ch 11 | Gull & Kev

As the doors whispered shut, a synthesized voice asked them to be seated and hold on to the grips on the edge of their seats.

"Here we go again" complained Lucas, as a warning chime sounded. The floor seemed to drop out from beneath them, though they never actually achieved free-fall. The car smoothly accellerated for several minutes, the only indication of their speed the flashing of the icon from level to level on the display beside the doors.

"Have any of these elevators ever failed?" asked Kev.

"Thankfully no," admitted the medic. "There are interlocking safeties, and three different methods of braking. City tech is so well made that none of these are really expected to fail anyway. There would have to active sabotage, and the tower AI would detect that."

"The boys fell silent at such an unimaginible occurence. Under the City's rule, the world, exhausted from its brush with extinction, gratefully gathered its strength and rebuilt, trying to avoid the mistakes of past generations. Most of the weapons of war had been destroyed in the final cataclysm. Mankind put its energies into restoring the lives of the survivors. The City had asked no tribute save alleigance and obedience. For over two hundred years those had been given without question. To even consider the possibility of someone attempting to wreck the Nobles' handiwork seemed insane.

Normal weight returned, and then some, as the car began to slow, its descent regulated by fields supported by the cables themselves. It drifted to a stop and the doors opened on the main concourse. They exited into a swirling sea of humanity. More people than either of the two boys had ever seen passed on their various paths through the base of David's tower. The cables were oriented with less than a degree of spread, but by the time they reached the surface northeast of the Old City, they thrust themselves into the earth like muscular arms enclosing over a square kilometer, including a portion of Mount Olivet, whose quake-riven top overlooked Jerusalem, the oldest surviving city on earth.

The concourse was an immense arching passage through the center of the tower, the ceiling so high that it seemed that clouds must form. All along the interior were various lifts, varying greatly in size leading to the honeycomb of chambers and warehouses that ran for several kilometers upwards. The Tower served as a docking station for the dirigible traffic that served the area. Passenger traffic shared the concourse with those having business in the structure, flowing out to the road that ringed the Tower, with its deceptively delicate graphite-whisker bridges over the Kidron Valley. Cargo was sped to its destination by a network of tunnels and tubes.

Gull took a deep breath. The scent of hot rock, dust and spices mingled in the winds that swirled through the concourse. Banners rippled from the arches, and sunlight glittered in their metallic threads as it poured from high windows, reflected and diffused by shifting mirrors.

"Where now?" asked Kev, dodging a determined matron pushing an overloaded cart . The doors had disappeared into the repeating patterns of the wall. Perhaps a Noble's eye could find it; evidently this was a private car.

Lucas looked around, getting oriented. "This way- once we get past the curve of the service shaft we'll be able to see the main portals. We're lucky that we're here this side of the feastdays; it gets really crowded then."

"This isn't crowded?" Gull clutched his pack more tightly, and tried to keep up with the medic as he plunged into the crowd. They won through to the open air with a minimum of bruised ribs. Lucas bundled them into one of the beetle shaped cabs that cruised the ring road. The boys craned their necks as the traffic flow took them the long way around the Tower. The spires and planes of the Facade construction swept past like stacked mica crystals, footbridges and balconies like lace connecting various blocks, occasionaly arching over the road to touch down in the gardens that spangled the hillsides. The faces of the Tower that held the Temple and the Nobles' domain were free of extraneous constructions. The clean lines of the cable arrays drew the eyes into the heavens, the surface of the Tower a shining gold. High above at the zenith, after the tower was lost in the dwindling of perspective, the cube of the City of God shone, larger than the moon. Clouds of dirigibles floated at various levels, coming and going from the mouths of docks. The Lady Jeshua, they realised, would be just one of that flock when it finally arrived.

"Close your mouth, Gull," chided Kev. "We're gawking like bumpkins."

"We are bumpkins," said Gull, ducking to try to see the top of the Temple Doors. "Hush and let me enjoy myself."

The vehicle darted off down a side avenue. Close to the Tower, the land was parklike and open, wooded with ancient olive trees. Shortly, however, they entered residential areas interspersed with bands of professional and commercial blocks that served them. Greenery was by no means absent: trees lined the streets and the smallest houses had gardens, even if they were planted in containers on the traditional flat roof.

"You see- over there, on the ridge?" Lucas pointed. "That's where we're headed. Mt. Scopus medical center, my old alma mater. I was able to find us a place in one of their residences at the edge of the campus."

"How much are they going to study me?" asked Gull.

