The green sphere bobbed, then receded through the archway and into a dark corridor running tangentially to the circular chamber. There it paused, as if waiting for us.
"Lead on, MacDuff," John called to it as he started forward. He halted and looked around at everybody. "Well?" Susan was still nursing her middle. "I can't think of food right now, but maybe if I forced something down…"
"Right," Roland said, "then I'll take you for a ride on the magic ramp again. We'll look for the one that goes down this time."
"Ulp."
We followed the green sphere.
Prime hadn't been kidding about the architectural oddity of the place. Everything was goofy. Walls curved and canted vertiginously, floors sloped at odd angles. Weird perspectives tricked us at every turn. Even so, the place had a bizarre beauty to it. Rather stark, though. The walls were smooth and unadorned. No pictures, carvings, or decorations. No tapestries, weapons, or shields emblazoned with colorful heraldry. Not a proper castle after all. The floor was everywhere black with a deep shine, looking like a dark mirror. Here and about, though, stood odd thingamabobs, no doubt the artifacts Prime had warned us about. Some looked like pieces of machinery, others could have been sculpture, or for all we knew, alien hat racks.
"This place is a damn museum," Susan said.
"I was just about to say that," John told her.
I said, "Yeah, it does have the feel of one."
An odd one, though. There didn't seem to be much organization to it. Some things were lying about haphazardly; they weren't necessarily on display. Nevertheless, I got the distinct impression that this was a collection, a bunch of stuff that had been obtained at various places and carted here for storage.
We soon came to a high-ceilinged hall featuring a large centrally positioned table of irregular shape. Uniformly constructed seating appliances-the term chairs would tend to connote that one could easily sit in them-were arranged around the table, but what was on the table wasn't strange; it was food, and it all looked good. There was a huge whole baked ham, assorted roast fowl, fish, various cuts of beef, one or two of pork, and maybe one of veal. These entrees were flanked by vegetable dishes, casseroles, fruit arrangements, baskets of bread, tureens of soup, bowls of salad-and on and on. There was other stuff I couldn't readily identify, but it looked very familiar. All in all, this was something more than lunch and slightly less than a state dinner for a visiting foreign dignitary. The eating utensils looked alien but serviceable, as did the glassware.
We looked it over. Meanwhile our shining guide drifted away, exiting through an arch and into darkness.
"Quite a spread," Susan commented.
"How're your insides?" I asked.
"Getting better."
We all stood about gawking until Prime entered the hall through an archway to the left. Smiling, he strode to the approximate head of the table and stood. "Welcome. I'm glad you came. Please be seated."
We chose places around the table. Along with the rest of the gang, I regarded the "chair" on which I was to "seat" myself. It was pink, shiny, and looked somewhat like a formation of coral. The prospect of actually using the thing as a seat involved the possibility of having an autcerotic experience-or a painful one, depending on how careful you were.
"I think you will find-" Prime began, but a shout from Lori interrupted him.
She had tried sitting but had immediately sprung to her feet. "It moved!" she told us.
Prime chuckled. "The chairs will automatically reform themselves to accommodate your bodies. Simply sit down and…"
Gingerly, I sat. The damn chair did that very thing, and it did it almost before my buttocks had,touched down.
"There, you see?"
"Interesting," I said as the chair made some further adjustments, these very subtle and done much more slowly. I sank into the thing a little and stopped. It was strange, but I was comfortable.
When everyone had settled in, Prime poured himself a glass of amber liquid from a carafe. "I think you'll find this wine very insouciant and a bit immature, but compatible with almost everything here." He indicated a similar decanter near. John, who was seated to his right. There were several around the table. "Please serve yourselves. I must apologize for the lack of servants-the only one I have is engaged at the moment."
I picked up a carafe and poured the glass to my right for Susan, the left for Darla, and one for me.
Prime raised his glass. "I propose a toast. To life."
"Hear, hear," Sean said.
I inhaled the bouquet. While I was at it, I smelled the wine, too. What I got was the sense of a late-summer day… ripe fruit fallen in the orchard, warm breath of flowers, bright sun declining over the garden gate, the arbor heavy with grapes, fresh-cut hay fields, dreaming the afternoon away… like that. Odors familiar yet exotic, somehow. More than odors; an ambience. An experience.
I drank the wine and drank in the experience. There was a taste, too. It was fruit and flowers and dew-laden sprigs of wild mint; it was a dash of crushed cinnamon, a twist of lemon, a drop of honey. It was many things.
Presently, Darla said, "I've never… ever tasted anything like this."
"I'm so glad you like it," Prime said, beaming. "It is very good isn't it?"
"Ambrosia," John murmured, staring into his glass.
"What is it called? Does it have a name?" Zoya wanted to know.
Prime squinted one eye. "I think… well, a free translation would be `Earth's sweet breath of summer."'
"How appropriate. How lovely."
"Where does it come from?" Yuri asked.
"The beings who produced this wine were very much like yourselves, and were excellent wine makers. Possibly the best the universe ever saw. As I said, they were very much like you. In fact, they were your descendents, over two million years removed from your time."
"Two million!" Susan gasped.
"Yes. They were still human-very human. And they still remembered Earth, apparently. No doubt they visited that most ancient home of humankind."
"Where's Carl?" Lori broke in loudly.
Prime looked at her, his expression tolerant: "He'll be here any moment. You shouldn't worry so much, my dear."
"Two million years in our future," John said. "Very difficult to believe. But you speak as if that time were long past… to you."
"Yes it is," Prime said. "It was quite long ago. But time, to us… to me, means very little."
"Who's `us'?" I asked.
Prime drank, sat back. "I have been thinking of the appropriate word or phrase to use. Something handy-short, concise-which would impart the meaning without too much distortion. In your language there are a number of words. But I have chosen the Culmination. That is what we are. What I am. You may refer to us the Culmination."
I usually jump at the chance to ask obvious questions. "The Culmination of what, exactly?"
Prime gave me a level, sober look. "Life. Consciousness. Process. Mind. Will."
I quaffed the rest of my wine. "Stuff like that, huh?"
Prime laughed silently, his grin broad. "Yes. Stuff like that." He looked around the table. "Please, do begin. We can talk as we eat."
"Are you God?" Lori said.
"What is God?" Prime answered.
"Huh?"
"Can you define the word?"
"Well, you know…"
"Precisely, now."
Lori chewed her lip, then said, "You know. The guy that made everything."
"Guy?"
"Person. The person who made the universe. Everything."
"Made?"
She got a little annoyed. "Created. The person who created living things. That guy. The one you pray to." She rolled her eyes. "You know."
"Do you pray to God?"
Lori was suddenly uncomfortable. "Sometimes. Not a lot."
Prime smiled a little impishly. "I'm teasing you. I knew what you meant. And the fair answer to your question is precisely this: I don't know-yet."