Descending Road - SHOWERING DOWN INTO WHISPERS OF JOY by Dana W. Paxson

SHOWERING DOWN INTO WHISPERS OF JOY

1563 4D

Three flashes later, the hum subsided. “Turiosten?”

Leil stiffened and drew back. “Who are you calling? That name, is that thing here? Andrew, it was inside me, it made me—“

“Yes, I know. I know. She’s— it’s helping us get out of here.” Why didn’t the alien answer?

“But Andrew, it’s Arlen‘s thing, he—" She backed away from Andrew as she spoke.

“I KNOW. I know. It’s gonna be all right. Please, not now, Leil, don’t say anything until we’re out of here. Turiosten!” Soft sounds outside the door.

Let me rest.

“No! We’re on our way! But you’ve got to tell me when it’s all right.”

I don’t sense the field. Did you stop it?

“I’m going to open the door if I can. Let me know if anything feels wrong to you.”

Leil‘s voice behind him. “Andrew, where is it? Is it inside you now? Oh, no, Andrew, no.” She disappeared into the leaves, back toward the path. Andrew leaped out and caught her wrist. She struggled and pulled free, looked around in confusion, then stood and stared at him with burning eyes.

“Leil, please, just watch. I’ll get us out,” he pleaded. “If you have to, wait here. I’ll show you. This isn’t a trick. I’m not Arlen. See?” In desperation he started to shuffle his feet and kick and jump in one of the old city dances from Poly Town he and Leil had liked to do together. Maybe she’d believe this. Pebbles from the path sprayed in all directions. “And I promise I won’t sing. See?”

What are you doing? I thought you were getting the door open. Turiosten‘s voice had a surly edge.

“Shut up in there, I’m working on it,” Andrew muttered.

Leil‘s stare widened; then she shrugged and frowned. “You never did get the three-step right, and nobody else could screw it up exactly like that,” she said, in a resigned tone. Her hand motioned him toward the door.

He turned and slipped in to face the door’s smooth surface, allowing himself a slight smile, wondering what else he would have to do to get through the next few minutes. He inserted his probe one more time in the port, found the latch line, and pulsed it.

The door slid aside to show a silent narrow passage going left and right, just wide enough for one person. It lay empty. The passage, lined with polished synthetic paneling in dark blue, glowed with creamy light from a continuous strip along its gently-arched ceiling. The ceiling, walls and floor rounded smoothly where their edges met. The passage sloped up to the left, down to the right in a gentle grade.

Andrew stepped over a low doorsill, Leil following; when they looked back into the leaves and the green and yellow light of the garden, the door slid shut again with a click. “Down, let’s go down,” Andrew said, hoping this choice would work. He took Leil‘s hand and stopped in surprise; from the base of his brain came rising swells and undulations of unhuman singing, spiring up in sequences of silver crescents, showering down into whispers of joy. Turiosten, so long imprisoned and used, now celebrated. At last. At last.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	SHOWERING DOWN INTO WHISPERS OF JOY 1563 4D Three flashes later, the hum subsided. “Turiosten?” Leil stiffened and drew back. “Who are you calling? That name, is that thing here? Andrew, it was inside me, it made me—“ “Yes, I know. I know. She’s— it’s helping us get out of here.” Why didn’t the alien answer? “But Andrew, it’s Arlen‘s thing, he—" She backed away from Andrew as she spoke. “I KNOW. I know. It’s gonna be all right. Please, not now, Leil, don’t say anything until we’re out of here. Turiosten!” Soft sounds outside the door. Let me rest. “No! We’re on our way! But you’ve got to tell me when it’s all right.” I don’t sense the field. Did you stop it? “I’m going to open the door if I can. Let me know if anything feels wrong to you.” Leil‘s voice behind him. “Andrew, where is it? Is it inside you now? Oh, no, Andrew, no.” She disappeared into the leaves, back toward the path. Andrew leaped out and caught her wrist. She struggled and pulled free, looked around in confusion, then stood and stared at him with burning eyes. “Leil, please, just watch. I’ll get us out,” he pleaded. “If you have to, wait here. I’ll show you. This isn’t a trick. I’m not Arlen. See?” In desperation he started to shuffle his feet and kick and jump in one of the old city dances from Poly Town he and Leil had liked to do together. Maybe she’d believe this. Pebbles from the path sprayed in all directions. “And I promise I won’t sing. See?” What are you doing? I thought you were getting the door open. Turiosten‘s voice had a surly edge. “Shut up in there, I’m working on it,” Andrew muttered. Leil‘s stare widened; then she shrugged and frowned. “You never did get the three-step right, and nobody else could screw it up exactly like that,” she said, in a resigned tone. Her hand motioned him toward the door. He turned and slipped in to face the door’s smooth surface, allowing himself a slight smile, wondering what else he would have to do to get through the next few minutes. He inserted his probe one more time in the port, found the latch line, and pulsed it. The door slid aside to show a silent narrow passage going left and right, just wide enough for one person. It lay empty. The passage, lined with polished synthetic paneling in dark blue, glowed with creamy light from a continuous strip along its gently-arched ceiling. The ceiling, walls and floor rounded smoothly where their edges met. The passage sloped up to the left, down to the right in a gentle grade. Andrew stepped over a low doorsill, Leil following; when they looked back into the leaves and the green and yellow light of the garden, the door slid shut again with a click. “Down, let’s go down,” Andrew said, hoping this choice would work. He took Leil‘s hand and stopped in surprise; from the base of his brain came rising swells and undulations of unhuman singing, spiring up in sequences of silver crescents, showering down into whispers of joy. Turiosten, so long imprisoned and used, now celebrated. At last. At last.