"Amazing, don't you think? Truly amazing."
Tess looked up with a start at the sound of the voice. Turning, she regarded the speaker with no small amount of surprise. The museum rarely had visitors at this time of day, as most citizens were enjoying the warmth of the midday Zenith. Nonetheless, a middle-aged man was standing close by, just inside the guideline, the thin line of his mouth turned up in a faint smile that suggested he, too, was wondering just what someone else was doing here.
She glanced away, flushing slightly with a momentary embarrassment, as if he had, in that brief moment, uncovered her innermost secret. She shook off that thought almost instantly, though. For all he knew, she was just another visitor, come to gawk at the colossal relics in the expansive chamber at a time when she could have a little privacy.
"Yes, amazing, that's a good word for it," Tess responded hesitantly after a moment. She decided a bit of explanation was in order, to throw him off the track. "It's even more amazing when I'm here alone. Everything just looks so much more...spectacular."
The man turned away to regard the immense object before him. Stretching halfway across the room, the massive sneaker was easily larger than one of the electric autobuses that ferried travelers to every corner of the Isle of Sanctuary. The flat ribbon of white lacing that dangled close by was almost as wide as the man's waist. He reached out with a hand, brushing the thick weave with almost loving care.
"Yes, I've always thought so," he told her, even as she shuddered at the way he caressed the gigantic shoe. She'd often wondered what it would be like to actually touch one of the artifacts, or even climb up to rest atop one. Ever since she was a youth, she had entertained such thoughts, as if the entire museum encompassed an enormous child's playground she would never be allowed to enjoy.
"Are...are you the caretaker here?" asked Tess curiously, wondering how he could touch a Giant artifact without sounding an alarm.
"Not the caretaker, no," said the man, turning back to face her once again. "I apologize, I haven't introduced myself, have I? My name is Nathanos, or just Nathan if you prefer. I'm an assistant at the museum. I should be out at Zenith, I suppose, but when I saw we still had a visitor, I couldn't help but investigate."
He smiled again, and this time Tess blushed slightly, turning away as she studied the floor near his feet. The look he was giving her could have only one meaning. After all, she was quite pretty, with wide, slightly upturned eyes, high cheekbones, and honey-blonde hair that bounced and tumbled down her shoulders to a point halfway down her back. A single lock slipped down over her face and she smiled coquettishly, brushing the tousled wave away with a flick of her wrist.
"I must say," Nathan went on unabashedly, "it's unusual to find anyone here at midday, much less someone so alluring. Nonetheless, you are welcome to stay, if you wish, but you must first tell me your name."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered, blushing again at her failure to follow proper etiquette. The man was clearly older than her by at least ten years, but his undisguised interest and flattery were leaving her flustered. She hadn't expected anything other than solitude at this hour, after all. "My name's Tessara, but everyone calls me Tess. I'm from District Sixteen, you know the one? The arcologies along the western shore, at Fall's Hope Beach."
"Yes, I've been there," answered Nathan with a nod, although the reply was hardly necessary. There was only so much to see on the Isle, and it was a rare individual who hadn't explored every inch of it. "The beach is spectacular, especially at sunset," he went on, obviously enjoying the opportunity to make conversation. "Say, isn't that where they shot the horsefly last week?"
"Yes, it was," she replied immediately, managing to avoid shuddering at the memory. "Terribly ugly thing. I'm glad I didn't have to clean it up."
"You saw it up close, then?" asked Nathan curiously.
Tess nodded, and the suppressed memory came flooding back. The creature had been almost a centimeter long, bigger than her head, and covered with disgusting hairs and other yucky things. She heard its horrible droning in the still air, but despite the danger, she hadn't fled like the other sunbathers. Instead, she followed closely as the hunters trailed behind, moving carefully, placing bait here and there, until finally one of them landed a perfect shot. Even then, the monster still jumped and kicked for several minutes until it died. Tess actually managed to get close enough to almost touch it before someone covered the beast with a blanket and pushed her away.
"That must've been terrifying," said the assistant curator. "Insects are just so...alien. They don't belong in the same world as us, do they? It's fortunate we only have one or two sightings a month."
"Yes, I agree," said Tess. The memory of the huge horsefly was burned into her mind, and yet, as ugly as the creature was, it was still fascinating in its own way. Like the huge sneaker in front of her, and the other immense objects scattered throughout this wing of the museum, it was a thing from another world and another time.
"You know," said Nathan after a long pause, "there's more to the museum than what you see here. There are a few other objects we don't have out for the general public. Sacred relics the priests won't let us show."
"Really?" Tess asked, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "What else?"
"Well," Nathan went on, waving an arm at the other displays. "What you see here are just a few of the more common items the Giants used--things we can easily recognize. A shoe, like this one, and a comb, and those pens, and of course the silverware and plate in the corner. Well, they had more than just such simple tools. There is a cylindrical device that stands as tall as a man, with a switch that produces an instant flame. We also have a larger, flatter object covered in buttons, with a screen that displays numbers. If you push the buttons correctly, you can perform complex mathematics."
"That sounds amazing," said Tess breathlessly. "I'd love to see those things someday."
"That's not all," he went on. "There are some more frightening displays, including several preserved insects, some much larger than a fly. Plus the skeleton of a four-legged beast larger than you or I, perfectly preserved. And, perhaps the holiest of all, is a tooth we believe came from an actual Giant."
"A--a tooth?" gasped Tess. "Really?"
"Oh, yes, it's quite real," said Nathan with a widening smile. "Of course, the Council doesn't let us put out such displays for just anyone. The general public can never see them. They are, however, available for...private viewings."
Tess nodded, glancing down at the floor again. She wasn't a naïve youth anymore--she knew exactly what Nathan was suggesting. At least he wasn't terrible to look at. His hair wasn't yet receding, and though his face had a few faint wrinkles here and there, he was still reasonably attractive. He also looked acceptably trim and fit in his brown custodial suit, lacking any of the unsightly paunch that often accompanied aging. Someone like him should have no trouble finding a pairup, Tess thought, but then, that's exactly what he was doing right now, wasn't it?
She sighed. This wasn't how she imagined her day going, but then, she'd never had the opportunity to do anything more than just look at Giant artifacts from afar. She already knew she'd do whatever it took just for the opportunity to touch one. There was never any doubt that she'd agree to Nathan's proposal.
"All right," she agreed, without a trace of reluctance in her voice. "I'd love to see them."
"Come with me, then," he replied with a grin, and she followed closely into the depths of the museum.
There was something faintly sacrilegious, thought Tess as she climbed back into her one-piece oversuit, about a pairup atop a sacred Giant artifact. A part of her insisted she head for the Temple and beg forgiveness at once. The rest of her, though...well, the rest of her was still trembling with excitement. It was all so frightening and dangerous and wrong.
And of course that's what made it so exciting...
She pulled up her boots and paused, letting a hand run slowly across the silky-soft fabric of the massive folded washcloth. Once, perhaps, the yellow-gold towel hung near a sink, in a home so gigantic it would've dwarfed the largest arcologies. A Giant would wipe his hands with the cloth without even thinking about it, just as she would a hand towel in her own apartment's washroom. And now, today, it had served another purpose entirely, as a soft and comfortable bed for two strangers to share ever so briefly.
Nathan wasn't the best lover she'd ever had--not by any means. He was actually little more than adequate. Yet none of that really mattered. She got to lie atop a Giant artifact, in a room surrounded by wonders beyond anything she'd ever dreamed of! He could've been the worst lover on the Isle and she wouldn't have cared one bit.
He was dressing now, his bare back to her, and Tess could see several slashing scars on his mottled skin. A shudder passed through her as she realized what those were--scourge marks, almost surely from a ceremonial whip. That meant Nathan served the priesthood, or at least did at one time. Perhaps he had been caught performing immoral acts in the past, and that was his punishment? Would the same thing happen to her...?
He pulled on his shirt and coat and glanced back at her, and before Tess could hide her worried expression, he seemed to read her thoughts. "Don't worry," he said reassuringly, "we're in no danger here. I assume from your horrified expression that you saw the scourge wounds?"
