All the time the music poured in upon them, engulfing them, seeping into them – an indescribable music that made one think it was more than music, or music raised to a poignancy no human composer had ever quite achieved.
Whisperer spoke to them.
– This place, he said, is not as empty as it seems. There are many here. This place teems with life.
As if on signal, life appeared.
Out of one of the narrow streets (or tunnels?), a massive head pushed out. It was a worm head. The front of it was flattened and heavily armored, a thick and heavy carapace covering the entire front part of the head. Behind the carapace, on either side of it, huge compound eyes looked out. Antennae sprouted from the top of the head. The head stood tall. Tennyson, gagging in distaste, estimated the top of the head stood a good six feet above ground level.
The worm emerged – it continued coming out, the long, thick body tracking behind the armored head. Once a fair length of it was out, it began to elevate its front end higher off the ground. Slender jointed legs that had been flattened to enable it to pass through the tunnel began to straighten up, lifting the body until it stood two feet taller than it had before.
As more of it emerged, it began to turn toward those who were standing in the plaza. Tennyson and Jill began slowly backing away, but the five equation beings stood their ground. Their blackboard sides were blurring in flashing colors as the equations raced.
Then all the worm was out of the tunnel, at least thirty feet of it, standing tall, well supported by the close-set legs.
The worm changed its direction again, angling away, back toward the structure of towering white. Its movement appeared to be purposeful. It gave no indication it had noticed those who were in the plaza.
It cams to a halt under one of the eight-foot-high mouse holes and reared up. Its forward legs caught hold of the edge of the hole and began to lever itself into it. They watched as the worm drew its entire body through the hole and disappeared.
Tennyson let out his breath in relief.
‘Let’s have a look,’ he said. ‘Let’s see what we can see.’
They found out very little. The narrow streets did turn out to be tunnels, set at intervals along the structure, which turned out to be one building rather than many separate ones set together. But the tunnels were closed. Inside of them, thirty feet or so in from the opening, the way was blocked by doors. The doors were not white but blue. They filled the tunnels, wedged close against the tunnels’ curving sides. There seemed no way to open them. Tennyson and Jill pushed hard against several of them and failed to budge them. It did seem, in a couple of instances, that they could feel some give, but that was all.
‘They’re tension doors,’ said Tennyson. ‘I’m almost certain of that. Push against one of them hard enough and it will open. But we haven’t the strength.’
‘The worm came through it,’ said Jill.
‘The worm probably is much stronger than the two of us. They may be exclusively worm doors. The worms may be the only things that have the strength to open the doors.’
‘We’re fairly sure,’ said Jill, ‘that this place is not Heaven. But we have no proof. We can’t just go back and say it isn’t Heaven. Before we go back, we must have proof. If I only had a camera.’
– We had to hold down weight, said Whisperer. We knew not what we’d find. We travel light and fast.
– What think our equation friends of this? asked Tennyson.
– They stand much amazed.
– So do we, said Jill.
‘Maybe photographs alone,’ said Tennyson, ‘would not be acceptable proof. Photographs you can get anywhere at all. We have to do better than a handful of pictures.’
They made a circuit of the square and found nothing else. ‘We’re trapped in here,’ said Jill, ‘with only one way out, those mouse holes that the worms use. We could have Whisperer float over all of this and see what’s on the other side. There must be another side.’
‘So could the equation folk,’ said Tennyson. ‘They can float in the air, but at the moment I would hate to have us divide our forces. I have a feeling we should stick together.
Far down the plaza another worm came out of a tunnel and came straight toward them, but it swerved to pass them by to reach another of the mouse holes. Rearing, it passed through the hole and disappeared.
‘I’m not certain I would want to use one of those holes,’ said Jill. ‘All that ever seems to go through them are worms.’
‘The worms seem to have little interest in us.’
‘Not while we’re out here. They might pick up an interest if we went inside.’
‘I wonder,’ said Tennyson, paying no attention to what she had said. – Whisperer, could you ask one of our equation friends to squat down a bit so I could climb up on him. Then he could float me up’ to one of the holes.
‘If you are going, I am going, too,’ said Jill. ‘I’m not going to be left out here.’
– Any one of them would be happy to, said Whisperer. Which hole do you have in mind?
– Any one of them, said Tennyson. I wouldn’t ask it, but those holes are out of reach for us.
– Would that one just behind you be all right?
– It would do just fine.
‘I have a feeling,’ said Jill, ‘that we’re quite out of our minds.’
The rose-red cube had moved up close to the wall, below the indicated mouse hole. The cube began broadening out, spreading itself, squatting down so they could reach its back.
‘I’ll boost you up,’ Tennyson told Jill.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I hope this won’t be as bad as I think it will.’
He boosted her up and she scrambled to the top of the cube.
‘It’s ishy,’ she said. ‘It’s terrible. The thing is like a mound of jelly. I’m afraid I will break through it. And it’s slippery as hell.’
Tennyson made a running leap and landed spread-eagled on the quivering surface of the cube. Jill reached down a hand and helped him scramble up beside her. They sat together, clinging to one another to retain their balance. The cube ceased some of its quivering and seemed to harden slightly, offering more support. It began to rise slowly in the air, not really rising, but assuming its normal shape, rising from its squat.
The mouse hole was in front of them and Tennyson made an awkward leap for it. He landed on his hands, and knees, swiftly scrabbling around to reach out a hand for Jill, but before he could extend his help, she was there, sprawling beside him.
They rose to their feet and looked about them. The mouse hole was another tunnel, but a short one and there was no door.
At the end of it blazed a brilliant light. The floor was solid underneath their feet and they moved toward the light. Looking over her shoulder, Jill saw that the five equation folk had entered the tunnel behind them, with Whisperer scintillating above the foremost one.
When they reached the other end of the tunnel, they saw that the tunnel floor connected with a broad white road, apparently constructed of the same materials as the walls and towers. It led off into the distance, finally blotted out by the glare of light. It was suspended in midair, with dizzying heights above it and dizzying depths below.
The interior was vast, but its vastness was masked by columnar structures that rose within it, spearing from the depths into the upper reaches, both the depths and the upper reaches being blotted out by sheer distances. The columns basically were of the same white material of which the rest of the structure was made, but little of the white showed through the blinding, crazy flickering of the lights that ran all around them. The lights took no particular pattern and their flickering had no rhythm. They were of every color. ‘
The entire place, Tennyson told himself, was a massive carnival, a riot of dancing color, a gaudily decorated Christmas tree multiplied a million times.
‘Look,’ said Jill, jogging his arm. ‘There is one of our friendly worms.’
‘Where?’
‘Right over there. On one of the columns. Look where I’m pointing.’
He looked but it took a while to see what she pointed at. Finally he made it out. One of the worms was clinging tightly against one of the columns, hanging straight up and down the column. But not using all its feet to maintain its grip, for it was using many of them in a manipulatory way, working on the circuitry or the lights or whatever the column held.