Alcatraz versus the Knights of Crystallia by Brandon Sanderson Page B
Authors: Brandon Sanderson
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e xcellent!" Grandpa Smedry said. Then his face fell.
"What?" I asked, alarmed.
" Well, it's just that . . . we'r e early . I'm not sure what to think about that. You must be having a bad influence on me, my boy!"
"Sorry," I said. It was hard to contain my anxiety. Why hadn't I thought of going to help Bastille? Would I arrive in time to make a difference? If a train left Nalhalla traveling at 3.14 miles an hour and a train left Bermuda at 45 MHz, what time does the soup have pancakes?
"Grandfather," I said as we waited. "I saw my mother today. ”
"Folsom mentioned that. You showed great initiative in following her."
"She's got to be up to something."
"Of course she is, lad. Problem is, what?"
"You think it might be related to the treaty?"
Grandpa Smedry shook his head. "Maybe. Shasta's a tricky one. I don't see her working with the W ardens of the S tandard on one of their projects unless it were helping her own goals. Whatever those are."
That seemed to trouble him. I turned back to the robed men and women. They were focused on large chunks of glass that were affixed to the corners of the metal box.
"What is that thing?" I asked.
"Hum? Oh. T r ansporter's Glass, lad! Or, well, that's Transporter's Glass at the corners of the box. W hen the right time arrives – the one we've scheduled wit h the engi neers at a similar box up in Crystallia – both groups will shine brightsand on those bits of glass. Then the box will be swapped with the one over in Crystallia."
" S wapped?" I said. "You mean we'll get teleported there?"
“Indeed! Fascinating technology. Your father helped develop it, you know.”
“He did?”
"Well, he was the first to discover what the sand did," Grandpa Smedry said. “ We'd known that the sand had Oculatory distortions; we didn't know what it did. Your father spent a number of years researching it and discov ered that this new sand could teleport things. But it only worked if two sets of Transporter's Glass were exposed to brightsand at the same time, and if they were transporting two items that were exactly the same size."
Brightsand. It was the fuel of silimatic technology. When you expose other sands to brightsand's glowing light, they do interesting things. Some, for instance, start to float. Others grow very heavy.
I could see enormous canisters in the corners of the room, likely filled with brightsand. The sides of the con tainers could be pulled back, letting the light shine on the Transporter's Glass.
"So," I said. "You had to send ahead to Crystallia and tell them what time we were coming so that they could activate their Transporter's Glass at the same time."
"Precisely!"
"What if someone else activated their brightsand at exactly the same time that we do? Could we get teleported there by accident?"
"I suppose," Grandpa Smedry said. "But they'd have to be sending a box exactly the same size as this one. Don't worry, lad. It would be virtually impossible for that kind of error to happen!"
Virtually impossible. The moment you read that, you probably assumed that the error would – of course – h a ppen by the end of this book. You assumed this because you've read far too many novels. You make it very difficult for us writers to spring proper surprises on you because –
LOOK OVER THERE!
See, didn't work, did it?
"All right," one of the black-robed people said. "Step into the box and we'll begin!"
Still a little worried about a disaster that was "virtually" impossible, I followed Grandpa S medry into the box. It felt a little like stepping into a large elevator. The doors shut, then immediately opened again.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"Wrong?" Grandpa Smedry said. "Why if something had gone wrong, we'd have been shredded to little pieces and turned into piles of sludge!"
" W hat ?"
"Oh, did I forget to mention that part?" Grandpa Smedry said. "Like I said, virtually impossible. Come on, my boy we have to keep moving! We're late!"
He scuttled out of t he
"What?" I asked, alarmed.
" Well, it's just that . . . we'r e early . I'm not sure what to think about that. You must be having a bad influence on me, my boy!"
"Sorry," I said. It was hard to contain my anxiety. Why hadn't I thought of going to help Bastille? Would I arrive in time to make a difference? If a train left Nalhalla traveling at 3.14 miles an hour and a train left Bermuda at 45 MHz, what time does the soup have pancakes?
"Grandfather," I said as we waited. "I saw my mother today. ”
"Folsom mentioned that. You showed great initiative in following her."
"She's got to be up to something."
"Of course she is, lad. Problem is, what?"
"You think it might be related to the treaty?"
Grandpa Smedry shook his head. "Maybe. Shasta's a tricky one. I don't see her working with the W ardens of the S tandard on one of their projects unless it were helping her own goals. Whatever those are."
That seemed to trouble him. I turned back to the robed men and women. They were focused on large chunks of glass that were affixed to the corners of the metal box.
"What is that thing?" I asked.
"Hum? Oh. T r ansporter's Glass, lad! Or, well, that's Transporter's Glass at the corners of the box. W hen the right time arrives – the one we've scheduled wit h the engi neers at a similar box up in Crystallia – both groups will shine brightsand on those bits of glass. Then the box will be swapped with the one over in Crystallia."
" S wapped?" I said. "You mean we'll get teleported there?"
“Indeed! Fascinating technology. Your father helped develop it, you know.”
“He did?”
"Well, he was the first to discover what the sand did," Grandpa Smedry said. “ We'd known that the sand had Oculatory distortions; we didn't know what it did. Your father spent a number of years researching it and discov ered that this new sand could teleport things. But it only worked if two sets of Transporter's Glass were exposed to brightsand at the same time, and if they were transporting two items that were exactly the same size."
Brightsand. It was the fuel of silimatic technology. When you expose other sands to brightsand's glowing light, they do interesting things. Some, for instance, start to float. Others grow very heavy.
I could see enormous canisters in the corners of the room, likely filled with brightsand. The sides of the con tainers could be pulled back, letting the light shine on the Transporter's Glass.
"So," I said. "You had to send ahead to Crystallia and tell them what time we were coming so that they could activate their Transporter's Glass at the same time."
"Precisely!"
"What if someone else activated their brightsand at exactly the same time that we do? Could we get teleported there by accident?"
"I suppose," Grandpa Smedry said. "But they'd have to be sending a box exactly the same size as this one. Don't worry, lad. It would be virtually impossible for that kind of error to happen!"
Virtually impossible. The moment you read that, you probably assumed that the error would – of course – h a ppen by the end of this book. You assumed this because you've read far too many novels. You make it very difficult for us writers to spring proper surprises on you because –
LOOK OVER THERE!
See, didn't work, did it?
"All right," one of the black-robed people said. "Step into the box and we'll begin!"
Still a little worried about a disaster that was "virtually" impossible, I followed Grandpa S medry into the box. It felt a little like stepping into a large elevator. The doors shut, then immediately opened again.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"Wrong?" Grandpa Smedry said. "Why if something had gone wrong, we'd have been shredded to little pieces and turned into piles of sludge!"
" W hat ?"
"Oh, did I forget to mention that part?" Grandpa Smedry said. "Like I said, virtually impossible. Come on, my boy we have to keep moving! We're late!"
He scuttled out of t he
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