“Is it natural?” Hesper asked of no one in particular.
“It was a sea bottom once,” the eldest of the sneakthief brothers told her. “But it was levelled off a bit, too.”
Sinbiane had joined them. “Earth’s is an ancient culture, lady, and has peculiarities perhaps not found elsewhere. One of these is the culture of the moving cities. For centuries they have roamed this plain.”
“They really move? But why?”
“Come!” ordered Pout. “Down onto the plain!”
They descended. But instead of setting out immediately over the ocean of waving tall grass, as Hesper had expected, Pout stopped and turned to her. From the bib-like garment he wore he drew, not her scangun, but a different-looking gun she had not seen before.
“Time you joined our little gang properly,” he told her in a thick voice, curling back his protruding lips. “We have an initiation rite.”
Hesper looked blankly at the gun.
Lacey was showing signs of distress, a pained look coming over his face. “Aw, boss, not to the lady. It ain’t right to a lady. She’ll be a good girl, won’tcha, lady? She’ll do what she’s told.”
As he said this he reached out his arm to Hesper. She drew away. Pout waved him back. His gaze was fixed on Hesper’s breast.
The muzzle of the zen gun was barely a yard from her as he pointed it at her left nipple.
“Look!” cried Sinbiane.
He was pointing to something that had appeared on the horizon: a hulking yellow shape that heaved itself up, like a rising sun or moon, but which seemed almost too big to be coming over the horizon. It was as if it were only on the other side of a table.
Spellbound, they watched until it came fully into view, even though the process took several minutes. It was like a mobile castle supporting clusters of round, moulded towers, and it gleamed like gold as the sun caught it.
Suddenly, a fear of the unknown entered Pout’s brain. He stabbed at the buttons of his gun, returning it to kill mode. Then he returned it to his bib, and beckoned.
“Come.”
The moving city appeared to be making for the north of the plain; its progress would take it round a long promontory, though at the rate it went it probably would not get there for a day or two. The grass of the plain was taller than on the higher ground; it came to their mid-thighs (in Pout’s and Sinbiane’s case, to their hips) and they waded through it as they half-ran towards the gorgeous vision.
How do they know we’ll be allowed in? Hesper thought.
But no such doubt seemed to have entered the others’ minds. They stopped running after ten minutes, panting, with the city seeming no nearer.
After that they walked, for about three miles, while the structure grew and grew. Hesper could not keep her eyes off it. One did not normally think of a city as a thing—it was a place. But this was a thing, and at the same time, it was undeniably a city.
Or rather, it was like the centre of a city translocated, its skyscrapers torn away from its suburbs to live a freelance life of their own. Hesper found it almost incredible that such a massive object could be mobile, at least on the ground (in space was a different matter). Perhaps, she thought, it had to keep moving to stop itself from sinking into the Earth! As they approached she could see that it was surrounded by a skirt of casings which presumably covered whatever it rode on, and from this emanated a low quivering, rumbling sound.
She estimated the city’s speed at about half a mile per hour. At length they found themselves below the outer wall, peering up at towers, balustrades and walkways. Pout scampered to and fro, desperately searching for an entrance.
It was one of the sneakthief brothers who eventually let out a penetrating whistle and guided them to a ramp which sloped down over the tread casings (gigantic treads, Hesper decided probably were the most economical method of locomotion), gliding over the grassland like the front end of a lawnmower.
The slope was gentle, but quite long. It ended in a portico fifty feet wide, the way barred by a silver grille. This withdrew; they entered, found their way barred by yet a second grille, while the first fell back into place behind them. The area between was capacious. From the floor, a table emerged, bearing flagons, cups, and a large platter of fruit and breads.
There was a gentle tone, followed by a pleasant female voice.
“To our visitors, greetings! You stand at the entrance to Mo City, one of twenty mobile cities that inhabit this flat veldt known as Flatland on the maps. The levelness of the terrain is of assistance, not to the mobility of the cities which are able to negotiate inclines, but so that the human inhabitants may not find their floors and other surfaces tilting. Before entering Mo, it is as well that you should know something of the reason for the existence of the moving cities. They were originally the brainchild of the social scientist and historian Otto Klemperer, whose thesis was that there is a particular form of political constellation which has been especially fruitful for civilisation. This is where a number of independent city states exist within the same geographical area, sharing a common language and a common culture to some extent, but rivals in every other sense. Cases of particular note are the city states of ancient Greece, the city states of the central plain of China of the same period, and the city states of Italy at the time of the Renaissance. In each case, the ideational foundations were laid, within a comparatively short space of time, for the subsequent development of entire civilisations.
“Klemperer, with the backing of the then Emperor of Eurasia, decided to reinstitute the arrangement in modern form, resulting in the cities of the plain of which Mo, named after a scientific philosopher of the Chinese period, is one. To ensure that each city would remain distinct Klemperer placed its government and administration in the hands of a machine mind, so that a city is, in a very real sense, an intelligent entity in its own right. The citizens live in symbiotic relationship with this entity, and are not normally permitted to leave their city. To establish a common cultural heritage with the proper degree of cultural intercourse, the cities were made mobile. From time to time, under the direction of the city minds themselves, they meet up, and then—if you will pardon the term—a kind of cultural copulation takes place. The two cities are connected by bridges and walkways and the two populations mingle with an air of festivity. This is a great occasion in the life of a city.
“The cities of the plain are now three hundred and forty-seven years old. To be honest, the scientific and artistic renaissance Klemperer had anticipated has not yet come about. Nevertheless, Mohists, together with the inhabitants of the other mobile cities, can claim to be the most leisured and continuously educated people in the universe.
“You are welcome to enter. To distinguish you from Mohists proper you will wear an orange badge on your foreheads. Along with all other citizens, you will be required to attend daily lectures in various subjects. For you I have selected a talk entitled ‘Basic Physics.’
“Normally I would add that after three days you may decide whether you wish to become citizens or not. However, astronomical irregularities indicate a strong possibility that our planet may be destroyed in the next few hours. If so, let us endure our fate with philosophical calm and-fortitude!”
At this members of Pout’s party stared at one another. “What irregularities?” Hesper said harshly. There was no answer, other than that the inner grille withdrew, disclosing a path leading, after a few yards, to the interior of the city.
As they stepped onto it, Hesper noted that on the foreheads of her companions circular orange patches had appeared. She put a hand to her own forehead, could feel nothing, but was sure the patch was there.