"Y-yes," she replied, clasping her boots and standing up. Absently, she ran a hand through her thick golden hair, trying in vain to straighten it out. "Did it hurt? Much, I mean?"
"Yes, of course," he answered with a nod. "I was in training to become a priest, you see, and they demand some pretty rigid discipline. It didn't work out, I'm afraid, but you can't just leave the service. They found another job for me to do, which is why I'm here. I maintain this section of the museum. I can pretty much come and go as I please, and even if someone did walk in on us, they wouldn't care. We're both adults, after all. We can pairup if we like."
"But here, with all these artifacts?" Tess rubbed her temples worriedly. "Isn't this against the rules?"
"Well, I suppose technically it is," he replied with an impish grin, "but that's what makes it so thrilling, don't you think? Besides, it doesn't matter. This washcloth is due for another cleaning anyway, and it's my job to do that, so the only one inconvenienced was me."
"But they're holy," protested Tess. "Sacred."
He laughed heartily at that. "That's what the priests would have you believe, isn't it? That's what they teach you, growing up. 'Let us give thanks to the Giants, the great Providers, who brought us here to this Island Sanctuary, when the rest of the world was destroyed.' That's the first prayer you learn as a child, even before you know what half those words really mean."
"Yes, of course," she agreed at once. She could recite that line, and the remaining seven lines of the Prayer of Deliverance, by heart.
"Well, it's a blast of hot air, that's what it is." Nathan made a sort of hiss between his teeth as he used that phrase. "The priests want you to think of the Giants as gods with supernatural powers. That's not who they were. They were people, just like us. Men and women, just a whole lot bigger. If you're going to revere them, and thank them, at least remember them as they truly were."
Tess tried to hide a frown. What Nathan was speaking was tantamount to heresy. Yet, for her own reasons, she didn't shy away. Had she not also thought the same dangerous thoughts, late at night when she couldn't sleep? Hadn't she also wondered, as she gazed at the mighty relics in the museum, if the people who left them behind were any different than herself, save for size?
"You're not running for the door," said Nathan after a moment. "Good. I was afraid of your reaction, but then, you did ask me a question, so I felt obliged to answer."
"I'm not…I mean, I don't..." She stopped after a moment, perplexed, as she really had no idea what to say. There was a moment of silence while he waited for her to collect herself, until finally she went on. "It's just that I've wondered the same thing, sometimes. I guess lots of people have. There aren't any Giants left to ask what really happened, so we have to have faith in what we're taught. It's only natural that we have doubts. You seem so sure of yourself, though. How can you know they weren't really gods?"
"Because the High Priest told me."
Tess gaped at him, shocked. "W-what?" she managed to stammer.
"When I was getting close to taking my vows," explained Nathan, looking away as he dredged up the memory, "the High Priest took me aside and revealed certain truths to me. It was important, he said, that I know how things really were. One of the things he told me was the Giants weren't gods, just gigantic people who used to run the world. Then there was some disaster, some great cataclysm that destroyed them, and the survivors brought us here to save us. That was hundreds of years ago, of course, but the historical records are quite clear."
Nathan stopped after a moment, gauging her reaction carefully. Her initial horror had faded and Tess was now staring at him with an expression of great curiosity. "So it's true, then," she remarked. "They were just people. Two meters high or more, but still just people. And they built this whole place just for us."
"Yes, that's what I was told," he admitted. "Of course, for them, this Island wouldn't be much of an achievement, now would it? It's not even a kilometer long. To them, it would be simplicity itself, as easy as a carpenter might fashion a table. What's more impressive is all the automated machinery and equipment, and of course the way everything is self-correcting. Did you know not even the priests know how most of our devices work?"
"What?" she asked, shaking her head. "Surely someone must know how things work. Who repairs it when it breaks?"
"Simple repairs and maintenance are handled by technicians, of course," replied Nathan, smiling. "Anything more complex is taken to a repair center, where the broken item disappears into a back room, and comes back a few hours later in perfect working order. That's all done by self-repairing devices nobody but the priests ever get to see. If something bigger gets broken, you'll see a construction vehicle come out, but it's just a robot. There's nobody actually inside."
Tess just stared at him. There was nothing she could say. All her life she'd been taught the Giants were the gods who watched over them, protecting them from harm. Now she was being told they weren't really there at all. They were just people who were now long dead, and the artifacts she once viewed as holy were nothing but monuments to their memory. How does one respond to such revelations?
"This is a lot to absorb, I'm sure," said Nathan after the silence became unbearable. "I suppose I probably shouldn't have told you."
"No, no, it's fine," she replied quickly. "I-I'm glad you did. I needed to know that. All my life, I've been so fascinated by this place...I never knew why." She ran a hand along the colossal towel again, but the reverence was gone. "I think I had to hear it. It's almost liberating, in a way. I just wish I knew what happened to them. The Giants, I mean. Did the High Priest tell you why they all died?"
"No, not really," replied Nathan with a shrug. "It's believed there was some sort of plague, released during a war, but that's just a theory, based on some rather obscure and incomplete writings. We weren't affected because of our size, or so it's believed."
"Has anyone ever tried to learn more?" asked Tess. Her initial fears and shock were fading, and now her curiosity was getting the better of her. "Gone off the Isle, I mean? Is that even possible?"
"Oh, yes, it's possible." He shook his head. "The mainland isn't that far away, actually, but you wouldn't want to go there. It's dangerous beyond words. That horsefly you saw--we're protected by the Dome, so they don't get in very easily. Out there, though, it's different. Wild. There's insects everywhere, and much worse. That skeleton I showed you--those beasts are real, and they'll kill you in a second if they get a chance."
Tess shivered, but she kept on asking questions. "How far away is it? Have you been there? How do you even get there?"
He sighed momentarily. "I shouldn't have said anything, should I? Well, fine, if you must know, there are automated transports that go back and forth from the mainland on a regular basis. They told me they bring back supplies, like fresh water and food and raw materials, from some sort of automated facility. Didn't you ever wonder where all our food comes from? There are twenty thousand people here on the Isle, and not one of them does anything to produce any foodstuffs, yet nobody ever goes hungry. It has to come from somewhere."
"I never thought about it before," Tess admitted, "but I see what you mean. Have you ever been to the mainland?"
He nodded slowly. "Once. A long time ago. The High Priest took several of us there. We took an undersea craft, with a small passenger section, and windows so you can see out. Fortunately, they never opened the door when we got to the other side. I saw things along the way...creatures that still haunt my dreams. Worse still was what awaited us at the other side."
"What?" she insisted. "What was it like?"
"The truth," he replied with a sad shake of his head. "Something that proved that everything the High Priest told me was true. I know you think I'm a heretic, or at the least deranged, or if not that, you still have doubts. You can't know, though. You can't understand unless you've seen it. The truth is...well, it's not something I would wish on anyone."
There was a moment of silence while Tess digested that, and then she pressed on. "What was it you saw?" she asked firmly. "I really want to know."
"I can't," Nathan replied, eyes tightly shut. "It's not something I can explain. Please, Tess, don't ask me that again."
"Okay, if it's that important, I won't," agreed Tess. "But to think, you actually left the Isle! You were right there, where the Giants used to live! You stood where they once stood! Wasn't it worth it, just to be there, to walk in their footsteps?"
"No, I don't think it was," Nathan replied with a frown. He opened his eyes again, and there was something else there, a fleeting glimpse of something terrifying that just as quickly melted away. "You know," he went on after a moment, "I really think this conversation took a terribly wrong turn somewhere. I'm sorry, Tess, but I should be getting back to work. I have a washcloth to clean, among other things."
"Oh, of course," she replied, scuttling away from the makeshift bed. "I'm sorry, Nathan, I didn't mean to upset you."
"Quite all right," he responded with a shrug. "It doesn't matter, anyway. I should've known better than to bring such things up. It's entirely my fault. Anyway, I'm sorry I kept you this long--you've missed the entire Zenith, I'm afraid. You know the way out, I trust?"
"Yes, I think so. Down the corridor and the last door on the left?"
"That's right. Enjoy the rest of the day."
"And you."
Tess left, risking a glance back as she passed through the doorway, but he wasn't looking at her. He was starting to fold up the great towel, paying her no further attention. She shook her head, sighed, and shut the door, never noticing the faint smile that crossed his lips as she departed.
