Chapter Two

"Big fella', your tank is nice and green. You've got plenty to eat and I'm leaving the shades open so you'll have light during the day, and dark when it's night. Don't look for me, I'm liable to be home later than usual."

His solitary tropical fish occupied a twenty gallon tank in the middle of the den. Martin often thought of it as being lonely. But, when he considered how the fish had slaughtered every living thing in its environment, he gave up the idea of feeling sorry for it.

Big Fella' was eternal. It survived dirty water, irregular air pump hours, over-feeding, and eight years of life. Big Fella' was also the one constant element in his life. Martin knew it would always be there when he came home, never complaining and never invading his privacy.

He thought about leaving the air pump on, but decided against it. Tapping the aquarium glass, he dropped some food into the water and left the room. His pack lay against the front wall waiting for the doors and windows to be checked again.

All the electrical appliances were unplugged except for one light equipped with a timer. The phone service was set on, 'answer only.' Martin checked his television set for the third time and then stared around the living room.

'What else.....nothing. Go, Martin, go. Time to leave.'

Lifting the heavy pack he shoved the door with his hip, locked the deadbolt, and then the storm door.

'Have I forgotten anything? Nothing! Move your ass, man, it's almost ten-thirty!'

Martin walked across the front lawn without looking back. If he were leaving a wife behind he would have said something heroic to convince her he was not going off to avoid her company. Since he wasn't, he decided to feel guilty about leaving Big Fella' alone.

"The fish can take care of himself, and I won't be gone that long....."

"You sure about that?"

"OH! Damn it! Rachael, stop sneaking up on me."

She was standing at the foot of the knoll with a light jacket draped over her shoulders. Rachael was sneakered and in slacks, a large backpack sitting on the ground between her feet. The coy smile on her face told Martin she had intended to creep up on him this time.

"Rachael, I appreciate the extra things, whatever they may be, but I can only carry so much."

"No problem, I'll take care of my part."

Martin stood in the middle of the road noting her determined expression. He knew what she meant, but he asked anyway.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm going with you."

"No, you're not."

Shaking his head, Martin walked past her and started toward the Elfin Tree. Moving between the oak and the elm, he set his pack down and checked the rope. It hung where they had left it.

"The first step is almost down," Rachael noted calmly. "Ten twenty-eight."

"You're not going."

"Want to lead the way, or shall I?"

Despite his brusque objection, Rachael's feelings were not hurt. She had decided to go and Martin would have nothing to say in the matter. Her logic was quite simple. The stairway was public domain, and she was going to use it despite his protests.

"I'm not rejecting you, Rachael, I'm only thinking about your safety."

"And I'm not letting my only means to intelligent conversation go walking off up some tree. My safety is my own business, unless you want to make our safety, our business."

Martin smiled to himself in the dark. Even though her words stung he found himself feeling easier for having Rachael's company. For the first time in his life, Martin really did not enjoy the idea of going off alone..

"I hoped you might check on Big Fella'' for me. He finds it a little difficult to feed himself."

"A lame excuse," she grinned. "Admit you need a woman's company and invite me along, it will save us precious time."

"And time," Martin exclaimed, "is getting short. We'd better get a move on or we'll miss the door." Rachael smiled openly.

A full moon silvered the Elfin Tree as Martin climbed onto the first step. Shimmering leaves touched the ground, sparkling with drops of evening dew. Above them, clouds raced through the midsummer's eve sky. Rachael followed his careful step in a mellowing light.

Seemingly flat, and holding her weight easily, the branches circled up and to the right. At the first turn, Rachael caught sight of the elm tree. She was surprised to find herself more than halfway up its height.

The leaves trembled as the elm's bark glowed in the bright sheen of moonlight. She paused for a moment, glancing toward the ground. A darkness covered the knoll, hiding it from her eyes. Usually comfortable at night, she suddenly conceived of it as an obscure, black shadow swallowing everything she was familiar with. Releasing the scene, she hurried after Martin.

