By midmorning, they could see the black pillars ahead were indeed trees. Even by this world’s standards they were giants, perfect thin cones reaching over a hundred fifty yards into the air. They had been planted in a double row, half a mile to the side of the river, forming an impressive avenue down the canyon.
“Somebody does live here, then,” Orion said as they drew near to the start of the avenue.
“Looks that way.” Ozzie tilted his head back to see the tops of the first trees. “You know, either they’re made out of a wood harder than steel, or there’s hardly any wind here, ever.”
“Is that important?”
“I dunno, dude. But it’s definitely a spike on the bizarro graph.”
Orion giggled. “This whole place is a spike.”
“I’m not arguing.”
An hour later, when the canyon walls straightened out, allowing them to see ahead for miles, they made out a group of figures walking along the avenue ahead of them. Seven people, a long way in front, moving at a steady pace.
BIPEDS LIKE YOU, Tochee’s patterns declared. THEY MADE THE LIGHT LAST NIGHT.
Could have done, Ozzie wrote.
THEY MOVE SLOWER THAN US. WE CAN CATCH THEM TODAY IF WE INCREASE SPEED.
Ozzie had been thinking the same thing. Of course if he really wanted to attract their attention there were several flares left in his backpack, though he didn’t want to use them for anything less than a genuine emergency. And the group in front would have to be looking around at the right moment. He was slightly surprised they hadn’t seen them already, especially given the way Tochee’s fabulous technicolor coating clashed against the drab ironstone.
Speeding up will be hard on us. We will reach them eventually.
AGREED.
In the afternoon, when they’d been walking down the empty avenue for several hours, they came to the first ruin. A small stream wriggled across the canyon, running from the base of the cliff wall down to the river, crossing through the avenue at right angles. At some time long ago, a simple curved stone bridge had carried the path over it. Now all that was left were the solid foundations on either side, sticking up from the dusty ground like a set of broken teeth.
There were gentle grooves in the stonework, resembling the trails snakes left in sand. Ozzie couldn’t tell if they were natural wind-erosions or ancient carvings. Thinking about the trees again, he suspected carvings. How long it would take for them to wear away like this he had no idea. Centuries, at least.
“I wish my arrays were working,” he sighed. “They could carbon date this right down to the afternoon it was built.”
“Really?”
“Pretty close, yeah.” It was always slightly unnerving how little Orion knew about technology. He had to be careful what he said, especially jokingly, which wasn’t an Ozzie trait. But the boy tended to take everything he said as gospel.
They splashed through the little stream, and carried on walking. Ozzie resisted the urge to carve his name into the bridge. He was mildly surprised that no one else had, especially the guys who’d left the soda can.
By the time they made camp they’d passed another ruined bridge, as well as a big circular depression in the ground whose edges were made from tight-fitting stone blocks. Neither archaeological remnant provided any clue as to what kind of creatures had built them. A bridge was a pretty basic design for any species, as were sturdy foundations, which is what Ozzie suspected the circle to be.
Through the day, they’d managed to close the distance on the group of travelers in front of them to about a mile. Once they got the tent up, the gold light became visible in the gathering darkness.
“That’s just about where they are,” Orion said. “You should fire a flare, Ozzie. There’s no way they can’t see it now.”
Ozzie gazed at the steady point of light. “They know we’re here. If they don’t want to talk to us, there’s no sense in trying to force them.”
Orion nodded cheerfully, and cut into one of the big fruits. “I get that about people now, you can’t rush somebody who doesn’t want to be rushed, right?”
“You’re learning.”
“So I let the girl set the pace.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And she’ll always find a way to tell me when she’s ready to go to bed? You’re sure about that?”
“Uh, yeah.” Ozzie was beginning to dread evenings around the campfire. The boy did have an amazingly one-track mind. “But, look, man, it’s going to be subtle. You’ve got to be alert and in tune.”
“Like how do you mean?”
“Okay, if she’s happy for the date to go on as long as you want, that’s a good sign.”
“I thought you said don’t try to get her to bed on the first date?”
“Yes, yes, that’s right. But this is the second date, or later.”
“Okay. So it goes on all night. Do I ask them home, or will they ask me?”
“I don’t know, man. It depends on the girl, okay? Use your judgment.”
“But, Ozzie, I haven’t got any, that’s why I ask you.”
“Want another line to use?” He’d found that was always a good way to make Orion stop, although the cost to his own dignity was always painfully high.
“Yeah!”
“All right. But you’ve got to have a ton of self-confidence for this one, okay, show no fear. ‘Is it me or do you always look this good?’ ”
“Maybe,” Orion said dubiously. “But you’d have to have a good follow-up line.”
“Hey, I’m just showing you how to open the door, once you’re in the room you’re on your own.”
The voices returned in the deep of night. This time they were slightly louder, occurring more frequently.
Orion woke with a start as one set of voices passed right beside the tent. Ozzie was already sitting up in his sleeping bag, listening to what was spoken and the way it was said.
“It is ghosts, isn’t it?” Orion said solemnly.
“Kinda looks that way, yeah. You scared, man?”
“Ozzie! It’s ghosts!”
“Right. Well, I’m scared, just in case you wanted to know.” He wriggled out of his sleeping bag and unzipped the tent. The night air was alive with sound, hundreds of voices that swirled chaotically around their little camp. He walked out into their midst, turning—into daylight. His feet were standing on a lush carpet of blue-green grass that covered the canyon floor, along with trees and thick bushes. The avenue of trees had been replaced by a road built from stone cobbles. Strange five-legged bovine animals pulled wooden carts along it, piled high with barrels and some local version of hay. The drivers were aliens that looked like pear-shaped jellyfish, with hundreds of slender tendrils emerging from their lower half, serving as both legs and arms. Individually weak, the wax-white tendrils would twine together to produce a stronger limb for whatever use was required. Dozens of them were sliding along the road, the tips of their tendrils twisting and scrabbling like impaled worms to move them forward. They called to each other in low gurgling voices.
One of the carts was heading straight for Ozzie. He waved his arms frantically. “Hey, watch what…” The driver obviously couldn’t see him, or the tent, or Orion standing at his side. He grabbed a frozen Orion and hauled him aside, falling off the side of the road—into nighttime.
“Fuck me!” Ozzie grunted. He raised his head and looked around. Nothing had changed, stars glittered in the night sky, casting a faint illumination. The avenue of trees stood impassively along the side of the quiet river, marking the course of the old road.
“Wow!” Orion gushed. “Cool.”
“Uh?”
Starlight showed the boy’s wide smile. “Don’t you get it? This canyon is a time machine, like the Silfen paths are wormholes. How smooth is that?”
“That was just an image, man,” Ozzie said, somewhat stiffly as he clambered back to his feet, brushing sand off his shorts. “It’s showing us what used to be here.”