The sunlight changed, becoming ever so slightly brighter. Tess glanced up from the Book and up towards the sky, squinting despite her dark glasses. An infinite distance above, the bright glow of the sun beamed down, through the hole atop the mighty translucent Dome that surrounded and protected the Isle.
The Book told her the Dome was placed there by the Giants, who set aside the Isle of Sanctuary as a place where their chosen people would always be safe and protected. The small opening far above let in only the purest air, itself cleansed by the Giants' holy breath. Tess frowned and shook her head. Those passages seemed foolish to her now. Children's tales, and nothing more.
She glanced around at the nearly empty beach. The sand was soft and soothing beneath her bare feet, as always, and the gentle breeze cooled her mostly naked skin despite the midday heat. If she wanted to, she could take a swim in the lukewarm waters, for the surf was already calming, settling down as it always did as the sun reached its highest point in the sky. She had no desire for exercise now, though. The Zenith had arrived, and soon the beach would be clamoring with people.
They were arriving already, she saw. Men and women, some together or in groups, others alone with books or games. Some would enjoy a break from whatever job they had chosen for themselves, while others simply came to soak up the sun and take a brief dip in the calm waters. The tumult of their voices was already assailing her ears. She wanted solitude today, and up until now had enjoyed her peace. For the next hour, though, the din would be intolerable.
She started to put the Book away when she heard a familiar voice. "Tess!" a man called out. "Tessara, over here! Hey, what's up? It's been a while since I saw you at the beach."
"Hello, Johanis." Tess sighed even as she stood. So much for escaping without being noticed, she thought. "I was taking a day off, I guess. I just needed some time alone to think."
"I see you have the Book," he went on, completely missing the way she very deliberately stressed the word "alone." He pointed at the leather-bound tome in her hands, which she made a poor attempt at hiding in crossed hands behind her back. "I know exactly how you feel. Whenever I need something to read, I often pull out my copy. It's very inspiring, wouldn't you say?"
Tess nodded, not replying. Perhaps if she didn't say anything, he would lose interest and go away. Johanis was a friend, of a sort, though not a particularly close one. They had enjoyed a few pairups when they were both younger, but he stopped coming by when she started doing shifts at the weavery, especially since those shifts coincided with his time off from his own job at the smith. This was not unintentional, of course. Johanis was somewhat dull, and her time alone with him, when not in pairup, was considerably strained.
"So what's wrong? You seem depressed," Johanis went on curiously, thereby proving himself too dense to recognize the obvious signals she was sending. His eyes were traveling up and down her lithe body, clad as it was in only a bare minimum of swimwear, and his interest was unmistakable. He would be difficult to get rid of.
Tess shook her head and turned away. Clearly he wasn't going to take the hint. Ah, well, she decided, maybe it would be better to talk to someone anyway. Perhaps a fresh perspective would help. No pairups, though, she cautioned herself. She wasn't in the mood for that at all.
"I'm distracted, I guess," she tried to explain. "I heard...someone...talking about the Giants the other day. When I was in the museum. He had some rather odd notions about them, and I thought maybe reading the Book would help me prove him wrong. The thing is...well, I can't. The wording's too vague. I can see how he might interpret things like that."
"Well, what did he say?" said Johanis helpfully. "I've read the Book lots of times. Not that I can quote lines of scripture, of course, but then, I'm no priest."
"Well," Tess answered, opening the Book up to the page she'd held open with her fingers, "he was trying to tell me the Giants weren't really gods at all, just people like you and me. Giant people, sure, but still just human beings. He said they all died in some kind of plague and left the Isle for us, so we'd be safe. It's blasphemy, of course, or so the priests would tell me, and yet, I can't find any part of the Book that actually says the Giants were gods. They did great things, of course, and were very powerful, but that's all. See this passage here? This is a perfect example."
She pointed at a numbered paragraph, and offered the book to Johanis. He looked uncertain, but studied the text anyway:
The Giant said, "Let there be a Dome over the Sanctuary, that the People may be protected from the wind, and the rain, and the stinging and biting insects of the endless sky, and that all shall be sheltered there, under its impenetrable surface." And it was so.
The Giant then fashioned the Dome with his own hands, out of plastics and polymers, the whole reinforced with microsteel, so that even the greatest gale could not tear it asunder. Then he settled the Dome about the Sanctuary, and though it was as solid as the hardest diamond, only the warming light of the Sun could pierce its walls. Yet its very top the Giant left uncovered, that the Sun's glow could shine forth at its brightest for one hour a day. That hour shall be known as the Zenith, and it shall be kept sacred, during which none shall toil or stress, but merely bask in the comforting warmth and know the goodness of the Giants shines down about the People for all time.
"You see," said Tess as Johanis studied the page, "it says he built the Dome with his own hands. It wasn't magic or some kind of mysterious divine power. He crafted it."
"Tess," said Johanis sternly, handing the book back to her, "you're worrying about nothing. That man you met was just a crazy fool! Of course the Giants were gods. How can you look at those things in the museum and not believe that?" He laughed, but the sound was hollow and unconvincing.
"They were godlike, I agree," she went on. "But actual Gods? The priests tell us that, but the Book doesn't. I always thought it did, but if you read it carefully, and think about it with an open mind, it really doesn't. The Dome, for example. The Giants didn't just create it out of thin air. The Book even says they didn't--in fact, it says exactly what the Dome was made of. Of course, nobody knows what kind of things plastics and polymers and microwire were, but you see what I mean."
"They were holy things," protested Johanis. "Blessed substances only the Giants knew how to use."
"That's what the priests tell us," argued Tess, "but nobody really knows for sure. You're a smith, right? So you can craft things out of iron? And I can weave clothes out of thread, and the tanners can make shoes and leather goods, and so on. So what if plastics and polymers are sort of like iron and leather, but we just don't have access to those materials? Does that make them holy, or does that just make us ignorant?"
"Tess...you're starting to scare me." Johanis took a step backwards, a worried look on his face. "It sounds like you believe this heretic, and that makes you dangerously close to being a heretic yourself."
"That's just my problem." Tess took a deep breath and collected her thoughts, holding the Book almost reverently. "I don't want to be a heretic, Johan! I really don't. I've thought about these things before, I admit, but never very seriously. I figured they were just things I couldn't understand, because I wasn't a priest, and I let it go at that. I never really read the Book very closely. Not really. I know what the priests told me was in the Book, but that's not the same thing."
He tried to smile, but the action was forced. "I'll try to help you," he told her, keeping his voice as level as he could, though he was clearly somewhat distraught by her admissions. "I've never had any reason to doubt the Book. Look around you, Tess. See this beach? And up the slope, the arcologies, and then the city? The Giants gave all of this to us. That's not something you can doubt. It's fact. The Book tells us so. The priests tell us so. Every day, every minute, I can look around and see these truths. Why should you worry any further than that? Just accept it, and be happy like the rest of us."
She followed his hand as he pointed out at the gathering crowd along the shoreline, and then up to the high, narrow spires beyond the autobus rail. Beyond those, in the distance, she could see the high-rises that formed the city center. The sky above was clear and perfect, just like the structures, the air, the buses, the sand, water, trees, everything. Even the people. All of it, all of them, perfect in every way. Living in the peaceful paradise the Giants bequeathed to them, even as their own world lay dying.
So why couldn't she accept that, and be happy? Why did she have to doubt? Why did she have to know the truth?
Tess lowered her eyes, looking at the Book once more. When she was younger, and lonely or afraid, the stories of the Giants would take her away, to a world of huge beasts and mighty people, living in towers of stone and steel that stretched so far they almost touched the Sun. She would imagine herself there, in the hands of a beatific Giant, gentle and caring and kind, and she would be at peace.
Now, though, that just wasn't enough. It hadn't been enough for a long time now. The meeting with Nathan hadn't caused these thoughts and feelings, either. They had been with her for long time. She just hadn't accepted them, or seen them for what they were. The knowledge that the Giants were human beings was so terrifying, so dangerous, that she couldn't stop thinking about it, no matter how hard she tried.
"I have to know," she finally said, and the words were almost a whisper. "I have to find out if he was telling the truth. I have to see for myself."
