David Galouye - Dark Universe

There it was — the beginning of the torture. Offer him something, then tantalize him by holding it just out of his reach.

“So much for the preliminaries,” Thorndyke said finally. “Now, here’s a whole bunch of facts you can file away against the time when they’ll all start making sense:

“Your two levels and the Zivver group are descendants of U. S. Survival Complex Number Eleven. Consider a whole world — not the kind you know, but one many, many times greater with billions-you know what a billion is? — bilions of people crammed in it. They’re divided into two camps, ready to hurl themselves at one another with weapons deadly beyond imagination. Even to use them would mean to, ah — poison all the air for many generations.”

Thorndyke paused and Jared got the impression it was a story he had told hundreds of times.

“This war does start,” he resumed, “but, fortunately, not until preparations are made for the survival of a few groups — seventeen, to be exact. Sanctuaries are established beneath the ground and are sealed off against the poisoned atmosphere.”

“Actually,” Caseman put in, “even making it possible for a handful to survive was a remarkable achievement. It wouldn’t have been possible without adaptation of nuclear power and development of a type of plant life that functioned through thermosynthesis instead of photo—”

The flow of words came to a halt, as though Caseman had sensed his listener’s inability to cope with them.

“Manna plants to you,” Thorndyke explained curtly. “At any rate, the survival complexes were prepared; the war started, and the selected few fled from their — Paradise, so to speak. For the most part, things went along as planned. All equipment worked properly; knowledge and familiar institutions were preserved, and life went on with everybody knowing where they were and why they were there. Generations later, after the outside air had purged itself, the descendants of the original survivors determined it was safe to return outside.”

“Except in Complex Eleven,” Caseman amended. “There, things didn’t go so smoothly.”

“Indeed they didn’t,” Thorndyke agreed. “Let’s back up, though. From what I hear, Fenton, you’re a nonbeliever — never accepted the idea light was God. By now you probably even have a pretty good idea just what it really is, even though you’re stubborn as hell about opening your eyes. At any rate, we’ll take it from there:

“Light is as natural a thing as, say, the sound from a waterfall. In its primary form it comes in abundance from what you’ll swear is Hydrogen Himself when you see it. We also have ways of producing it artificially, as you know by now. And each of the survival complexes had their own lightproducing systems right up until the time they were able to return to the outside world.”

Caseman, leaning closer to the bed, interrupted, “Except yours. After a few generations you lost your ability to maintain those systems should anything happen. And something did happen.”

“There was a minor fault shift,” Thorndyke resumed. “And — well, the lights went out. At the same time most of the superheated water conduits leading to your basic chamber were snapped off. Your people had to push farther into the complex, occupying other chambers that were partly prepared to receive possible population overflows.”

Vaguely, Jared was beginning to construct a composite of what they wanted him to believe. But it was so incredible — the parts he could understand — that logic revolted against it. For instance, who could comprehend all infinity jammed with hostile people? Yet, there had been nothing menacing in either Thorndyke’s or Caseman’s voices. As a matter of fact, the words, though meaningless for the most part, were soothing in their own way.

But no! That was just the reaction they were trying to get out of him! They were using trickery to gain his confidence. Nevertheless, he was determined they wouldn’t break his resolve to free himself and find Della so they could escape from Radiation.

He opened his eyes, but let them linger only briefly on Thorndyke’s composite. To one side of that central impression he could see the window with its drapes drawn back. Beyond reared the huge wail of rock and earth with its gaping hole of darkness that was the mouth of the passageway.

Then he tensed as the light impressions achieved even more clarity. Off in the distance were scores of moving figures — figures he was certain were either Survivors or monsters, but which were no bigger than his little finger! And he also saw now that the mouth of the corridor leading back to his world was as small as the nail on that finger!

Caseman must have gotten a composite of his face twisting with dismay. “What’s wrong with him, Thorndyke?”

But the other only laughed. “He’s having his first experience with perception. Don’t be afraid, Fenton. You’ll get used to things in the distance seeming small. Aren’t voices closer to you louder than those far away?”

“He can see pretty well for a beginner,” Caseman offered.

“I’d say he’s even several leaps ahead of the others at this point. He’s probably been outside before now. That right, Fenton?”

But Jared didn’t answer. Eyes closed, he was bemoaning the fact that the horrors of infinity were even more awful than he had suspected. He had to get back to his own worlds!

“About Survival Complex Eleven—” Thorndyke interrupted his anxious thoughts. “When your people left their basic chamber they left knowledge and reason behind. We found that out after we broke the seal and made our first trip into the passages. Incidentally, we’re members of an expedition from Survival Complex Seven, released from our caves almost a generation ago. As I was saying, we happened upon a lone Survivor in one of your corridors. After I finally managed to get a half nelson on him, we pretty much guessed what the score was.”

“That was an Upper Level Survivor,” Caseman noted. “It took weeks to pound some logic into his head. At the same time we realized that getting the rest of you out under the sun wouldn’t be a simple matter of walking up and saying, ‘Here we are and this is light and let’s go outside.’ ”

“That’s right,” Thorndyke affirmed. “Until we could study the situation, we had to take it slow, collaring a Survivor at a time, while we mapped the general layout. We couldn’t move in in force until we knew all the niches and crannies you would hide in if we should scare you out of your chambers.”

Some of the account was making sense now and Jared forced himself to lie back and listen.

Thorndyke rose and laughed briefly. “We had planned to educate a few Survivors to the facts and let them go back inside, without light, to break the news gently to the others.”

“Wouldn’t work though,” Caseman disclosed. “After one of you fellows gets used to using his eyes, he finds he can’t get around in the dark without light. Most of them are even afraid to go back.”

Thorndyke rubbed his hands together. “That ought to be enough for the time being, Fenton. Think it over. I’ve an idea that the next time around you’ll have some questions to ask. To help answer them, we’ll bring along some people you know and trust.”

Jared reopened his eyes in time to see them leaving the shack. And he noted, to his consternation, that they had been right about that matter of perspective at least. The farther away they got, the smaller they became.

He strained desperately against his bonds, but to no avail. Then, pausing to rest, he turned his head toward the opposite wall. Instantly a great flood of intense light bored into his eyes and he cried out in dismay. Screaming at him from one corner of the window was an edge of that great disc which Thorndyke had denied was Hydrogen! Was it maneuvering toward his shack — trying to come in after him?