He laid her down gently on the unyielding floor, her lifeless face illuminated by the final product of a science so advanced, it embodied concepts humankind could not contemplate even theoretically. While the chamber throbbed with electronic life, the only one that meant anything to him lay lost at his feet.
He thought about ignoring her request, considered racing back to the main island to retrieve one of the remaining life crystals from Brink’s body. Her words refused to leave him, stuck in his mind, and he knew that she would curse him for bringing her back, for subjecting her to the potential tyranny of crystal addiction.
So he left her there, her beautiful silent face turned toward the alien sky. Left her the way she always wanted to be left from the time they’d first met: with the last word.
Rising, he turned to squint directly at the beam. Beyond lay the transport tunnel, its ever-efficient sphere waiting to carry him back to the central island. He started walking … away from it.
Many of the machines boasted assorted indentations and projections. Once more he found himself wondering what would happen if he made actual contact with the beam. If it was deadly, death would come instantaneously. His eyes watered and he had to wipe at them continually as he scrutinized the projection. It was only light, of course, but even light could exert pressure. And he’d never seen a light like this.
What lay at the end of the light, at the terminus of the beam? It was no rainbow and the spinning lens no Valhalla. He’d promised Maggie that he would find out.
Using various projections and indentations, he climbed easily to the top of the primary mechanism. Looking down the length of the beam, he could see the distant cryptic illusion that was the lens, the Eye. What if he could reach it, what then? Probably it would knock him silly, send him flying off onto the rocks.
Seen from above, Maggie Robbins was more lovely than ever. She lay as he had left her, unawakened and still. It wasn’t a bad dream.
Find out what the beams are for, she had implored him. It might only take a nanosecond to find out.
Closing his eyes, astonished at how calm he was feeling, he stepped forward off the edge of the machine. He did not die. His leg was not incinerated. Instead, he found himself standing on the light, his boots sinking into it an inch or two. Bouncing tentatively on the balls of his feet, he took an experimental step forward. It was like walking on deep foam rubber. He would have compared it to walking on air, except that he was virtually walking on air.
Well, now, that’s interesting, he thought. He knew a couple of physicists who would have given a year off their lives just for the privilege of studying the phenomenon.
He resumed walking. The beam continued to support him, buoying him up by who knew what implausible stretch of applied photonics. His feet sank no farther into the light.
Increasing his pace, he left the spire behind and soon found himself striding along high above the alien ocean. There was no breeze. He was no tightrope walker, but the beam was plenty wide, and to say that he was accustomed to high places would have been an egregious understatement.
Besides, he didn’t much care if he fell. The drop of a hundred feet on either side of the beam didn’t concern him. Ignoring it, he maintained his steady pace, occasionally jamming his hands into his pocket and whistling softly as he walked. The spire receded behind him as the illusory gray globe of the Eye drew near. Gradually, a new revelation manifested itself.
The Eye sang.
Actually, it was more of a very high-pitched whine, an unsurprising by-product of the spinning lens. But he preferred to think of it as a song, albeit a one-note threnody. Close now, he could see that the lens was not revolving on a single axis but on many, like a gyroscope. Within the sphere of rotation, light was bent, making it impossible for him to see through it. In addition to the serene whine, it exuded a faint dampness.
He glanced back. The fifth islet looked small in the distance, its glistening spire a needle looking to pierce some low-lying cloud. Below he could see the broken terrain of the central island, the quiescent asteroid-ship, even the hold through which access could be gained to the vast underground chamber. It all seemed so mundane, so irrelevant. Like his life, he mused.
With a sigh he turned back to face the Eye. Maggie wasn’t the only one who always wanted to see what lay on the other side of the mountain. As nonchalantly as if he was crossing Market Street, he stepped forward into the vaporous maelstrom.
The sphere vanished. So did the island, and the sea, and the sky. So, too, did any sense of up or down, left or right. Looking in the direction he believed to be down, he wasn’t really surprised to see that he wasn’t there anymore. If he’d been able to access a mirror, he would have discovered that he no longer possessed eyes with which to see. Instead of seeing, he perceived.
Looking (or rather, perceiving) around, he settled on something that had neither mass nor shape but that was there nonetheless. It was there by virtue of its selfness, adrift in the same waxen pale as himself. The cosmos had become solid cloud flecked with presence.
Reaching out with what would have been his arms had he still been in possession of such limbs, he found he could move closer to the presence. Contact was made. He felt a coolness in his mind instead of on his skin, which extraneous envelope he had discarded along with the rest of his physicality. Pulling back, he sensed and felt nothing. There was nothing to sense in this place: no heat, no light, no smell. One could only perceive.
Effortlessly, he moved away from the intermittent gray flicker he perceived to be the Eye. Looking down, he found that he could perceive the central island, the ocean and the creatures that dwelt within. He saw everything all the way to the heart of the planet and, looking out, all proximate space as far as the Cocytan sun. Everything was incredibly obvious, though viewed through the veil of newfound perception.
He sensed other thoughts moving close and prepared to receive them. When they chose to manifest themselves, they were as clear and sharp in his mind as any speech.
“We have been observing you for some time, by your standards,” declared one. Without head or ears, he understood it perfectly, and turned to confront it.
It was a Cocytan, though not one boasting beaked skull and vestigial wings. Rather, it was the essence of a Cocytan, perceived whole and complete. A presence against which he could measure his own existence. He was unexpectedly glad to have it confirmed.
Others crowded near, though there was no sense of crowding. Some were cool, others decidedly warmer. He perceived each of them individually, just as they perceived him. Behind the first there were others. Dozens, hundreds, millions and more. Astonishingly, he found he could perceive each and every one of them, both separately and as a group. He did not try to comprehend how he was able to do this. For the moment, it was more than enough simply to accept.
“Where am I?”
“In our place.” The one he perceived as nearest to him replied. There hung about it an aura of great satisfaction. “In the other dimension. Resign yourself to it. It is remarkable that you have succeeded in coming among us, but now you will never go back. We have been searching for the way back for a thousand years.”
“So this is the fourth dimension.” Low turned, or perceived that he was turning. It didn’t matter which way he looked: Everything looked the same unless he focused on the physical universe. The dimension of which he was now a part encompassed the entire cosmos yet was not restricted by it.
Brink should be here, he found himself thinking. Not me.
“You have come through the Eye.” Was that a dozen of the thought-forms addressing him, he wondered, or a million? “Reactivation was always believed possible, but not likely. The movements of the Creator, when revived, were circumscribed by the exigencies of the tomb. Others have come and gone on the physical plane, and all failed. Until now. Until you.”
“Thanks.” He knew he ought to feel flattered by this homage from an ancient race, but he did not. He didn’t feel much of anything. “Were there many who tried before me?”
“Not so very many. Some. All perished without activating the Eye, much less achieving this dimensionality. Their skeletons, and exoskeletons, and other hard body parts lay scattered among the islands.”