Isaac Asimov - Nightfall (novel)

The Apostle’s voice rose suddenly in an increase of fervor:

“ ‘ And it came to pass in those days that the sun, Dovim, held lone vigil in the sky for ever longer periods as the revolutions passed; until such time as for full half a revolution, it alone, shrunken and cold, shone down upon Kalgash.

“ ‘ And men did assemble in the public squares and in the highways, there to debate and to marvel at the sight, for a strange fear and misery had seized their spirits. Their minds were troubled and their speech confused, for the souls of men awaited the coming of the Stars.

“ ‘ And in the city of Trigon, at high noon, Vendret 2 came forth and said unto the men of Trigon, “Lo, ye sinners! Though ye scorn the ways of righteousness, yet will the time of reckoning come. Even now the Cave approaches to swallow Kalgash; yea, and all it contains .”

“ ‘ And in that moment as he spoke the lip of the Cave of Darkness passed the edge of Dovim so that to all Kalgash it was bidden from sight. Loud were the cries and lamentations of men as it vanished, and great the fear of soul with which they were afflicted.

“ ‘ And then it came to pass that the Darkness of the Cave fell full upon Kalgash in all its terrible weight, so that there was no light to be seen anywhere on all the surface of the world. Men were even as blinded, nor could one see his neighbor, though he felt his breath upon his face.

“ ‘ And in this blackness there appeared the Stars in countless number, and their brightness was as the brightness of all the gods in concourse assembled. And with the coming of the Stars there came also a music, which had a beauty so wondrous that the very leaves of the trees turned to tongues that cried out in wonder.

“ ‘ And in that moment the souls of men departed from them and fled upward to the Stars, and their abandoned bodies became even as beasts; yea, even as dull brutes of the wild; so that through the darkened streets of the cities of Kalgash they prowled with wild cries, like the cries of beasts.

“ ‘ From the Stars then there reached down the Heavenly Flames, that was the bearer of the will of the gods; and where the Flames touched, the cities of Kalgash were consumed even to utter destruction, so that of man and of the works of man, nothing whatever remained.

“ ‘ Even then— ’ ”

There was a subtle change in Folimun’s tone. His eyes had not shifted, but somehow it seemed that he had become aware of the absorbed attention of the other two. Easily, without pausing for breath, he altered the timbre of his voice, so that it rose in pitch and the syllables became more liquid.

Theremon, caught by surprise, frowned. The words seemed to be on the border of familiarity. There had been nothing more than an elusive shift in the accent, a tiny change in the vowel stress—yet Theremon no longer had the slightest idea of what Folimun was saying.

“Maybe Siferra would be able to understand him now,” Sheerin said. “He’s probably speaking the liturgical tongue now, the old language of the previous Year of Godliness that the Book of Revelations was supposedly translated from.”

Theremon gave the psychologist a peculiar look. “You know a lot about this, don’t you? What’s he saying, then?”

“You think I can tell you? I’ve done a little studying lately, yes. But not that much. I’m just guessing at what he’s talking about.—Weren’t we going to lock him in a closet?”

“Let him be,” Theremon said. “What difference does it make now? It’s his big moment. Let him enjoy it.” He shoved his chair back and ran his fingers through his hair. His hands weren’t shaking any longer. “Funny thing,” he said. “Now that it’s all actually begun, I don’t feel jittery any more.”

“No?”

“Why should I?” Theremon said. A note of hectic gaiety had crept into his voice. “There’s nothing I can do to stop what’s going to happen, is there? So I’ll just try to ride it out.—Do you think the Stars are really going to appear?”

“Not a clue,” Sheerin said. “Maybe Beenay would know.”

“Or Athor.”

“Leave Athor alone,” said the psychologist, laughing. “He just passed through the room and gave you a look that should have killed you.”

Theremon made a wry face. “I’ll have plenty of crow to eat when all this is over, I know. What do you think, Sheerin? Is it safe to watch the show outside?”

“When the Darkness is total—”

“I don’t mean the Darkness. I can handle Darkness, I think. I mean the Stars.”

“The Stars?” Sheerin repeated impatiently. “I told you, I don’t know anything about them.”

“They’re probably not as terrifying as the Book of Revelations would want us to think. If that pinpoint-in-the-ceiling experiment of those two students means anything—” He turned his hands palms upward, as though they might hold the answer. “Tell me, Sheerin, what do you think? Won’t some people be immune to the effects of the Darkness and the Stars?”

Sheerin shrugged. He pointed to the floor in front of them. Dovim was past its zenith now, and the square of bloody sunlight that outlined the window upon the floor had moved a few feet toward the center of the room, where it lay like the terrible stain of some ghastly crime. Theremon stared at its dusky color thoughtfully. Then he swung around and squinted once more into the sun itself.

The chip in its side had grown to a black encroachment that covered a third of its visible disk. Theremon shuddered. Once, jokingly, he had talked with Beenay of dragons in the sky. Now it seemed to him that the dragon had come, that it had swallowed five of the suns already, that it was nibbling enthusiastically at the only one that remained.

Sheerin said, “There are probably two million people in Saro City who are all trying to join the Apostles at once. They’ll be holding one giant revival meeting down at Mondior’s headquarters, I’ll bet.—Do I think there’s immunity to the Darkness effects? Well, we’re about to discover if there is, aren’t we?”

“There must be. How else would the Apostles keep the Book of Revelations going from cycle to cycle, and how on Kalgash did it get written in the first place? There must have been some sort of immunity. If everyone had gone mad, who would have been left to write the book?”

“Very likely the members of the secret cult hid themselves away in sanctuaries until it was over, just as some of us are doing tonight,” Sheerin said.

“Not good enough. The Book of Revelations is set up as an eyewitness account. That seems to indicate they had firsthand experience of the madness—and survived it.”

“Well,” said the psychologist, “there are three kinds of people who might remain relatively unaffected. First, the very few who don’t get to see the Stars at all—the blind, let’s say, or those who drink themselves into a stupor at the beginning of the eclipse and stay that way to the end.”

“They don’t count. They’re not really witnesses.”

“I suppose not. The second group, though—young children, to whom the world as a whole is too new and strange for anything to seem more unusual than anything else. They wouldn’t be frightened by the Darkness or even the Stars, I suspect. Those would just be two more curious events in an endlessly surprising world. You see that, don’t you?”

Theremon nodded doubtfully. “I suppose so.”

“Lastly, there are those whose minds are too coarse-grained to be entirely toppled. The very insensitive might scarcely be affected—the real clods. They’d just shrug and wait for Onos to rise, I suppose.”

“So the Book of Revelations was written by insensitive clods?” Theremon asked, grinning.