FYS: Wake Up Call, Part Two
Working on this again now that I've put The Red Vixen at Sea to bed, at least until I can get cover art made.
Part One
“Sir,” the mousemorph said gently, “you haven’t looked up yet.” It reached over and closed the lawn umbrella, letting him see the sky as he tilted his head back, grabbing the edge of the table even as the little morph steadied the chair, keeping him from falling backwards as a wave of vertigo overwhelmed him. Oh, God. The bastard really did it.
The Earth loomed in the sky overhead, appearing to be over eight times the size of the moon, visible through the blue haze of the sky and clouds, a blue and brown giant looking like it couldn’t possibly hang in the air,. He started hyperventilating, his mind overwhelmed as it tried to reorient itself to understand what he was seeing. He was looking down at the Earth, not up, despite what his inner ear was telling him, pinned by centrifugal force to the inner side of the Ring. Still gripping the edge of the table to hold himself steady, he turned his head, finally seeing how the ground rose up miles away to his left and to his right, and the curve of the Ring formed into an impossibly tall arch, wrapping itself all the way around the Earth and back again.
“It doesn’t look real,” he finally said. Part of his mind was insisting it couldn’t be real, because if it was, that meant the Groupmind had won, and mankind had no hope at all of escaping this prison that had been built for it.
“If it helps, sir, about eighteen percent of the Ring’s human population think that it’s just an elaborate special effect, and that everyone is still on the Earth,” the mousemorph, who was really going to need a name soon, informed him.
“All fifteen billion of us? How can they believe that?” He gestured to the trees surrounding the campus of open buildings, taking in a deep breath. “I can’t remember being able to walk around outside without my nose and eyes watering since I was a little kid. The air is so clean.”
“To state the number of theories attempting to prove the validity of the Flat Ring hypothesis would take an hour at minimum,” the little morph said. “The most popular version is that everyone is being housed in a vast underground bunker, while the Earth’s surface is being utilized by the Groupmind and/or assorted conspiratorial groups for nefarious purposes.”
He drew in deep breath, closing his eyes briefly as he did so, the smell of fresh air, with no rubbery tang from a mask, no subtle sterility from being filtered, was almost orgasmic in its intensity. When he opened his eyes again, the little morph had opened the umbrella once more, blocking the terrifying view.
“So now what?” he asked, dropping a spoonful of sugar into his tea and giving it a stir with his straw. The sandwich was still tempting, but he didn’t think he had the stomach for it right now.
“Whatever you wish, sir,” it said. “The Groupmind recommends you head into town and determine whether your long term accommodations are satisfactory, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“What if I want to catch the next shuttle back to Earth?” he demanded.
“There isn’t one,” the mousemorph said. “Transit to and from Earth is now exclusively via the space elevators. As there is no direct human accessible connection between Ring ground level and the Roof’s magnetic anchoring system for the elevator endpoints, getting down would be extremely difficult.”
“Escape proof?”
The morph shook its head. “With potentially fifteen billion creative minds contemplating the problem, the Groupmind assumes there is at least a chance for a successful escape. But that doesn’t mean it will make it easy.”
Part One
“Sir,” the mousemorph said gently, “you haven’t looked up yet.” It reached over and closed the lawn umbrella, letting him see the sky as he tilted his head back, grabbing the edge of the table even as the little morph steadied the chair, keeping him from falling backwards as a wave of vertigo overwhelmed him. Oh, God. The bastard really did it.
The Earth loomed in the sky overhead, appearing to be over eight times the size of the moon, visible through the blue haze of the sky and clouds, a blue and brown giant looking like it couldn’t possibly hang in the air,. He started hyperventilating, his mind overwhelmed as it tried to reorient itself to understand what he was seeing. He was looking down at the Earth, not up, despite what his inner ear was telling him, pinned by centrifugal force to the inner side of the Ring. Still gripping the edge of the table to hold himself steady, he turned his head, finally seeing how the ground rose up miles away to his left and to his right, and the curve of the Ring formed into an impossibly tall arch, wrapping itself all the way around the Earth and back again.
“It doesn’t look real,” he finally said. Part of his mind was insisting it couldn’t be real, because if it was, that meant the Groupmind had won, and mankind had no hope at all of escaping this prison that had been built for it.
“If it helps, sir, about eighteen percent of the Ring’s human population think that it’s just an elaborate special effect, and that everyone is still on the Earth,” the mousemorph, who was really going to need a name soon, informed him.
“All fifteen billion of us? How can they believe that?” He gestured to the trees surrounding the campus of open buildings, taking in a deep breath. “I can’t remember being able to walk around outside without my nose and eyes watering since I was a little kid. The air is so clean.”
“To state the number of theories attempting to prove the validity of the Flat Ring hypothesis would take an hour at minimum,” the little morph said. “The most popular version is that everyone is being housed in a vast underground bunker, while the Earth’s surface is being utilized by the Groupmind and/or assorted conspiratorial groups for nefarious purposes.”
He drew in deep breath, closing his eyes briefly as he did so, the smell of fresh air, with no rubbery tang from a mask, no subtle sterility from being filtered, was almost orgasmic in its intensity. When he opened his eyes again, the little morph had opened the umbrella once more, blocking the terrifying view.
“So now what?” he asked, dropping a spoonful of sugar into his tea and giving it a stir with his straw. The sandwich was still tempting, but he didn’t think he had the stomach for it right now.
“Whatever you wish, sir,” it said. “The Groupmind recommends you head into town and determine whether your long term accommodations are satisfactory, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“What if I want to catch the next shuttle back to Earth?” he demanded.
“There isn’t one,” the mousemorph said. “Transit to and from Earth is now exclusively via the space elevators. As there is no direct human accessible connection between Ring ground level and the Roof’s magnetic anchoring system for the elevator endpoints, getting down would be extremely difficult.”
“Escape proof?”
The morph shook its head. “With potentially fifteen billion creative minds contemplating the problem, the Groupmind assumes there is at least a chance for a successful escape. But that doesn’t mean it will make it easy.”