a helicopter was hovering above us, coming down very slowly toward the roof. Its door opened as it touched down, and we were shoved inside, hands forcing our heads down so they wouldnât be chopped off by the rotors. The shape and size of the rotors looked quite different from the ones Iâd seen in our world, but I couldnât figure out how.
Two men got in with us, and put Lou and me together in a seat at the back, and up we went, fast. Lou was next to the window, looking down, making soft little amazed noises. He glanced up at me, and grinned. I couldnât help grinning back, though I canât say I felt much like it. Looking out from up there, we must have been able to see for miles. And everywhere we looked, in every direction, there were lights: chains and necklaces of lights, moving strands of light that must have been roads, endless dots of light. Endless people.
First I thought how beautiful the lights were, but in the next instant I realized they showed how incredibly crowded this place must be. It was like the phosphorescence in the sea that Grand showed us sometimes after dark, at home; when you stirred up the seawater, it glowed like liquid fireâbut the light didnât come from the water itself. It came from all the thousands and millions of tiny glowing creatures swarming in every inch.
The helicopter was very noisy. Nobody spoke to us. Sir and Nora had treated us like people, but now we were just objects, to be shuttled around. The only trouble was, I didnât know where we were being shuttled to. What was Central? A hospital? âWeâll keep you safeâ could have meant anything, even some sort of prison.
We flew for quite a long time, half an hour maybe, and Lou fell asleep, his head drooping against my shoulder. It was amazing how he could just tune everythingout. Still, heâs young. It made me feel lonely. I sat there with my mind worrying away a mile a minute, staring out at those endless dots and strings of light, that went on and on without a break anywhere.
When we did come down, it was into a place really thick with lights, and as we slowly dropped closer and closer to the ground I looked out of the window and saw dozens of great tall buildings reaching up to meet us, skyscrapers I guess, all of them blazing with light. On the other side I saw only darkness, a broad strip of darkness before the sea of lights began again, hazy in the distance. When the helicopter touched down, with a gentle jolt, I realized that this darkness was a river, and that we were landing on a flat place where the river and the city met. Floodlights shone down over the landing area, and at its edge you could see the river lapping against a barrier wall. In the light, the water was a dark grey-brown.
Still, nobody spoke to us. They took us across a paved space and onto a moving staircase that rose steeply upward. Lou loved it, he chortled with surprised delight as it carried him up. People climbed past us even while we moved; the place was crowded and busy and everyone seemed to be in a hurry. Pangaia was a world I could never have imagined, from what I knew at home. Everywhere we had been, the land was paved or concreted and built over, jammed with people. The air was hazy and the water was brown, and no stars shone. Only the weird mutated Wilderness had been green, and nowthat was black and dead. It was all about as different from Lucaya as any place could be.
We stepped off the staircase, with a silent man in uniform at either side of us. This place did look as if it might be a hospital; it was all glass and steel and white paint, with long bleak corridors, and plateglass doors that slid open when you walked toward them. Men and women in white coats or white overalls hurried about the corridors, murmuring to each other, each carrying a little flickering screen the size of a book. Everyone looked worried; nobody smiled.
Our two red-uniformed guardians marched us along miles of
Two men got in with us, and put Lou and me together in a seat at the back, and up we went, fast. Lou was next to the window, looking down, making soft little amazed noises. He glanced up at me, and grinned. I couldnât help grinning back, though I canât say I felt much like it. Looking out from up there, we must have been able to see for miles. And everywhere we looked, in every direction, there were lights: chains and necklaces of lights, moving strands of light that must have been roads, endless dots of light. Endless people.
First I thought how beautiful the lights were, but in the next instant I realized they showed how incredibly crowded this place must be. It was like the phosphorescence in the sea that Grand showed us sometimes after dark, at home; when you stirred up the seawater, it glowed like liquid fireâbut the light didnât come from the water itself. It came from all the thousands and millions of tiny glowing creatures swarming in every inch.
The helicopter was very noisy. Nobody spoke to us. Sir and Nora had treated us like people, but now we were just objects, to be shuttled around. The only trouble was, I didnât know where we were being shuttled to. What was Central? A hospital? âWeâll keep you safeâ could have meant anything, even some sort of prison.
We flew for quite a long time, half an hour maybe, and Lou fell asleep, his head drooping against my shoulder. It was amazing how he could just tune everythingout. Still, heâs young. It made me feel lonely. I sat there with my mind worrying away a mile a minute, staring out at those endless dots and strings of light, that went on and on without a break anywhere.
When we did come down, it was into a place really thick with lights, and as we slowly dropped closer and closer to the ground I looked out of the window and saw dozens of great tall buildings reaching up to meet us, skyscrapers I guess, all of them blazing with light. On the other side I saw only darkness, a broad strip of darkness before the sea of lights began again, hazy in the distance. When the helicopter touched down, with a gentle jolt, I realized that this darkness was a river, and that we were landing on a flat place where the river and the city met. Floodlights shone down over the landing area, and at its edge you could see the river lapping against a barrier wall. In the light, the water was a dark grey-brown.
Still, nobody spoke to us. They took us across a paved space and onto a moving staircase that rose steeply upward. Lou loved it, he chortled with surprised delight as it carried him up. People climbed past us even while we moved; the place was crowded and busy and everyone seemed to be in a hurry. Pangaia was a world I could never have imagined, from what I knew at home. Everywhere we had been, the land was paved or concreted and built over, jammed with people. The air was hazy and the water was brown, and no stars shone. Only the weird mutated Wilderness had been green, and nowthat was black and dead. It was all about as different from Lucaya as any place could be.
We stepped off the staircase, with a silent man in uniform at either side of us. This place did look as if it might be a hospital; it was all glass and steel and white paint, with long bleak corridors, and plateglass doors that slid open when you walked toward them. Men and women in white coats or white overalls hurried about the corridors, murmuring to each other, each carrying a little flickering screen the size of a book. Everyone looked worried; nobody smiled.
Our two red-uniformed guardians marched us along miles of
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