Jon was concerned that Shana was spending too much time in the world of the visualiser for every time she returned from it she was more tired, more drained than the previous occasion. But she refused to stop.
‘There are answers in there Jon, and in those answers there must be the explanation for all these things we don’t understand; why the world is like it is, what is the Gate of Light and, most importantly of all, who is Korok.’
Jon was not convinced. ‘But you have told me that what you see is vast. How long do you think it will take to find the answers, even if they are there?’
Shana shrugged. ‘I don’t know but it will take forever if I don’t keep going in and we don’t have forever.’
‘I could just tell you not to go back in.’
Shana looked directly at him. ‘Yes you could Jon. But that would not be a good idea. The only thing we have against all this madness is our trust and respect for each other. Would you really want to jeopardise that?’
He had no answer so she placed a hand on his shoulder.
‘Jon, if I really think it’s harming me I will stop. Trust me.’
He nodded and she gave him another quick kiss.
And she immediately put the visualiser back on her head.
She was back in the corridor of books again and she took the nearest volume off its shelf. It was heavy so she had to sit down in order to support it on her lap.
This one was entitled:
As she leafed through it she discovered it consisted of a series of highly condensed descriptions of the thoughts and actions of many individuals whom the writer considered to be people who had contributed to the thought processes of an entity known as “The Protectorate”, which was apparently the society of which the writer was a member.
Some of the people mentioned such as Machiavelli, de Sade or Nietzsche had been mainly theoreticians or fantasists; but others such as Subutai or Timur the Lame had been men who preferred actions to theory. And what actions! Shana grew more and more revulsed, as with horror she read of cities whose entire populations had been massacred because a single stone had been thrown in its defence; elsewhere she read of how those who had dared to resist the conquerors had been killed in their thousands and their bleached skulls piled into pyramids. Once again she read of how the civilisation of the Degenerates had fallen short of these high ideals as the book closed with the mocking words: “They became more and more afraid of risk; more and more afraid of danger and tried to create a world in which danger did not exist. But in the end, danger came looking for them.”
She threw the book away. She wanted no more of this “Protectorate” or its illustrious predecessors. Perhaps Jon was right: that if there were answers in here it would take far too long to find them.
She resumed her exploration of this building in which she found herself. No longer was she merely shown visions, now she was part of the vision.
And so it was she came again into the large room with the table at one end. She looked around but seemed to be alone and so she went up to the table and stopped when she was close enough to read the words upon it.
is what she read and then she saw that on the table were two keys, one green and one red. Beyond the table there was a room which had a transparent door and she could see that the room beyond had shelves with books upon them just like the corridor she had recently traversed. She came up to the table and saw that between the keys was another piece of writing. This time it said:
“The books in this room are to be read only by High Officials. They contain works by so-called thinkers of the Degenerates and are kept here to show how far from the truth the human mind can sink. They are not to be looked at by ordinary ranks.”
Shana felt a thrill of hope; perhaps here she would find out more about the enemies of the Protectorate and how this bizarre world had come about. She reached for the nearest key.
And became instantly aware that two shapes had appeared on either side of her.
She turned, somehow knowing what she would see.
And she was not wrong. On either side of her stood two squat, repulsive forms with squarish heads bearing wide lipless mouths. Their eyes were unnaturally crystalline and glowed dimly with an inner ruby light. They were short, their heads coming up to just above her hips. They were not Akraz and Zarka reborn but were disquietingly similar.
‘Hello Shana,’ the one on the left said, looking directly up at her. The other also said ‘Hello Shana’ but she did not bother to turn to look at him. The first said, ‘My name is…’
She put up a hand, palm facing him. ‘Don’t tell me your name. It will make it easier for me when I kill you.’
The creature’s expression did not change, for its face did not seem to possess sufficient mobility to carry different looks. ‘You may find that difficult. Perhaps you have not remembered that in here you do not have a weapon.’
Shana felt a stab of a sudden chill. Of course – she was not physically here and could not possibly have a weapon. But if she was not actually here – could she be harmed here?
‘Oh yes, you can come to grief here,’ the other said behind her, ‘if that is what you’re thinking.’
Shana walked slightly backwards so she had both of them in her view.
‘And what do you want?’ she asked dully.
Both creatures had now turned so they were directly facing her.
‘We know what you want. You want to look at the forbidden books of the Degenerates, to wallow in their effeminate filth. But you are not a High Official.’
‘And so?’
‘And so you must pass a test. If you pass you can have the key to open the door to the forbidden books.’
‘And if I simply go back to where I came from?’
‘We will not let you go back. Try it.’
She touched the top of her head. The visualiser was not there.
‘We have hidden it from you. Pass the test and we will return it.’
‘And if I fail the test?’
‘Then you will stay here for ever and ever and we will play together.’
Never had Shana heard the word “play” carry such sinister overtones.
‘Now come up to the table, Shana.’
They pointed to the two keys and the one on the right said, ‘One key opens the door to the forbidden books, the other does nothing. Well, not exactly nothing – it will open our playroom for you.’
Shana felt her fear ebb slightly and a pulse of burning anger begin to replace it.
‘What is the test?’ she demanded, although in truth she had already guessed it.
‘For the purpose of this test, one of us always tells the truth; the other always lies. You can ask one of us one question only about which key is the correct one. After you have asked the question you will receive a reply and we will then tell you whether you will be staying to play with us.’
Shana looked into the face of the creature which was speaking. Was the mouth jerking as if attempting to form a smile?
‘We do hope you’ll be staying to play with us.’
Silence fell. Then the other creature spoke: ‘We have completed our explanation. You must speak now and you must ask the question.’
Shana looked at the table and the two keys: one green, one red. She must not panic, she must still the whirlpool her thoughts had become.
Moments passed. The silence seemed to hang heavily over her like a suffocating cloak.
Then she had it.
She turned to the being which had spoken first and said: ‘Which key would the other creature say was the correct one?’