I was a married man, and I was six hundred and fifty-two miles old.
10
For the next few miles my life settled into a routine that was for the most part agreeable. During my visits to the city my life with Victoria was comfortable, happy, and loving. She would tell me much of her work, and through her I came to learn how the day to day life of the city was administered. Sometimes she would ask me about my work outside, but her early curiosity had either faded or she now thought better of asking me, for the resentments never again became as obvious as at first.
Outside, my apprenticeship progressed. The more work outside the city I participated in, the more I realized how much of a mutual effort the city’s moving was.
At the end of my last mile with Malchuskin I was transferred on order of Clausewitz to the Militia. This came as an unpleasant surprise, as I had assumed that on completion of my training on the tracks I would start work with my own guild of Futures. However, I discovered that I was to be transferred to another first-order guild every three miles.
I was sorry to leave Malchuskin, for his simple application to the strenuous work on the tracks had an undeniable appeal. After we were past the ridge the terrain had been easier for track-laying, and as the new group of hired men continued to labour without untoward complaint his discontent had seemed to fade.
Before reporting to the Militia I sought out Clausewitz. I did not wish to make too much of an issue, but I asked him for the reason behind the decision.
“It’s standard practice, Mann,” he said.
“But, sir, I thought by now I should be ready to enter my own guild.”
He sat in a relaxed manner behind his desk, not in the least disturbed by my mild protest. I guessed that such a query was not unusual.
“We have to maintain a full Militia. Sometimes it becomes necessary to draft other guildsmen to defend the city. If so, we do not have the time then to train them. Every first-order guildsman has served time in the Militia, and so must you.”
There was no argument with that, and so I became Crossbowman Second Class Mann for the next three miles.
I detested this period, fuming at the waste of time and the apparent insensitivity of the men I was forced to work with. I knew that I was only making life difficult for myself, and so it was, for within a few hours I was probably the most unpopular recruit in the entire Militia. My only relief was the presence of two other apprentices — one with the Barter guild and another with the Track guild — who seemed to share my outlook. They, however, had the fortunate ability to adapt to the new company and suffered less than I.
The quarters for the Militia were in the area next to the stables at the very base of the city. These consisted of two large dormitories, and we were obliged to live, eat, and sleep in conditions of intolerable overcrowding and filth. During the days we went through apparently endless periods of training involving long marches across the countryside; and were taught to fight unarmed, taught to swim rivers, taught to climb trees, taught to eat grass, and any number of other futile activities. At the end of the three miles I had learned to shoot with a crossbow, and I had learned how to defend myself when unarmed. I had made myself some bitter personal enemies, and I knew I should have to keep out of their way for some considerable time to come. I wrote it off to experience.
After this I was transferred to the Traction guild, and at once I was much happier. Indeed, from this point to the end of my apprenticeship my life was pleasant and fruitful.
The men responsible for the traction of the city were quiet, hard-working, and intelligent. They moved without haste, but they saw that the work for which they were responsible was done, and done well.
My one previous experience of their work — when watching the city being winched — had not revealed to me the extent of their operations. Traction was not simply a question of moving the city but also involved its internal affairs.
I discovered that a large nuclear reactor was situated in the centre of the city, on the lowest level. It was from this that the city derived all its power, and the men who operated it were also responsible for the city’s communication and sanitary systems. Many of the Traction guildsmen were water-engineers, and I learned that throughout the city there was a complicated system of pumping which ensured that almost every last drop of water was continually recycled. The food-synthesizer, I discovered to my horror, was based on a sewage filtration device, and although it was operated and programmed by administrators inside the city, it was in the Traction pumping-room that the quantity (and in some respects the quality) of synthesized food was ultimately determined.
It was almost as a secondary function that the reactor was used to power the winches.
There were six of these, and they were built in a massive steel housing running east-west across the city’s base. Of the six, only five were used at any one time, the other being overhauled by rotation. The primary cause for concern with the winches was the bearings, which, after many thousands of miles’ use, were very worn. During the time I was with the Traction men there was a certain amount of debate on the subject of whether the winching should be carried out on four winches — thus allowing more time for bearing servicing — or should be increased to all six winches, thus reducing wear. The consensus seemed to be to continue with the present system, for no major decisions were taken.
One of the jobs I worked on with the Traction men was checking the cables. This too was a recurring task for the cables were as old as the winches, and breakages happened more frequently than was ideal, which was never. Each of the six cables used by the city had been repaired several times, and in addition to the weaknesses this caused there were several parts of each cable which were beginning to fray. Before each winching, therefore, each of the five cables to be used had to be checked over foot by foot, cleaned and greased, and bound where frays occurred.
Always in the reactor-room, or working outside on the cables, the talk was of catching up the lost ground towards the optimum. How the winches might be improved, how new cables might be obtained. The entire guild seemed to be alive with ideas, but they were not men fond of theories. Much of their work was concerned with mundane matters; for instance, while I was with the guild a new project was begun to construct an additional water-reservoir in the city.
One pleasurable benefit of this aspect of my apprenticeship was that I was able to spend the nights with Victoria. Although I came back to the room at night hot and dirty from my work, I was for this short period enjoying the comforts of a domestic existence and the satisfactions of a worthwhile job.
One day, working outside the city as one of the cables was being hauled mechanically out towards the distant stayemplacement, I asked the guildsman I was with about Gelman Jase.
“An old friend of mine, apprenticed to your guild. Do you know him?”
“About your age is he?”
“A bit older.”
“We had a couple of apprentices through a few miles back. Can’t remember their names. I can check, if you like.”
I was curious to see Jase. It had been a long time since I’d seen him, and it would be good to compare notes with someone who was going through the same process as myself.
Later that day I was told that Jase had been one of the two apprentices the man had mentioned. I asked how I could contact him.
“He won’t be around for a while.”
“Where is he?” I said.
“He’s left the city. Down past.”
Too soon, my time with the Traction guild ended and I was transferred to the Barter guild for the next three miles. I greeted this news with mixed feelings, having witnessed one of their operations at first hand. To my surprise I learnt I was to work with Barter Collings, and to my further surprise I discovered it was he who had requested I work with him.