Weissenbaum's Eye - Stetten

Weissenbaum's Eye - Stetten - Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Holly was right about the whales. They would not talk to him, and they had their reasons. Likewise, at Synapse, we could no longer reach them. Our personal and political affairs had proved too corrupt, too invasive. One man's friend was another man's enemy, and though we threatened the entire planet with our madness, the whales chose to ignore what they could not control. Only recently have they come back to me, to share this story.

Like the whales, Sand felt justified in ignoring the world around him. There was corruption, and much great work that had been done, but Sand could not be bothered. He pictured himself an undiscovered genius, who knew just about everything.

Now, however, Sand began to change. He started visiting the works of other artists, and learning. He was, after all, practically Benjamin Holly's student.

The Pinta disaster had really changed things. People were not going to tolerate the risks of Weissenbaum's Eye anymore. One way or another, Backdoor would be closed, and it was all because of Benjamin Holly, and The View From The Hilltop. Furthermore, the ground swell of outrage guaranteed Benjamin Holly an accumulation of entrance fees greater than any on record.

As for quality, Sand had always supposed something as popular as The View From The Hilltop could not be real art, but now he decided to see what all the fuss was about. After careful consultation, he and his present girlfriend, Patricia, arranged to meet at what was thought to be one of the better, safer spots in The View From The Hilltop.

No sooner had the couch claimed his senses than a sloping, darkened lawn emerged. The grass was soft under his shoeless feet, and Patricia's hand was warm in his.

"Isn't this exciting," she giggled, as they started up the hill. Many others were headed in that same direction and from beyond the crest came a dull rumbling.

Sand began to tell Patricia about meeting Benjamin Holly. "I might study with him. I haven't decided yet."

As if she hadn't heard, Patricia said, "Listen to that thunder!" Her tone had changed, and Sand followed her gaze to where an orange glow bounced off the mist. They climbed the rest in silence, and soon had cleared the ridge.

The View From The Hilltop was an entire city aflame, collapsing in upon itself, cracked and crusted over a molten glow. From where they stood they saw a million homes melt and sink. Although it was just fiction, it could really happen if a loophole accidentally opened near the Earth, instead of on the far side of the Moon.

Below them a faceless horde of spectators roamed and churned over the slopes, emitting as one voice an unpitched murmur. The largest single audience in history flocked here to share its senses and its movements, bending its concentration towards the nightmare that might be launched from Backdoor. The colonists were not infallible, and the Pinta had proven it. The ship had somehow slipped out from behind the shadow of the moon, and almost killed them all.

Sand looked around the angry crowd. No private person could afford so much detail. By sheer spread throughout the world, the couch gave The View From The Hilltop a power to be recognized. It made wealthy people wary, and they walked through the crowd in small groups, avoiding strangers. But among the poor it brought awareness beholden to Benjamin Holly, and his name was whispered everywhere.

Sand and his richly dressed girlfriend found themselves pushed ever downward among these people, as new arrivals amassed behind them on the hilltop. The noise was growing louder and the night was pocketed with flame. Patricia said they had stayed long enough. But with a strange thrill, Sand ignored her.

"Close Backdoor! Close Backdoor!"

Sand watched, hypnotized by the chant. Then, from behind, came a voice searing through the crowd. Every head turned. Above them at the peak of the hill stood Benjamin Holly. He was not the same man Sand had met before. Holly's eyes reflected the burning glow, and he screamed with the crowd's pleasure and agony. For a moment he brought them to the brink of an unearthly frenzy. Then he held up his hand, and they listened. "See what they would do, leaving us this wasteland to inherit? See how they would abandon us?"

The molten city belched, and the crowd answered with a wordless sigh that swelled and quieted again.

"Before the thunder comes without the rain, and we must live this vision here before us, let us go to Backdoor! Let us bring back those who think themselves better than the rest. We must reach out like a tongue of flame, and find them where they hide, frightened animals in the burrows of Backdoor. We must open the giant doors to their cathedral, and leave them frigid vacuum forever to embrace the empty tunnels of Backdoor!"

Holly's voice dropped low.

"Now, because of you, it is unsafe to be elite upon the earth. But even here, they hide within our ranks. They must stand trial for their sins! The time has come to look upon your neighbor, and see if he is one of us!"

Then, Sand realized that Patricia was indeed gone, and the crowd began to notice that Sand's attire was too detailed, his trimmings too symmetrical. The threat to violence was immediate and hands were on him. He called out for his couch.

In his room, Sand gasped for air. For a time, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling, mouthing the words he had heard. Had it actually been so real that he had felt a moment of physical danger? If so, it was unnerving, and strangely inspiring. All he could see was Holly's face abandoned to the ecstasy of power. And all he could think of was that he, Sand Gould, had become apprenticed to the most powerful artist in the medium.

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