"I can't see the ground or your house," she gasped. Rachael dared another quick glance toward the street.

"Everything is changed up here," Martin replied. "It must be a distortion of the light, time may even be involved."

They went on in silence, nearing the top of the tree with surprising ease. Rachael kept her eyes on Martin as he climbed the last few steps in short, unhurried strides.

Rachael sensed its presence before she actually saw the vapor. Martin's report of the dim light surrounding the cloud proved to be correct. She was taken by the pale glow as it drove the dark away, but something repulsive about its appearance forced her to kneel rather than touch it. Martin sat on the last step, his arm lifted into the puffy fog.

"Do I have to touch it?" Martin looked at her quickly.

"It's the only way up....."

"It looks.....dirty."

"You won't even feel it, I promise. It has no consistency on this side, and I've suffered no ill effects."

"Yes, you have," she quipped. "It's driven you crazy."

Ignoring her wry sense of humor, Martin adjusted his backpack and smiled at Rachael.

"Ready?" She nodded in response.

Holding her hand tightly, Martin rose to his feet and stood up. Blinking against the harsh light, he confronted a sullen, unchanged vista. Without thinking, he stepped up and found himself standing on solid ground. Martin kicked at the dirt only to find it hard and unyielding.

Rachael knelt beside him in an impossible pose, her lower body disappeared into the gray earth, mouth open in astonishment. Putting aside her misgivings, she stepped up through the doorway.

They stood together on a small hill much like the knoll at home, but this one lay barren. The familiar trees were gone, and there was no evidence of a door underfoot.

Rachael turned nervously, examining the landscape near them. Her first impression was one of desolation. There was no vegetation in sight, no flower or blade of grass to lend color to her eyes. It seemed the stairway had led them to an empty, lifeless world.

"There are no trees, Martin."

He ignored her for a moment, staring out toward the far edge of the desert. The shape of the city filled his binoculars, still too far away to be studied in detail.

"Without the trees, there's no doorway....."

"We'll find them," he muttered. "Look at this." He pushed the binoculars toward her.

"What do you make of it? I can't see anything built up around the urban area, no houses, no roads, nothing." It took Rachael several minutes to orient herself to the vision, and she only spoke after studying it carefully.

"All I can make out is an enormous complex of buildings. Some of them must be more than a hundred stories high, and the towers....." Rachael stopped long enough to wipe her brow.

"The spires are needle sharp....." She returned the glasses to Martin's outstretched hand.

"No sign of pollution," he shrugged. "There's no vegetation either."

"We're locked out of our own world," Rachael muttered anxiously.

"There's a way back, trust me."

"If there is, it's not here," she argued in a sing-song tone. "What do you suggest we do. Martin?"

"I think we should head toward the city, there's nothing in this god-forsaken place. Besides, it's getting uncomfortably warm." He slipped out of his jacket and squinted up at the cloudless sky.

"Martin, if we leave we may never find this spot again. What happens if the door opens while we're gone?"

He realized she was trying to be practical, but it irritated him anyway. Their journey had just begun and they would have no need for a doorway back until it was over.

"Look, this is the only rise of ground in sight, so we should have no trouble finding it. There's nothing else between us and the city."

Reluctantly, Rachael shouldered her pack and started down the hill. The ground flattened immediately, making the walk easy, but their objective was miles away. She kept looking back at the hill as they moved away, the only obvious break in an obviously flat terrain.

The city became more impressive as they neared the colossal metropolis. Still distant, it towered above them, lofty towers probing into an unchanging sky. Thousands of porcupine spires gave it a feudal appearance, foreboding in its countenance.

Even more commanding was its width. The city stretched for miles on either side, blotting out the plain beyond its borders. Mysteriously dark, the metropolis revealed none of its inner design or its inhabitants. Rachael was the first to make note of a rising uneasiness.

"There's something very strange about all this," Rachael grunted. Shifting the straps of her pack, she hurried her pace to keep up with Martin.

