Christopher Priest - The Inverted World

“Then why — ?”

“Listen. The ground moves, physically. In the north it moves slowly — and the further north one travels the slower it moves — in the south it moves faster. If it was possible to reach the most northern point we believe the ground would not move at all. On the other hand, we believe that in the south the movement of the ground accelerates to an infinite speed at the furthest extremity of the world.”

I said: “I’ve been there… to the furthest extremity.”

“You went… what? Forty miles? Perhaps more by accident? That was far enough for you to feel the effects… but only the beginning. We’re talking in terms of millions of miles. Literally… millions. Much more, some would say. The city’s founder, Destaine, thought the world was of infinite size.”

I said: “But the city has only to travel a few miles further, and it would be north of optimum.”

“That’s right… and it would make life a lot easier. We would still have to move the city, but not so often and not so far. But the problem is that it’s as much as we can do to stay abreast of optimum.”

“What is special about the optimum?”

“It’s where conditions on this world are nearest to those on Earth planet. At the optimum point our subjective values for time are normal. In addition, a day lasts for twenty-four hours. Anywhere else on this world one’s subjective time produces slightly longer or shorter days. The velocity of the ground at optimum is about one mile in every ten days. The optimum is important because in a world like this, where there are so many variables, we need a standard. Don’t confuse miles-distance with miles-time. We say the city has moved so many miles when we really mean that ten times that number of twenty-four hour days have elapsed. So we would gain nothing in real terms by being north of optimum.”

We had now ridden to the highest point of the pass. Cablestays had been erected, and the city was in the process of being winched. The militiamen were much in evidence, standing guard not only around the city itself but also at both sides of the tracks. We decided not to ride down to the city, but to wait by the stays until the winching was completed.

Denton said suddenly: “Have you read Destaine’s Directive?”

“No. I’ve heard of it. In the oath.”

“That’s right. Clausewitz has a copy. You ought to read it if you’re a guildsman. Destaine laid down the rules for survival in this world, and no one’s ever seen any reason to change them. You’d understand the world a little better, I think.”

“Did Destaine understand it?”

“I think so.”

It took another hour for the winching to be completed. There was no intervention by the tooks, and, in fact, there was no sign of them. I saw that several of the militiamen were now armed with rifles, presumably taken from the tooks killed in the last engagement.

When we went inside the city I went straight to the central calendar, and discovered that while we had been north three and a half days had elapsed.

There was a brief discussion with Clausewitz, then we were taken to see Navigator McMahon. In some detail, Denton and I described the terrain we had travelled through, pointing out the major physical features on our map. Denton outlined our suggestions for a route that the city could take, indicating the kinds of feature that might create a problem, and alternative routes around them. In fact, the terrain was in general suited to the city. The hills would mean several deviations from true north, but there were very few steep inclines, and overall the ground was some hundred feet lower at its northern point than the city’s present elevation.

“We’ll have two more surveys immediately,” the Navigator said to Clausewitz. “One five degrees to east, and one five degrees to west. Do you have men available?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll convene Council today, and we’ll set your provisional route for the time being. If better terrain appears from these two new surveys, we’ll reconsider later. How soon will you be able to conduct a normal surveying pattern?”

“As soon as we can release men from Militia and Tracks,” said Clausewitz.

“They’re priorities. For the moment, these surveys will have to suffice. If the situation eases, re-apply.”

“Yes, sir.”

The navigator took our map and my video tape, and we left the Navigation chambers.

Outside, I said to Clausewitz: “Sir, I’d like to volunteer for one of the new surveys.”

He shook his head. “No. You get three days’ leave, and then you go back to the Track guild.”

“But—”

“Guild rules.”

Clausewitz turned away, and he and Denton walked towards the Futures’ room. Technically that area was mine too, but suddenly I felt excluded. Quite literally, I had nowhere to go. While I had been working outside the city I had been sleeping in one of the Militia dormitories; now, officially on leave, I wasn’t even sure where I lived. There were bunks in the Futures’ room, and I could sleep there for the moment, but I knew that I should see Victoria as soon as possible. I had been putting this off; being away from the city conveniently prevented it. I was still wondering how I could deal with the new situation with her, and the answer to that lay in meeting her. I changed my clothes, and had a shower.

Nothing much had changed inside the city while I’d been north, and the domestic and medical administrators were wholly preoccupied with looking after the wounded and reorganizing the sleeping accommodation. There was less sense of desperation in the faces of the people I saw, and some efforts had been made to keep the corridors clear, but even so I realized that this was probably a bad moment to try to settle a domestic issue.

Victoria was difficult to trace. After enquiring of several of the domestic administrators I was sent to a makeshift dormitory on the lowest level, but she was not there. I spoke to the woman in charge.

“You’re her ex-husband, aren’t you?”

“That’s right. Where is she?”

“She doesn’t want to see you. She’s very busy. She’ll contact you later.”

“I want to see her,” I said.

“You can’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me we’re very busy.”

She turned her back on me and continued her work. I glanced around the crowded dormitory: off-shift workers slept at one end, and there were several wounded lying in rough beds at the other. Although there were a few people moving between the beds, Victoria was not among them.

I walked back up to the Futures’ room. During the time I had been looking for Victoria I had made a decision. There was no point in my hanging around the city aimlessly; I might as well go back to work on the tracks. But first, I had decided to read Clausewitz’s copy of Destaine’s Directive.

The Futures’ room was empty but for one guildsman. He introduced himself to me as Future Blayne.

“You’re Mann’s son, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Glad to see you. Have you been up future yet?”

“Yes,” I said. I liked the look of Blayne. He was not much older than myself, and he had a fresh, open face. He seemed glad to have someone to talk to; he was, he said, due to go north on one of the surveys later in the day, and would be on his own for the next few miles.

“Do we normally go north alone?” I said.

“Normally, yes. We can work in pairs if Clausewitz gives his approval, but most Futures prefer to work alone. I like company myself, find it a bit lonely up there. How about you?”

“I’ve only been up future once. That was with Future Denton.”

“How did you get on with him?”

And so we talked, amiably and without the usual guards that seemed to show up whenever I had talked to other guildsmen. I had unconsciously adopted this manner myself, and at first I suppose I might have seemed diffident in his company. Within a few minutes, though, I found his forthright manner relaxing, and soon I felt as if we were old friends.