I can't decide for a moment what the most interesting thing about this find is. That Yordie is leaving me messages through such bizarre mediums, the idiosyncratic contents of this message, or the type - which I'm almost certain is a perfect reproduction of late 15th century Schwabacher script.
I'm very curious about what could be causing these typographical fluctuations. Is it technical, cultural, or psychological? For all I know, these are just various retro-phases being generated by futuristic computerized typesetting gear. Madness, all is madness.
I continue on, searching for the escape route Yordie has pointed out to me. Finally I detect a chilly gust emanating from between two narrow shelves. I stop short, calling J--- back as I begin investigating.
Freshly exposed dirt under the hole I find indicates that this passage is a recent development, and the cold air rushing through implies an entirely separate underground system. Perhaps a way back to the surface. A little hand excavation widens the hole, and I slip through, followed by J---.
The concrete walls and floor that I can just make out in the near dark prove my suspicions correct - this couldn't possibly be part of the bookstore. The room is dimly lit from the hole we came through, and a yellowish light from an ajar door in the far wall. I stumble over a crate and some tangled wire as I cross the room, and stop to listen before slowly opening the door.
Nothing has explicitly threatened us, yet I feel as if we're evading some form of confrontation. I hear nothing and slowly open the door. Outside is a hallway extending beyond sight in both directions, lit at distant intervals with fluorescent tubes. Directly across from me is a stairwell.
The light seems subtly different from the fluorescent lights I'm familiar with, and I can feel the faint stirrings of motion sickness. I can only guess that they're feeding off a much lower frequency current than I've ever experienced before. I wonder for a moment if the inhabitants also have a lower sensory cycle time.
Turning back to the room, I see J--- squirm through the hole. He stands up and brushes the dirt from his clothes, and we both begin to examine the contents of this room. The crate I stumbled over was empty, but more just like it cover one wall. They are filled with ammunition. The tangled mass of wire looks like eight-wire RJ45 - some form of telephone or serial line probably.
The walls are cinder-block, not cement as I first thought, and a few smashed blocks litter the floor near where we came through. I can't find any evidence to explain that hole though - if something went through before us, in either direction, or how old twist in the building design is. Lousy construction surrounds us. This must have been tossed together in a rush. Shelter from some war or natural disaster? Ammo could indicate either soldiers or survivalists. Power would indicate that the building is still in use, or at least still being maintained. The possibly of a self-perpetuating robotics system that's outlived its masters is very remote. Such a system will either fail and collapse, or evolve and move on. This looks like neither, but further exploration will answer that question. For the time being we must assume that it is still manned. We cautiously start up the stairwell. We climb perhaps six or seven flights before we are scared into an adjoining hallway by the sound of numerous descending boots. As I open the door leading from the stairwell however, water bursts out, being perhaps a foot deep on the other side. Sure that the water in the stairwell will attract whatever's attached to those boots, I blindly rush down the hallway. Most of the lights are out, or dimly flickering. Crashing noises in the distance an front of me reverberate through the darkness, and are soon followed by a sudden increase in waves and a rise in the water level.
The noise steadily increases. Half is from the raging waters ahead, and half is from the raging soldiers behind. We hurry as much as possible, hugging the wall when the current grows to strong, and pushing on as it weakens momentarily. Soon we reach the site of catastrophe - a wall has fallen in, apparently due to an explosion - scorch marks cover the ceiling. Water is crashing through, filling most of the hole.
Wading out through the hole is impossible due to the overwhelming power of the current here, but we manage to make use of a few cables that the water has pulled partially into the hallway to haul ourselves out over the raging surface and into the darkness beyond. We find ourselves in the midst of a tangle of scaffolding and girders that allow us to easily climb over the underground river, and away from the pursuing boots.
The pitch blackness would make survival for us unlikely over this raging underground river, but we pull ourselves up into the middle of a jungle of bars and scaffolding and cables, which form a misshapen playground for us to quickly and easily climb through. I barely detect a remote mechanical sound over the sound of the rushing waters, and tell J--- to follow me as I try to find the source. Our path leads ever upwards and soon the river is a distant drone and we can see an escape from this chaos of metal in a cliff opening nearby in a faint glow from far overhead.