"Still no sign of a road, and no suburban area at all," he remarked.

"Not just that," Rachael interrupted, "something is out of place, wrong."

"Woman's intuition?"

"Maybe, but it's as though the buildings were.....I don't know, unfinished. Seeing it leaves me with an empty feeling."

Martin stopped in mid-stride and peered through the binoculars. He let out a long, disappointed moan.

"Unfinished is right, good God

"What?"

"Here, see for yourself."

The tangled puzzle of girders rose into the air in an impossible combination of angles, a crisscross of beams filling her eyes wherever she looked. Naked steel shouldered its way up from bare ground, ninety, one hundred stories, and many of the buildings were much taller. Rachael did not see a single brick or stone anywhere.

No mortar encompassed the structures, no windows, walls, or floors. The mammoth skeleton fountained into the air like an ancient dinosaur stripped of it meat. The essence of its character was missing.

"The city must be under construction," he murmured.

"With people living in it," she breathed?

Human beings walked the steel girders as though it were a natural act. A silent population moved down, from side to side, on every level of all the buildings Rachael could see. Some rode elevators that were no more than I-beams attached to slender wire strands.

She could see people sitting on the lower levels, men and women huddled together. Children scrambled about unaware of their precarious footing, clambering toward the ground to join scattered groups of adults.

Even as she watched, the upper levels were being emptied. The tallest buildings were miles from the edge of the city, but Rachael knew it would take days before they could be evacuated, if it were possible at all.

An enormous mass of humanity already covered the lower levels and the ground. Motion was slowing, slowed until there was no movement amongst the floor of living flesh.

"This is incredible," she gasped. "An entire population inside a city that isn't finished!"

"Not one of the buildings has gone beyond the basic construction stage." Martin packed the binoculars. "It doesn't seem to bother them. We'd better move on, it's getting awfully hot out here."

The city filled their vision, stretching in all directions, allowing no part of the desert around it to be seen. Necks bent, they followed the rising steel into the air. At its center, one enormous spire rose up and disappeared into the gray sky.

The muggy atmosphere made them sweat uncomfortably as they continued their journey. Rachael kept glancing back toward the hill with its single peak rising out of the plain and finally decided that it would be enough of a landmark for them to find. At its crest a single, gnarled tree stood like a sign-post. There were no leaves on its twisted branches.

"Martin, look!"

"Where the hell did that come from," he muttered?

"It wasn't there a few minutes ago," she replied. "Oh! It's gone....."

"Cyclic, just like the elfin tree and the stairs. At least we have a possible answer to the way home." Satisfied, he turned toward the city again.

"Well, things have taken a turn for the better, a road at last!"

Martin's exclamation pulled Rachael away from her study of the distant hill.

A narrow macadam strip rose out of the ground and led toward the nearest buildings. No more than a path, its smooth surface was a welcome relief if only in providing them with something familiar. A lone, wooden shack stood beside it.

Martin and Rachael dropped their packs outside the hut and approached a doorway which opened into a darkened one-room interior. Peeking inside, Martin tried to see if it was occupied, but the shadows revealed nothing.

"Hello! Hello, anybody home?"

"Home? This isn't home," came a thin voice from the darkness. "This is Gateman's Post. What do you want?"

"May we come in?" Martin wiped the sweat from his neck.

"No, you may not," the voice squeaked, "there's not enough room. If I must, I'll come out."

A pudgy figure waddled from the structure, obviously unhappy about being disturbed. The bald head grew out of a rotund body, but there was no neck. Sandaled feet stuck out of the trunk, attached by the shortest legs Martin had ever seen. The man's pants were held up by suspenders, but he wore no shirt. Hairless, the homely face stared at them with disinterest.

"What do you want?" The voice still did not fit the physique.

"We were about to go into the city," Martin explained politely, "but we're strangers. Perhaps you could tell us where we might find a place to stay."

"No, no, you can't just go in. You must have a pass. No one is allowed through the gate without a pass."