"What you need is faith," insisted Johanas. "You've lost your way, Tess. You have to find your faith again."
"That's not enough," she replied firmly. "Not anymore."
"Then go to the Temple," he urged her. "Please, Tess! You need to talk to the priests. I'm sure they've heard things like this before. They'll know what to do."
She sucked in a breath, and held the Book up again, slowly caressing its leather-bound spine, and it seemed to mock her with its presence.
"Yes, you're right, I should go see someone," she agreed at last. "Thank you, Johan. I need help, and I know just who to talk to."
But that someone wasn't a priest.
"So, you're back, I see."
Tessara turned to see the smiling face of Nathanos peering out at her from behind the giant sneaker display. How long he'd been watching, she didn't know. She knew he would show up, of course. From the way their last meeting began, it seemed obvious he had a way to observe the Grand Hall, and she was pretty sure when she arrived at the museum in scanty bathing attire that he wouldn't be able to resist having a closer look.
Like most residents of the Isle, Tess was blindingly attractive. She was tall and blonde, with deep blue eyes that seemed to shimmer and glow in the bright Zenith sun. She possessed a slim, lithe figure honed to perfection with a regular series of daily exercises and a nutritious, non-fattening diet. She would've been considered utterly gorgeous in the Old World, but on the Isle, she was just one of the masses, no more or less striking than anyone else, except perhaps for her innate curiosity. That was what led her here now, halfway across town during Zenith, without going home first to change into more appropriate clothing. She felt ridiculous, but she was afraid he wouldn't come out to see her if she arrived after Zenith, or if she didn't entice him in some other way. Standing there nearly naked, wearing only a flimsy bikini and jogging shoes, was more than just suggestive, it was an open invitation.
Nathan stepped out into view, still smiling, his eyes traveling up and down her curvaceous body without any attempt at subtlety. She was sweating still, having just run the length of the empty thoroughfare, and breathing heavily, causing her chest to rise and fall in a rapid, almost hypnotic motion. His eyes hovered at a point just below her neckline for several moments before he finally spoke again.
"Couldn't stay away, could you?" he asked, chuckling. "I thought you'd return, perhaps not this soon, but some day or other."
She nodded, but not very eagerly. There were questions she needed answered, and while the thought of another pairup with this man was rather demeaning, she had already decided she was ready to pay the price. "You started me thinking," she told him, holding up her well-worn copy of the Book, "and I'm afraid I just can't stop. I didn't want to believe you, but I can't prove you're wrong, and now I'm questioning everything I thought I knew."
"Yes, that's what happened to me," said Nathan, inclining his head ever so slightly. "Finding out the truth is never an easy thing."
"That's why I'm here," she responded firmly. "I want to know the truth, but not just some little chunk of it. I want to know everything--who the Giants really were, and what really happened to them."
"I already told you that, Tess."
"I know." She shook her head. "But that's not enough. You said you left the Isle and saw a greater truth yourself--something you won't speak of, and I won't ask you to. I need to see it for myself, Nathan. You've been outside--you know how to get there. Take me. Please! I have to see it for myself!"
Nathan frowned and turned away, finally taking his eyes off her for the first time since his arrival. There was a long silence, and Tess realized she was still breathing hard, and her heart was beating just as rapidly as when she finished her run. She was, she realized, afraid that he would refuse to help her, and just as terrified that he might not.
Finally, he sighed and turned to face her again. "What you ask may be possible," he told her, "but it will be extremely dangerous."
"I'm sure it will be." She tried to show as much courage as she could, although inside she was fighting the impulse to run away. Much like the horsefly on the beach, she couldn't bring herself to flee, no matter how much her senses told her to.
"I can take you part of the way," Nathan went on after a long, deep breath. He seemed to be staring at nothing. "After that, you go alone. I can't go out there again."
"I can understand that," Tess replied, still trying not to let herself look worried, despite the obvious fear in his voice. "I wouldn't want you to take any risks just to protect me."
He nodded in agreement, but continued, his voice now very slow and deliberate. "There is one other thing," he intoned. "This knowledge doesn't come without a price. Nothing worth having ever does, after all. Are you willing to give up everything you know, or think you know, just for the sake of this knowledge? Things will never be the same for you again, once you travel beyond the Dome."
She hesitated. The whole way here, she'd convinced herself she wouldn't hesitate, wouldn't second-guess herself; and yet now, listening to his words, she paused anyway. Would it really be so bad, going on without knowing the truth? Could she continue to live without finding out for herself what the Book wasn't telling her?
She thought back on her life, her twenty-two years of existence on the Isle. She remembered growing up in the Nursery, though only vaguely; and then the years afterwards spent in school, learning and practicing the trades, discovering her likes and dislikes, establishing her daily routines, joining social clubs, saying prayers to the Giants, and exploring every corner of the Isle. Then, after graduation, the shift from job to job, the endless pairups and parties, long hours spent reading, organized sports, failed entries in the Circumference Race, and any number of artistic projects started but never finished. When it was all said and done, what had she really accomplished? What was it possible to accomplish on this lonely island tucked away beneath a Dome, a forgotten remnant of a now-dead civilization?
Life here was pointless. That's what it all boiled down to in the end. She'd probably always known it, but never thought about it before. Why were any of them here? The Giants protected and saved them, or so she'd been told, and gave them all a place to live, but it was just a pointless, meaningless existence. They were going nowhere, doing nothing, essentially little more than prisoners under a thick wall that kept them in as much as it kept the rest of the world out. Tess had always wanted to believe the Giants had some purpose in mind by preserving her people, but now, she didn't know anymore. She didn't know anything, and that was the root of the problem.
So could she continue living, not knowing the truth? Quite simply, no, she couldn't. She couldn't face going back to her home, painting her horrid paintings, going to work at the weavery when she wasn't even really needed there, jogging along the same streets over and over again, when she knew that somewhere behind that Dome there were answers. Somewhere out there the Giants once lived, and there was a whole world she knew nothing about. She had to go there. The only alternative was a wasted existence and a meaningless death.
"I understand," she finally replied, with as much courage as she could muster. "I'll pay whatever price it takes."
Nathan nodded slowly, and finally smiled again. "Then come with me," he told her. "We'll have to be quick, if we want to get to the exit by the end of Zenith."
"Wait, right now?" she asked, surprised. "I thought I'd be able to--"
"No, there's no time," he went on, urgently hurrying for the door on the other side of the chamber. "Believe me, nobody's going to care how you're dressed. Come on!"
"All right, then." Shaking her head in amazement, and inwardly cursing her own stupidity, she followed.
Not for the first time today, Tess hesitated. The vehicle before her was something beyond her experience. Nathan had told her about it once before, but that was just a story. Now here it was, completely real.
The only vehicle on the Isle that carried passengers was the autobus, a low, roofless carriage that glided along the streets using a series of concave tracks built beneath the pavement. As the name suggested, the buses were completely automated, following voice commands to take passengers wherever they wished to go, anywhere on the Isle. Unless a rider did something crazy, like try to stand up or jump out while the vehicle was in motion, accidents were impossible. The individual buses seemed to know where the others were and moved aside when one needed to pass.
The craft in front of Tess was nothing like an autobus. Instead of squat and blocky, this vehicle was curved, tapering in the back so as to resemble a teardrop lying on its side. Atop the body was a bubble-like compartment that allowed anyone inside to look out, a prospect that seemed downright frightening. Worse yet, the entire contraption was sitting atop a pool of water that extended downward into a dark tunnel. From Nathan's early description, Tess knew the craft would go under the Dome, and that meant going underwater.
The very idea of getting in the submarine was terrifying, but Tess forced herself to step forward, following Nathan's directions to climb into the passenger compartment through an open hatch. Her whole body was shuddering, but she pressed on. This was what she wanted, she kept telling herself. This was what she needed, if her life was to ever have any meaning.
The cabin was cramped, but there were two padded chairs there that seemed comfortable enough. She sat down and settled in, still trembling. Behind her, Nathan entered, but he didn't sit down, nor did he shut the door. "I'd say don't be afraid," he told her, "but I don't think that would help, now would it?"
