis Destaine, and it is generally believed that he introduced the oath. From what we can understand of the records of the time such a regimen of secrecy was probably desirable. But today … well, things are a little more lax.”