Martin looked beyond the hut, but he could discover no gate. The road was unobstructed. It led directly to the edge of the city and disappeared amidst a chaos of steel girders and beams.

"What gate," he shrugged?

The fat man said nothing for a moment, a look of disdain crossing his face.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course there's a gate. Why else would I be, Gateman?"

"If you are the gateman, where is the gate?"

"I'm not THE gateman, I AM, Gateman. It's my name, and my job, too!" Martin decided to change the subject.

"Where can we get a pass?" The roadway was hot under his feet and he shuffled uncomfortably.

"From me." Silence.

"Fine, could we please have a pass?"

"Sorry, there's no room, no space. All the levels are overcrowded." Martin was about to ask another question when the man continued.

"You say you are strangers? What's strange about you?" Rachael stared in disbelief.

"I meant to say, we're visitors, tourists. We don't want to stay permanently. Rachael and I would like to look around for a day or two and then leave. Can't we just go in?"

"You must have a pass, the gate won't open without one."

Martin studied the road again. The path led around the first building and melted into a maze of angular, steel shafts. People were sitting everywhere, filling every vacant spot except the road. A corridor led between their sullen bodies, but there was still no sign of a gate.

"Besides, you came right at the beginning of weekend. There's no place to walk, let alone stay."

The aisle was obvious, but Martin decided not to challenge Gateman's word again. After a long pause, he decided there was no other choice.

"Look, my good man. Despite your name, I see no gate. Aside from the obvious, we could go into the city anywhere along its border. Number two, no one is sitting on the road, it is empty. Why can't we just follow it?"

Martin noted the man's hands as he placed them where his hips should have been. The arms they were attached to seemed no more than blobs of flesh.

"There is a gate!" He scowled. "And the road is full. It is weekend, and there's no room for you or your companion." Martin sighed anxiously.

"All right, have it your way. How soon will weekend be over?" He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

"Only Shaper knows," the face sneered. "I don't set the limits."

"Then, we can see Shaper," Rachael asked?

A gentle laughter animated the bloated figure, jiggling it shakily. The body seemed to lack certain parts, no adam's apple to bob up and down was the most obvious. Gateman's flesh shivered with a strange humor. As the soft giggling died away, his entire figure sagged.

"What's a tourist?" Martin and Rachael looked at each other.

"We come from another place," Martin replied, "a great distance away." He pointed in the direction of the hill.

"There is no other place," Gateman sneered. "The city is all there is. Say, you're not from one of the delving levels are you? Damn pests are crawling out of there all the time."

Gateman's eyes opened wide as he appraised Martin and Rachael carefully. Edging backward, he sniffed the air.

"You've got a strange smell about you, are you sure you're not from the delving level?" Gateman stopped his retreat, a finger resting on his nose.

"No, you're not one of those sewer rats. Ah, you came down from level-ninety, didn't you. Sightseeing on weekend, you must be very special to escape the mindless time. You should have told me this when we first met."

Gateman turned in a surprisingly graceful pirouette and waddled to the door of the shack. Shutting it carefully, he started off down the road. Realizing that his two charges were not at his heels, he half-turned and motioned with his hand.

"Come on, time to be off. I wouldn't want you to get stuck down here after weekend without a guide." Shouldering her backpack, Rachael winked at Martin with a wry smile.

"Actually, we're from level thirteen." Gateman stopped.

"Don't push it too far," Martin whispered.

"Oh, oh, my goodness. Good joke, yes, very good. Level thirteen, only a politic would think of it. Actually, I don't know why all those numbers were left out. Someone must have hated the teens, but, of course, you know.....thirteen, very good."

Rachael looked at Martin and shrugged her shoulders.

"You could easily have said the wrong thing," he muttered. "We're in a very strange place and we have no idea what might get us into trouble. Besides, I don't like the emphasis our friend put on the delving sections. There was something distasteful in his tone, as though he was talking about a ghetto.....and what kind of a name is, Gateman?"