"It shouldn't be too onerous. Don't forget, it's treatment as well. You feel well, evidently, but we'll want to continue therapy to rebuild muscle mass. I promise that you won't be locked into a lab."

They went back to watching the surroundings. Gull was fascinated by the people he saw. Brought up in the kibbutz, where everyone in the community could be known individually, the Continent was an exotic mystery. After the Rescue, those evacuated had been taken to refugee camps in Israel and the surrounding countries. Many had gravitated toward the centre of power, and the rest had moved slowly outward, reestablishing civilization in Eurasia. New weather patterns, climate changes, along with seismic upheavals had altered the map. A new mix of races and cultures had percolated out of the chaos. Kibbutz Jeshua was composed largely of the descendants of American refugees. Most were light complected , though cafe au lait skin and kinky hair were not unknown. The streets of the Jerusalem suburbs were a parade of exotic visages. One or two cultural groups tended to dominate a neighborhood, and ethnic marketplaces grew up, but those from neighboring enclaves visited freely to purchase exotic food and crafts.

The boys saw flat-faced Tibetans encrusted with turquoise heirlooms barganing with descendants of the Ethiopian jewish immigrants for produce, side by side with alabaster-skinned Nordic women, hair in complex braids. Amerinds and Qechuas displayed their weavings.

"There aren't very many motorised vehicles on the roads," observed Gull. There were pedestrians, pushcarts, even rickshaws and horses, but of the powered conveyances they saw on their way, almost all were cabs like their own, or open sided trolleys laden with shoppers and sightseers.

"There's not a great need for them," explained Lucas. "This close to Jerusalem, most of the neighborhoods have access to staples and such within walking distance. School is handled largely through the house cores and home study, until university age."

"I don't know, I just expected more... technology here on the continent."

Their driver spoke up. He was a small man, dark of skin, but with a huge expanse of teeth, displayed in a broad smile. "The tech is here, alright. Most of the stores are supplied by an underground conveyor system. And see the roofs, how they glitter? That's new-- nanogrown solar cells, just like the old crystalmoss. I guess you folks are from across the water, eh?"

"Yes, we're from kibbutz Jeshua- that's about halfway up the east coast," said Kev.

"Yep, I hear it's nice over there. I thought about going over. It's getting pretty crowded, here, but then, that's good for the cab business. You keep my call code. I do a lot of business around the medical center."

And so he evidently did. Within a few minutes they turned into the main gate of the complex. The driver never did turn on the cab's map display.

The administration building was a rarity- a low, glass-skinned cube predating the Rescue. Other buildings in the complex had been added to or renovated later with crystal moss and air coral, though the materials were used in traditional forms. Gull was welcomed by someone introduced as the Director, a quiet man who was obviously a Survivor; his face was youthful, but he had been taking the Tree long enough for his hair to turn white. He seemed impressed when Lucas told him who had treated Gull.

"Lucas already sent us your records from the kibbutz, and the Tower sent us the recordings of your session. You will excuse us, though, if we take our own samples and readings, won't you? Before the City arrived, the medical profession used to be much busier. This is fortunate, or unfortunate, depending on your point of view." The Director chuckled. "Nowadays, we do mostly trauma work-- someone falls off a roof, or get's kicked by a horse-- that sort of thing. We fill up our free time trying to understand the Nobles' tech, especially the Tree of Healing. It's an amazing device."

"I thought it was a plant," said Kev.

"It is, of course," said the Director. "But I call it a device because it's so obviously engineered. We humans were doing a limited amount of genetic engineering-- gene splicing-- cut and paste work. But the Tree seems to be a whole laboratory in a leaf, so to speak. Seems to be, because the Nobles have politely refused to supply us with samples of the Tree, and we have to study the results of its actions. You will excuse me if I hurry you along, so we can take some samples."

By lunchtime, despite the advances of medical technology, Gull sat down gingerly in the hospital's dining hall. "I feel like a pincushion," he complained.

"Sorry about that," said Lucas. He smiled at the young girl who brought their meals. "But at least hospital food has improved. This afternoon, we'll do a few treadmill-style tests, repeating them every other day for a while. We'll measure how you regain your strength, and it's things you should be doing anyway, help you put some meat back on those long bones."

"Great," Gull said around a mouthfull of lunch. "I sure have my appetite back. Wouldn't want to get fat."

"There's little danger of that," said Lucas. "With the Tree in your system, one of the functions it performs is to regulate your metabolism. There were a whole host of conditions man was subject to that the Tree has eliminated. You would have to hugely overeat to become obese, though there's a wide range of what it seems to consider normal. It handles toxins, even puts a cap on the effects of alchohol. The organic tendencies for addiction seem to have been eliminated by the Tree, and since you can't get really plastered, there's not a lot of point in trying to drown your troubles, like we used to."

