0197: Some Kind of Paradise
“The distance between what we do know about this structure and what we don’t know is nearly bottomless,” he mused. “And yet, it’s right in front of us. Or beneath us, depending on your orientation.”
“Am I interrupting something?” Lazarus Long asked hesitantly, his high brow peeking around the edge of the open portal.
“No, we were just piecing something together,” Rosemary said, pulling herself away from the curved wall. “Speaking of which…”
She bent over to pick up her small medical satchel, which she had placed near her feet upon entering the lift. A moment later, she stood again, holding an assortment of pills in her small palm, which she presented to Lamont. “Listen: I want you to take the white one now. It will help relax you so you can rest on the trip back. The two pink pills will help you sleep after you’re done for the day.”
Lamont grimaced. “Thanks. What are the blue ones for?”
“To help keep you going until you can take the pink ones,” Rosemary smiled.
“We’re running behind,” Lazarus remarked as he settled into the pilot’s seat behind the bulbous starboard porthole of the asteroid pod. “The next wave of immigrants will be waiting for us the moment we arrive. Did something go wrong up there?”
“Not exactly,” Lamont grunted, fastening his restraining straps. “I got distracted.”
“Miss Wells has a reputation for being distracting,” Lazarus smiled, flicking a toggle switch.
The newspaperman glowered at him. “Con—that is, one of the colonists wanted to show me something. It’s some kind of a sculpture or monument. It may offer some kind of a clue as to who built this place and why.”
“What’s your running theory?” The black-haired pilot asked.
“I don’t have anything solid, yet. But you can wager that I’ll get to the bottom of it if we’re here long enough.”
There was a moment of silence as Lazarus activated the craft’s gravity repulsors and tapped the thruster controls to ease them in the direction of the tower’s curved outer wall. As before, they held their breath, waiting to see if the side of the tower would open to allow them egress. As before, they exhaled in relief when it did. Moments later, Lamont was looking down along the length of the tower, at the weird foreshortening effect that occurred as his eyes followed it for miles down to the coal-like surface of the moon, where it looked like a gossamer spider’s web. “Get to the bottom of it,” he repeated thoughtfully.
“Looks like you’re making plans,” Lazarus observed.
“The distance between what we do know about this structure and what we don’t know is nearly bottomless,” he mused. “And yet, it’s right in front of us. Or beneath us, depending on your orientation.”
“Honestly, it gives me the creeps,” the pilot admitted. “The sooner we put this place behind us, the happier I’ll be.”
“What if they don’t want to leave?” Lamont asked.
Lazarus looked at him curiously.
“That landing bay is full of vessels,” the newspaperman reminded him. “Vessels that, from the look of it, come from many different places. Vessels that never left. And most of what we’ve seen in there so far is like some kind of paradise. Could you blame the colonists if they decided they liked it here?”
“Like you said,” the pilot replied uncomfortably. “There’s a lot we don’t know. They’d be taking a lot on faith.”
“Man, where have you been?” Lamont laughed sarcastically and popped the white pill in his mouth. “That’s all we ever do.”