"Martin....." Rachael elbowed him in the side.

Without realizing it, they had entered the city. Their path seemed to be the only roadway within the metropolis, and they could see it winding through the twisted architecture.

An entire population was sitting on the ground, a lost, distant look in their eyes. Although Gateman drew a nod or two, no one seemed interested in his guests. Silence pervaded everything, and not one sound emanated from the mass of humanity.

"What are they doing," Rachael asked?

"Enjoying weekend." Gateman stopped long enough to adjust his suspenders, and cast a suspicious glance toward Rachael.

The heat was less intense within the shadow of the great skyscrapers, but the humidity was stifling. Sweat soaked them both and their clothing began to feel uncomfortable and heavy.

Life-size girders criss-crossed everywhere, blocking their view so no sign of the sky could be seen unless they craned their necks and looked straight up. Even then it seemed a piece-meal thing with giant spears driving into its flat texture.

Whatever lay beyond the nearest buildings was also a mystery. The puzzle of construction steel presented too much of a maze to see through. The crowds seemed indifferent to their surroundings, but then, it was their everyday world. Even those who perched on the lowest beams sat with their heads lowered, feet dangling into space. Contrasting light hid the true number of human souls covering the ground, but Martin and Rachael paid little attention to the silent populace. The city captured most of their attention.

Martin and Rachael followed Gateman's fast pace, walking as quietly as possible. It seemed the proper thing to do in the midst of an ordained hush. Even the city felt pensive to Rachael.

"They look normal enough," Martin whispered. "Clothes, physical characteristics....."

"Yes, if you consider a comatose state normal."

Rachael's breathing became labored, strained in the heavy atmosphere of the city's floor.

"You okay?"

"Not really," she gasped. "Considering my greatest athletic adventures have been wordy discussions with you, I think a rest would be in order."

"Gateman," Martin called, "wait a minute. We've had it, the air is too thick. How about giving us a second to catch our breath?" The roly-poly waddled back toward them.

"I am sorry, I should have remembered that you're used to a thinner atmosphere. But no too long, weekend will be over soon and the road will be filled with people. It will be difficult to get to the landing."

"It's over that quickly?"

"Of course, what did you expect? Time is the same down here as it is on the upper levels. Weekend, then dinner, talking, recreation, and bed." A thankful chuckle flew from Martin's lips.

"Eating, yes, you do eat."

"How else would we be able to subsist," Gateman asked? "An odd thing for you to say, it's almost as though you didn't like the quiet time, the one moment of sanity we're allowed each day."

"There are too many hours for all the insanity, if you ask me. A little more solitude, time not to think, now that's the answer to all our problems."

Martin and Rachael did not comment, but followed Gateman as he scuttled along the black tar road. He was surprisingly agile and they had to force their pace to stay up with him. Despite their troubled breathing, they could hear a low murmur beginning to rise from the population. It was noticeable against the silence that had dominated the city since their arrival.

"Almost there," Gateman puffed, "and not a moment too soon."

Men and women were beginning to rise from the ground, stretching comfortably. Small groups encroached on the road anxious to begin their activities after a long delay. Yawns gave expression to children's faces, parents took hold of small hands, shuffling in anticipation of a more hurried motion. Weekend was drawing to a close.

Rounding the corner of a building, Martin and Rachael found themselves in an enormous open square. The empty space in the midst of chaos stopped them in their tracks. A multitude, tens of thousands strong, stood around its edges, but the mile square black surface lay barren.

"Quick, into line." Gateman urged them forward toward a long, dull mark in the cement.

"Is this the landing," Martin asked? "I don't see any ships, no water for that matter." Gateman gave him a puzzled stare.

"You're not from the upper levels, are you?" An explosion of sound rescued Martin from a difficult situation.

Humanity sprang into motion, bringing the city to life. In seconds the square was filled. It became an avenue for thousands of feet to cross, using its expanse to move quickly toward unknown destinations. All about them human beings scrambled onto beams and girders, climbing toward the upper levels.

