Chapter 2 : "So here it is, Merry Christmas, everybody's having fun!"
oOo
The hallways were quiet as he made his way out from the central hub of the city.
He loved Atlantis at night; as the city slept, its living pulse was always there, just beneath the surface. John could sense it easily; Rodney had more trouble reaching out with his mind, but it was still there... comforting... large... permanent.
As he passed personnel quarters he could hear laughter and the sound of bells jingling. He smirked to himself; maybe it was Ronon, wearing the reindeer antlers that Radek had given him. He could just imagine the Satedan's blank expression beneath them!
Resettling his shoulder against the heavy bag, he rounded the corner at the end of the passage, and entered the cooler and more dimly lit outer halls. These were the areas where they could save some of their precious energy. Being rarely frequented, these rooms and passages had only limited power, and he was glad he'd thought to wear his jacket.
He walked for around twenty minutes. The bag cut into his shoulder and he almost wished he hadn't brought the thing; he probably wouldn't need it anyway, seeing as the defect was a minor one, but he'd been caught out before when unprepared so he just switched the bag to the other shoulder and continued on his way.
It was eerily still; even the water features that graced the inner halls were deactivated in these areas. Out here, ancient plants still cast their skeletal shadows across the floor where he walked. His footfalls, although soft, echoed across the dusty marble.
All was silent, but for the ever present hum of the city.
Rodney smiled as he remembered a line of verse from his childhood:
"'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring not even a mouse."
His spirits were high; it was Christmas Eve, he would return triumphant after fixing this little problem and bask in festive joy for the rest of the evening.
He had arrived at last at his destination; a routing station and pump house in a lofty room off the main corridor. Panels stood open from the last time they had encountered this fault, almost as if someone had known they'd be making the journey again.
Dumping his heavy bag gratefully, he rubbed at his shoulder, already inspecting the equipment in front of him with narrowed eyes.
Not all the city water passed through here; there were several such stations, but it was this one that seemed to cause the most trouble. There were readouts here and there and two or three inspection windows where bubbling liquid could be seen.
His mouth twisted; he was puzzled.
The fault was not in this section. Indications were, it was further out.. out into unexplored territory. There were rules about that, and they gave him pause; the city was vast, they had explored and secured only a small fraction of it, more or less as need allowed. It was against regulations to go out there alone. But he was here.. now, probably only a few minutes walk away from the root of the problem. What could be the harm?
Hauling up the bag once more, a flashlight appeared in his hand. He played it over the high pipe work and bulkheads.
Then, with the relevant conduit in his sights he followed it down a dark and chilly hallway, leaving all that was familiar behind him.
oOo
He had reached the limit of the long hallway he was on. This was the sixth such hallway he had walked down and still no sign of the next pump room. It was colder here, too, which was beginning to annoy him as he wore only his light jacket.
As he rounded the corner at the end, though, he was brought up short, rooted to the spot in open-mouthed wonder. After so long walking in the narrow hallways, the wide space that was now in front of him, literally took his breath. It was a huge area, tiled and level, and curving over it like a gigantic turtle shell, was... a dome.
It was high... wow, was it high - high as a house? Maybe two houses. It was mostly empty, save for a few benches and low tables dotted around. In parts, the walls extended upwards maybe twelve or fifteen feet before the translucent glass of the main structure began. But in many places the glass came down to the floor and the view beyond, namely the twinkling spires and towers of Atlantis, was a spectacular one.
Where walls met floor there were more pieces of furniture and Rodney could see two or three passages leading off from the dome, in addition to the one he had arrived from.
Something hummed off to his right, and it wasn't the familiar song of Atlantis.
Huh, well would you look at that...
It looked like a shield generator, smaller than any he had seen before, but a shield nonetheless. And with its own power supply too, by the look of it - this was quite a discovery. Maybe there were other areas of the city where additional power could be found.
The dome was cicular, regular and made entirely from glass - or what looked like glass. How, though, glass could support itself on such a huge scale, he was unsure. The answer could be attributable to the shield; maybe it prevented damage and also provided much-needed structural support.