The opening is not a cave, but looks like a basement corridor in some sort of factory or other industrial setting that has been sliced in half deep underground. We clamber in and find an interior of dust, grime, boxes, locked doors, and general industrial decay. The noise that had guided us here is coming from an ancient elevator shaft a little ways in from the entrance. I approach the shaft to see if there is any indication as to the source of the noise.
I watch through the crosshatched grating of the sliding door as an elevator passes slowly by. A long drawn out sigh seems to emanate from it, which I finally identify as a slowed down "Wheeee!!!". Apparently elevators have also discovered the joys of bungee jumping. The elevator had only passed by and was perhaps two or three floors down when a louder and more recognizable cry of "Wheeee!!!" filled the elevator shaft, and a dark flailing shape went flying by, followed by a tangled cord. A few seconds later a loud thud indicates that the jumper was unaware of the elevator's location when deciding on the length of the bungee cord. Perhaps that explains the dark stains covering the concrete floor in the vicinity of the elevator door.
Anything for fun.
A little way down the hallway from the elevator I stop in front of a door that displays a large sign saying "DO NOT OPEN". I do not obey. Inside, all is darkness, except for some flashing electronic lights swaying slightly at the other end of a large open space. The lights are from a bunch of scientific instruments, carried by a man walking around a large dark pool, looking intently into space through some sort of high-tech device, softly calling "Here Neutrino, Come on, good boy. Here Neutrino, Heeeeeere Neutrino....".
I ask him what he's looking for down here.
"Some things can only be found in darkness. What is useful information most of the time is overpowering noise at other times." "No, no. I mean why are you even pursuing this subject at all?" "Physics defines the universe - the substrate of our very existence. Everything else is built up from these fundamental principles. In addition, familiar problems reappear at every level of study. Particle physics is really a boy-meets-girl thing, except sometimes they just cancel out completely. It's cleaner in that regard." He wanders off mumbling to himself.
I pursue him. "Was this a major research facility previously, or did you build it up to this level?" It's hard to tell makeshift construction from disrepair and decay in unidentifiable equipment in the semi-darkness.
"Oh no, I did all this." He sweeps his hand across the room. "Aside from the size of the operation, it is not really Big Science. I'm sorry, that probably sounds contradictory. I mean that there isn't much sophisticated technology involved here - most of the mass you see is volumes of water in big vats. That's not hard to put together. The sensors are the only thing in this experiment that pose a technological and financial problem, and I found a few interesting shortcuts to make that bearable. It's like every other pursuit - you spend a little effort transforming your problem into a better domain or simpler context, and the actual solution for the newly defined problem becomes trivial."
I remember an old fascination of mine from my school days. "On a tangent to all this - do you think space and time are quantized?"
He drifts into deep thought for a moment before answering. "I haven't considered that question in a long time. It's not relevant to my current work, though it was a great concern of mine in my youth. I must admit I am still curious, though I had largely forgotten about it. The ramifications of that question are enormous. I used to think everything was quantizable, mostly for the sake of orthagonality. However, if the context for a discrete system is also discrete, I don't think you can avoid round-off error or other similar precision errors that would break conservation of energy. So I suspect everything inside the system is discrete, yet the foundations of the system are continuous. I could very well be wrong about this though. I have suspicions, but no firm beliefs about this." He smiles. "It is good to be aware of the problem though. Your thoughts?"
"I hadn't considered that attack, but your claims seem reasonable. I had only thought about the lack of any axis bias or aliasing evidence. Either way, we both lean towards continuity."
We meditate on this silently for a minute, then he apologizes for his busy schedule and returns to his work.
I leave and close the door, returning him to his illuminating darkness.
