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chandelier resemblance increased as she looked up and saw them suspended from
the chamber floor overhead. Across the two layers of atmosphere, fifty
kilometers away, the city became beautifully unreal, like a model behind dusty
glass' in a museum.
Her eyes swept to either side, head swinging as if she were watching a slow
tennis match between progressively taller players.
"Good morning, Mr. Lanier," said the senior officer, approaching to inspect
his badge. "She's new?"
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Lanier nodded. "Patricia Vasquez. Unlimited access."
"Yes, sir. General Gerhardt passed the word yesterday to expect you."
"Any activity?" Lanier asked.
"Mitchell's survey squad is going through the K mega now, at thirty degrees
and six klicks."
Lanier leaned back into the cab. "The 'megas' are the big buildings,"
he explained. She shielded her eyes against the plasma tube, trying to see
the opposite side of the chamber more clearly. She could make out parks and
small lakes, systems of streets---laid out in alternating concentric circles
and square blocks.
She was as far from the opposite wall as Long Beach was from Los
Angeles. Despite its scale, the city was definitely human-built.
Lanier stepped up on the running board and asked if she would like to stretch
her legs before they continued.
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"What do you call it?" Patricia asked.
"Its name is Alexandria."
"You named it?"
Lanier shook his head. "No."
"We're going all the way to the seventh chamber today?"
"If you're up toit."
"How long do we stay here?"
"A few hours at most. I want you to get a look at the library before we
continue."
"A library?"
"Indeed," Lanier replied. "One of the highlights."
She settled back in her seat, eyes wide. "Is the city deserted?"
"Most of us think it is. We've had scattered reports, but I put it up to
nerves. Boojums, the security team calls them.
Ghosts. We've never found a live Stoner."
"You've found dead ones?"
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"Quite a number. There are mausoleums in this chamber, and in the fourth
chamber. The main cemetery in Alexandria is at two-six degrees and ten
kilometers. Do you understand the coordinate system?"
"I think so," Patricia said. "Measure from the axis for angle, then distance
from the cap. But what's zero, and which cap7" "This is the zero bridge, and
we measure from the south cap."
"This isn't an initiation, thenyou weren't telling me a story.
Humans built the Stone."
"They did," Lanier said.
"Where did they go?"
Lanier smiled and waggled a finger.
"I know," Patricia said, sighing. "Wait and see for myself." She stepped
down from the track and stretched, then rubbed her eyes. "I'm impressed."
"The first time I saw Alexandria, I felt kind of at home," Lanier said.
"I was raised in New York, moved to LA when I was fifteenlived in big cities
all my life, practically. But this really impressed me, even so. We could
move twenty million people into just this chamber and still not be crowded."
"Is that why the Stone is important---as real estate?"
"No," Lanier said. "We don't plan on selling condos. We have fifteen
archaeologists on the team, and they'd kill anyone who even suggested it.
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They hold briefings every few days--I'm sure you'll attend several soon.
They're working around the clock, and have been since we brought them up here
three years ago. They haven't let us touch anything since that time, except
when one of the security team commanders or myself has overruled them. And
even then, we needed damned good excuses. ' '
Patricia nodded to the three guards, who returned the greeting cordially, one
tipping the visor on his cap. A radio in the guard house beeped and crackled.
The senior officer answered. Patricia couldn't catch the guttural message,
but the guard replied in what sounded like Russian.
"I could have sworn they were all clean=cut American soldiers,"
Patricia said.
"They are. There are Russians working with Hua Ling in the southern cap bore
hole."
"The marines speak Russian?"
"This one does, obviously. And three or four other languages.
Cream of the crop."
"Is there anybody up here who isn't brilliant?"
"No common grunts, if that's what you mean. We can't afford them.
Everyone has to do double and triple duty." He sat ,in the driver's seat
again. "When you're ready, we'll cross the bridge and drive to the library."
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"Anytime," Patricia said, resuming her seat.
Lanier advanced the tractor and the gates swung wide for them, then closed
after.
They crossed the four-lane bridge, tires chattering and whanging on the
asphalt. Patricia reached into her pants pocket to pull out the slate.
Using its ten-key shorthand board, she typed: Weather--or rather, the absence
of it. Sky is quite clear.
Perspective really startling. Land appears flat nearby, then just above the
horizon (looking north) seems to curve, the curve getting more radical ap the
side of the valley. The chamber overhead has lots of detail, visible through
slight haze.
She played back What '' she had keyed in, hunting for errors.
She had learned to type on a slate in high school, but that had been many
years ago, and she preferred writing by hand.
Paper, however, was obviously an expensive commodity on the Stone, to be used
sparingly.
She continued to type as they passed down a broad thoroughfare.
Street about fifty meters wide, divided down the middle by what might have
been grass at one time, and trees.
2to lanes each side. None of the plants look healthy.
Gardening systems deteriorating---not working at all? Shop windows on street
level, nearly all broken. Lobbies of
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