From the time the great red eye of the sun opened itself in the East
until it disappeared in the blue haze beyond the crysolite city, Kiron
labored with his fellows. Then, at the appointed hour, the musical
signals would peal forth their sweet, sad chimes, whispering goodnight
to ears that would hear them no more and all operations would halt for
the night, just as it had done when The Masters were here to supervise
it.
Then when morning came he would start once more trying, testing,
experimenting with his chemicals and plastics, forever following
labyrinth of knowledge, seeking for the great triumph that would make
the work of the others of some real use.
His hands molded the materials carefully, lovingly to a pattern that was
set in his mind as a thing to cherish. Day by day his experiments in
their liquid baths took form under his careful modeling. He mixed his
chemicals with the same loving touch, the same careful concentration and
painstaking thoroughness, studying often his notes and analysis charts.
Everything must be just so lest his experiment not turn out perfectly.
He never became exasperated at a failure or a defect that proved to be
the only reward for his faithful endeavors but worked patiently on
toward a goal that he knew would ultimately be his.
Then one day, as the great red sun glowed like an immense red eye
overhead, Kiron stepped back to admire his handiwork. In that instant
the entire wondrous city seemed to breathe a silent prayer as he stood
transfixed by the sight before him. Then it went on as usual, hurrying
noiselessly about its business. The surface cars, empty though they
were, fled swiftly about supported only by the rings of magnetic force
that held them to their designated paths. The gravoships raised from the
tower-dromes to speed silently into the eye of the red sun that was
dying.
"No one now," Kiron thought to himself as he studied his handiwork. Then
he walked unhurriedly to the cabinet in the laboratory corner and took
from it a pair of earphones resembling those of a long forgotten radio
set. Just as unhurriedly, though his mind was filled with turmoil and
his being with excitement, he walked back and connected the earphones to
the box upon his bench. The phones dangled into the liquid bath before
him as he adjusted them to suit his requirements.
Slowly he checked over every step of his experiments before he went
farther. Then, as he proved them for the last time, his hand went slowly
to the small knife switch upon the box at his elbow. Next he threw into
connection the larger switch upon his laboratory wall bringing into his
laboratory the broadcast power of the crysolite city.
The laboratory generators hummed softly, drowning out the quiet hum of
the city outside. As they built up, sending tiny living electrical
impulses over the wires like minute currents that come from the brain,
Kiron sat breathless; his eyes intent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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