Dark Universe (7 page)

But, then, she had actually been _elated_ over his failure to hit the shell. Why?

"Jared!

Jared!"

He listened to Della running forward to overtake him.

She caught his arm. "You don't have to tell me now. I know. Oh, Jared, Jared! I never dreamed anything like this would happen!"

She drew his head down and kissed him.

"You know--what?" he asked, drawing her out.

She went on effusively, "Don't you hear I suspected it all along--from the moment you threw the spears? And when I brought you that tube the monster dropped I all but said I had found it by its heat. I couldn't make the first move, though--not until I was certain you were a Zivver too."

From the depths of his astonishment, he managed to ask, "_Too?_"

"Yes, Jared. I'm a Zivver--just like you."

The Captain of the Official Escort came over from the entrance.

"We're ready whenever you are."

Rigid self-discipline was customary in Withdrawal and Contemplation. So crucial a decision called for searching introspection.

For Unification automatically meant full Survivorship--a double measure of responsibility. Then too, one so dedicated also had to concern himself with the demanding obligations of Procreating and Familiarization of Progeny.

These considerations were far from Jared's mind over the next few periods, however, as he meditated in the silence of his heavily curtained grotto. He thought of Della--yes. But certainly not in the sound of normal Unification. Rather, his speculation centered on the significance of her being a Zivver. How had she managed to conceal that fact? And what were her intentions?

At that, though, the situation was not without humor. There was Lorenz--on a Zivver hunt. And all the while he had one right beside his ear!

As far as Jared was concerned, the girl would be conveniently available for counteraccusation should the Adviser ever decide to accuse him of being a Zivver.

If he so chose, he could expose her any time he wanted. But what would he gain? Anyway, the fact that she thought he was a Zivver made for an interesting situation and he was anxious to hear what would come of it.

This line of thought invariably led to conjecture on the nature of zivving. What magical power was it that permitted one to know where things were in total silence and in the absence of odors? Or, like his imaginary Little Listener, did Zivvers hear some sort of soundless noise made by all things, animate and inanimate alike? Then he remembered it wasn't sound at all, but heat that they zivved.

Each time his attention wandered to these irrelevant matters, he knew he was not rendering full service to the spirit of Withdrawal and Contemplation. Yet, he supposed all of these subjects deserved exploration under the special conditions of his Unification.

He spared himself one possible distraction, though, in not telling the Prime Survivor about the monsters' invasion of the Upper Level. That would only have revived condemnation of his trip to the Original World.

On the fourth period of retreat he was jolted from meditation by a commotion in the world outside. At first he thought the monsters had reached the Lower Level. But there was not so much consternation as dismay in the voices of those streaming toward the orchard.

They had all abandoned the residential area by the time he decided on interrupting Withdrawal. He started after them. But halfway across the world, the central caster fetched impressions of the Prime Survivor and Elder Haverty coming in his direction.

"How long did you _expect_ to keep it a secret?" Haverty was asking.

"Until I could decide what to do about it, at least," the Prime Survivor answered glumly.

"Eh? What? I mean, what _can_ you do about something like that?"

But the other had detected Jared. "So you broke Withdrawal," he observed. "I suppose it's just as well."

Haverty excused himself, explaining that he was going to hear if Elder Maxwell had any ideas on how to cope with the situation.

"What happened?" Jared asked after the other had gone.

"We've just had nine hot springs go dry." The Prime Survivor led the way toward their grotto.

Jared was relieved. "Oh. I thought it might be soubats, or maybe Zivvers."

"I wish to Light that's _all_ it was."

In the curtain-shielded privacy of their recess, the Prime Survivor paced aimlessly. "This is a critical situation, Jared!"

"Maybe the springs will start flowing again."

"The other three that dried up haven't started again. I'm afraid they're out for good."

Jared shrugged. "So we'll have to do without them."

