Descending Road - TAKING THE SHAPE OF A MAN by Dana W. Paxson

TAKING THE SHAPE OF A MAN

1563 4D

They came to a crossing where the radial intersected a ring street. So near the axial center of the City, the rings curved noticeably, in a forward direction for Andrew and Jeddin. The two men listened intently. Andrew heard nothing. Jeddin frowned briefly, then his face cleared. Ahead, the radial showed pitch-black for a long stretch; a tiny star of light showed where the illumination began again.

“What level are we on?” Andrew stopped and looked left and right into the nearly-dark and empty ring street. Here, on either side, many of the thick stone piers and walls betweeen adjacent halls and cubbies had lost parts of their facades into heaps of rubble. “Maybe we can find a lift and check the plate.” Above his head at the corner, Andrew spotted a plate on the wall. He reached up, and rubbed with some effort at sticky grime covering its surface. “We’re at 700. That’s still above Babiar. No lights down there.”

“You were down there, too? Was this after the battle?” Jeddin beckoned Andrew, and they started walking the radial again, plunging into darkness. Andrew tried to focus his eyes on the star ahead and keep moving in a straight line.

“No, it was just after we got into the City.” Andrew recounted the fall in the lift, the bug soldiers, the children, and Martin‘s death. Martin.

He’d forgotten: he wanted to go back for Martin‘s body. Now he tried not to wonder whether Onnashak had consumed it. Jeddin‘s arm bumped his elbow now and then on the right, and on the left he heard the soft presence of a wall echo, interrupted occasionally by an empty interval when they passed a street or corridor. “I swore I’d go back down for his body, and I will, as soon as this fight is done. I’ll get Grendel and we’ll—“

Jeddin touched Andrew‘s arm and pointed. “Hold it.” They stopped.

“What?”

“We’ve reached the central vertical axis of the City. We’re in a round chamber about twice the width of the street. There’s a recess on our left. I want to look inside.”

“How can you see anything?”

“It’s got a little infra glow. Everything else down here is darker.”

Andrew turned and extended his arms, finding a ceiling-high rounded niche with a silk-smooth finish on its concave wall.

Beside him, Jeddin reached out to the wall. “Beautiful, like skin.”

Faint light kindled; the wall shimmered. Jeddin stepped back. A wave of purple light worked its way slowly from the foot of the niche upward, kicking up to a flare of yellow as it came together in the half-dome at the niche’s apex. The flare faded to blue-green. The niche wall undulated with a shifting rosy glow, and softened and bulged out into the vacant space in the niche, taking the shape of a man, the skin of his sides spread seamlessly to blend into the niche’s wall.

“Who are you?” Andrew said, shuffling back a step. A pebble rolled away in the dark.

“I was Unagrist.” A whisper with the barest murmur of voicing in it. Silence. “Unagrist.”

Jeddin approached the niche. Andrew stood back and stared. A man’s face, the color of the native granite yet moving like slow flesh, stared out at them. Beneath the face, limbs and torso bunched and folded and knotted themselves in a mixtomorph of a body both human and snake.

Jeddin reached out to touch the face. Its skin bore the ripples and creases of long aging. The limbs strained to unfold, stretching the skin near-transparent; uncertain vascular and connective shapes extended and twisted underneath. The figure’s fingers pulled out and up toward Jeddin‘s hand, drawing out a tent of the containing tissue from the edges of the niche.

“Don’t,” Andrew said. He stepped forward and took Jeddin‘s upper arm. The man seemed to have no fear.

“There is little I could do to you,” the face said. It spoke with an odd accent, blurring the sharper sounds, adding tonal inflections on some longer, stressed syllables.

Jeddin reached out and brushed his fingers across the face’s right cheek. “It’s cold, like the wall,” he said. The eyes closed. “What are you?”

“I am a sentry. When someone passes, I call to— to— I don’t remember now.”

“Were you made here?” Jeddin asked.

“No. I was a man like one of you, or maybe a woman. I don’t remember much. I displeased him and he married my body with the stone and put me here.”

Andrew came closer. “He? Was his name Arlen?”

“No. His name is gone now.” A sob.

“Why did he do this to you?” Jeddin asked.