"Not really," she agreed, shivering slightly in the unusually cool air. "Are we really going under the sea?"
"Yes," he replied. "You might think of it as an underwater autobus. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. The sub's been making this trip regularly for as long as the Dome has stood, so it's not going to run into any problems."
"That helps a little," she admitted, although what he didn't say worried her even more. She knew the real problems would come later, when they reached their destination. What would it be like, being in a dark, open place with nowhere to run or hide? She didn't know. She'd never been anywhere like that.
"There's just one thing," Nathan went on, a sad look on his face. "I'm not coming with you."
Tess nodded, not surprised at all. "I didn't think you would. What do I have to do when I arrive?"
"Nothing. The sub will stop, and the hatch will open automatically. You can get out and explore. There's no hurry, so say whatever prayers you like and get yourself mentally prepared. I can't really prepare you for what you're about to see, except to say that it'll change your life forever."
"Good." Tess gave a hopeful smile, though inwardly she was still more than a little bit terrified. "Thank you, Nathan. I appreciate you giving me this chance."
"Don't thank me yet," he told her, stepping out of the open hatchway. "Once you've learned the truth, you may come to hate me. Just remember that the greatest thing the Giants left behind was their legacy, and like it or not, you're now a part of it. Goodbye, Tess, and good luck."
Before she could ask him what he meant by that, the door slammed shut. There was a click as the lock sealed, and then, without any other warning, the submarine lurched and shifted forward. Tess let out a yelp and clutched frantically at the safety straps that held her firmly to her chair, and then the craft was moving forward and sinking into the water. Tess gulped and held on tighter, clenching her teeth together and shivering uncontrollably.
The vehicle sank swiftly and began to hum, gathering speed. Tess forced herself to watch as the water rushed by, clear at first but then masked by dark shadows, and then obscured by a black surface. When the light returned, Tess gasped aloud. All about the ship, darting about in the water, were massive, scaly creatures with shimmering fins and gigantic, bubble-like eyes. They bobbed and weaved about, sometimes following the sub curiously, other times shooting away. They were mostly orange or yellow-gold in color and somewhere high above, a light glinted off their shining bodies.
Fortunately, they didn't seem interested in the vehicle shooting past them. Tess shuddered and tried to relax, glad that such monsters couldn't make it through the walls of the Dome. The thought of something like that coming up beneath her as she swam made her skin crawl.
After a few minutes of traveling the sub entered another tunnel and began to slow. Tess relaxed her death's grip on the straps and sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. This was what she wanted, she tried to remind herself. This was what her entire life had been leading towards.
The sub slowed further and began to rise. Through the viewports, Tess could see nothing but darkness, even as the water slid away, leaving only little rivers behind, until these became nothing but droplets on the glass surface. After a moment, the sub lurched to a halt, and the straps loosened automatically.
Tess didn't move for a long time. After what seemed like hours, she finally forced herself to rise. There was nothing to see through the windows, though. Just darkness.
She moved to the hatch, and after a few moments of study, figured out how to open it. The air on the other side was cool, but not terribly uncomfortable. She wished she'd worn more clothing, but could do without if she had to. She didn't intend to tarry long, after all. She just wanted to see whatever it was Nathan had seen, and learn whatever ultimate truth it was that awaited her.
She could still back out, she told herself. She could still sit back down on that chair and wait for the sub to return. That would be the safe and easy path. Somehow, though, she knew she would never get this opportunity again. This was her chance, her only chance.
She took a deep breath, clenched her hands into fists, and stepped out into the darkness.
Tess hesitated, staring out into the blackness. There was nothing to see, save for a cracked, slate-grey floor beneath her feet, just barely illuminated by the glow from the interior of the sub. Yet she knew, somehow, that she was surrounded by a tremendous amount of open space.
"Hello?" she called out hopefully. "Is anyone there?"
Her voice seemed to be swallowed up by the inky darkness. Only the barest whisper of an echo returned to her ears. She took a step forward, reaching out with her hands, and found nothing but emptiness. How far did it go? What was waiting for her out there, in the black?
Suddenly, with no warning at all, the hatch behind her slammed shut. She jumped and spun around, clutching at the handle, but found it securely locked. For several seconds she banged and tore at the metal bar, to no avail.
Then she heard a voice, quite clearly, emanating from somewhere atop the submarine. The voice, she knew at once, was Nathan's.
"Tess," he said loudly, the voice echoing all about her. "I see you made it safely."
"Nathan!" she yelled out. "Where are you? Please, help me! I'm locked out of the sub!"
"I know," he replied sadly. "I'm sorry it had to be this way. Sometimes I think it's easier when someone resists or tries to fight. At least then it seems like they had a chance. You went on your own, though. I always feel bad when that happens, because I feel like I deceived you. I didn't, though. I never lied to you. Everything I told you was the absolute truth."
"Where am I, Nathan?" she called out, confused and bewildered by his words, and the darkness surrounding her. "What's going on?"
"You'll see soon," he replied. "I'm sorry I can't be there with you, to help you through it, but that's not allowed. My voice is being sent through the air, through a device the Giants call a 'transmitter.' I don't know how it works, but it does. I'm back in the museum right now, talking to you, and you're outside the Dome."
Tess sucked in a breath. Outside the Dome! She knew she was, of course, but hadn't allowed herself to really think about it until now. She was no longer on the Isle. She was in the world of the Giants.
"I know you're familiar with the Book," Nathan went on. "How well do you know it?"
"Quite well," Tess told him, struggling to calm her nerves. His voice was helping, but only a little. "I know most of the prayers, and can recite a few passages by heart."
"Then you know the Chronicle of Deliverance?"
"Of course."
"When you read it," he went on, "did it ever occur to you that it sounded...incomplete? Like something was missing?"
Tess nodded, although she wasn't really sure he could see the gesture from back in the museum. "I always thought it ended abruptly," she agreed. "Why? What does that have to do with anything?"
"The reason it ends like that," explained Nathan, "is that the last few passages were deliberately deleted from the Book."
"What?" Tess was aghast. "Deleted by whom?"
"By the priests."
She was momentarily stunned, but recovered quickly. The events of the day were quickly losing their ability to surprise her. "The priests?" she protested. "But why? That's...why, that's sacrilegious!"
"The Book," went on Nathan, "wasn't originally intended to be anything holy at all. You have to remember, the Giants aren't gods, and they never intended to be. The priests are the ones that did that. The first High Priest wrote everything down, everything he knew to be true, spoken to him from the mouths of the Giants themselves. But after he died, and our society began to flourish, the priests knew the people couldn't be allowed to know everything. So they deleted a few passages from the Book, and thus the truth was kept from the rest of us."
Tess nodded slowly. "That must be the truth you learned for yourself, then, isn't it?"
"And the truth I'm going to tell you now. I'm going to read you those missing passages, Tess, and when I do, you'll finally understand. You'll know what kind of legacy our forefathers, and the Giants, left for us--and your own place in it. Are you ready?"
She shuddered and nodded once again. "Yes, Nathan, I'm ready."
"All right, then. Listen, Tess, and listen well. These are the words stricken from the Book, exactly as they were written, all those years ago..."
And so, the People were kept safe beneath the great Dome, protected by all the automation and robotics and defenses placed there by the Giants. All was well, and the Giants stepped aside, that the People might live on their own, without any further aid from their creators, who themselves were preparing to pass beyond the Veil to whatever Mysteries lay beyond.
And then, there came a great Miracle, of a kind no one could foresee. The Giants, whose days seemed numbered by the Plague, and had thus created the People to carry on their Legacy, themselves found a cure for their affliction; and though countless many died, the race of Giants would live on. There was great celebration, and much thanksgiving among the Giants, for they would survive after all, and the number of their days would be far greater than before.
So now there seemed to be no meaning for the People, for the reason for their creation was gone; and yet they still existed, for what had been done could not be undone. They could not be freed from their Dome, without destroying them; and indeed, some of the Giants felt the People did indeed merit destruction, for were they not now meaningless, and without purpose? Yet to slaughter them without cause was the greatest of crimes, an affront to all the Giants stood for, to everything they had learned in their own brush with extinction. What, then, was to be done?