"Is this the center of the city?" Gateman pondered Martin's expression.

"No, certainly not. We're miles from the great tower, at least fifty blocks or more. This is the east-side landing, the first of the elevators that go to level-ninety. But you wouldn't know that, would you!"

Gateman had drawn his conclusions about Martin and Rachael, and none of them quieted his growing anxiety. They were not from the delving sections, but they were certainly not from the upper levels either.

"Perhaps I should call security, it would be the proper thing to do....." Gateman hesitated.

"Why? There's no reason to call them. Come up with us."

Rachael's soft tone was almost lost in the mayhem of sound and motion surrounding them.

"You're not from the upper levels....."

"No," Martin admitted, "but it's not as though we kept it a secret. We told you at the shack we were visitors. Rachael and I are only here for a short stay."

"Please," Rachael urged, "go with us. We don't know anything about your city or your customs. Martin and I would be lost."

"Go up to level-ninety," he muttered. "A fine sight I'd make up there. Can't you tell from the make of me? I'm a groundling. I wasn't shaped to walk the beams, not with this body. I'm maintenance and entry, nothing more."

Gateman shuffled nervously. If he had wanted to back away, the press of the crowd would not have allowed it. Indecision suddenly left him with no choice. The immense raft of girders lowered silently to the ground before them, settling with a deep rumble of weight.

"Quick, no time to waste!"

Martin's protest washed onto the makeshift elevator with a mass of hysterical riders. They managed to stay close enough to the groundling to join him at the center of the platform. Martin noted the cables binding the steel girders together and he swallowed uneasily.

"Temporary?" He bent his head toward the floor.

"Goodness no, this is the finest lift made today." Gateman spoke with obvious pride in his voice. "Except for the elevator in the great tower, which is inside the structure, the east-side landing elevator is second to none."

Gateman would have gone on, but a sudden jerk silenced him. With a groan of metal in their ears, the platform began to rise, its burden of humanity applauding excitedly. Rachael took Martin's arm in a gesture of reassurance.

"I forgot, you're terrified of heights." Martin could only nod with a sick look on his unhappy face.

Gateman seemed undaunted by his own unexpected departure from the ground. He spent his time nodding to those who greeted him, and looked around calmly as they rose to unnamed altitudes amongst the buildings. Martin breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator slowed and came to a swaying stop. His stomach churned with the nauseating motion."

"This it," he asked hopefully?

Gateman ignored him, moving away as the crowd thinned. Rachael squeezed Martin's hand and tried to smile.

"I suspect we have a way to go before we get to level-ninety. Just try not to think about where you are, and watch the scenery."

"Not very comforting, OH!"

The elevator started off again, its speed increasing as the number of riders decreased. It was the same at each stop. Hundreds of people left the platform, stepping out over open to space to walk the beams of their own level. Each time the elevator swayed to a stop it lurched in an unsteady movement toward the higher levels.

Despite suffering from motion sickness Martin felt the cooler air as a welcome relief from the humidity below them. Thinner and more easily breathed, it helped him bear the heights they were invading.

Only a few people were left on the elevator and Gateman stood several feet away. The look of concern on his face made Rachael feel sorry for him.

"We thank you for coming with us," she offered.

"I had little choice," Gateman muttered sullenly. "That's my trouble, I find it difficult to make quick decisions. I have been delinquent in my duties. The proper choice would have been to call security."

"Why," Martin asked? "We've done nothing wrong."

"Wrong has nothing to do with it, groundlings don't concern themselves with right or wrong. You're not from the delving levels and you're not from the upper levels. You say you're not from anything.....anywhere. That is cause enough to notify security."

"Then what are you doing on this elevator? Maintenance and Entry, you said. This should be the realm of transportation. Do you belong here?" Martin's anger overcame his fright.

"Careful," Rachael whispered.

Gateman's obese figure swelled with pride. Standing as upright as he could, he turned one wide suspender inside-out toward Martin. The red stripe was obvious.

