anyone knows.”
“You mean, nuclear accidents had reduced everything to the level of tribes?” asked Justice. She felt sick inside. It was hard to believe that any of this was possible; and yet she knew it was.
“Accidents, wars and natural phenomena, which I am coming to—that of the greatest devastation. But listen and I will tell it.
“Starters would have to leave behind all the suffering poor tribes,” he said, “and would take with them only those few with no gene mutation. Starters would take what else that was good to take, having thought and planned for the final hard time. These Starters, as I have said, were the hidden seeing ones like yourselves, ones of fine mentalities. And then the last catastrophe did occur.
“Believe you,” he toned in muted rhythms that were filled with sadness, “dust could end life the way you know life in your time?”
Dorian slowly nodded. So did Levi. “There was this volcano mountain eruption on the West Coast just before we came here,” Dorian said. “They say there was so much dust, it went hundreds of miles. You wouldn’t believe how much there was, covering whole acres and acres. Then we had this earthquake—can you believe it? In the Midwest, an earthquake! It was five-point-one on the scale. And people say it’s the beginning of some real changes in the earth, too.”
“And so it was, the pre-computation time,” toned Celester.
“You mean dust to end everything, Celester?” Justice asked him.
“I don’t know if I believe it,” Thomas said before Celester could respond. “It’s going to take a whole lot to end the world. More than some dust.”
“If dust is greater than all imagining of it?” toned Celester. His voice hummed, sounding tones which, simultaneously, they understood in word translations.
“There began the end of earth,” he toned. “This the Colossus machine suggests from its recovery of memory data from times past. There came a vast drought in the continent known as Nord Amer. There was dust from sand of continents already turned to desert. And a hundred years of poisonous dust-ash from a mountain chain active for that long. Wars, radiation. Whole cities and industrial states fallen to dust. Not one generator or engine could rid its parts of dust. Not one elevator would run; no moving stairs, no trains or buses, cars. There were tons upon tons of dust for every human, living and dead.”
They stared at him in disbelief. Even Duster listened, sensing the worst of times. Miacis waited patiently, at ease in companionship with those she comforted.
“There were generations of blowing in which night took over day,” Celester sang, “all being dust and brown and shadow.”
“But … wouldn’t such dust seed clouds and make rain?” Levi asked. “And then, wouldn’t dust be brought down by all the moisture? There’d be mud floods, maybe, but wouldn’t that help clear up the air?”
“It did rain,” toned Celester, “and that was the reason humans could exist for longer than might be expected. There came sudden, drenching downpours. But eventually dust did become suspended in the troposphere. Forming clouds were overseeded, when they could form at all. No water droplets were big enough to fall to earth as rain. Climate was disrupted. There came long cold times, and a few hot intervals of time. So many did not survive the hardships. Nothing, no technology to aid them. Dust in all things. Nothing much grew. Lonely souls scattered about, stumbling their way. Dying out.”
“I don’t want to hear any more,” Levi said, covering his face with his arms, knees beneath his chin.
“We might as well hear the end, we’ve heard it this far. Let him finish,” Justice said quietly.
And so, Celester continued.
“Some struggling few roamed the dustlands,” he toned. “It is suggested by Colossus that these lived to hunt mythical greenspans said to thrive beneath the dust—rumors handed down through shrouds of dust-time.
“You mean, nuclear accidents had reduced everything to the level of tribes?” asked Justice. She felt sick inside. It was hard to believe that any of this was possible; and yet she knew it was.
“Accidents, wars and natural phenomena, which I am coming to—that of the greatest devastation. But listen and I will tell it.
“Starters would have to leave behind all the suffering poor tribes,” he said, “and would take with them only those few with no gene mutation. Starters would take what else that was good to take, having thought and planned for the final hard time. These Starters, as I have said, were the hidden seeing ones like yourselves, ones of fine mentalities. And then the last catastrophe did occur.
“Believe you,” he toned in muted rhythms that were filled with sadness, “dust could end life the way you know life in your time?”
Dorian slowly nodded. So did Levi. “There was this volcano mountain eruption on the West Coast just before we came here,” Dorian said. “They say there was so much dust, it went hundreds of miles. You wouldn’t believe how much there was, covering whole acres and acres. Then we had this earthquake—can you believe it? In the Midwest, an earthquake! It was five-point-one on the scale. And people say it’s the beginning of some real changes in the earth, too.”
“And so it was, the pre-computation time,” toned Celester.
“You mean dust to end everything, Celester?” Justice asked him.
“I don’t know if I believe it,” Thomas said before Celester could respond. “It’s going to take a whole lot to end the world. More than some dust.”
“If dust is greater than all imagining of it?” toned Celester. His voice hummed, sounding tones which, simultaneously, they understood in word translations.
“There began the end of earth,” he toned. “This the Colossus machine suggests from its recovery of memory data from times past. There came a vast drought in the continent known as Nord Amer. There was dust from sand of continents already turned to desert. And a hundred years of poisonous dust-ash from a mountain chain active for that long. Wars, radiation. Whole cities and industrial states fallen to dust. Not one generator or engine could rid its parts of dust. Not one elevator would run; no moving stairs, no trains or buses, cars. There were tons upon tons of dust for every human, living and dead.”
They stared at him in disbelief. Even Duster listened, sensing the worst of times. Miacis waited patiently, at ease in companionship with those she comforted.
“There were generations of blowing in which night took over day,” Celester sang, “all being dust and brown and shadow.”
“But … wouldn’t such dust seed clouds and make rain?” Levi asked. “And then, wouldn’t dust be brought down by all the moisture? There’d be mud floods, maybe, but wouldn’t that help clear up the air?”
“It did rain,” toned Celester, “and that was the reason humans could exist for longer than might be expected. There came sudden, drenching downpours. But eventually dust did become suspended in the troposphere. Forming clouds were overseeded, when they could form at all. No water droplets were big enough to fall to earth as rain. Climate was disrupted. There came long cold times, and a few hot intervals of time. So many did not survive the hardships. Nothing, no technology to aid them. Dust in all things. Nothing much grew. Lonely souls scattered about, stumbling their way. Dying out.”
“I don’t want to hear any more,” Levi said, covering his face with his arms, knees beneath his chin.
“We might as well hear the end, we’ve heard it this far. Let him finish,” Justice said quietly.
And so, Celester continued.
“Some struggling few roamed the dustlands,” he toned. “It is suggested by Colossus that these lived to hunt mythical greenspans said to thrive beneath the dust—rumors handed down through shrouds of dust-time.
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