Pipes clanged and reverberated as Jean-Luc dropped the wrench. He grimaced as it fell five hundred meters to the ground. It struck every metal beam along the way and turned the entire Astral Tower into a giant bell. He peered at the panel he had been dismantling on the rusty corridor wall. Only one bolt remained, making it hang at an angle.
“Aren’t you supposed to be escaping discreetly?” The voice came from behind him. Jean-Luc whirled around to see a tall and regal woman smiling at him. Her silver hair was braided, and her eyes were kind, not accusing.
“Duchess Antoinette,” Jean-Luc stammered. “I . . . I wasn’t . . . what are you doing here?”
The duchess rolled her eyes. “I knew you were trying to get out, Jean. I’ve followed you for a while, but I certainly didn’t expect this.”
“Are you going to try and stop me?” Jean-Luc yanked the panel off the wall.
“I’ve never stopped you before,” she chuckled. “Even when you stole an entire arsenal of fireworks to guard your house from the Architects. Besides, this is something I feel you must do. It might finally shove the idea into your thick skull that not every rule the Architects create was designed solely for you to break.”
Surprised, he turned back to the panel and began to rip out its inner wiring. “But surely you agree that this city is a monster, constantly destroying its old sectors and all their residents, just to build new ones on the other side of town. Your Architects only ever cause my family — and everyone else's — pain, when they come with their wrecking balls and force us to move eastward.”
The proud woman tilted her head to one side. “Have you ever wondered why they are continuously taking from the old side and adding to the new, always in the east?”
Ignoring her, Jean-Luc continued, “This sector is going to be demolished in thirty hours, so nobody’s guarding the Astral Tower. But for another six hours, this panel still controls the gravlock for all of the Towers in Parisburgsville. It wasn’t operational,” — he hid his smugness poorly — “but I did a bit of tinkering.”
Duchess Antoinette’s eyes shone brighter. “They say that only the cargomen who bring supplies have seen Parisburgsville from space.”
Jean-Luc grunted. “They can say whatever they want. I’m going.”
She sighed. “I am not trying to dissuade you — only to caution you. There is a reason that the Architects don’t want people to leave. It’s all important.”
The sooty renegade picked up the panel. “I really want to believe you. But nothing should be worth this.” He began to stride down the corridor.
Duchess Antoinette followed at a distance. “It will change you, Jean-Luc. You won’t be able to return.”
“Why not?” Jean-Luc made for the rickety elevator.
The duchess hesitated, and only when the doors began to close between them did she whisper softly, “We spin.”
And then Jean-Luc shot upward toward the tower’s zenith. He puzzled over her words as the elevator came to a halt. But then he steeled himself and exited the elevator into a large domed room, with a metal pod on a platform in the center.
Steam hissed and gears turned to retract the dome as Jean-Luc opened the pod’s massive door. Breathing hard, he strapped into one of the seats and stared through the five layers of reinforced plexiglass, into the upper atmosphere. He was finally leaving — all of the tinkering and stealing and crafting and welding that he had spent so many nights practicing had paid off in the end.
A gravlock light inside the docking bay flickered, cutting through his moment of peacefulness. Gritting his teeth, Jean-Luc punched the release button. Gravity screamed at him, slamming every bone in his body against the seat, tearing at his consciousness. The old bolts rattled and wailed in protest.
And then that gravity ceased to exist. The renegade unbuckled his seatbelt and retched.
He was hurtling through blackness, past bits of debris and ice. Jean-Luc floated to the window. He looked out at the glowing ball of fire that was called a star. And then he looked down.
There was Parisburgsville, awash in color, an esoteric mix of wood and metal and neon. The new side was buzzing with activity and glowing lights, while the old side looked dusty and forgotten.
But what stunned Jean-Luc into silence was the thing that the city was sprawling across. Never had he perceived something of such size. Perfectly round, the planet was half searing-hot white and half midnight black. Neither side looked like anything could possibly live on its surface. But right in the middle . . . .
We spin, Duchess Antoinette had said. We spin.
And Jean-Luc understood. The Architects were probably corrupt, but they were also saving Parisburgsville from an icy death in the dark. We spin. But so slowly that the Architects can keep us in the right place by building the city in the same direction forever.
It will change you, Jean.
And Jean-Luc did change.