"Pass! Civil government can go anywhere in the city including the penthouse. Even there we can use the lower halls. You're not dealing with a nobody from ground level. I may not be capable of walking the beams, but I can ride any elevator I choose to, without exception."

Silence interrupted their heated discussion as the last riders left them standing alone on the platform. With their exit it sped up considerably, leaving the mid-levels far behind. The massive architecture of girders thinned around them, leaving the impression of a more normal vista. The nearest buildings, though still too numerous for an accurate count, were further away.

"I'm not about to look down," Martin groaned, "but if you wouldn't mind telling me, how far up are we?"

Rachael moved toward the edge of the platform, then backed away with a quick moan of dismay. The heights were dizzying, forcing Rachael to look at the floor of the elevator to regain her balance. Open space lay below them with no way to judge their distance to the ground, but the macadam road looked like a slender, black thread.

If the road appeared to be the only path in the city, Rachael now observed it in a new light. It split into a hundred avenues, became walks, lanes, and streets, spreading like a spider web around all the buildings she could see. At each of the two landings visible from her vantage point, it became a solid square holding the frame of the great elevator, and then spread like an ink-spill throughout the metropolis.

"Gateman, just where is, level-ninety," she asked.

"Amazing. You don't even know.....but you're not from the city, I forgot. It is ninety levels above the road. Each level we speak of is composed of ten girder-measures. A fair mark, but there are buildings outside the living sections which dwarf this structure."

Martin swallowed heavily, grumbling in obvious discomfort. He sat on the floor of the platform, trying not to think about the nothing underneath him.

"You mean, n-nine hundred stories. Each level is made up of ten stories....." Rachael took a deep breath.

"Very observant, young woman. What did you say your name was?" Gateman edged toward her cautiously.

"Rachael," she smiled. "Tell me, how high is the great tower?" Martin tried to motion her into silence, but she seemed fascinated by the subject.

"The great tower is one hundred and forty-two levels high. By your reckoning, one thousand, four-hundred and twenty stories. Yes, we once used your terminology, but it is an ancient metaphor. Metropolitan directives transposed us to the level-measure three hundred years ago."

Long moments of silence passed as Martin and Rachael contemplated Gateman's statement, but it was beyond their ability to imagine. Martin closed his eyes as the sick feeling in his stomach grew worse.

"Who built all this?"

Her mind seemed lost in wonder of the city as girders sped past, dropping away from the elevator in an unending blur of steel. With a knowledge of their great height, they seemed fragile to her now.

"Shaper, of course. Everything is a product of Shaper, all things come from his mind." Gateman hesitated, studying Rachael's handsome face with a raised brow.

"Listen, I am a suspicious person by nature, especially when confronted by someone I don't know or can't explain. I'm terribly sorry for the way I acted. I wouldn't really have called security, except for a delver," he added hurriedly.

"When you get to level-ninety follow their lead. You're actually safer up here than on the ground. Politics seldom notice what's going on around them, or who. If you need me, you can use any service phone. Ask for Gateman's post, maintenance and entry. If you must return to ground level....."

Martin grabbed at the floor with a sick yelp thinking he had gone blind. Night came instantly, turning the sullen daylight into an absolute, midnight black. Rachael screeched, grabbing Gateman's arm for support and found his hand a gentle feather on hers. She released it bashfully as lights began to turn on, slowly increasing in brilliance.

Outlined by the glow of small bulbs, the elevator reflected a new creation around them. Level by level the entire city was coming alive in waves of light, growing in depth and height as every hue imaginable colored the emptiness of night.

"My God, it's unbelievable....." Rachael gasped. Martin rose to his knees at the sound of her breathless exclamation.

Blazing girders angled up, beams crossed, criss-crossed, entwining in a dimensional field of diamonds so bright, Martin and Rachael had to shade their eyes from the intense glow. And music flowed, barker's crying out their wares in a display of sound dazzling to the ear. For the first time since they had entered the city, sounds of laughter came to them, voices began playing in the night.