We follow the twisting hallway past locked doors and numerous freight elevators, most of which do not look functional. Here and there are crates and barrels. Some are rusty or broken, many leak strange fluids and fumes. The familiar radiation and biohazard symbols flourish. Finally we come out into an open area that it takes but a few seconds to recognize as a subway platform. Have we managed to make it back to the surface? Could this be a live subway beneath a thriving metropolis?
A heavy rattling sounds in the tunnel and I grin at J---."Subway's working, perhaps the surface is just above." He understands the implications of this immediately. A moment before he had probably forgotten that we had plans for seeing the surface again.
My hopes are soon dashed though, when the subway arrives at the platform to let off passengers. If you could call it a train that is - there's no single vehicle, but merely a cluster of Merry-Go-Round ponies following the rails. This catches my attention first, but doesn't hold it, as I notice the passengers are all one-eyed razorback boars. Scary looking, those are, especially when they're chasing you, as these soon were.
I don't stay to observe any longer, and turn to follow J--- who has quicker flight reflexes than I. We jump off the subway platform, and sprint into the tunnel. The light fades immediately, and we're soon stumbling through the dark, trying to follow the subway rail. The noises from behind are enough to keep us moving at full speed however. Terror inspires excellence in flight. J--- keeps ahead of me, even with his wounded ankle.
In a few moments we are both gasping for breath from the chase, and quickly losing hope. We're not athletes and don't have as much stamina as we had hoped. We should have stood our ground instead of tiring ourselves out, if a fight is unavoidable. I call out to J--- who I can hear stumbling through the darkness ahead of me. He yells back to hurry - he must have found something. I wander forward, dizzy from the exertion (if therewas any light, I know I could see my pulse as an intermittent circle of distortion near my center of vision, but here in the pitch-black darkness of the depths, I can only hear it pounding in my ears) and almost pass J--- by completely, but he grabs my arm and jerks me with him to the side wall, and into some passageway he has found to save us.
I cover my head with my shirt to try to muffle the sound of my gasping as our pursuers rush by. I glance up at them just long enough to see why we're still alive and free - the boars were slowed down by their stubborn refusal to leave their briefcases behind on the subway platform. Boars do not travel very fast trying to run upright on their hind legs.
We are safe but I can't stop twitching. My legs continue to try to run, and I keep suddenly whipping around to see what's behind me, even though I'm leaning against the cave wall. J--- is staring at me from the far side of the passageway we're hiding in, and his expression is clearly that of terror, apparently directed at me, not our previous pursuers. I try to reassure J--- that I'm OK now, just a little tangled, but I can only stutter incoherently. A blast of light from deeper down the cave highlights a huge arm clad in white as it rushes towards us and forces a paper cup full of pills down my throat, followed by another paper cup of water. I fight to no avail, and eventually swallow.
J--- is terrified far beyond any possibility of action, and I feel a sudden deadness of body and spirit spread out through my body as though time stopped just as I was getting slammed with a giant pillow.
We sit quietly for several minutes before I remember our current dilemma. I finally manage to speak. "I think we've lost them." Actually, I don't remember who was chasing us, but that's OK. J--- manages to nod.
I speak very carefully and precisely now. "Let's go."
We progress about ten feet before I am distracted by a pile of rocks. "Oh wait, I want to take some of this potassium feldspar for a friend of mine. It's his fave mineral. Ah, do you have a... ah.... oh here's a small piece. Why did I want this? Oh yeah." I continue looking through the rocks on the cave floor, picking out any small samples of interest. "I love granite. Granite's the best when you're on serious painkillers. Hold on."
J--- waits while I take off my shoes. "That feels so nice. See the k-spar in the granite? It's the orange spots. Tranks and barbs are good for mineral appreciation too, but about 120 mg of morphine would really make this for me. Oh, are you more into sedimentary formations? Man, contact metamorphism of sedimentary rocks are the best. Hornfels yeah yeah yeah. Isn't that a song? Wait." I start humming something, but I can't really remember what I'm trying to recall, and I just start singing about granite under my breath.