The Giants pondered this dilemma for some time, until finally they compromised, selecting the only solution they could agree upon. The Dome would remain, and the People beneath it would continue to exist, yet without any means of eventual exit, as had originally been intended. The cost of maintaining the Dome, in perpetuity, would be borne by the People, who must periodically give up one of their number into the care of the Giants. The method of selection will be up to the People, using any system they care to implement, as they shall be permitted to govern themselves in whatever fashion they choose, without any further interference from their creators.
Thus it was written; and therefore, when called upon, one of the People must step forth from the Dome and join the Giants, leaving the Isle behind forever. It is through their willing sacrifice that the People may continue to live and enjoy all the Giants have given us. Let us give thanks, and say a prayer for those who give of themselves, for it is we who are their Legacy, and we shall forever be in their debt.
Nathan let the words die in the chill air, which became still and quiet once again. Tess found she was no longer shivering. She didn't even feel any fear. Instead, she was simply numb, her feelings of anguish and betrayal exactly balanced by her now complete understanding of what had happened all those years ago, and what was happening to her now.
The Giants didn't die after all! They were still alive, and when they didn't perish as they thought they would, that left the People without a reason to exist. The Giants could've destroyed their creations, but they let them live, keeping the Dome intact in exchange for taking one person away every month, to a fate as yet unknown.
And this month, that sacrifice was Tess.
"I'm sorry," Nathan finally said, his voice now low and quiet. "I'm sorry it had to be you this time, but it has to be someone. For the rest of us to live, for our society to continue...well, someone has to go. That's the price we pay. That is our legacy."
"I understand," said Tess calmly. "It all makes sense now. Everything makes sense. I see why you couldn't tell me. You were right, too. You never lied to me. Not once. Thank you for that, Nathan."
"You're welcome," he replied softly.
"For what it's worth," she went on, amazing herself with how strangely tranquil she felt in the end, "I don't blame you. You did what you had to do. Oh, Nathan, you must have the worst job on the Isle! When I get a chance, I'll say a prayer for you. I promise."
There was no reply. For a moment, the briefest of instants, she thought she heard a distant sob, and then the sound was blotted out by a loud slam. The noise echoed all around her, and she froze, paralyzed with fear.
"Goodbye, Tess," said Nathan, his voice choked with emotion. Before she could reply, the lights came on.
For several long seconds Tess could only blink and rub her eyes, and then she became aware that the floor itself was trembling. There were loud thumping noises coming closer and closer, and something massive stamped into view.
She blinked again and her vision cleared. Tess gasped as she focused on the incredible vision before her, something she never in her life expected to see.
She was looking at a gigantic shoe. She recognized it instantly, for she'd often studied the massive sneaker in the museum back home. Only this time, the shoe was occupied by an equally gigantic foot.
She looked up. And up, and up, and up into the sky. She gawked upwards at the tremendous Giant who was now staring down at her, looking through thick glasses larger than herself, and smiling.
Nathan was right about everything, Tess realized, in that terrifying, frozen instant as she beheld the monstrous figure rising high into the sky before her. Her life had changed forever. There was no going back. She knew the truth now, and she knew her fate. She understood, even at the last, what was going to happen to her.
What was more, and this surprised even her, was that she felt not the slightest twinge of fear. There was no reason whatsoever to be afraid. She was exactly where she needed to be.
Tess raised her head, opened her eyes, and smiled. The Giant's grin widened and he reached out his hand. She didn't cry out as he gently lifted her into the air, cradling her carefully in the folds of his palm, and carried her away.
Dr. Miles Andrews stared for a moment down at the tiny figure on the floor. For some reason, this one was wearing nothing but a bathing suit, which struck him as very odd. Usually they were wearing more conventional clothing, normally that finely weaved material they made themselves, which covered most of their bodies. Seeing one virtually naked was...well, it was disconcerting, that's what it was.
Miles usually made an effort to try not to think of the little people as anything other than the subjects of a particularly long and drawn-out experiment. They were almost always nearly perfect in appearance, as they had been genetically designed to be, but he could get past their looks by just not studying them too closely. He couldn't really avoid that this time.
She was impossibly lovely, the miniature woman down by his feet, and as he stared, she gazed up and him and smiled. He smiled back, of course, and reached for her, somewhat glad that in this particular case she didn't scream or try to run away. Sometimes they did, and sometimes they didn't. He could never really be sure how any one of them would react, when confronted with someone so impossibly big.
He lifted the tiny, almost weightless figure into the air and forced himself to look away. He didn't want to see how attractive she was, or how awed and amazed she was to be in his palm. The little ones had built up a kind of religion about their creators, thinking of them as gods, and seeing that look of worship always gave him chills.
He was no god. No, far from it. Some of the surviving humans, called Giants by their miniature creations, would say otherwise, but not Dr. Andrews. He knew all to well what he truly was.
He shuffled down the corridor, supporting his aching frame by leaning occasionally on the cane he carried in his right hand. The neuroplague had left its mark on him, despite his innate immunity. He was one of only a scattered few who survived the outbreak on his own. The rest of the population, such as it was, still needed a little help.
He stepped through the doorway into the extraction chamber, absently rubbing at his glasses as he leaned against the nearby table for support. The others turned to look at him. "You have the subject?" asked his colleague, Dr. Alonso Grier, from a position near the machine. "Ah, yes, I see you do. There, gentlemen, as I was saying, our tribute has arrived. It won't be long now, I assure you."
The other two men, dressed in their black uniforms, stepped forward. They were young, younger than most who came here, but they had the stiff, military bearing that betrayed their harsh training. The veins on their shaven skulls stood out like an intricate blue spiderweb, a side effect of the neuroplague that left its mark on humanity's survivors. Every survivor had such lines, but most covered them up with hair, tattoos, or other decorations. Not these men. They wore them proudly, like a badge of honor.
"Good, it's about time," said the first, the one with the silver cluster on his lapel that marked him as higher rank. The name on his tag was "Murphy," but what his first name was, Miles didn't know. "I don't have all day. Demonstrate the procedure, and hand over the results for processing. Now!"
Miles winced at the man's harsh tone, but nodded deferentially. It was always the scientists who did the thinking, he thought morosely, but the military took the credit. Major Murphy would take his liquid prize away, when the job was done, and it would be the Army that would claim credit for another month of life to the surviving population. A few hundred thousand people, all that remained of America, now clustered around the already-decaying remnants of Chicago, would have thirty more days of life. All thanks to Miles Andrews, and of course to her, the nameless little beauty in his palm, now staring out at the room and its occupants with an expression of unmitigated awe.
She looked up at him and tried to speak. Miles caught her eye, and sighed, for he couldn't hear her tiny voice. Instead, he held up a finger, as if to silence her, and she instantly stopped talking. For an instant her eyes fixed on his fingertip, where he'd carefully written a message earlier in the day. The two words there were far too small to be spotted by the military observers, but large enough for her to see. She glanced back at him with a curious expression, nodded briefly, and remained silent.
Good, thought Miles as he set her down on the nearby table, in front of the machine. That terrible machine...how he loathed it, and every part of it, down to its very core! He eyed the slot in the front, the passageway to death, with undisguised loathing.
"If you'll permit me," said Dr. Grier from nearby, "I'll begin the initiation sequence. Do you need anything else before we begin?"
"Just get on with it," hissed Major Murphy, fidgeting ever so slightly in his crisp uniform. He adopted a parade-rest stance, waiting impatiently.
"Perhaps you'd better just start," said the other man, a captain by the name of Burns. "I'm afraid the Major has little patience for delays, and we've already been here long enough."
"Don't bother," replied Murphy, rolling his eyes. "They're just going to take their sweet time, anyway."
"Well," went on Dr. Grier, as he meandered about the machine, throwing switches and checking readouts, "this is a precision instrument. Rushing us doesn't really help. The extraction will take just as long no matter how much harassment we receive."
"Please, let's not make this any more difficult than it has to be." Miles cross-checked a few readouts and then inserted a large plastic vial into a waiting receptacle. "We'll do our jobs, just like we always do."