The city came alive, yawned in waking, and seemed to extend itself five miles to the east and west, fifteen to the north, seeing no end in being born. There was a glory in all this, a glory of creation, an extension and expansion man had caused, but could not know.

The abnormal silence of weekend was forgotten as the tempo quickened. Its life moved faster and more weight was added. The beams around them were suddenly covered with living, moving human beings, more people, many more. More buildings glowed about them, reaching higher, showing through one another with their lights.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, step right up and see the sparkle. Right before your very eyes, more lights, late nights. Yes, Sir, less rest, but it's all for the best. Now right over here, ladies and gentlemen, we have a sign, another sign made of diamonds with more lights to fill the night."

"Just step right up and.....over here, Mac! Okay, hear the music, see the little people play. Yes, Ma'am, you painted ladies are free from day. Just one time, one thin time, and you can spend it all right here. That's all it takes to make her brighter. Step right up and take a peek at the city's dress. See the sparkle, see the shine, ladies and gentlemen, feast your eyes and go on in....."

The leviathan grew around them and was called, City. A wealthy thing, vain, and not without pride in being, existing, and having men call it, City. The naked girders were streamers holding a million, million lights, and beyond them thousands more were just beginning to twinkle into sight.

In the center of this living fountain, the great tower rose up beyond the limits of any other structure in the city. Proudly, it lifted beyond the arrogance of its builder, visible in a display of pastel color fashioned in the likeness of a giant, flowering tree.

"All of this," Rachael breathed, "is hidden during the day?" Gateman smiled knowingly.

"Of course. Daytime is an unbearable moment in our lives, for we see each other as we really are. In his wisdom, Shaper made it as short as possible. At night, in the dark, we can color our masks, be all we delight in thinking we would like to be." Gateman sighed unhappily.

"Shaper knows better. Even though he sees through our fabrications, we are allowed to play the game. Sometimes I think he would really prefer it if men could learn to care about each other as they are in the light, being natural....." Gateman's voice trailed off.

The elevator slammed to a stop within the borders of a stall matching its exact dimensions, waking Martin and Rachael from Gateman's hypnotic tone. Martin looked panic stricken. From where he stood, there was no where to go, no doors, no entryway into the building, no solid deck. He bent slowly, reaching for the floor of the elevator.

"Remember," Gateman cautioned in a loud whisper, "follow their lead and try not to be so honest. A bit of caution would be in your best interest."

"Uh, there's nothing to walk on," Martin protested. "You actually want us to get off.....I think I'll just ride back down to the ground with you."

"That's impossible," Gateman puffed. "You wouldn't last five minutes in that mob, not even with my help. No, time to get off, time to join the body politic."

Guided onto a wide beam by Gateman and Rachael, he watched the elevator sink to the depths below, mingling with a multitude of lights until it became lost in the electric spectacle. Both of them felt a touch of loneliness as the groundling sped away, but it faded quickly. Martin's eyes narrowed.

"Did you see that," Martin asked?

"What? See what....."

"The elevator, it was a hell of a lot smaller when we got off than when we got on, just about the size of a.....the roof above us." Rachael's eyes followed Martin's hand as he pointed.

Filled with anxiety by their precarious perch, they surveyed the structure around them. A short ladder at the end of the girder seemed the only way to something more substantial than the steel beam. It led to a small opening above their heads. Apparently, the rest of the building was enclosed, for a solid roof lay above them, no larger than the average house on Martin's street. He slithered along the girder on his stomach, arms and legs wrapped around the cold steel.

"I didn't notice this before," Rachael muttered nervously. "I could have sworn every building in the city was unfinished."

"I won't debate the point," Martin urged. "There are a lot of things we didn't see, but right now....." He swallowed heavily. "Right now I'm getting very uncomfortable laying on this narrow piece of metal, nine hundred stories....."

Martin shut his eyes as Rachael eased down to her hands and knees.

"We go up?"