My feet are bleeding a little bit, but that's cool. "Flow blood, flow free." I giggle. I feel too weak to walk but I stretch out face-down on the ground with a virtuosity that could obviously only be gained through years of hands-on experience. I'm afraid my display is lost on J--- as pearls cast to swine. I try to mind-meld with the floor, but either I'm further out of practice than I thought, or the rock is just very boring. I shouldn't say that though, and immediately feel bad for being so judgmental. Perhaps the floor is just tired. I can understand that, in my present condition. Strange insects begin to congregate on my back and arms, so I finally get up to scratch.
I immediately fall down again, but the insects are no longer a problem. A few deep breaths and I courageously gain a standing position. I need stars, so a motion J--- to follow me, and slowly pick my way down the cave wall. I accidentally remember how easy it is to lose track of one's vertical orientation, and spend a few entertaining moments crawling along the underside of a rock ceiling, then straight down a cliff, spin a bit, and finally return to the default perspective.
The walk clears my head and we make better headway. It's slow going when you're trying to feel your way through a dark cave, but we were making progress. We pass through a few branches at random, but eventually detect a slight rhythmic sound in the distance and try to head for it. A faint light makes our journey a little easier, and we soon enter a dimly lit cave.
Broken pieces of coral and shells lie scattered about the room. A ridge of sand around the center forms a hollow in which sits a huge octopus with a glowing crown and scepter. Torches surround the room, but most are out, and the other merely sputter slightly, and give of far more smoke than light. A salty mist falls from somewhere above, and I can hear the sounds of water in the distance.
The Octopus raises several of its arms as we move closer, and lifts its head to face us with its huge staring eyes. An overpowering sense of strength and control emanate from its features. This is clearly a Cephalopod of ancient royal lineage. My impressions are reinforced by its voice as it begins to speak.
"Once, you would have stood before me as an appetizer. Now I must seek your aid. Alas, to what a sorry state my empire has fallen. Where have my people gone? Where do they await me? How long must they await my return to glory? Do they know of my torments, of my loss greater than theirs? The pain of my kingdom trickles up from every fallen subject and culminates in the unbearable burden you see weighing down my spirit." It accompanies this speech with flourishes of its many arms, and I'm surprised to find that I can intuitively grasp its body language and expressive tone and pronunciation. I think cephalopods and primates are much more closely related than is generally thought. How else can one explain the natural feeling of kinship most people feel towards octopus and squid?
The octopus meanwhile seems to be raving about some ungratefully four-eyed jawless fish that stabbed him in the back after he helped them out of some sort of jam a long time ago. I don't know anything about the historic incidents he's referring to, and I'm sure his explanation is not objective, so I remain neutral and just grunt enough at the proper places to prove that I'm awake and make him think I'm listening. Meanwhile I'm utterly amazed at the collection of scallop shells strewn about the floor. I've never seen any specimens of such size, especially in such perfect condition! I dig a particularly spectacular one out of the sand while the octopus glances away for a moment, hide it under my shirt, and watch him attentively to see if he noticed.
He holds up a stone cylinder covered in inlaid gold and mother-of-pearl script of some unknown tongue. "This contains all the information required to open up a portal between this land and my home, taking advantage of certain cosmic anomalies which our science has mapped out over the millennia. Normally the distance and spaces between us render travel completely unfeasible, but the time we have so long awaited draws near, for soon the Stars Shall Be Right, and if I can only get this message across to my brethren, they shall be ready to bridge the gap at the proper time, and my hordes of warriors shall return to glory in the conquest of this unsuspecting planet."
He finally stops and seems to be awaiting an answer from me. I wasn't really paying attention, so I just say "Yeah, sure. Where do we send it from?"
The octopus is overjoyed and busies itself for a moment preparing certain papers for inclusion in the cylinder, and pouring over a few maps which he finally gives us. He shows us our current location and the general path we need to follow to reach the surface.
"Don't follow any paths leading down in this area, under any conditions. There are some rather nasty surprises lying in wait for strangers around here."
