I watched the three bits of tubing falling away, hoping they'd hit whatever it was coming up after me, but they didn't. The rocket — which is what I was assuming it was — climbed on after me. I didn't want to cut my parachute free and I didn't think that would make much difference anyway and there was just a chance if the rocket destroyed the balloon I'd survive and be able to use the parachute (Ha! Who was I kidding?). I felt my bladder getting ready to lighten me a bit.
Water, I thought. I got my water bottle out and was about to chuck it away when the fire around the tail of the rocket went out. It still kept coming for bleeding ages mind you, and I was half waiting for some second stage or something to ignite, and still hesitating about chucking away the water bottle.
Never happened; the rocket got to within about half a kilometre or so and then just sort of toppled over and slowly started to fall away, tumbling end over end back into the darkness and eventually disappearing.
I breathed a sigh of relief that misted up my face plate. The balloon almost scraped the side of the shaft but with a bit of dextrous pulling and a modicum of swearing and panicking I got the damn thing back on the correct course.
There was a explosion at the bottom of the shaft.
No more rockets.
I couldn't see upwards naturally, but the base of the shaft was an awful long way away and I thought I had to be near the top of the thing by now. On the other hand, the balloon was still fairly racing upwards, so I guessed I was wrong. Sure enough, the climb went on for some time after that. My feet and fingers was starting to get really cold. My head was aching fit to burst.
I didn't feel I was breathing right, but couldn't remember what you were supposed to do to breathe right. I started to worry about what would happen if they'd taken the top off the tower or I drifted out the side through a hole and went on up into space. What'd I do then? I wondered. I looked down; my gloved fingers were fiddling about with the valves on top of the little bottles strapped to my chest. I shook my head. Doing this hurt a lot.
I think I must have blacked out for a bit because when I awake I was stationary.
My head still hurts like hell but at least I'm alive. The balloon is floating against one wall of the shaft and sort of bobbing me up and down very gently. It's a bit lighter at last. I can see the tracks going up the side of the shaft in great detail, but no doors. I try to think what I can throw away. An oxygen tank; there's one empty. I must have changed over to the second one after all.
I unscrew the tank with very cold gloved fingers and let it drop.
The balloon floats up very slowly.
My head feels tight and buzzy like it's going to burst and my whole body feels bloated like I'm a balloon myself. Lights sparking in front of my eyes and roaring in my head.
The balloon stops, bobbing again.
Still no sign of a door.
I rock back and forward as if I'm on a swing; this scrapes the balloon against the side of the shaft, but it can't be helped. Swinging quite hard, I can see a door — an open door! — a bit further up the shaft.
I take a drink from the water bottle, then let it drop into the darkness. The balloon bobs a bit higher over the next few minutes. Nearly there but not quite.
I might need the knife; can't throw that away. I look at my boots and my gloves, but I suspect it would be crazy to throw them away. I could throw away the parachute but then I'd have no chance at all of getting back down.
It looks pretty light up here; I take the torch out and throw it downwards as hard as I can.
I keep the balloon going from side to side as it floats up a bit higher. I'm level with the door; it's human sized and like a sort of square O shape. Looks dark inside there. I can almost reach the door but I need to make the balloon rock some more. The balloon floats down a bit and I shout and curse but I keep swinging and swinging and eventually I'm whipping back and forward in a almost complete half-circle and the door's just about in range; I fling out one leg and hook onto the sill of the doorway, then pull myself in with my legs.
I dunno; I must be dopey with the altitude or something because I just undo the harness and of course the balloon races off up the shaft, nearly dragging me out of the doorway at the same time; I stagger with one hand flailing out of the door while the other glove slides along the flange inside the doorway.
I pull myself back in, gasping for breath. I look up the shaft. There's a big black cone hanging down feeling the top of the shaft, and there's big long holes like sort of upwardly-sloped gill slits letting in some light around the walls of the shaft opposite the cone. The light looks like daylight, though it must be coming from a fair distance as this is the centre of the tower and everybody knows it don't taper much.
There's another couple of balloons up there where the one that brought me up is heading. I watch mine thump against the side of the black cone. It goes on up, nearly disappears out of one of the big long slits, then comes to a stop at the top of the shaft, between the cone and the shaft side, bobbing like a balloon lost to the ceiling at a kids' party.
Oh you silly fool Bascule, I think to myself. I look down the shaft. How am I going to get back down now? Still got the parachute but without the balloon to slow me down initially the lammergeiers reckon the parachute's nearly useless. Oh well, might as well leave the damn thing here. I take it off and dump it by the doorway.
Blimey it's cold. I peer into the darkness beyond the door.
There's another door and a sort of control-panel looking thing. Could be a lift I suppose but I should be so lucky. Sure enough, nothing happens when I press the symbols. I try crypting, very carefully and short-range, so it's really not like crypting at all. Blimey; there's nothing here! Not even any electrics nearby! I never been so far away from the crypt, from civilisation.
Anyway, the point is, this elevator's dead.
There's another door to one side. It isn't quite closed. I push it open. Very dark, but there's steps there all right. Very dark indeed. Wish I still had that torch. Spiral steps. Bloody big deep steps, too; must be only three to a metre. Oh well, I think, trying to encourage myself; I didn't have any other plans for today.
I start climbing.
I count the steps in hundreds, trying to keep to a steady rhythm. It doesn't get any darker or any brighter.
I try not to think about how high I am, even though there's a kind of pride in me that I've got this far. I also try not to think about how I'm going to get down, or about the people who shot the rocket at me and whether they will still be there if I am able to find a way back down. I pass another side door; it's locked. 500 steps and another door. It's locked too. I also try not to think of the things you hear about the fast-tower; about real ghosts or monsters from before the Diaspora or from the depths of space or just put here to guard it and stop silly bags from attempting to explore it. I spend quite a lot of my time trying not to think about all these things.
Another doorway. The doors are spaced every 256 steps. All locked so far.
1000 steps.
Suddenly there's something ahead of me, round the turn of the stair; something that looks like it's alive and waiting and crouched looking at me.
It's still almost pitch black but this thing's blacker, and it's huge and it's poised over me like some avenging angel of darkness. I feel for my knife. The thing above me on the steps doesn't move. I'd like to kid myself it isn't really there but it is. Can't find my knife. It's hanging on a bit of string somewhere here but I can't find it; oh blimey, oh fuck.