Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; Science fiction; Tibet Autonomous Region (China) -- Fiction
Before one of these forges, close to us, stood a Metal Thing. Its body
was a twelve-foot column of smaller cubes. Upon the top was a hollow
square formed of even lesser blocks--blocks hardly larger than the
Little Things themselves. In the center of the open rectangle was
another shaft, its top a two-foot square plate formed of a single cube.
From the sides of the hollow square sprang long arms of spheres, each
tipped by a tetrahedron. They moved freely, slipping about upon their
curved points of contact and like a dozen little thinking hammers,
the pyramid points at their ends beat down upon as many thimble shaped
objects which they thrust alternately into the unwinking brazier then
laid upon the central block to shape.
A goblin workman the Thing seemed, standing there, so intent upon and so
busy with its forgings.
There were scores of these animate machines; they paid no slightest
heed to us as we slipped by them, clinging as closely to the wall of the
immense workshop as we could.
We passed a company of other Shapes which stood two by two and close
together, their tops wide spinning wheels through which the tendrils
of an opened globe fed translucent, colorless ingots--the substance it
seemed to me of which Norhala's shadowy walls were made, the crystal of
which the bars that built out the base of the Cones were formed.
The ingots passed between the whirling faces; emerged from them as
slender, long cylinders; were seized as they slipped down by a crouching
block, whose place as it glided away was instantly taken by another. In
many bewildering forms, intent upon unknown activities directed toward
unguessable ends, the composite, animate mechanisms labored. And all the
place was filled with a goblin bustle, trollish racketings, ringing of
gnomish anvils, clanging of kobold forges--a clamorous cavern filled
with metal Nibelungens.
We came to the opening of another passage, a doorway piercing the walls
of the workshop. Its incline, though steep, was not dangerous.
Into it we stepped; climbed onward it seemed interminably. Far ahead
of us at last appeared the outline of its further entrance, silhouetted
against and filled with a brighter luminosity. We drew near; stopped
cautiously at its threshold, peering out.
Well it was that we had hesitated. Before us was open space--an abyss in
the body of the Metal Monster.
The corridor opened into it like a window. Thrusting out our heads,
we saw an unbroken wall both above and below. Half a mile away was
its opposite side. Over this pit was a misty sky and not more than a
thousand feet above and black against the heavens was the lip of it--the
cornices of this chasm within the City.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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