The God Egg
8: An Unnatural Phenomenon
Under Captain Mercer's command, the Trelawney glided carefully to a stop beside the floating city that gently fell and rose on the ocean in sedate rhythm. I tried to imagine a life permanently afloat, the diet of the inhabitants, how they found fresh water, what kind of community they would have after thousands of years in isolation. As we had approached it was clear that there was no activity around the wooden huts and shelters, and the silence rendered the place as eerie as it was uncanny.
Our Captain stood on deck and called: "Ahoy! Ahoy there!"
There was no response.
The Captain motioned me over, and Fetherley followed. Forbuoy was scribbling fiercely in a notebook, turning his head slowly so that his open eye could take in the peculiar vista. "What's going on here, Grange? Did you expect to find this?"
"There's an old legend of a floating civilisation in these parts but I never expected for a moment to find it, and especially not in the very place we were here to see. You know, Forbuoy's your man when it comes to fables, I'm sure he's bursting to tell everyone the story of this place."
This seemed to satisfy Mercer's cautious but undemanding intellect. "Shall we see if anyone is aboard, then?" he asked. Several hands lowered a gangplank down to the thick wooden deck of the city, and Forbuoy, Fetherley, Miss Campbell, the Captain and I made our way down. Upon close inspection, the floating habitat was a remarkable structure. Parts of buildings were made from the hulls of ships, and even the old timber upon which we stood displayed evidence of an ongoing process of repair, layer and panel being fixed where necessary.
"You may have been partly right about the shipwreck, Captain." I pointed out a section of flooring upon which a few letters of type were still visible. "HMS then J - U - something," I spelled.
"A British ship. There's no way of identifying it without more evidence." Mercer looked at the small huts around us. "It's old, I can tell that much. Hallo!" He called out again through a cupped hand. “Where are they all?” The entire structure raggedly covered an area perhaps six-hundred square yards and it was entirely possible the inhabitants were hiding from us. Forbuoy gingerly peered into one of the dwellings, and called to me.
“This place has been abandoned, Doctor... abandoned perhaps because we are too late.” Inside were folded clothes, a neatly made bed, books.
“Or because they are hiding from a large and noisy ship. We must be intimidating.” I fingered the pile of books. “Half of these books are in English, Forbuoy! And this, this is Dickens! It's less than thirty years old!”
“They must have been taking in travellers, lost seamen, castaways - potentially for millennia! We may have found a functioning community made of possibly every seafaring race in history. Ha-ha! What a discovery, eh?”
Fetherley stood in the doorway. “If they function so well, where are they? Or if they are hiding, and have taken an English ship recently, then why are they afraid?”
“I don't think we shall find anyone here. If the other cabins are like this... well, it indicates to me that the inhabitants have willingly and calmly left their homes and possessions.” I started for the door. “Let's see what we can find.” The five of us wandered in different directions, but after searching several empty and near identical cabins I found Miss Campbell examining a strange device. There was a small arrangement of pipes and cylinders, with a channel leading to a barrel and a fireplace below.
“What do you think it might be, Dr Grange?” she asked, peering down one of the tubes.
"This could very well be where the inhabitants create fresh water.” I took off my coat and loosened my necktie, and reached into one of the lower containers. Miss Campbell gasped as I removed a handful of salt crystals. “They distill the seawater, heating it in large quantities and gathering the steam which condenses back into water. The salt is left behind. I just don't know what they are using for fuel... There can't be enough wood to supply them, and there's no way of obtaining coal or gas here.”
“I've got to fetch my camera, Doctor. This place is incredible!” She smiled at me, and it was all I could do not to fall at her feet.
I forced out words that had eluded me in every conversation with her, only to find them effortlessly dancing the air between us: “Please, call me Solomon.” It was suddenly easy. “And there will be plenty of time for photography. Have a look around first - we need to try and find out why everybody here left.”
A larger building proved to be a kitchen, as clean and ordered as the cabin. There was no food to be found, and no evidence of residual heat in the stove. What a conundrum! I was examining the heavy stone base of the oven when I heard a cry from the far side of the settlement. Outside, I saw that Mercer and Fetherley had climbed atop a taller hut at the opposite side of the structure to the place we had docked. “Grange, Grange, come here!” Miss Campbell and Forbuoy were already with them by the time I had climbed up a stack of barrels. “It's remarkable, Doctor, remarkable! This is what we're here for! Look, man, look!” Forbuoy was practically jumping up and down as he pointed out to sea. I had expected not to see anything quite so amazing as the huge raft upon which we stood, but the phenomenon that lay about quarter of a mile south of us was unlike anything I could have even imagined.
Miss Campbell took my arm. “I - I really have to get my camera...”
In the surface of the ocean was a hole, a perfectly round hole perhaps one hundred and fifty yards in diameter, and there was no sign of any force or structure holding the ocean in position. The water stopped cleanly about it as if a giant and empty glass had been placed there. And though from our vantage there was no way to be certain, I felt sure that it reached all the way to our destination on the ocean bed.
