A sign appeared before her:
PRIVATE PROPERTY
NO TRESPASSING
BY ORDER OF BOARD OF PROCTORS,
SARO UNIVERSITY
And then a second sign, in vivid scarlet:
!!! DANGER !!!
HIGH ENERGY RESEARCH FACILITY
NO ENTRY
Good. She must be going the right way, then.
Siferra had never been to the Sanctuary, even in the days when it had still been a physics laboratory, but she knew what to expect: a series of gates, and then some sort of scanner post that would monitor anyone who had managed to get this far. Within minutes she had come to the first gate. It was a double-hinged screen of tightly woven metal mesh, rising to perhaps twice her height, with a formidable-looking barbed-wire fence stretching off at either end and disappearing into the brambled underbrush that grew uncontrolledly here.
The gate was ajar.
She studied it, puzzled. Some illusion? Some trick of her muddled mind? No. No, the gate was open, all right. And it was the correct gate. She saw the University Security symbol on it. But why was it open? There was no indication that it had been forced.
Troubled now, she went through.
The road inward was nothing more than a dirt track, deeply rutted and cratered. She followed along its edge, and in a little while she saw an inner barrier, no mere barbed-wire fence here but a solid concrete wall, blank, impregnable-looking.
It was broken only by a gateway of dark metal, with a scanner mounted above it.
And this gate was open too.
Stranger and stranger! What about all the vaunted protection that was supposed to have sealed the Sanctuary away from the general madness that had overtaken the world?
She stepped inside. Everything was very quiet here. Ahead of her lay some scruffy-looking wooden sheds and barns. Perhaps the Sanctuary entrance itself—the mouth of an underground tunnel, Siferra knew—lay behind them. She walked around the outbuildings.
Yes, there was the Sanctuary entrance, an oval door in the ground, with a dark passageway behind it.
And there were people, too, a dozen or so of them, standing in front of it, watching her with chilly, unpleasant curiosity. They all had strips of bright green cloth tied about their throats, as a kind of neckerchief. She didn’t recognize any of them. So far as she could tell, they weren’t university people.
A small bonfire was burning just to the left of the door. Beside it was a pile of chopped logs, elaborately stacked, every piece of wood very neatly arranged according to size with astonishing precision and care. It looked more like some sort of meticulous architect’s model than like a woodpile.
A sickening sense of fear and disorientation swept over her. What was this place? Was it really the Sanctuary? Who were these people?
“Stay right where you are,” said the man at the front of the group. He spoke quietly, but there was whip-snapping authority in his tone. “Put your hands in the air.”
He held a small sleek needle-gun in his hand. It was pointing straight at her midsection.
Siferra obeyed without a word.
He appeared to be about fifty years old, a strong, commanding figure, almost certainly the leader here. His clothing looked costly and his manner was poised and confident. The green neckerchief he wore had the sheen of fine silk.
“Who are you?” he asked calmly, keeping the weapon trained on her.
“Siferra 89, Professor of Archaeology, Saro University.”
“That’s nice. Are you planning to do any archaeology around here, Professor?”
The others laughed as though he had said something very, very funny.
Siferra said, “I’m trying to find the university Sanctuary. Can you tell me where it is?”
“I think this might have been it,” the man replied. “The university people all cleared out of here a few days back. This is Fire Patrol headquarters now.—Tell me, are you carrying any combustibles, Professor?”
“Combustibles?”
“Matches, lighter, a pocket generator, anything that could be used to start a fire.”
She shook her head. “Not any of those things.”
“Fire-starting’s prohibited under Article One of the Emergency Code. If you’re in violation of Article One the punishment is severe.”
Siferra stared at him blankly. What was he talking about?
A thin, sallow-faced man standing beside the leader said, “I don’t trust her, Altinol. It was those professors that started all this. Two to one she’s got something hidden away in her clothes, out of sight somewhere.”
“I have no fire-making equipment anywhere on me,” Siferra said, irritated.
Altinol nodded. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. We won’t take the chance, Professor. Strip.”
She stared at him, startled. “What did you say?”
“Strip. Remove your clothes. Demonstrate that you have no concealed illegal devices anywhere on your person.”
Siferra hefted her club, rubbing her hand uneasily along its shaft. Blinking in astonishment, she said, “Hold on, here. You can’t be serious.”
“Article Two of the Emergency Code, Fire Patrol may take any precaution deemed necessary to prevent unauthorized fire-starting. Article Three, this may include immediate and summary execution of those who resist Fire Patrol authority. Strip, Professor, and do it quickly.”
He gestured with the needle-gun. It was a very serious-looking gesture.
But still she stared at him, still she made no move to remove her garments. “Who are you? What’s this Fire Patrol stuff all about?”
“Citizen vigilantes, Professor. We’re attempting to restore law and order in Saro after the Breakdown. The city’s been pretty much destroyed, you know. Or maybe you don’t. The fires are continuing to spread, and there’s no functioning fire department to do anything about it any more. And maybe you haven’t noticed, but the whole province is full of crazy people who think we haven’t quite had enough fires yet as it is, so they’re starting even more. That can’t go on. We intend to stop the starters by any means available. You are under suspicion of possessing combustibles. The accusation has been placed and you have sixty seconds to clear yourself of the charge. If I were you, I’d start getting my clothes off, Professor.”
Siferra could see him silently counting off the seconds.
Strip, in front of a dozen strangers? A red haze of fury surged through her at the thought of the indignity. Most of these people were men. They weren’t even bothering to hide their impatience. This wasn’t any sort of security precaution, despite Altinol’s solemn citing of an Emergency Code. They just wanted to see what her body looked like, and they had the power to make her submit. It was intolerable.
But then, after a moment, she found her indignation beginning to slip away.
What did it matter? Siferra asked herself wearily. The world had ended. Modesty was a luxury that only civilized people indulged in, and civilization was an obsolete concept.
In any case this was a blunt order, at gunpoint. She had wandered into a remote, isolated place far down a country road. No one was going to come to her rescue here. The clock was ticking. And Altinol didn’t seem to be bluffing.
It wasn’t worth dying just for the sake of concealing her body from them.
She tossed her club to the ground.
Then, in cold anger but without permitting herself to make any outward show of rage, she began methodically to peel away her garments and drop them down beside it.
“My underwear too?” she asked sardonically.