Five: The Day of the Red Sun

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BANTAM AND CLEVELAND continued their walk.  At last the tree cover thinned and opened to clear sky, Bantam barely stifled a gasp at what he saw.  There stood the massive black diamond pole, reaching like a laser-thin line of obsidian up, up, up into the forever blue above.

Cleveland smiled as he following the line of his gaze.  “Ah, yes.  ‘The Great Endeavor’.  The bold challenge.  All of the best Pencils in America came here to answer it.” 

He turned to Bantam.  “And you seriously don’t know about this.”

Bantam shook his head.  “No.  In my world —“ But then he stopped himself short of a longer explanation and said simply, “We used rockets.”

Cleveland’s eyes raised.  “Rockets?  You mean … projectiles?”

Bantam nodded. 

“And men sit inside these projectiles?”

Bantam nodded again. 

Cleveland burst out laughing.  “Huzzah!  Your astronauts truly are mad!”

“Okay,” Bantam said folding his arms.  “So how does yours work?”

“Very simple: my Starcraft is raised up the Volzstrang Pin beyond the upper atmosphere.  When it reaches —“

“Wait.  What did you say?” Bantam said, eyes stabbing Cleveland.  “Did you say Volzstrang?”

“Why, yes.  That’s what the black diamond tower is called.  It’s named for the man who invented the interwoven molecular lattices that gives it such perfect structure, enabling it to reach the edge of the sky.”

“Cleveland,” Bantam said, grabbing him by the shoulders urgently.  “This is important.  Is Hoermann Volzstrang actually here at MacLaren?”

“Of course he is.” Cleveland said.  “Other than Hardin, he’s the top Pencil.”

“Can I talk to him?”

BANTAM WAS led into a massive building.  Inside was a single corridor that led to a great cylindrical room in the middle.  Strange noises filled the air: it sounded like the roaring of a river punctuated by hisses of steam. 

“Hydrologic circuitry,” Cleveland yelled.  “State-of-the-art Neptune aetherics.  Loud as hell, I know.  But it’s a lot quieter than what they had before!  Not nearly as dangerous either.”

But Bantam was hardly listening.  He could barely contain his excitement.  Hoermann Volzstrang was actually here!  It had been his equations that made time travel a reality.  Maybe he could shed some light on what had happened, why he was in the strange other-1944 …

The control room proved to be much quieter and downright pleasant.  It was a spacious room, punctuated with red recliners and flowers, almost like a lavish hotel lobby.  A crystal skylight above let dappled sunlight play across the marble floor.

All along the circumference sat men, typing furiously on mahogany-and-ivory keypads.  Above them all rose great panels that appeared to be screens.

Screens?  How can they can have screens without electricity?    

Inside the control room, Cleveland called out, “Doctor Volzstrang!  Are you here?”

A walrus of a man turned around and pulled at his moustache.  “Yes?”

“Doctor Volzstrang!” Bantam said, thrusting his hand out.  But Cleveland yanked him back.  “Tut!  You are still a prisoner, Bantam.  Have a care now!  No sudden movements.”

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