Glass by Stephen Palmer

Author:Stephen Palmer [Palmer, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science Fiction, Post-Apocalyptic, Cyberpunk
Publisher: infinity plus
Published: 2013-12-02T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

Vitrescence was worsening. The foundations of the Rusty Quarter houses showed dim-spot, the characteristic sign of infection, while much of the Empty Quarter was now dark and sharp, with shards covering every street, the skyline an encircling row of knives. The Water Purification House standing on Feverfew Street had not yet succumbed, but everybody knew that soon it would. Elsewhere, the Cold Quarter was in some sectors a continuous sheet of cracked glass, gloomy and deadly, a place that only the mad and the dead did not leave.

Because the consequence of glass was cuts and blood, the fervour displayed by the followers of Selene lessened a little across the city, despite the continuing transformation of the Spacefish. And at last Noct’s inevitable answer arrived. From the smoking factories of the Nocturnal Quarter came black plastic ladies on sticks, thousands upon thousands of them, idols superior to previous efforts in that they could be filled with water by an act of trepanning and squeezed, thus making the image weep black tears. It was noted, however, that although these idols initiated waves of high spirits to counter the lunar acolytes, they were of poor manufacture, since when squeezed the black tegument came off to stain hands and fingers. Many people wondered if this was an omen of strife and secret discord in high circles, since to certain clerks these inferior products would constitute an act of schism.

Dwllis was far too busy to notice any of this. One day at the Cowhorn Tower he was disturbed by noise at the door, and upon investigating he discovered Crimson Boney jumping up and down and trying to get inside. Dwllis let him in, shutting the door after making one round of the tower’s circumference; the gnostician had no lunar follower, so far as he could see.

At once he was confronted with the problem of communication. For some weeks now he had realised that the gnosticians were important to the Crayan scheme of things, the words of Hedalgwadey making this hunch even more plausible. Despite Umia’s threat he desperately wanted to sit down with Crimson Boney and chat. It would solve so many mysteries.

Working for Lord Archivist Subadwan had displaced his other activities. Now, a gnostician at his side, he felt the overwhelming urge to create a translator. Vivid, dreamy minutes passed as he considered the problem, oblivious to the creaking of the tower, the pattering footfall of the gnostician, to the purr and burble of on-line pyuters.

Pyuters. That was the key. It was the only way. He would have to create a pyuter powerful enough and with enough memory to become a translation machine. It could be done. An inner certainty drove him. The fact that he was the only person in all of Cray to consider gnosticians an already conscious species made him puff up with pride.

Hours of reverie passed. Thousands of discrete thoughts entered his mind.

‘I’ll do it,’ he suddenly said, standing. ‘I’ll crack this damnable thing once and for all.’

Crimson Boney showed no sign of leaving.

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