“I stole from him, secrets of life, to use for myself. I learned—“

“What?” Jeddin now stood so close to the face that Unagrist‘s breath moved Jeddin‘s hair.

“He put me here to punish me.”

“Learned what?” Jeddin cocked his head.

Silence.

“Was he human?”

“No. He dressed in many shapes.”

Andrew backed away and muttered, “Turiosten, could this be one of yours?”

No. I can’t detect it in innerspace at all. It might be a device, one of those things of yours. Or else it’s hiding.

Jeddin stood back beside Andrew. “How long have you been here?”

“Time dies without light.” The eyes and mouth closed; then the lips began to move, forming silent words.

“What are you doing?” Andrew asked.

Unagrist‘s eyes opened; it spoke. “I must call him. It is my task.” The silent mouth movement began again, and the eyes closed.

“How can you call him when you don’t know his name?”

The figure opened its eyes to stare again at Andrew. “I give his name a name. Then I call the name I make.”

Turiosten made a small unintelligible sound inside Andrew, then said, That’s like what your people used to call praying. Do you do that? Call on someone who isn’t there?

“It’s just like calling on you, but with fewer embarrassing consequences,” Andrew retorted.

Jeddin looked at him. “Arguing with your alien again?”

“Why don’t you ask Onnashak why she wanted us to look at this thing? Let’s go.” Andrew backed a few steps into the street and turned to locate their destination spark of light.

“She just wanted to see it herself,” Jeddin said. “Three thousand years ago she spoke with it. She says there are many others like this, locked in places deep in the City. They remain from the first humans here. Wait.” He drew close to the figure. “Why were all the people killed? Why did the aliens kill everyone?”

As the question hung in the air for a heartbeat, Andrew sensed a gathering inside him, as if Turiosten strained to hear the answer. The Unagrist figure said, “They died because they found the ways out through the inside world.” As if drained from behind the wall, the figure collapsed back to smoothness and silence.

It is as Onnhasshakh told you, Turiosten said.

A rumble, so faint that Andrew barely heard it above the sound of his own breath, echoed along the street. Backing away from the niche, Jeddin bumped into Andrew; they turned and set out again, moving faster now. Andrew looked back. The niche had dimmed, and as he watched, it faded quickly to a deep-blue image of itself and evaporated into black.

