Shadowland. Spider World 06 by Colin Wilson

“What is that?”

“It used to be the nursery school.”

The thought of a nursery in this gloomy place was somehow unsettling.

The cart turned a corner, and Niall found himself looking at the most impressive building he had seen so far. It was many hundreds of yards square, and at first glance seemed to be a palace. It was three stories high, but in each corner there was a square tower that was twice as high. The whole building blazed with lighted windows, while a long walkway with colonnades and lighted lamps ran along its frontage.

Gerek explained: “This is the living quarters of the workers.”

There was a note of pride in his voice, and Niall could not help feeling impressed. No workers in the spider city had living quarters as magnificent as this.

“But why is it so huge?”

“It was built in the days when we had more labor.”

Gerek led the way up the steps and through a double door in the center of the front. What lay beyond was a hall-like space with comfortable chairs, and a floor covered with a thick gray carpet. Niall was reminded of a similar building in the spider city; it had once been a hotel, but was now deserted, and full of remnants of past splendor, such as chandeliers and tall mirrors.

Gerek led them across the floor and out of a door on the far side; they found themselves in a wide, carpeted corridor. An attractive girl came out of a door carrying a handbrush and shovel, and went off in the opposite direction. She was wearing a gray skirt and blouse, and Gerek looked appreciatively at her shapely legs.

He then led them to the far end of the corridor and pushed open a door. A pleasant smell of cooking wafted out.

“The kitchen.” It looked rather like the kitchen in Niall’s palace, but bigger, and with more cooks bustling about. These were all dressed in white smocks and tall white hats.

There was a sudden loud, continuous hooting sound that made Niall jump. “What on earth’s that?”

The noise stopped.

“The signal that the day’s work is finished.”

Niall looked at his watch; it was five o’clock. In the spider city the working day did not finish until six.

Gerek opened another door. “And that is the main dining room.” It was enormous, with long wooden tables and wooden chairs. “And here,” he opened another door, “is the gymnasium and swimming pool.”

Rather overwhelmed, but feeling that some response was required, Niall said: “You treat your workers very well.”

Gerek said with a smile: “I don’t think they have anything to complain about.”

Suddenly the corridor was filled with men and women, who streamed through the door from the lobby. Many of the men had the square heads that Niall had already noted, while the majority of the women had round eyes. All had the relaxed and cheerful air of workers who have finished a long day. What struck Niall was that they were speaking aloud, and not communicating telepathically. Yet there was none of the clamor that filled the slave quarter in the spider city when the day’s work was finished; these workers spoke in quiet, controlled voices, like people coming out of a lecture in the city of the beetles. All went up a flight of stairs at the end of the corridor. Niall was curious to note that none of them paid the least attention to the captain.

Niall said to Gerek: “They speak aloud here?”

“Ah, yes. That is permitted on the second level. Not, of course, if they come to our city. There they have to follow our rules.”

Soon the corridor was empty and silent again. Niall had observed that the men had turned to the left at the top of the stairs, and the women to the right. A speculation occurred to him. “Where are they all going now?”

“To their rooms to change out of their working clothes. Dinner is at six.”

“And why do the women all go one way, and the men the other?”

“Because the women’s quarters are to the left and the men’s to the right.”

“They live separately?”

“Oh yes.”

So Niall’s guess had been correct; men and women were kept apart there, as in the spider city before Niall became ruler.

“Why is that?”

Gerek shrugged. He seemed surprised that Niall had bothered to ask. “It has always been like that. I think perhaps it dates to the early days of Shadowland, when there were far more men than women. It would have been unfair to allow one man to have a woman all to himself, so the women were shared.”

“But. . . don’t some men and woman live together as husbands and wives?”

“No, that is not allowed.”

A second wave of workers poured down the corridor and, like the previous ones, separated at the top of the stairs. Niall persisted: “Don’t couples ever prefer to live together?”

“For what purpose? They are fed here, and there is nothing to stop them from spending the night in one another’s rooms. So why should they want to move in with one another permanently? It would only be an inconvenience to both.”

“But don’t they ever fall in love?”

Gerek looked amused.

“The karvasid regards that as a form of illusion. Surely no man wants to spend his whole life with the same woman? It takes away his freedom.”

Niall reflected on his own preference for remaining unmarried, and had to agree that there was something to be said for Gerek’s view. “But what about in the days when couples had children?”

“The children were taken away from them and brought up by specially trained carers.”

Niall was disturbed. So far, he had been impressed by what he had seen of Shadowland, but Gerek’s words aroused unpleasant memories of the spider city in the days when men and women were kept apart.

Gerek seemed to read Niall’s thoughts. He gestured at a new wave of workers flooding through the doors. “Do they look unhappy?” Niall had to admit that they didn’t.

“You see? The karvasid regards family life as unnatural. Every man wants more than one woman.”

“What about the women?”

“They prefer more than one man.”

Niall was thoughtful as Gerek showed them over the second floor recreation rooms, living quarters, even a reading room, although there were very few books, and what there was looked very old. By now, most of the people they saw had changed out of their working uniforms and into their leisure clothes, which were dark blue.

Finally, Gerek looked at his watch.

“It’s time we returned to the first level, or we shall be late.”

As they were leaving the building, they encountered another crowd of workers. Since it was now half past five, these evidently worked to a different schedule. They also looked quite different from any Shadowlanders Niall had seen so far, having longer necks and elongated heads that reminded him of lightbulbs.

Gerek explained: “They are another of the karvasid’s experiments. After the failure of the square heads, he decided that people with long necks are more intelligent than those with short necks. He proved to be right. They are particularly good at calculating, so they are used as office workers.”

As they were about to climb into the cart, a pretty, pale-haired girl of the long-neck type approached them. Her circular eyes were blue. Gerek glanced at her nervously.

“Not now, Dimpney. I have to go.”

But the girl was not to be put off. She placed her hand on his arm with a pleading gesture, and after a muttered “Excuse me,” Gerek withdrew out of earshot, and listened as she talked earnestly. Finally, he spoke quietly but intensely for a few moments, then shook his head and turned away from her. The girl hesitated, and walked away. Gerek climbed into the cart, and sighed.

“There is an example of why men and women do not live together in Shadowland. She is my secretary, but she is becoming possessive.”

“You regard that as bad?”

“In Shadowland it is regarded as a serious fault.”

He shook the reins impatiently and the gelbs trotted forward.

Niall was amused. He had often seen Veig in similar situations. With a touch of good-humored malice, he said: “What do you intend to do about her?”

Gerek snorted. “Get myself another secretary.”

The gelbs obviously knew where to go; they turned back the way they had come. Gerek occasionally shook the reins to make them go faster, looking at his watch.

The road back past the factories was now deserted, although they occasionally passed a solitary pedestrian, still wearing the gray work uniform. Niall pointed at one of these, a thin, baldheaded man with a gray mustache.

“Where do you suppose he’s going?”

“I don’t know. Some people like to walk around when they’ve finished work. I once asked one of them where she was going, and she said she didn’t like being among a crowd all day.” He shook his head in bewilderment.