At the point furthest from them, the watchers could
see something happening. The glowing realm of the white
belt of lights was expanding. The birds continued their
noise, and at last the early morning adventurers began to
make out tiny flitting shapes as they performed their wild
acrobatics.
The two viewers were drawn here and there by the new
things their eyes began to ascertain, and they narrated
their experiences to each other with,
"Ah! The ground looks so clean and flat there," and
"Those patches there, up above –I think those are where I
picked the flowers," and, "The white lights are hardly
noticeable anymore," and "My goodness, it's all one huge
dome isn't it? Look!"
What they beheld was this: something like an indoor
arena, with huge stone pillars reaching up the curved sides
at regular intervals, each with one of the white lights at
its base. The pillars climbed until they met at the apex
of the roof, which was at least several hundred feet above
the floor. Thus, the vast room was like one half of a
sphere. The two were perched upon the edge of the rocky
floor, close to the coal-black walls that had led them into
this unlikely realm. Further inside was a circular field,
about a thousand yards wide, should one try to walk
straight across. They felt minuscule, dwarfed by the
proportions of the setting.
With open mouths they perceived the source of the
indoor sunlight: a blinding golden-white orb, slowly rising
upward from the far edge of the ring. It now appeared that
the tangles of pipes, wires and ventilator shafts they'd
seen in the walls close to their view were a prominent
feature on all the walls. They dove into the rocks,
protruded out of the pillars, snaking their way in, out,
and around the interior on their way to somewhere. It was
like they were inside the head of some giant robot, and
these were its circuits, veins, and arteries. The
mechanical version of Apollo's fiery chariot continued its
course up the far reaches of the dome, now bathing the
entire world in warm, dazzling light. About two hundred
feet up, the mess of electro-mechanical pipelines ended or
hid themselves underneath the fields of green, which were
probably the most unlikely of the underground fixtures.
These fields were laid out in an orderly fashion. Rows of
shrubs formed one perfect rhombus, only to be succeeded by
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YOU ARE READING
Dell's Journey
FantasyThere comes a time when every man must go on a journey. This is Dell's story.