"I never thought about these things," said Kev. "The Tree's been just a youth pill to me."

"That's a whole complex of functions right there- related to that is its role in reproduction. With eternal youth, if we had kids every other year or so like we used to, things would get crowded pretty quick. We're still not sure how it does what it does in that department."

Gull munched a spicy lamb and rice dish. "Am I, uh, ever going to be active in that particular department?" he tried to keep his voice casual.

Lucas put down his fork and looked at him closely. "That is a good question," he said slowly. "The short answer is that we just don't know. I'm sure, during the Rescue, there must've been some juveniles who were given the leaves, but there wasn't documentation. We were in chaos, and the Nobles don't seem to be interested in keeping records, at least, not where we can see them. The effects of the Tree of Healing do seem to taper off if it is not readministered. You should... continue to mature, but it might take a while. You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

Gull shrugged. "Of course not. I'm just unsure of my status... Am I a boy or a man? When will I become a man? I know it wasn't always fashionable, but every male who's an adult wears a a beard now. It's going to be downright embarrassing when I hit thirty and look fifteen."

Lucas nodded sympatheticly. "Life can be tough, someone said, but think of the alternative. You can see why the college wants to stay in touch with you. How about we get them some more data, okay?"

The sun was beginning its fall into the Mediterranean when a tired Gull was helped out of the clinic. The director met them at the drive with a four place electric runabout.

"This is the Institute's car, but I think we can let you use it untill Gull is stronger."

"You're most kind, sir," Gull puffed, "though I don't know if that's a word I ought to use about the person controlling the treadmill today." The Director laughed, and then bade them goodnight.

Lucas drove, following the roads around the edge of Mt. Scopus. He pulled up a cul-de-sac and let them out in front of a clump of residences that stairstepped back from the road into olive and juniper trees. Terraced garden plots spread like wings on both sides.

"Each residence has its own garden, but those without green thumbs assign their plots to the ones who enjoy gardening. Out back, there's a trail that leads up to Mt. Scopus, or at least, there was one when I lived here."

"You didn't get your old apartment back, did you?" laughed Kev.

"No," Lucas admitted. "We're all the way in the back, unit G."

The boys found the apartment to be clean, and outfitted with a bare minimum of pots, plates and other necessesties. The house core also was a basic model, with a small screen, and only five recepticals for appliances, two of which were occupied by the cooler and a battered food processor. The touchpad was faded, the numbers and letters worn to faint ghosts. The core was built into the wall between the kitchen and living area.

"Lucas, come take a look!" Kev had the cooler door open. Inside was a box of foodstuffs. Lucas pulled a out note .

"Mrs. Levy," he smiled. "Amazing; she's still here. She keeps an eye on the complex- she's kind of a mother to the med students who usually stay here. She's been to the market for us."

While Kev began to prepare a cold dinner, Gull inspected the rest of the house. He noted quite a few glowlobes mounted on the ceilings and some actual electric lamps. Apparently those on the Continent didn't stick as closely to the diurnal rhythms, or perhaps because med students had to study late. Gull left the sitting room, with its faded couch and battered table, to the two bedrooms. They each had a pair of beds and desks, and a sliding door that opened to the yard behind the complex. Lucas, he noticed, had already placed his duffel in the room that over looked a small cactus garden that some past resident had planted. Gull went to the other bedroom. Its exterior door looked out over their stretch of garden, and from there up the hillside to the trees that cloaked the upper reaches. He noticed that the bed was made, its covers turned down; Mrs Levy, he presumed. He sat down on the bed, and was startled as his gaze took in the opposite wall. A past student had made an amazingly detailed drawing of a human skeleton in the smoothed house-coral surface, presumably as an aid to an anatomy lesson. He had penciled in the legend "Know Thyself" in an arc over the frontal and lateral views of the skull. Gull laughed, and lay back on the bed to rest for a moment. By the time Kev came looking for him with his sandwich, Gull was asleep.

Mt. Scopus was a paradoxical community, at once isolated and cosmopolitan. The students were from all over the world, but their studies and work left them with little time to get into Jerusalem; as was the rule, most neighborhoods had shops and services within walking or biking distance. On the continent, they had deliberately turned away from the overabundance of personal vehicles of previous centuries, though initially it had been because of the disruption of the petrochemical industries and the resulting death of most other commerce. Mass travel had been replaced with the communication network provided by the house cores, comp bracelets and the satellite net. Tel Aviv had ascended to new heights of importance in their complex of television studios, suddenly the only ones left in the world.

