Fall; or, Dodge in Hell - Neal Stephenson Page 0,339

made those evanescent.

Something strange was undoubtedly going on in Prim’s mind. For in all honesty there was nothing she could possibly see atop that Pinnacle at such a distance. Yet pictures of it were coming into her head. Since they could not have been coming in through her eyes, they might have been figments of her imagination, seeded from storybooks and brought to life by the strange vibrant air of this Temple. Or they might have been memories. They seemed very much like things she had once seen, perhaps in dreams, and forgotten for a long time. If so, those were not altogether happy memories.

“Two visitors. Alike welcome. One familiar, one new to me,” said a male voice behind them. “How different their reactions to the sight of El’s Palace! One so joyous, the other somehow sad.”

Prim had whirled around upon hearing the voice. Sooth was a step behind her, and a little off to one side, still facing the window, and indeed there was no question that her face was alight with happiness.

The voice was emanating from the top of the stepped platform. This was circular, shaped like a stack of coins that got smaller as they went up. The top was a few paces in diameter. Its back portion was rimmed by a low parapet that appeared to be made out of embroidered cushions. Its front was open toward the window wall. Seated atop it, right in the middle, leaning back comfortably, was an Autochthon. He looked as if he would be magnificent were he to stand to his full height. But they had come upon him lounging in a long robe made of some shimmering material. Or perhaps that was just his aura. He actually had one. It was big. To judge from old books, auras had once been common, but Prim had only seen a few in her whole life, and those had been barely discernible layers of shimmer painted over people’s heads. This Autochthon’s aura occupied most of the platform.

Sooth’s smile broadened, and altered in a way that struck Prim as false. She pirouetted to face the platform. “Delegate Elshield,” she said, “may we approach the Divan? I would introduce you to my guest.”

“You may not only approach but join me up here if you would care to,” said Elshield. In his tone was a kind of suggestive familiarity hinting that he and Sooth spent rather a lot of time in each other’s company. Sooth cast a glance back at Prim and then began to approach. Following in her wake, Prim was conscious of a rise in the Hive-hum that only grew more intense with each step. Looking up she saw a peculiarity she had missed before: a broad inverted pillar, like a fat stalactite descending from the ceiling, centered directly above the platform. It was made entirely of Hive-stuff, though here it was in a more orderly geometric shape than Hive that grew in the wild. It descended close enough to the top of the Divan that Elshield, if he could have been bothered to stand up, might almost have touched it with an upraised hand. Its under-surface was concave. In the cells exposed on its underside, souls squirmed and glowed to illuminate Elshield in flat, fluctuating light. It must have been they who were the source of the hum, for with each step Prim took toward the lowest tier of the Divan, the sound grew more intense, coming in through not just her ears but her skull, and addling her wits. The sorts of stray dreamlike memories she’d experienced while staring at the Pinnacle were now breaking loose all over and making it impossible for her to see or think clearly. She stopped and backed away to a more comfortable distance. Sooth, untroubled, quickened her pace and ascended the platform steps, all bouncing locks and flouncing skirts, pleasing enough to Prim’s eye and more so to Elshield’s. He lazily raised a hand. She reached out to grasp it, then spun round and dropped to sit next to him. Both leaned back comfortably against the cushions and seemed to take in the emanations of the Hive for a minute.

“Our young visitor is fascinating. Mysterious,” said Elshield, and Prim felt he was not stating his own opinion but that of the Hive. “Will you not step closer, young lady?”

“I prefer not to,” said Prim. “I prefer to use plain ordinary words, when sharing my thoughts with strangers.”

Sooth smiled. “And when you use words, do you