"Don't you hear the seriousness of this thing? We have a tight, delicate balance here. What's happened might well mean some of us _won't be able to survive!_"

Jared started to offer further encouragement. But suddenly he was preoccupied with self-concern. Was this part of the pattern of punishment he had brought on by provoking the Original World monster? Hot springs going dry in both the Upper and Lower Level, evil beings pushing past the Barrier--were they all actually strokes of vengeance by an offended Light Almighty?

"What do you mean--'some of us won't be able to survive'?"

"Figure it out yourself. Each hot spring feeds the tendrils of a hundred and twenty-five manna plants at the most. Nine dead boiling pits means almost twelve hundred fewer plants."

"But that's just a fraction--"

"Any fraction that reduces the survival potential is a critical factor. If we apply the formula, we hear that with mne less hot springs we can support only thirty-four head of cattle instead of forty. All the other livestock will have to be reduced proportionately. In the long run it will mean seventeen less people can exist here!"

"We'll make up the difference with more game."

"There'll be _less_ game--with more soubats than ever flying the passageways."

The Prime Survivor stopped pacing and stood there breathing heavily. Clickstone echoes weren't needed to tell that he was crestfallen, that the creases in his face were etched even more deeply.

Jared couldn't escape a sense of helplessness as he thought of man's absolute dependence on the manna plants. Actually, they stood between the Survivors and death, providing as they did food for humans and livestock alike; rich juices; fibers for the women to twist into cloths, ropes and fishing nets; shells that could be split in half and used as containers; stalks that could be dried out sufficiently for sharpening into a spear or arrow.

Now, almost bitterly, he could recall his father's voice finding new depths of respect and thoughtfulness gestations ago in reciting one of the legends:

"Our manna trees are a copy of the magnificent plants created by Light in Paradise--but a poor copy indeed. Light's creation was topped by thousands of gracious, lacy things that swayed in the breeze and made whispering noises while they enjoyed constant communion with the Almighty. They drank of His energy and used it in such a manner as to mix the water they drank with bits of soil and with the air that men and animals breathed out. And they transformed these things into food and pure air for man and animal alike.

"But Light's plant wasn't good enough. It seems we had to fashion a tree without the graceful, whispering things at the top--one which has, instead, great masses of awkward feelers that grow deep into the boiling pits. There they draw energy from the water's heat and use it to transform the foul air of the worlds and passageways and the elements from compost into fibers and tubers, fruit and fresh air."

That was the manna plant.

"What are we going to do about the hot-springs situation?" Jared asked finally.

"How are you coming along with Contemplation?'

"I suppose I've just about exhausted the subject."

"That helps." The Prime Survivor lodged a hand on his shoulder.

"I've an idea there's going to be drastic need for help from the Upper Level before long. You realize, of course, that you don't have much of a choice in Contemplation. Under the circumstances, this Unification couldn't possibly be Unwise."

"No. I don't suppose it could."

The Prime Survivor cuffed his arm warmly. "Fm sure you'll be ready to return to the Upper Level just as soon as the Seven Periods of Withdrawal are over."

Outside, a deep silence that had fallen over the world was interrupted by the first phrases of the Litany of Light. The Guardian of the Way's fervent voice cracked with veneration as he shouted out the Recitations. More subdued but no less reverent were the Responses by the worshipers.

Recalling that Revitalization Ceremonies had failed after the first three springs had gone dry, Jared brushed the curtain aside and headed for the Assembly Area to join the services. That it would be a novel experience added little to his enthusiasm.

He stayed on the fringe of the Congregation. To have gone up front at the first ceremony he had attended in gestations would have distracted Guardian and Survivors alike. And he felt even more self-conscious when he heard a sharpeared child nearby grip his mother's arm and exclaim,

"It's Jared, Mother! It's Jared Fenton!"

"Hush and listen to the Guardian!" the woman reproved.

Guardian Philar was circulating among them, his words rebounding clearly from the object he clutched against his chest.

"Feel this Holy Bulb," he exhorted. "Be inspired along the passageway of virtue. Let us hurl back Darkness. Only by renouncing evil can we discharge our obligation as Survivors and listen ahead to that great period when we will be Reunited with Light Almighty!"

