Short Story, Serialized, Part 2
The Barrier
by MK Alexander
Part 2
My father, yes. I had almost forgotten his contribution. He was among the first to examine the barrier in great detail, all those years ago. The memories came rushing back as I drifted home, oblivious to my surroundings. His conclusions swept through my mind: the barrier… made of the same stuff, but existing in a different state. As if our very air and its temperatures were taken to the extreme, from roiling hot to cold, and colder still, until it reached a point of solidification. What? Solidification? Such seemed impossible to me. There are currents and winds, the flows and ebbs— but solidification? How could that even be possible?
And yet his ideas came to be mine. They best explained how the barrier could be so brittle, so rock-hard, so resistant; and at other times, so soft and pasty, falling away to nothing. I remembered the first time he took me to the heights. I was little more than a child, giddy with excitement, though woefully unprepared. The heights, the bracing cold, the light-headedness that came to me… all so new to my experience. I was dizzy by the time we approached the barrier. I felt its shape up close, craggy and hilly, pitted and jagged. My father, a reckless man? Was he bringing me so close to danger? He urged me to touch the barrier with my hand. It was looming, all encompassing, cold, colder than anything, dark and impervious to my senses. Surely, it was far more ancient than anything in our world.
“It is a wall,” he said simply. “It is certainly solid, though it appears to be just like our regular atmosphere, and most importantly, it is amenable to heat.”
“How do you mean, amenable?” I asked with wonder.
“When heat is applied it falls away into normal air.”
“I thought it was chippable?”
“That as well. But we’ve been chipping away for many centuries without any great progress. We’ve but made a dent in it, less than a hundred fathoms in all these years of toil.”
“So… how thick do you think the great barrier is?”
“No one can say.”
“Will it take centuries more to get through?”
“By chipping and hacking? Probably.”
“Well, we’ll get more workers, many more, and better tools,” I offered hopefully.
“I think there is another solution.”
“Which is?”
“Heat.”
I didn’t understand.
“In the early days the digging was easy,” my father explained. “The barrier fell away rather quickly. Now it’s grown harder, more difficult to dig through. Ah… but we’ve learned much over the years. Most importantly we’ve learned it softens with time. We dig anew, through the hard, brittle strata, and then we wait a day or so… this waiting seems to soften the barrier, though slowly— it makes the digging a bit easier. But this takes so much time, or rather, it adds so much time to the process.”
My father led me to the cave, the dig site. It seemed huge to me, perfectly round, and polished along the sides, large enough to fit ten abreast. A true marvel— though, now I’ve come to understand, it was only a tiny pinprick in the great barrier.
“Heat? Yes, this was your father’s idea,” my mentor said the next morning. “And how do you propose to get heat to the heights?”
“I’ve outlined a plan and seek to implement it. That’s why I’ve asked you here.”
“You have a new idea then?”
“I do.”
“And…?”
“I’ve developed a novel technique… by using these tubes, very long tubes fastened together with pitch and tar. At the end of each is attached a scoop made of the toughest materials known. With these devices, we can safely reach into the depths and pick up the hottest stones from along the shore. We raise them to the barrier and let them do their work. My experiments show that these smoldering rocks can do in hours, what years of chipping would take. The rocks cool eventually and loose their efficiency. We simply let them drop back to the shore.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“What?”
“These falling rocks… landing on the heads of our citizens?”
“Well, they fall slowly enough… and we work only above an unpopulated area. We will take every precaution. We’ll have monitors, we’ll clear the area. None will be hit by a falling rock, of this I can assure you.”
“I’m impressed with your current idea,” my mentor said. “You should proceed at once.”
Next week: the conclusion...
by MK Alexander
Part 2
My father, yes. I had almost forgotten his contribution. He was among the first to examine the barrier in great detail, all those years ago. The memories came rushing back as I drifted home, oblivious to my surroundings. His conclusions swept through my mind: the barrier… made of the same stuff, but existing in a different state. As if our very air and its temperatures were taken to the extreme, from roiling hot to cold, and colder still, until it reached a point of solidification. What? Solidification? Such seemed impossible to me. There are currents and winds, the flows and ebbs— but solidification? How could that even be possible?
And yet his ideas came to be mine. They best explained how the barrier could be so brittle, so rock-hard, so resistant; and at other times, so soft and pasty, falling away to nothing. I remembered the first time he took me to the heights. I was little more than a child, giddy with excitement, though woefully unprepared. The heights, the bracing cold, the light-headedness that came to me… all so new to my experience. I was dizzy by the time we approached the barrier. I felt its shape up close, craggy and hilly, pitted and jagged. My father, a reckless man? Was he bringing me so close to danger? He urged me to touch the barrier with my hand. It was looming, all encompassing, cold, colder than anything, dark and impervious to my senses. Surely, it was far more ancient than anything in our world.
“It is a wall,” he said simply. “It is certainly solid, though it appears to be just like our regular atmosphere, and most importantly, it is amenable to heat.”
“How do you mean, amenable?” I asked with wonder.
“When heat is applied it falls away into normal air.”
“I thought it was chippable?”
“That as well. But we’ve been chipping away for many centuries without any great progress. We’ve but made a dent in it, less than a hundred fathoms in all these years of toil.”
“So… how thick do you think the great barrier is?”
“No one can say.”
“Will it take centuries more to get through?”
“By chipping and hacking? Probably.”
“Well, we’ll get more workers, many more, and better tools,” I offered hopefully.
“I think there is another solution.”
“Which is?”
“Heat.”
I didn’t understand.
“In the early days the digging was easy,” my father explained. “The barrier fell away rather quickly. Now it’s grown harder, more difficult to dig through. Ah… but we’ve learned much over the years. Most importantly we’ve learned it softens with time. We dig anew, through the hard, brittle strata, and then we wait a day or so… this waiting seems to soften the barrier, though slowly— it makes the digging a bit easier. But this takes so much time, or rather, it adds so much time to the process.”
My father led me to the cave, the dig site. It seemed huge to me, perfectly round, and polished along the sides, large enough to fit ten abreast. A true marvel— though, now I’ve come to understand, it was only a tiny pinprick in the great barrier.
“Heat? Yes, this was your father’s idea,” my mentor said the next morning. “And how do you propose to get heat to the heights?”
“I’ve outlined a plan and seek to implement it. That’s why I’ve asked you here.”
“You have a new idea then?”
“I do.”
“And…?”
“I’ve developed a novel technique… by using these tubes, very long tubes fastened together with pitch and tar. At the end of each is attached a scoop made of the toughest materials known. With these devices, we can safely reach into the depths and pick up the hottest stones from along the shore. We raise them to the barrier and let them do their work. My experiments show that these smoldering rocks can do in hours, what years of chipping would take. The rocks cool eventually and loose their efficiency. We simply let them drop back to the shore.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“What?”
“These falling rocks… landing on the heads of our citizens?”
“Well, they fall slowly enough… and we work only above an unpopulated area. We will take every precaution. We’ll have monitors, we’ll clear the area. None will be hit by a falling rock, of this I can assure you.”
“I’m impressed with your current idea,” my mentor said. “You should proceed at once.”
Next week: the conclusion...
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