of any of us.” The young man straightened and stood back from the car, indicating with a wave of his arm which way she should go.
As she continued up the road, Elizabeth glanced in her rearview mirror and saw Rigel pull what looked like a cell phone from one of the pockets of the baggy sun-bleached overalls that seemed to be his only garment. He put it to his ear as he disappeared back into the wooded area between the two forks.
I wonder if he's a watchman or something,
Elizabeth thought half seriously.
He could be reporting on me to, what was his name? Polaris?
The road ran through a gentle little hollow that showed the remains of a once extensive apple orchard. Here and there small, newly built log cabins were scattered, interspersed with an occasional felt-covered yurt. Elizabeth smiled nostalgically, remembering when these shelters—originally the portable dwellings favored by central Asian nomads—had been embraced by counterculture types back in the seventies.
The
Whole Earth Catalog
lives!
she thought with a grin.
Beneath one of the largest of the apple trees lounged a group of young women, all very pregnant. They were wearing gauzy white robes; some of them had wreaths of flowers on their heads. They glanced without curiosity at Elizabeth's car and one or two gave a perfunctory wave.
And the flower children, too.
She nodded at the picturesque group and drove on, humming,
“If you're going to Saan Fraan-ciso,/Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair. . . .”
A little beyond the old orchard was a geodesic dome of the type popularized by Buckminster Fuller.
More seventies stuff,
she thought, smiling broadly.
I have obviously driven right into a time warp.
Composed of large triangular panels, the dome rose huge and sparkling white in the sun, an imposing and unlikely sight in this ancient mountain cove. Triangular windows were set in vertical rows over its surface, and two tall purple-painted doors stood open at the end of a quarry-stone path. Elizabeth parked in the neat gravel parking area, marked with more of the hand-carved signs. Polaris, Algol, Altair, and Canopus each rated a private spot, while the eight remaining slots were all labeled “Visitor.” As she crunched her way through the thick gravel toward the dome, she noted that Polaris had a very new white Range Rover, while Algol and Canopus made do with silver Navigators. Altair was not there and there were no visitors besides herself.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust as she stepped from the bright sunlight into the cool dim open interior of the dome, the heavy doors automatically and silently swinging shut behind her. The sensation was very different from that of entering an ordinary building. Somehow, there was a feeling of vastness—as if the interior of the dome was bigger than the outdoors. She felt the urge to call out
Hellooo,
as one might in a cave, certain that there would be an echo.
How big
is
this thing?
Elizabeth wondered.
A hundred feet across? More?
A small sign inked in elaborate calligraphy requested that shoes be removed. Simple racks on either side of the door provided space for many shoes but were empty except for one pair of men's sandals.
Elizabeth hesitated at the entrance, peering around her. The only light was that which poured in shafts through the triangular skylights set in the upper curve of the structure. The floor beyond the tiled entryway was covered in rich blue carpeting. A circular dais, also covered with the blue carpet, occupied the dome's center. In the dimness, Elizabeth didn't at first notice the figure on the dais. Then a sudden shaft of light—a cloud passing away from the sun's face?—illuminated the white-bearded man who sat there with crossed legs and folded hands, eyes closed but obviously fully aware of her.
“Come in, daughter.” The low, resonant tones seemed, oddly enough, to come from all around her rather than from the seated figure. Elizabeth toed off her sneakers and put them on
As she continued up the road, Elizabeth glanced in her rearview mirror and saw Rigel pull what looked like a cell phone from one of the pockets of the baggy sun-bleached overalls that seemed to be his only garment. He put it to his ear as he disappeared back into the wooded area between the two forks.
I wonder if he's a watchman or something,
Elizabeth thought half seriously.
He could be reporting on me to, what was his name? Polaris?
The road ran through a gentle little hollow that showed the remains of a once extensive apple orchard. Here and there small, newly built log cabins were scattered, interspersed with an occasional felt-covered yurt. Elizabeth smiled nostalgically, remembering when these shelters—originally the portable dwellings favored by central Asian nomads—had been embraced by counterculture types back in the seventies.
The
Whole Earth Catalog
lives!
she thought with a grin.
Beneath one of the largest of the apple trees lounged a group of young women, all very pregnant. They were wearing gauzy white robes; some of them had wreaths of flowers on their heads. They glanced without curiosity at Elizabeth's car and one or two gave a perfunctory wave.
And the flower children, too.
She nodded at the picturesque group and drove on, humming,
“If you're going to Saan Fraan-ciso,/Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair. . . .”
A little beyond the old orchard was a geodesic dome of the type popularized by Buckminster Fuller.
More seventies stuff,
she thought, smiling broadly.
I have obviously driven right into a time warp.
Composed of large triangular panels, the dome rose huge and sparkling white in the sun, an imposing and unlikely sight in this ancient mountain cove. Triangular windows were set in vertical rows over its surface, and two tall purple-painted doors stood open at the end of a quarry-stone path. Elizabeth parked in the neat gravel parking area, marked with more of the hand-carved signs. Polaris, Algol, Altair, and Canopus each rated a private spot, while the eight remaining slots were all labeled “Visitor.” As she crunched her way through the thick gravel toward the dome, she noted that Polaris had a very new white Range Rover, while Algol and Canopus made do with silver Navigators. Altair was not there and there were no visitors besides herself.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust as she stepped from the bright sunlight into the cool dim open interior of the dome, the heavy doors automatically and silently swinging shut behind her. The sensation was very different from that of entering an ordinary building. Somehow, there was a feeling of vastness—as if the interior of the dome was bigger than the outdoors. She felt the urge to call out
Hellooo,
as one might in a cave, certain that there would be an echo.
How big
is
this thing?
Elizabeth wondered.
A hundred feet across? More?
A small sign inked in elaborate calligraphy requested that shoes be removed. Simple racks on either side of the door provided space for many shoes but were empty except for one pair of men's sandals.
Elizabeth hesitated at the entrance, peering around her. The only light was that which poured in shafts through the triangular skylights set in the upper curve of the structure. The floor beyond the tiled entryway was covered in rich blue carpeting. A circular dais, also covered with the blue carpet, occupied the dome's center. In the dimness, Elizabeth didn't at first notice the figure on the dais. Then a sudden shaft of light—a cloud passing away from the sun's face?—illuminated the white-bearded man who sat there with crossed legs and folded hands, eyes closed but obviously fully aware of her.
“Come in, daughter.” The low, resonant tones seemed, oddly enough, to come from all around her rather than from the seated figure. Elizabeth toed off her sneakers and put them on
Similar Books