Murphy snorted. "Oh, I have no doubt of that," he remarked, stepping closer to the table to get a closer look at the tiny woman there. She shied away from him, finally showing the first traces of fear. There was something about the Major she clearly didn't like. "Do you think she has any clue what's going to happen to her?" asked Murphy callously, eyeing her as if she were a piece of meat. "How intelligent are these mini-humans anyway?"
"They're just as smart as we are," replied Miles, gritting his teeth. "I'm sure she knows something's going to happen, but not exactly what."
The little figure on the table, clearly no fool, had caught on to the implication and was now wide-eyed with terror, but Miles took it upon himself to keep his hands near her, so she couldn't try to run. Not that she could've escaped from the tabletop, but he didn't want her falling to her death just yet. She had to go into the machine, after all. At least this time he wouldn't have to strip her clothes off, as he normally did. That was always one of the most distasteful parts of this process.
"It's ready," said Dr. Grier, fortunately interrupting before Murphy could complicate matters further by explaining the true nature of the extraction process. "Go ahead, Dr. Andrews, put her in the machine."
Miles wrapped his hand around the tiny woman gently, and she struggled just a bit before sagging helplessly amidst his fingers. He sighed and pointed that same fingertip at her again. "Don't worry, little one," he said dejectedly, "your sacrifice will keep your people alive another month. After all, if we go, so do you. How long do you think your little society will last without us supplying all your food and water? Just think of it as giving your life for your friends. Now go on, step through this little doorway. I promise, it won't hurt a bit."
The tiny woman looked around in fear, then at the door, and back up at him. He tried to give her a consoling smile. With a gulp, she nodded, and then sagged her head in defeat and moved to the opening. He held the flap open until she passed through, then sealed it shut in a single swift motion. Her slim figure could still be seen silhouetted in the entrance, through the translucent flap, but to her credit, she didn't struggle any more or try to escape. She seemed resigned to her fate.
Dr. Grier pressed a button, and there was a hiss as a puff of gas was injected into the chamber. The shape inside the slot slumped to the ground. Another button, and another hiss, and the doorway went dark. The machine began to make other sounds, then, sounds that haunted Miles's dreams.
"You don't like this much, do you, Dr. Andrews?" asked Major Murphy suddenly, startling him with his brusqueness. "Putting her to death, I mean."
"Of course not!" replied the scientist. "She may be small, but she's a human, just like you and me. She has emotions and can think. She can feel. What makes you think I could possibly enjoy killing someone?"
"It's necessary," Murphy pointed out needlessly. "She has to die, so that thousands can live. I call that a fair trade. Besides, it's not like she's a real person. She was created in a lab, Doctor. Right here, by your predecessors, for this very reason."
"Not for this!" Miles protested, feeling his anger rising, but unable to control it. "These people were created so humanity could go on, after the plague destroyed us all. They weren't supposed to be walking drug laboratories for us to harvest!"
"Calm yourself, Dr. Andrews," Murphy said, the corners of his thin lips turning up into a smile. "You're going to give yourself a heart attack."
Miles started to reply and then stopped himself. This was pointless. There was no sense allowing himself to get upset. This was how things were. He had to live with it, if he wanted to live at all. If only Dr. Reynolds hadn't announced his findings...but that was years ago, and he was gone now. There was no way to take back what he'd done. He had saved humanity from extinction, but his legacy was death.
The machine hummed and finally stopped its terrible noises. A door slid open and a vial popped out, held firmly in a metal clasp. Dr. Grier carefully removed the container, filled to the brim with warm, purplish liquid, and capped it with a rubber stopper. He then sealed it with tape, placed it in a padded container, and handed it over to the waiting Major.
"Thank you for your assistance," said Murphy, carefully cradling the case in a gloved hand. "Your cooperation has been duly noted. You'll be notified when we need another batch. Good day."
He turned and walked out stiffly, trying very hard to avoid showing the mild limp that betrayed the plague's touch. The other one, Captain Burns, turned to leave as well, and as he did so, his eyes met those of Miles. For an instant, he seemed about to apologize, and then, just as quickly, he spun on his heels and departed.
"Well," sighed Dr. Grier, once the officers were gone, "I'm glad that's over. Those Army guys creep me out every time. Guess I'll put the extractor into shutdown mode. You know what? You look like you could use a drink."
"Yeah, that would help a lot," agreed Miles. "Scotch, I think, will do nicely. I have a few bottles stashed away, you know. Might as well help ourselves before some looter finds it."
"Good point." Alonso began to throw a few more switches on the back of the device. "I'm sorry, Miles, I know how much you hate what we do, but it's really necessary. You do understand, don't you?"
"Of course I understand," he sighed wearily, "but that doesn't help me sleep any better at night."
"We just have to keep at it," went on Dr. Grier. "We have to keep trying. We'll find another solution someday. This can't go on. Sooner or later something will go wrong, and that'll be the end of it. In the meantime, though, this is our only choice. It's all we have."
Miles nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. The liquid that came out of that machine would suppress the neuroplague temporarily, but wouldn't cure it. Humanity was living on borrowed time, borrowed from the lives of the mini-humans they once created to be their successors. If no permanent cure could be found, then nothing about the current situation would ever change. Once a month, a tiny person would be fed into that terrible device, and the wretched remnants of humanity would buy themselves another thirty days of existence.
"Yes, of course," Dr. Andrews agreed sadly. "I'll do what I have to do, Al. I always have, and I always will."
Alonso smiled and finished adjusting the last of the settings. "All right, the system's on full automatic," he announced. "Do you want to stop back by later and finish it off, or shall I?"
"I'll take care of it, I guess," sighed Miles, in a tone that all but admitted defeat. "Come on, let's get out of here. I'm getting thirstier by the minute."
He switched off the lights as they departed the lab. Behind them, that horrid machine--the savior of humanity, in more ways than one--began to hum.
Dr. Andrews stopped at the front gate to the fortress, the buttressed stone building that was once a simple biological research center at the University of Chicago. Military troops were now permanently stationed here, trained to shoot on sight. After all, if anything went wrong with the Dome sheltered deep within the structure, or the extraction machine close by, the remnants of humanity would die a slow and painful death.
At least, that's what everyone believed, and for now, lacking any other alternative, Miles Andrews had little choice but to perpetuate the lie.
He stopped at the gate and parked, leaving his vehicle behind. The guards at the entrance checked his identification carefully, even though they knew him, simply because they could afford to take no chances. After a few minutes they let him pass, for he always returned to the facility several hours after an extraction. As far as they were concerned, this was nothing out of the ordinary.
An escort followed him part of the way, making small talk, which Dr. Andrews returned amiably until finally he reached the secure door. After he entered his code, the portal slid open, satisfying the guard at last that this was, indeed, the real Miles Andrews. The aging scientist stepped inside, gave an affable wave, and let the door click shut. He was alone, or at least as alone as he could be in this place.
Before turning on the lights, he reached behind the security panel and keyed in a private code that only he knew. Elsewhere, hidden above the ceiling, interlocks clicked in a secret device that not even his co-worker, Dr. Grier, knew about. The hidden camera in the corner, which the Army didn't know Miles was aware of, was now transmitting an image of Dr. Andrews performing ordinary, boring maintenance of the extraction machine. In truth, he had an entirely different task in mind.
He switched the lights on, stepped over to the device, and opened an access panel. Reaching inside, he deactivated the flow of anesthetic gas, and carefully slid the unconscious figure out onto the desk. She looked so peaceful, lying there, that he hated to disturb her, but he had little choice. She couldn't stay here, after all. If she were discovered or spotted, even for a moment, his whole carefully arranged charade would come crashing down.
He left her lying there, turning away lest he become mesmerized by her beauty. Despite her size, she was still a gorgeous woman, and he couldn't afford to let himself become distracted. Instead, he busied himself working on the extractor, making sure it was reset to its original configuration. Anyone caring to inspect the device would find it working exactly as it should.
In the early days, when Dr. Reynolds ran the lab, the machine did precisely what it was originally intended to do. A tiny person, taken from the nearby Dome, would be placed in the receptacle, euthanized, and drained of all body fluids. Then, the brain and spinal cord would be extracted, pulverized, and added to the resulting serum, producing a suppressant that temporarily protected the human body from the neuroplague. No cure had yet been found, and as the years went by, no better solution presented itself. Even when Dr. Reynolds finally succumbed to the plague, the process continued. Dr. Andrews and his colleagues continued their research, of course, but so far the plague seemed to be winning.