Back to Part Seven
Under Captain Mercer's command, the Trelawney glided carefully to a stop beside the floating city that gently fell and rose on the ocean in sedate rhythm. I tried to imagine a life permanently afloat, the diet of the inhabitants, how they found fresh water, what kind of community they would have after thousands of years in isolation. As we had approached it was clear that there was no activity around the wooden huts and shelters, and the silence rendered the place as eerie as it was uncanny.
Our Captain stood on deck and called: "Ahoy! Ahoy there!"
There was no response.
The Captain motioned me over, and Fetherley followed. Forbuoy was scribbling fiercely in a notebook, turning his head slowly so that his open eye could take in the peculiar vista. "What's going on here, Grange? Did you expect to find this?"
"There's an old legend of a floating civilisation in these parts but I never expected for a moment to find it, and especially not in the very place we were here to see. You know, Forbuoy's your man when it comes to fables, I'm sure he's bursting to tell everyone the story of this place."
This seemed to satisfy Mercer's cautious but undemanding intellect. "Shall we see if anyone is aboard, then?" he asked. Several hands lowered a gangplank down to the thick wooden deck of the city, and Forbuoy, Fetherley, Miss Campbell, the Captain and I made our way down. Upon close inspection, the floating habitat was a remarkable structure. Parts of buildings were made from the hulls of ships, and even the old timber upon which we stood displayed evidence of an ongoing process of repair, layer and panel being fixed where necessary.
"You may have been partly right about the shipwreck, Captain." I pointed out a section of flooring upon which a few letters of type were still visible. "HMS then J - U - something," I spelled.
"A British ship. There's no way of identifying it without more evidence." Mercer looked at the small huts around us. "It's old, I can tell that much. Hallo!" He called out again through a cupped hand. “Where are they all?” The entire structure raggedly covered an area perhaps six-hundred square yards and it was entirely possible the inhabitants were hiding from us. Forbuoy gingerly peered into one of the dwellings, and called to me.
“This place has been abandoned, Doctor... abandoned perhaps because we are too late.” Inside were folded clothes, a neatly made bed, books.
“Or because they are hiding from a large and noisy ship. We must be intimidating.” I fingered the pile of books. “Half of these books are in English, Forbuoy! And this, this is Dickens! It's less than thirty years old!”
“They must have been taking in travellers, lost seamen, castaways - potentially for millennia! We may have found a functioning community made of possibly every seafaring race in history. Ha-ha! What a discovery, eh?”
Fetherley stood in the doorway. “If they function so well, where are they? Or if they are hiding, and have taken an English ship recently, then why are they afraid?”
“I don't think we shall find anyone here. If the other cabins are like this... well, it indicates to me that the inhabitants have willingly and calmly left their homes and possessions.” I started for the door. “Let's see what we can find.” The five of us wandered in different directions, but after searching several empty and near identical cabins I found Miss Campbell examining a strange device. There was a small arrangement of pipes and cylinders, with a channel leading to a barrel and a fireplace below.
“What do you think it might be, Dr Grange?” she asked, peering down one of the tubes.
"This could very well be where the inhabitants create fresh water.” I took off my coat and loosened my necktie, and reached into one of the lower containers. Miss Campbell gasped as I removed a handful of salt crystals. “They distill the seawater, heating it in large quantities and gathering the steam which condenses back into water. The salt is left behind. I just don't know what they are using for fuel... There can't be enough wood to supply them, and there's no way of obtaining coal or gas here.”
“I've got to fetch my camera, Doctor. This place is incredible!” She smiled at me, and it was all I could do not to fall at her feet.
I forced out words that had eluded me in every conversation with her, only to find them effortlessly dancing the air between us: “Please, call me Solomon.” It was suddenly easy. “And there will be plenty of time for photography. Have a look around first - we need to try and find out why everybody here left.”
A larger building proved to be a kitchen, as clean and ordered as the cabin. There was no food to be found, and no evidence of residual heat in the stove. What a conundrum! I was examining the heavy stone base of the oven when I heard a cry from the far side of the settlement. Outside, I saw that Mercer and Fetherley had climbed atop a taller hut at the opposite side of the structure to the place we had docked. “Grange, Grange, come here!” Miss Campbell and Forbuoy were already with them by the time I had climbed up a stack of barrels. “It's remarkable, Doctor, remarkable! This is what we're here for! Look, man, look!” Forbuoy was practically jumping up and down as he pointed out to sea. I had expected not to see anything quite so amazing as the huge raft upon which we stood, but the phenomenon that lay about quarter of a mile south of us was unlike anything I could have even imagined.
Miss Campbell took my arm. “I - I really have to get my camera...”
In the surface of the ocean was a hole, a perfectly round hole perhaps one hundred and fifty yards in diameter, and there was no sign of any force or structure holding the ocean in position. The water stopped cleanly about it as if a giant and empty glass had been placed there. And though from our vantage there was no way to be certain, I felt sure that it reached all the way to our destination on the ocean bed.
Back to Part Seven