If the Guardian of the Way wasn't the gauntest man in the Lower Level, Jared felt certain, then he was at least in close running for the distinction. Bouncing off his body, central caster echoes picked up the harsh bluntness of bones that threatened to erupt through skin. His beard was sparse to the extreme of being fully inaudible. But the most prominent features of his haggard face were eyes set deep in their sockets and lids squeezed so firmly together that it was doubtful whether they had ever been open.

He reached Jared and paused, his voice stooping for but not quite finding a bass fervor. "Among all the things in this world, our Holy Bulb is the only one that has ever been in contact with Light. Feel it." And, when Jared hesitated, "_Feel it!_"

His hand went out reluctantly and touched its cold, round surface. In exaggerated proportion, it had the same properties as the miniature Bulb in the object the monsters had left in the Upper Level. And he wondered But he banished the thought. Wasn't it his own curiosity-- over the Bulb and many other things--that had gotten the worlds into their present predicament?

The Guardian moved on, swaying, almost chanting. "There are those who would deny that Light ever dwelt in this relic. To them goes the blame for having provoked the Almighty's wrath."

Jared lowered his head, aware that many around him would have no trouble identifying the person for whom the accusation was intended.

"So the spiritual challenge we face on this Revitalization Period," the Guardian concluded, "is a personal one. The echoes from the wall are clear. Unless we atone individually for our misdeeds, we may expect to find that the same Light Almighty who banished Survivor from His presence has it in His power to destroy Survivor completely!"

He replaced the Holy Bulb in its niche and faced the Congregation, arms outstretched. An elderly woman went and stood humbly before him and Jared listened to Philar's hands performing the final ritual.

"Do you feel Him?" the Guardian demanded.

The woman grunted a disappointed negative reply and moved on.

"Patience, daughter. Effective Excitation comes to all those who persevere against Darkness."

Another Survivoress, two children and a Survivor humbled themselves in front of Guardian Philar before the first positive response was evoked in the Excitation of the Optic Nerve Ritual. It was elicited from a young woman. As soon as the Guardian brushed aside the veil of hair that hung in front of her face and applied fingertips to her eyelids she cried out ecstatically:

"I feel Him! Oh, I feel Him!"

The stark emotion in the woman's voice made Jared's flesh tingle.

Patting her head approvingly, the Guardian turned to the next person.

Jared lagged behind the last in line, not letting himself imagine those who were Effectively Excited might actually be feeling nothing more than a special pressure from the Guardian's hands. Rather, he tried to keep his thoughts receptive, so that his first participation in the ritual would not be thwarted by long-standing prejudice.

By the time his turn arrived, the others had gone from the Assembly Area, leaving only him and the Guardian. Waiting with his head lowered, he listened to Philar's severe expression. The Guardian was not concealing his belief that Jared's flagrant disrespect for the Barner had brought on the Lower Level's misfortunes.

Bony hands reached out to Jared's face. They explored their way along his cheeks to his eyes. Then fingernails pressed into the soft recesses beneath the lower lids.

At first there was--nothing. Then the Guardian applied an almost painful pressure.

"Do you feel Him!" he demanded.

But Jared only stood there confounded. _Two fuzzy half rings of silent sound were dancing around in his head_. He could feel them _not_

where the Guardian was pressing, but somewhere near the upper area of his eyeballs. Effective Excitation was the same sort of sensation he had twice experienced in the presence of the monsters!

Was he actually supposed to be feeling a part of Light Himself? If so, then why should he be aware of the presence of the Almighty, in a slightly different way, whenever he was near the Twin Devils? If Light was good, then why should He also be associated with the evil creatures?

Jared repressed the profane thoughts, chasing them completely out of his mind, together with the memory of ever having entertained them.

Fascinated, he listened to the dancing rings. They became more or less vivid as the Guardian varied the pressure of his fingernails.