“I can’t go back there.” He knew it was true as he said it. But as Astral Station IV grew bigger in the window, he grinned. Jean-Luc pulled a nub of tinkerer’s chalk out of his breast pocket and scrawled in reverse on the glass, large enough for a passing ship to see:
Space mechanic for hire.
“Aren’t you supposed to be escaping discreetly?” The voice came from behind him. Jean-Luc whirled around to see a tall and regal woman smiling at him. Her silver hair was braided, and her eyes were kind, not accusing.
“Duchess Antoinette,” Jean-Luc stammered. “I . . . I wasn’t . . . what are you doing here?”
The duchess rolled her eyes. “I knew you were trying to get out, Jean. I’ve followed you for a while, but I certainly didn’t expect this.”
“Are you going to try and stop me?” Jean-Luc yanked the panel off the wall.
“I’ve never stopped you before,” she chuckled. “Even when you stole an entire arsenal of fireworks to guard your house from the Architects. Besides, this is something I feel you must do. It might finally shove the idea into your thick skull that not every rule the Architects create was designed solely for you to break.”
Surprised, he turned back to the panel and began to rip out its inner wiring. “But surely you agree that this city is a monster, constantly destroying its old sectors and all their residents, just to build new ones on the other side of town. Your Architects only ever cause my family — and everyone else's — pain, when they come with their wrecking balls and force us to move eastward.”
The proud woman tilted her head to one side. “Have you ever wondered why they are continuously taking from the old side and adding to the new, always in the east?”
Ignoring her, Jean-Luc continued, “This sector is going to be demolished in thirty hours, so nobody’s guarding the Astral Tower. But for another six hours, this panel still controls the gravlock for all of the Towers in Parisburgsville. It wasn’t operational,” — he hid his smugness poorly — “but I did a bit of tinkering.”
Duchess Antoinette’s eyes shone brighter. “They say that only the cargomen who bring supplies have seen Parisburgsville from space.”
Jean-Luc grunted. “They can say whatever they want. I’m going.”
She sighed. “I am not trying to dissuade you — only to caution you. There is a reason that the Architects don’t want people to leave. It’s all important.”
The sooty renegade picked up the panel. “I really want to believe you. But nothing should be worth this.” He began to stride down the corridor.
Duchess Antoinette followed at a distance. “It will change you, Jean-Luc. You won’t be able to return.”
“Why not?” Jean-Luc made for the rickety elevator.
The duchess hesitated, and only when the doors began to close between them did she whisper softly, “We spin.”
And then Jean-Luc shot upward toward the tower’s zenith. He puzzled over her words as the elevator came to a halt. But then he steeled himself and exited the elevator into a large domed room, with a metal pod on a platform in the center.
Steam hissed and gears turned to retract the dome as Jean-Luc opened the pod’s massive door. Breathing hard, he strapped into one of the seats and stared through the five layers of reinforced plexiglass, into the upper atmosphere. He was finally leaving — all of the tinkering and stealing and crafting and welding that he had spent so many nights practicing had paid off in the end.
A gravlock light inside the docking bay flickered, cutting through his moment of peacefulness. Gritting his teeth, Jean-Luc punched the release button. Gravity screamed at him, slamming every bone in his body against the seat, tearing at his consciousness. The old bolts rattled and wailed in protest.
And then that gravity ceased to exist. The renegade unbuckled his seatbelt and retched.
He was hurtling through blackness, past bits of debris and ice. Jean-Luc floated to the window. He looked out at the glowing ball of fire that was called a star. And then he looked down.
There was Parisburgsville, awash in color, an esoteric mix of wood and metal and neon. The new side was buzzing with activity and glowing lights, while the old side looked dusty and forgotten.
But what stunned Jean-Luc into silence was the thing that the city was sprawling across. Never had he perceived something of such size. Perfectly round, the planet was half searing-hot white and half midnight black. Neither side looked like anything could possibly live on its surface. But right in the middle . . . .
We spin, Duchess Antoinette had said. We spin.
And Jean-Luc understood. The Architects were probably corrupt, but they were also saving Parisburgsville from an icy death in the dark. We spin. But so slowly that the Architects can keep us in the right place by building the city in the same direction forever.
It will change you, Jean.
And Jean-Luc did change.
“I can’t go back there.” He knew it was true as he said it. But as Astral Station IV grew bigger in the window, he grinned. Jean-Luc pulled a nub of tinkerer’s chalk out of his breast pocket and scrawled in reverse on the glass, large enough for a passing ship to see:
Space mechanic for hire.