David Galouye - Dark Universe

Moreover, his attention was so firmly attached to the thump-thump , thump-thump that he had no incentive to consider anything else. It was a peculiar, enchanting sound that drew him down, down.

Thump-thump-throb, thump-thump-throb …

The clacks were crude, yet delicate. They were sharp and precise, profoundly clear. It was as though a super echo caster were sounding far in the distance — a caster whose reflections were so perfect that there wasn’t a detail of setting they couldn’t wring out of one’s surroundings.

Even with his hearing so dulled by having experienced the vast infinity of the Nuclear devils, he could discern features of the stones around him that he would never have been able to detect otherwise. Each crack and niche in every step, each fissure in the walls, all the minute rises or depressions of the surfaces — everything was clearly audible. Why, the sonic composites he was receiving now were almost as perfect as those weird ones which had come in through his eyes when all the Light in Radiation had engulfed him!

Impotent before the allurement of that marvelous caster, he hastened his descent. It was like approaching the most perfect artificial echo producer ever devised. Such a caster could, of course, exist only in Paradise.

Thump-throb, clank-chunk… Thump-throb, clankchunk, spat …

His ears opened in fascination to the subtle counterpoints that swam closer to the surface of the dominant sound as he neared its origin. The volume of the whole swelled about him like a soft embrace. The perfection and precision of these tones were incredible.

Thump-throb, ping-spat, sssss …

The bold, bass tones sounded out the exact pattern of every major prominence about him. Even without attentive listening he could keep track of each insignificant motion of Della’s arms and legs as she treaded the steps. And the finer, more highly pitched notes filled in the composite to a degree of completion that was exquisite. Take that delicate pinkle-twang — - it required no concentration at all to listen to each strand of hair that comprised the girl’s banded tress which now hung casually over her shoulder.

Thump-throb, ping-spat, chunk, tut-tut-tut-tut …

He tuned his ear to the minor stuttering vibration. Listening to its unbelievably distinct tones, he heard even the imperceptible creases of flesh that comprised the girl’s frown. The impressions that came from her long eyelashes were as clear as though he had scores of tiny fingers feeling each one individually.

He began taking the steps two at a time, fearing for a while that, in racing toward the infinite sonic beauty of Paradise, he might also be descending an infinitely long flight of stairs. But, then, the steps curved to the right and at last he could hear the opening at the bottom of the pit, not too far ahead.

“Let’s turn around!” Della pleaded, huffing. “We’ll never get back up all these steps!”

But he only went faster. “Don’t you hear this might be what I’ve been searching for all along? I wasn’t trying to find Light . I was really hunting for Paradise, but I didn’t realize that until now.”

He reached the bottom of the stairs and drew the girl to a halt beside him. They stood under a broad arch of stone that opened up on a vast enclosure, many times more expansive than even the spacious Zivver domain. Enraptured, he swayed before the rich, tremolant sound and let the mighty avalanche of ideal tones pour down upon him. It was easily the most entrancing experience of his life. He had found an auditory beauty beyond imagination. And such unbounded excellence of concord and rhythm transported him with delight, filled him with intense emotions of gratification, self-assurance.

Constraining his exuberant reaction, he listened to the world that stretched before him.

A Paradise that was practically — all water?

Impossible! Yet, there it was — one vast, level expanse that modified the reflecting tones with nothing but liquid fluidity.

He heard now that he was standing on a ledge only slightly higher than the surface of the water. And there was no other dry ground his ears could detect. From the far end of the world came the profound roar of an immense cataract that poured out of the ceiling.

The ledge extended but a few paces to his right. On his left it followed the natural curvature of the wall and he traced its audible details around to the very origin of the perfect sounding tones.

Paradise’s echo caster was a cluster of tremendous cubic structures. Each was many times the size of even the largest shack in the Original World. And they were smothered in a complicated pattern of huge tubes that stretched up out of the water, coiling and intertwining, and disappeared into the sides of the structures.

From the tops of the super shacks reared hundreds of tubes that shot straight up and bored into the ceiling in many directions.

Confounded, he studied the thump-throb, tut-tut-tut-tut that was bringing all these details to his ears.

“What is this place?” Della whispered apprehensively. “Why is there so much heat?”

Now that she had mentioned it, he was aware of the clinging warmth. And it all seemed to be coming from the huge shacks that were producing the ideal sounding echoes. Somehow he had begun to doubt seriously that he was in Paradise.

“What do you ziv, Della?” But even as he asked the question, he sensed that her eyes were closed.

“I’m not zivving — not with all this heat. It’s too much.” She seemed frightened and confused.

“Try it.”

She hesitated a long while before he caught the impression of her eyes flicking open.

But she only gasped and threw her hands in front of her face. “I can’t! It’s too painful!”

Then he realized that, all the while, his own eyes hadn’t been open. He raised his lids and saw (that would be the proper word for it, he remembered) nothing.

“Didn’t you ziv anything at all?” he asked.

Stubbornly, she continued shielding her face. “Some shacks — enormous ones. And a lot of stems reaching up from the water. Everything after that was too hot. I couldn’t keep my eyes on it.”

Impulsively, he swung his head back in the dierction of the shacks. There was Light over there now! Not the kind he had experienced in infinity, but the kind the monsters carried — two cones darting here and there among the noisemaking structures.

Puzzled over his silence, the girl asked, “What is it?”

“Monsters!”

Then he heard one of the creatures shouting to the other above the clamor of the multiple echo caster:

“Did you dampen the fourth reactor?’

“I shut it down completely. That takes care of the last few hot springs in the Upper Level, according to the diagram.”

“How about those scattered springs — the ones fed by the second reactor?”

“Thorndyke says to let them go on flowing. If we miss anybody, they’ll have a place to stay until we can find them.”

Heartsick, Jared retreated toward the stairs. He had been right all along. The monsters were responsible for the boiling pit failures. And now he heard how precarious had been the position of the Survivors through all the generations. At any chosen moment the demons could have deprived them of their principal means of existence!

Abruptly the cone of light swung in his direction. He turned and bolted for the stairs, prodding Della ahead of him.

“They’re coming!” he warned.

At full speed they bounded upward. There was a moment, after he had climbed hundreds of steps, that he considered slowing the pace so they could catch their breath. But he realized just then that he was also receiving faint Light composites of the things around him. Which meant the monsters were already on their way up!