Over the next week, they settled into a routine: up early, off to the clinic for tests, therapy, more tests, and back at dusk for studies with Lucas and the AI tutor on the core comp. Gull quickly found his stamina returning, and was able to stay awake for more and more of the lessons. He came to know quite a few of the medical students, and indeed, was a minor celebrity. ("Very few people have screwed up as thouroughly as you have and lived to tell about it," one of them told him.) Many of the faces that Kev and Gull had seen on their ride from the Tower were represented. Two of the interns that dealt with Gull, it turned out, lived at the same complex of apartments.

Haki and Buttro rattled the screen door one evening. Lucas met the young medics at the door. Haki was an Indo, a dark-complected young woman with aristocratic features, and Buttro was of mixed descent, mostly Asian, but with startling blue eyes.

"Well, you two look different," said Lucas. Instead of their daytime garb of white lab coats, they were in brightly colored tunics and slacks.

"It's the weekend, sir. Besides, we're both off rotation for a fourday," explained Buttro. "It's time to blow off some steam. We thought we'd see if Gull and Kev would like to come along."

"And you, of course," inserted Haki.

"Very kind, but I need to do some gardening. Gull, are you up for it?"

Gull flexed a bicep for Haki's benefit. " Feel fine! Just give us a moment to change."

They reappeared in a few moments, wearing the clothing that Jehu had given them. Haki whistled.

"I had no idea that you two were so stylish. But you do need a touch of color. Come here." She pulled a couple of brightly colored scarves out of a pocket and knotted them loosely about their throats. She was short, and Gull had to stoop to allow her to reach.

"Perfect. Let's go," said Buttro. "The cab will probably be down at the road by now. See you later, Lucas."

The air was cooling as they walked down the path, smelling of flowers and the spices of evening meals. Haki explained where they were going.

"It's a little place called the Fifth Horseman, across the valley in the arts conclave. Ever been to a night club? No? Well, I guess they don't have too many of those in the colonies. It's a restaurant in the daytime, and then they move back the tables for a perpetual party. The entertainment varies; usually groups from around the conclave, but sometimes we get traveling shows. They come by, do a late night set after their regular concert. The place has quite a rep. Here's our cab."

The Fifth Horseman was at least five hundred years old, or at least, parts of it were. It had started as an ancient villa, with actual mudbrick and stone walls, a square of small rooms around a central courtyard. The walls had been added to over the years, and most recently, the whole courtyard had been roofed over with a bubble of crystal moss, so thin that the interior lighting made it glow like a giant, dim bulb as they drove up.

The artist conclave was situated betwen the medics and academics and acted as a catalytic bed for the traditionally hight spirits of both. Gull saw his first police cruiser as they were waiting for admittance. The smoked black beetle shape, lower slung than the cabs, with the holographic cube of the City floating in the door panels, rolled sedately down the street, past knots of laughing 'tweeners.

"Don't worry, Gull," reassured Buttro, following his gaze. "They patrol regularly, just to remind folk like us not to get too rowdy."

The interior was a maze of booths and bodies. Most of the rooms had been opened to the interior for semi-private celebrations, and at least one seemed to see use as an art gallery. The air was cloudy with incense; the decor was semi-traditional middleastern, with a lot of rugs and pillows. Most of the crowd was dancing in the open area under the dome, around a central stage holding a quartet playing various stringed instruments, some hypered. Haki snake-danced them through the mob to a clump of tables holding other young people, most with scarves similar to the ones she had given Gull and Kev. Introductions were made; Haki seemed to have scored a coup by bringing the colonists. Kev and Gull were both asked questions ranging from life on the 'frontier" to flying hyperlights, and Gull found himself recounting his experiences in David's Tower more than once.

Kev disappeared out onto the dance floor; Gull remained behind at the table with a carbonated drink and a bowl of popcorn that never quite emptied. Most of the young women were already with someone, or didn't quite seem to take him seriously. It seemed as though his his worst fears were coming true.

Most of the crowd were between twenty and thirty, which was to be expected. Though the various generations looked much the same due to the Tree , their tastes in dress and entertainment differed as it always had, and served to set one group apart from another. The individual seated at the far end of the table drew his attention, though at first he wasn't quite sure why. He realised that instead of the pseudo-flight suits and leathers, he was dressed in denim jeans and a patched jacket of antique cut. If not a Survivor, he was at most a First generation. Gull noticed a ring on his hand, and realised that he was able to make out the details of it even in the low light and his considerable distance; Chavvah must have augmented his sight as well as his reflexes. Gull spent a moment exploring his new-found acuity. He was startled when the individual caught his eye and raised a glass in invitation. Blushing, Gull went over and took an empty chair next to the stranger.

