Here there was seemingly nothing between her and the stars; and beneath them a smooth black floor that was so highly polished it reflected the constellations like a still pool on a moonless night.
Constance turned to Abner, about to ask him whether this is what he had wanted to show her, but the words stopped behind her lips when she saw that he was weeping. Startled, she asked: "Now what's gotten into you, Abner Wade?"
"What's gotten into me?" Abner reflected, drawing a thick-fingered hand across his nose with a sniffle. "That's a funny thing to ask after everything you just said."
Constance was confused. The last few minutes had been passed in near silence. She had lost track of time, as so often happened in the garden, and had forgotten about the plans she had made with Abner to accompany him on a little excursion that day. There was something he had wanted to show her. In his typical open-faced way, he had been unable to hide his disappointment that she was so preoccupied when she made him wait until she concluded the planning meeting she had been holding before following Abner to the elevator shuttle. With practiced familiarity, he had summoned the navigation sphere from its nest in the shuttle ceiling and had selected a destination that would be new to her: The very top level of the tower, where the structure's cylindrical profile tapered to a spired dome. The garden level was quite near the top of the tower, and the ascent was not a long one. Mainly to break the uncomfortable silence, Constance had asked the young man to remind her what he had in mind for the trip. He had just started saying something about radio signals and data patterns when the shuttle door snapped open to reveal a sight that, once again, pulled her attention from him.
Looking out from the central elevator shaft, she could see stars. This was also true on the garden level, but there the view was obstructed by a variety of other visual distractions. Here there was seemingly nothing between her and the stars; and beneath them a smooth black floor that was so highly polished it reflected the constellations like a still pool on a moonless night. She had hesitated a moment before stepping out of the elevator, testing the floor to make sure that it would support her weight. Then she had looked up.
She knew from the navigation sphere that what she must have been looking at was a transparent dome, some 50 feet above their heads, but there were no columns or beams or visible seams. It was only stars. But at the very center, suspended directly above their heads, was a large discoloration that was shaped something like a four-petaled flower, the petals following the downward curve of the invisible dome. The motif didn't have any single color; it was prismatic, shifting in subtle hues across every part of the spectrum, including some colors Constance wasn't sure she had ever seen before. There was something hypnotic about the kaleidoscopic patterns in the shape, and she had experienced a moment of dizziness before returning her attention to Abner. She realized to her surprise that he was sitting Indian-style a few paces away, tears streaming down his broad face.
"We've been here near half an hour," he explained incredulously after she asked for an explanation. "And you haven't stopped talking to take a breath the whole time."