If the shield failed, though? Well, it was likely the whole thing would come down, which was not a comforting thought as Rodney stood gazing upward, his head thrown back. He had walked unknowingly right into the centre of the circular space, in a kind of awe-struck trance.
Yes, its structure was incredible, but it was the artistry of the decoration that had Rodney captivated.
The many-coloured panes that made up the whole, were outlined in black and gold, forming intricate patterns and pictures: flowers, leaves, all manner of greenery, the outlines of trees. There were lanscapes, mountains, towering cliffs, spectacular alien scenery.
All at once a memory came back to him...
A neighbour of his, a Miss Fox, (old biddy type, dressed in tweed), grabbed him by the collar one Sunday morning and took him off to church with her. He didn't know why at the time.
They'd always had interesting chats... the two of them; she seemed intrigued by his twelve year old self, and it impressed Rodney that she could swear like a sailor, and still be able to explain quantum theory.
He clipped her hedges in the summer, shovelled her snow in the winter and when she was short of money, she paid him in cigarettes. The fact that he didn't smoke - had never smoked - was not the point; the fact alone that she would pay him in cigarettes was the height of coolness and so very worth it.
Often, she would be sitting on her front step, chain-smoking menthols, and reading Scientific American, as he stepped from the school bus. Now and again she would have an outburst of indignation about something she had just read, and the cigarette would fly from her lips like a missile.
She was an unlikely church goer in his opinion, so when he asked her for the umpteenth time where she went to every Sunday morning, she took him to Elm Ridge United Church - whether he had wanted to go or not.
The church was an ugly building with one redeeming feature; its windows... colourful stained glass, depicting bible scenes and the unfortunate lives of the saints.
After his initial indignation at being abducted, he was surprised to find that he was intrigued by the place and the odd assortment of people who made up the congregation.
He began to go every week. He'd sit in the pew; listen, watch and sometimes even mouth the words to the shrilly delivered hymns. It fascinated and at the same time mystified him. Especially as he considered the elderly lady one of the smartest people he knew. Why else would he bother with her - or indeed, she bother with him?
Miss Fox would see his sceptical looks and sometimes she would whip off her wiry spectacles and pin him with her watery eyes.
One day she said, "There are some things, young man, that at my age, you have to take on trust." She said the young man part like she was a judge sentencing a criminal.
"It's rubbish, and you know it", he scoffed.
"Where do we go, then?", she demanded of him."When we die?"
"Nowhere,", he answered immediately and shrugged.
"Well... I prefer to believe otherwise. Maybe one day you'll change your mind, Rodney"
She always called him Rodney... she said Meredith was a girl's name.
After the curiosity and novelty value had faded, he continued to go... couldn't explain to himself why.
Maybe it was the tea and cookies after every service...
...or maybe it was the windows, alive with colour, vibrant and real. The stained glass bringing to life what to Rodney, was a place of gloom and stagnation.
And this was what he saw now; a vast canopy, richly coloured, like a huge Tiffany glass lampshade, enclosing the area he was in. It was staggering...
Here's where the party should be, he thought with a smile, bringing out a water bottle and sipping on it... this was a gathering place, of long ago. Maybe the Ancients weren't as straight-laced as they had first thought.
Replacing the bottle, he gazed aloft open-mouthed, his neck beginning to ache with the angle such a view required.
It reminded him somewhat of one of those really impressive super shopping malls. There were hanging globes, suspended from the surface of the dome, made of glass and metal. Huge planters, spilling over at one time with lush greenery, now held only long strawlike straggles, dessicated by time.
It was truly an astounding sight, and he reluctantly dragged his attention away, massaging his neck with one hand and dropping the heavy bag from the other. He did a slow three-sixty, searching for any signs of pipe work or tell tale hardware. He sighed; if he didn't find what he was looking for soon, he would be forced to give up and return defeated.
As his stomach gurgled plaintively, his mind conjured up a vision of cake, white-iced and sparkling. A little gasp of yearning escaped him.
He checked his wrist; time was wasting and he resolved to find the problem and fix it, before the party was over and his slice of heaven was consigned to the garbage.
oOo
TBC and thanks for your encouraging reviews... you guys are so good to me!
Look out for Chapter 3 tomorrow - hopefully!