The ethics of it were intolerable. Miles was still haunted by his memories of those early days, when people went into that machine and never came out. He knew what they were doing was terribly wrong, but no one else seemed to see it that way. Miniature humans were people, in every sense of the word, except their size. They had no right to be murdered, but there seemed to be no other solution. So he found a workaround, something to put a stop to the slaughter, and so far no one was the wiser.
Not that it mattered much, anyway. The neuroplague was already over 75% resistant to the serum. In a few more years, the extinction of humanity would be complete, and the sacrifice of the mini-humans would have all been in vain. He couldn't let that happen, not if he had the power to prevent it.
And so he carried on with the charade, pretending to sacrifice a new victim each month, while instead producing a synthesized version of the serum strong enough to fool the military inspectors. The subterfuge wouldn't last much longer, but when people began to die, he'd simply tell the military the truth--the plague had built up a resistance to the serum. When the Army insisted more mini-humans be sacrificed, which they were sure to do, that would simply give him an excuse to free even more from the Dome. Eventually, some day, he even had a plan to rescue the whole lot, but that wasn't even yet on the horizon.
He finished his work and turned back to the tiny woman sleeping on the tabletop. Gently he lifted her up, carefully arranged her arms and legs into a comfortable position, and set her down into a padded container. The interior would protect her from bumps and jarring during the journey to come, to the place where she would begin her new life. Although there wasn't much air inside the thin case, it would last long enough that she wouldn't suffocate. He smiled down at her one last time, allowed his finger to caress her hair for a brief moment, and sealed and locked her in.
He put the container into his briefcase, closed up the extractor, and moved to the front door. A barely noticeable red glow reminded him that the false recording being sent to the camera wasn't quite finished. He got into position, waited about half a minute, and finally the glow flickered and went off. He switched off the lights, stepped outside, and sealed the door. Unless whoever was watching was particularly vigilant, they'd never notice the slight jump in the display in those final few seconds. As far as they were concerned, he did nothing out of the ordinary.
He walked out of the building, nodding once or twice at the sentries, and returned to his grimy, dust-covered car. Once there, he wiped the thin sheen of sweat from his forehead. His greatest fear was that one day they'd search him as he left, but so far they hadn't bothered. They trusted in their cameras, and in their mistaken belief that he'd do anything to sustain the human race, now matter how misguided.
He drove away from the old university, through empty streets strewn with trash and debris. All around him, fractured masonry and broken windows watched him pass, monuments to a dying civilization. He passed through several checkpoints, reaching the residential district after about fifteen minutes of dodging old wrecks, bumping over collapsed rubble, and avoiding sinkholes in the once well-maintained roads. Once the drive was over, he parked in front of his home, went inside, and continued on out the back door. In the woods beyond, where nature was already starting to overwhelm what had once been a crowded suburb, there was a former drainage ditch that now served a completely different purpose.
He carefully made his way down the slope to a pipe opening. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he climbed inside. There, on the ground ahead, a narrow electromagnetic rail stretched out of sight into the darkness. A platform awaited, and he placed his carrying case atop it, tying it down securely.
"Goodbye, little one," he muttered quietly, "and good luck."
The whispered words echoed into the darkness ahead. She couldn't hear him, he knew, and perhaps he was being a bit too sentimental, for she would never see him or know what he'd done. Some hours from now, she'd awaken, among old friends she thought to never see again. A small colony, out in the wild lands that were once northern Illinois. A place where no Giants would ever disturb them again.
Miles wondered, for a moment, how she'd do in the colony, or how any of them were doing. There was no way to be sure. He hadn't been there since he set up the original foundation over two decades ago. There were only a few mini-humans there in those days, those few he'd managed to save from certain death. Now, by his count, there should be hundreds, perhaps thousands, maybe more depending on their reproductive rate. Now that they were outside the Dome, and their fertility was no longer carefully controlled, there was no telling how many children there might be. Why, if they'd wasted no time getting started, the first generation would already be having kids of their own...
He wished he could see it. Perhaps one day, on that final glorious day when he emptied the Dome, he would go there. Probably not, though. What was left of the Army would be looking for him, and the last thing he wanted was for them to find the secret colony. No, he'd be better off heading the other direction, into the burnt-out ruins of America, and take his chances. He would die alone, that was sure, but at least he wouldn't die for nothing.
He toggled a switch on the side of the rail, and the small platform began to hum. As the magnets in its core activated, it began to slide along, slowly gathering speed. After a moment, it was gone down the tunnel, towards a destination Miles would never see again. He hoped the tiny survivor would be happy there. At least she'd be free and alive and able to chart the course of her own destiny. What more could anyone ask for?
He listened to the faint humming as it faded into the distance. Standing, he took a moment to rest against the edges of the tunnel before returning to his home. Another month had passed, and now he could rest easy, having saved another tiny life.
Perhaps tonight, he could rest. Maybe, for once, this time the nightmares wouldn't come.
Tess looked out at the cluster of small faces, all staring up at her with eager eyes, waiting to hear her next words. She sighed, settling back on the rusted bottle cap that served as her stool, and paused to catch her breath before resuming the lesson.
So many children...even now, after several years in the colony, she still had trouble interacting with them. They were all so innocent, so unaware of the world. Their minds were like sponges, soaking up whatever she, or any of the other adults, told them.
She rubbed absently at her belly, which was already beginning to swell. In a few months, or so the doctors told her, she'd give birth to her own child. Before coming here, she never even knew such things were possible. On the Isle, children came from the Nursery, not from inside other people. That was because, as she now knew, the Giants controlled the population, using their own secret methods to produce just enough replacements for those taken away for their terrible sacrifice.
Tess still was still, to this day, amazed she had survived. When she entered that strange machine, all those months ago, she was sure she would be killed. Only those two little words, scrawled on the Giant's finger, gave her hope. "Trust me," they said. That was all he asked her to do, and he saved her in the end.
When she woke hours later, surrounded by other people, all welcoming her to her new home, it was almost too much to accept. She walked around in a daze for the better part of that day, barely even able to speak, much less ask any questions. The colony itself took some getting used to--so rough and crude, sprawling amidst the broken remains of Giant structures, with no Dome high overhead, and no autobuses or cafeterias or Zenith to observe. There were insects and rats and other dangers, high winds and chilly nights, and nothing would ever be the same. She was confused and frightened for a very long time, but in the end that passed, and she knew now that this was where she was meant to be.
They told her, eventually, that one of the Giants had intervened, had saved her and all the others from certain death. Not all the Giants were evil, it seemed. There was still at least one who deserved to be thought of with any kind of reverence.
That, of course, was the subject of her next reading, the final entry in the Book, which was now complete at last. The end of a very long and very tragic story, ending with the death of one society and the beginning of another. A story she herself had helped, at least in part, to write.
Tess unrolled the final scroll and smiled, holding it out so the children could see, listening with satisfaction to their little oohs and ahhs. They were definitely captivated, which was as it should be. She barely needed to look at the scrawled words on the parchment, though. She knew them all by heart.
Without any further hesitation, she began to read.
And so it was that the true plan of the Giants was revealed. The People were little more than fodder for them, mere tools for them to use in their desperation. Yet even in the face of such evil, there was one Giant who saw the People as much more than chattel. They were still the great hope of humanity, as had always been intended.
Thus this great man, the last of the good Giants, risked his very life to save us, and create a new place for the People to dwell, far beyond the Isle. On the day he was discovered, he freed the remainder of the People, and in the chaos the mighty Dome was destroyed. The survivors fled down the long dark tunnel he prepared for them, escaping into the night, and at last the People were reunited.
In the years to come, expeditions returned to the place of the Giants, and found them there no longer. Their race had at last passed from the Earth, and save for that one last vestige of goodness, they will not be missed.
The world is ours now. The Giants are no more. We must remember them, for the lessons they teach us are many. They were not gods. They made mistakes, and in the end destroyed themselves. But there was one thing they did that was no mistake at all. They created us, and they left the world to us.
We are their Legacy, and that must never be forgotten.