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


	TAKING THE SHAPE OF A MAN 1563 4D They came to a crossing where the radial intersected a ring street. So near the axial center of the City, the rings curved noticeably, in a forward direction for Andrew and Jeddin. The two men listened intently. Andrew heard nothing. Jeddin frowned briefly, then his face cleared. Ahead, the radial showed pitch-black for a long stretch; a tiny star of light showed where the illumination began again. “What level are we on?” Andrew stopped and looked left and right into the nearly-dark and empty ring street. Here, on either side, many of the thick stone piers and walls betweeen adjacent halls and cubbies had lost parts of their facades into heaps of rubble. “Maybe we can find a lift and check the plate.” Above his head at the corner, Andrew spotted a plate on the wall. He reached up, and rubbed with some effort at sticky grime covering its surface. “We’re at 700. That’s still above Babiar. No lights down there.” “You were down there, too? Was this after the battle?” Jeddin beckoned Andrew, and they started walking the radial again, plunging into darkness. Andrew tried to focus his eyes on the star ahead and keep moving in a straight line. “No, it was just after we got into the City.” Andrew recounted the fall in the lift, the bug soldiers, the children, and Martin‘s death. Martin. He’d forgotten: he wanted to go back for Martin‘s body. Now he tried not to wonder whether Onnashak had consumed it. Jeddin‘s arm bumped his elbow now and then on the right, and on the left he heard the soft presence of a wall echo, interrupted occasionally by an empty interval when they passed a street or corridor. “I swore I’d go back down for his body, and I will, as soon as this fight is done. I’ll get Grendel and we’ll—“ Jeddin touched Andrew‘s arm and pointed. “Hold it.” They stopped. “What?” “We’ve reached the central vertical axis of the City. We’re in a round chamber about twice the width of the street. There’s a recess on our left. I want to look inside.” “How can you see anything?” “It’s got a little infra glow. Everything else down here is darker.” Andrew turned and extended his arms, finding a ceiling-high rounded niche with a silk-smooth finish on its concave wall. Beside him, Jeddin reached out to the wall. “Beautiful, like skin.” Faint light kindled; the wall shimmered. Jeddin stepped back. A wave of purple light worked its way slowly from the foot of the niche upward, kicking up to a flare of yellow as it came together in the half-dome at the niche’s apex. The flare faded to blue-green. The niche wall undulated with a shifting rosy glow, and softened and bulged out into the vacant space in the niche, taking the shape of a man, the skin of his sides spread seamlessly to blend into the niche’s wall. “Who are you?” Andrew said, shuffling back a step. A pebble rolled away in the dark. “I was Unagrist.” A whisper with the barest murmur of voicing in it. Silence. “Unagrist.” Jeddin approached the niche. Andrew stood back and stared. A man’s face, the color of the native granite yet moving like slow flesh, stared out at them. Beneath the face, limbs and torso bunched and folded and knotted themselves in a mixtomorph of a body both human and snake. Jeddin reached out to touch the face. Its skin bore the ripples and creases of long aging. The limbs strained to unfold, stretching the skin near-transparent; uncertain vascular and connective shapes extended and twisted underneath. The figure’s fingers pulled out and up toward Jeddin‘s hand, drawing out a tent of the containing tissue from the edges of the niche. “Don’t,” Andrew said. He stepped forward and took Jeddin‘s upper arm. The man seemed to have no fear. “There is little I could do to you,” the face said. It spoke with an odd accent, blurring the sharper sounds, adding tonal inflections on some longer, stressed syllables. Jeddin reached out and brushed his fingers across the face’s right cheek. “It’s cold, like the wall,” he said. The eyes closed. “What are you?” “I am a sentry. When someone passes, I call to— to— I don’t remember now.” “Were you made here?” Jeddin asked. “No. I was a man like one of you, or maybe a woman. I don’t remember much. I displeased him and he married my body with the stone and put me here.” Andrew came closer. “He? Was his name Arlen?” “No. His name is gone now.” A sob. “Why did he do this to you?” Jeddin asked. “I stole from him, secrets of life, to use for myself. I learned—“ “What?” Jeddin now stood so close to the face that Unagrist‘s breath moved Jeddin‘s hair. “He put me here to punish me.” “Learned what?” Jeddin cocked his head. Silence. “Was he human?” “No. He dressed in many shapes.” Andrew backed away and muttered, “Turiosten, could this be one of yours?” No. I can’t detect it in innerspace at all. It might be a device, one of those things of yours. Or else it’s hiding. Jeddin stood back beside Andrew. “How long have you been here?” “Time dies without light.” The eyes and mouth closed; then the lips began to move, forming silent words. “What are you doing?” Andrew asked. Unagrist‘s eyes opened; it spoke. “I must call him. It is my task.” The silent mouth movement began again, and the eyes closed. “How can you call him when you don’t know his name?” The figure opened its eyes to stare again at Andrew. “I give his name a name. Then I call the name I make.” Turiosten made a small unintelligible sound inside Andrew, then said, That’s like what your people used to call praying. Do you do that? Call on someone who isn’t there? “It’s just like calling on you, but with fewer embarrassing consequences,” Andrew retorted. Jeddin looked at him. “Arguing with your alien again?” “Why don’t you ask Onnashak why she wanted us to look at this thing? Let’s go.” Andrew backed a few steps into the street and turned to locate their destination spark of light. “She just wanted to see it herself,” Jeddin said. “Three thousand years ago she spoke with it. She says there are many others like this, locked in places deep in the City. They remain from the first humans here. Wait.” He drew close to the figure. “Why were all the people killed? Why did the aliens kill everyone?” As the question hung in the air for a heartbeat, Andrew sensed a gathering inside him, as if Turiosten strained to hear the answer. The Unagrist figure said, “They died because they found the ways out through the inside world.” As if drained from behind the wall, the figure collapsed back to smoothness and silence. It is as Onnhasshakh told you, Turiosten said. A rumble, so faint that Andrew barely heard it above the sound of his own breath, echoed along the street. Backing away from the niche, Jeddin bumped into Andrew; they turned and set out again, moving faster now. Andrew looked back. The niche had dimmed, and as he watched, it faded quickly to a deep-blue image of itself and evaporated into black.