I find J--- hiding next to one of the torches, covered in soot. We follow his directions and soon find the access door to the shaft that leads to the surface. It looks like an abandoned freight elevator of some sort, but it's much too large. Perhaps it carried vehicles for some massive underground installation. In any case, there are catwalks scattered randomly around the perimeter, and ladder rungs embedded directly into the concrete walls. We make good speed escaping towards the sound of wind rushing by the shaft entrance overhead, and have nothing more to battle except gravity. The entrance is higher up than I first thought however, and I'm exhausted. This is one of those rare situations where I inevitably wish that I were less attractive.
Climbing from the twisted entrance to the shaft, we view a landscape of desolation and carnage. Nothing lifts its torn body more than a few feet above the blackened ground. Shattered walls are clumped within fields of blasted stumps, all that is left of this idyllic country scene. Far overhead, a few scattered clouds continue to burn. The muffled roars of explosions pursue each other through the winding valleys in the distance, cheered on by flashes and shock waves.
"Better Living Through Death." the offered card says. J--- is pale and apparently in shock, obviously not in any condition to deal with this. He finally realizes that he's being confronted by a business card, and his gaze follows the suited arm back to the suited body of the sales critter standing before us.
"Nice day, isn't it, friend? Perfect weather for a blitzkrieg. Would you and your friend here be at War by any chance? Rather opportune of me to stop by just this moment if you are, I dare say." He grins.
I say no thanks, but that only seems to whet his sales appetite.
"From out of town are you? If you're interested in a reference to a reputable local territorial dispute I'm sure I can be of assistance. What level of escalation are you interested in? Do you specialize in any particular style or form of killing?"
J--- is finally adapting to his surroundings, and is becoming visibly offended by this odd presentation of the glories of battle. "Do you even realize you're talking about murdering human beings?" Standard attack, but his response is original. "Everyone dies eventually. I'm just offering them more choices."
J---'s response is cut off by the appearance of a robed, bearded man wearing sandals and carrying a cross on his shoulder. On closer examination however, the cross appears to be some sort of missile with forward guidance fins. The resemblance is uncanny though. Especially the INRI painted in blood on the missile head.
The sales critter's face blossoms into a smile of recognition. "Ah, one of my best clients. He heard a story once that the image of Jesus was seen in the mushroom cloud over Hiroshima in 1945. Since then he's been searching nuclear blasts for traces of God's form. Bless his heart. For a while he was satisfied with catalyzing ongoing conflicts and encouraging nuclear blows between existing foes. His quest for truth and illumination has not been satisfied through these means however, and he has recently taken up the direct use of atomic weapons. It pleases me to see a young man in today's apathetic world put such effort into a journey of the soul, and what can be more rewarding for a businessman like myself than the combination of higher goals and brisk trade?"
He turns to the newcomer and shakes his hand. They obviously know each other quite well. "What can I do for you this fine day?"
"I'm seeking tools of mercy, merely seeking tools of mercy, may God's will be done." The man's face is purity, bliss, and seething rage. He seems to be addressing this to us, then pauses and finally turns to the jolly arms dealer. "I need a few ground-to-ground missiles and a fallout shelter."
"I have this Russian shelter model available at a very, very competitive price. Excellent fallout shelter, I used one myself during a brief bit of 'hot' weather a few years ago." He laughs and flashes us his larger-than-life smile.
The fundoid seems skeptical. "Provisions included and acceptable?"
"A three month's supply of dehydrated rations is included. I must admit however that I didn't get the opportunity to try them out in my brief experience. The meat from the two men who accompanied me into the shelter lasted me through the full duration. Ha ha. I wasn't going to let them in, when they first came knocking on my front door, until I saw how well built they were. I guessed their weight to within ten pounds in fact. I made sure to weigh them before I bled the bodies, just to see. I used to do that at a carnival when I was just a youngster - guessing people's weights. There ain't much I haven't seen in my day." He seems to age ten years as he reminisces.