"I'm sorry, I guess I was staring. My name is Gull Ben Adamson."

The man smiled. He was darkly handsome, with light eyebrows that drew attention to his eyes. He carried himself with a certain easy grace. "I know," he said, and offered his hand. The cabochon ruby in the ring glittered darkly. "I am Paulo. We have heard of you, and let me congratulate you on your evident complete recovery."

The sound of the man's voice made the connection. "You're Paulo Dane, the newscaster!" Dane was the anchor for JerusalemWatch, the multimedia information service. Until now, Gull had only seen him on the screen of a house core on the beamcast from Tel Aviv.

"Guilty." Dane interlaced his fingers and smiled. "Are you enjoying your stay at Mt. Scopus?"

"Why yes, thanks. How did you know?"

"It's not hard for the media to get certain information. You were news, several weeks back." He pulled a device from an inner coat pocket, an insectile array of folding wires and jewel-like lenses, and set it up on the table between them. "Would you be offended if I asked for an interview? Fortunately for them, the viewing public has never gone through what you did, and interest would be high in your experience. You disappeared from view after you were found."

So, Gull went through it again for the vid. He downplayed Kev's part in the crash, concious that the kibbutz might see part of it. The newsman asked him to return to several points for more detail.

"Aren't there safety features to keep this sort of thing from happening? Fences, or warning lights?"

"Normally, yes, but it is a little different over in the settlements. We're more on our own, expected to look out for ourselves. It's the reason why most of us are out there. We're all taught about Crater from knee high, and it's on the nav charts, certainly. I just wasn't... paying attention to the weather as close as I should have. It was a freak thing; probably never happen again."

Paulo asked about the Native girl. Gull found himself blushing. "I think her name was Leda. She was just a little girl, but pretty eyes... I was in and out of it, but I remember those eyes. More kids showed up and carried me out of the woods."

"Then it was the Natives who were actually responsible for your rescue?"

Gull shifted uneasily. "Well, it was Kev who found my flyer, and the Nobles healed me, didn't they? They probably wold have found me even if the Natives hadn't come along."

"I'm sure they would have." Paulo's smile was bright, professional. "I don't mean to trouble you. Your story has a happy ending. I understand that you spent some time in David's Tower. I'm very interested in your impressions. Most people have only seen the public areas."

He grew excited at Gull's account of the Arboretum. "Fascinating. You actually saw Trees of Healing growing?"

I remember being carried past rows and rows of therm. They reminded me of a combination of poplars and pines. Smooth trunks. The smell... I remember it, but can't describe it. I don't know, like snow, or the seashore, but cleaner."

"The Noble who healed you. Tell me about him."

"Her. It was a... woman." Gull felt reluctance to share even that much. "She was beautiful..."

"They all are. Did she say who she used to be?"

"I'd rather not talk about her."

Dane patted his shoulder. "I understand. They use that attraction you feel to create a sense of loyalty. It adds to the mystique, helps them keep their secrets."

"Use? Secrets?" Gull was confused at the turn the conversation had taken, and wasn't sure he liked it. Though the newsman said it so calmly, so matter of factly.

"I see you're wearing real flight suits." Paulo changed the subject. "Are you entering the Rangers, then?"

Gull nodded. "We hope to, Kev and I. We're finishing our Basic program, and we'll try to get in early, since we're here in Jerusalem. We've got to apply at the Academy."

"Well, good luck to you." Paulo began to break down the camera; apparently the interview was at an end. "Tell you what. Anyone who's gone through what you have has got to be tough enough to make it . I know some people there, and I'll put in a good word for you." He finished his drink and excused himself, disappearing into the crowd. Kev and Buttro materialised behind him, mouths agape.

"Yes, I know who that was," he said in answer to their questions.

"Did I hear him say something about the academy?"

"It sounded like he'd be able to encourage someone to consider our application. That might get us in the door, but we'd still need to attract a Noble's attention and get into a Fellowship."

"We'll attract some attention, trust me."

Gull groaned. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Gull groaned. "That's what I'm afraid of." Just then, the band swung into an earshattering performance of Miracles.

"Hey, I just heard that on the music channel!" exclaimed Kev.

Chapter 12