The Journey Ends
During the thirty days of our journey, I was the witness of marvels so
numerous that, if I were to dwell upon them all, I might fill hundreds
of pages. Yet while there is much that cannot be recorded and much
that I have forgotten, there are some observations which have stamped
themselves indelibly upon my memory, and which are so essential for an
understanding of Atlantis that I could not well overlook them.
Thus, I found that the wall enclosing the country formed a vast circle,
of a diameter impossible to determine precisely but probably in the
neighborhood of two hundred miles. Thus, also, I learned that the glass
roof was at an average height of five hundred feet above the ground,
although the distance varied greatly according to the level of the
land; and I discovered that it was everywhere supported by myriads
of the huge tinted columns--columns with steel interiors and surface
of concrete or stone. I ascertained, likewise, that the Salty River
followed an absolutely unbending course, flowing in a straight-line
and on an even, gradual grade from the western wall of Atlantis to
the eastern (since it was really a canal rather than a river); and I
was amazed and dazzled at sight of the great intra-atomic pumps which
forced the torrents back into the sea.
Since they were expected to overcome a pressure of many tons to the
square foot, these pumps had to be very powerful; and powerful they
were, with their labyrinths of levers and revolving chains, and
three-hundred-foot pistons and rods that pounded against the waters
like gigantic pile-drivers, pressing them slowly back into the sea to
the accompaniment of a roaring and thundering that could be heard for
miles and that proved deafening upon close approach.
The cities of Atlantis, according to the count I made, were eighteen
in number (exclusive of the smaller towns and villages). But an
Atlantean city, although always occupying considerable space, was
what we in America should scarcely regard as a city at all, since it
never had more than twenty or twenty-five thousand inhabitants. This
insignificant population, when considered along with the liberal amount
of territory allotted each town, accounted for the fact that no great
crowds were ever to be seen on the streets; and it also explained how
it was possible for efficient popular assemblages to debate and decide
public questions.
But the surprising fact about the Atlantean cities was not so much
their small population as their almost unbelievable variety. No town
in Atlantis was like any other town; the only characteristic possessed
by them all in common was their unfailing beauty. To give some idea of
their amazing diversity, I might mention the city of Atolis, which,
when seen from the hill that surmounted it, formed a definite pattern,
resembling some colossal Grecian temple of which the streets and
avenues were the columns. Or I might picture Aedla, which was built
along a series of canals connecting with the Salty River, with a lake
in the center, giving a Venetian effect, except that the palaces were
more exquisitely designed than any in the upper world. Then, again, I
might depict the small town of Acropolon, in which all the houses were
connected in an enormous colonnaded quadrangle surrounding a vividly
flowering park, reminding me of some university I had seen long before;
or I might launch into a lengthy description of Mangona, another
small town, whose houses were all roofless and collapsible, and were
generally taken down during the day and put into place only at night or
when the inhabitants desired seclusion.
But more interesting to me than any of these was Sardolos, one of
the few present-day Atlantean cities that had existed before the
Submergence. Although of course the town was not the same as in ancient
times, and although its gracefully winding thoroughfares and marble
friezes and frescoed domes represented the work of modern artists, yet
some relics of the old days had been carefully preserved.
In one corner of the city, concealed from the general gaze in a
statue-lined bronze enclosure, were the remains of buildings said to
date from the second century B. S. Yet, ancient as these ruins were, my
first impression was that there was something familiar about them. The
most conspicuous exhibit was a stone wall, five stories high and with
gaping rectangular holes where the windows had been; and to the rear
was a mass of rusted and distorted steel, reaching the full height of
the wall with twisted, spidery arms that had once lent it support.
“A splendid specimen of pre-Submergence architecture,” stated a
placard placed prominently before the exhibit. “This was the seat of
the Stock Market of old Sardolos--a wholesale gambling house abolished
by the Anti-Corruption Act of the first century A. S. The mass of
shapeless and desiccated stone opposite is all that remains of the
Inter-Atlantean Bank, which owned a controlling share in this gambling
resort; while just to the right were the ruins of the shrine in which
the owners of the bank worshipped, and of the clubhouse in which, late
in the second century B. S., they convened in the interest of their
lotteries, and decided to declare the fifth Atlanto-Bengenese war.”
* * * * *
But when I looked to see the ruins, all that I beheld was a series
of irregular stone walls, not over two or three feet high and brown
with the lifeless parchment hue of extreme age. Somehow, it made me
uncomfortable to look upon these vestiges of the past; nor was I
relieved when I gazed at a picture of Sardolos as it had been, and saw
two long opposing rows of geometrically regular five-story buildings.
To think of these, and then to turn to present-day Atlantis, was merely
to shudder at the contrast; yet all the while I could not repress the
sense that I was standing in the presence of something undefinably
familiar.
If it was somewhat irritating to gaze at the ruins of Sardolos,
the disagreeable moments were few indeed during the thirty days of
the journey. All in all, I have rarely taken part in so thoroughly
delightful an expedition; and my joy in the trip is not to be explained
merely by the engrossing sights of Atlantis, nor by the companionship
of the twenty enthusiastic, friendly young students, but rather by
the presence of one who meant more to me than all else that Atlantis
contained. My opportunities of speaking with Aelios were not plentiful,
for she seemed always to be engaged in conversation with some member
of the party; but occasionally I exchanged a few words with her,
and occasionally she darted a bright smile in my direction, thereby
reassuring me when at times I gave way to disturbing doubts.
It was not until our travels were drawing to a close that I had another
intimate talk with her. The morning of the thirtieth day had arrived,
and we had set out through wide fields of the wheat-like reed toward
the city of Archeon, which we hoped to reach shortly after noon. But,
absorbed in somber contemplation, I took no part in the merriment of
my companions, and almost from the first I lagged moodily behind them.
Hence it was a relief to hear light footsteps suddenly at my side, and
to find a flaxen-curled head nodding a greeting and a pair of kindly
bright blue eyes peering at me inquiringly.
“Aelios!” I exclaimed. And I returned her greeting in terms that could
not half express my pleasure.
She wasted no time about plunging into the subject that had brought her
to me. “Today our journey ends,” she reminded me, almost regretfully.
“And tomorrow you must take up your duties as a citizen. You may find
matters a little strange at first. Perhaps there are already some
things that puzzle you.”
“Indeed there are,” I admitted. “I really have very little idea what I
am expected to do.”
“Oh, but you must have some idea!” she remonstrated. “Why, haven’t you
been appointed Historian of the Upper World?”
“Yes, that is so,” I murmured.
“Then you must set out at once upon your duties. In work such as yours,
no record will be taken of the hours you employ, but you have a moral
obligation to work not less than two hours a day.”
“That doesn’t seem excessive,” I stated, with a smile.
“Yes, but remember you have also an obligation to do some work on your
own account for the State. And things won’t be any easier, if, as you
say, you will combine your assigned and chosen work.”
“The real problem,” I acknowledge hesitatingly, “is that I don’t know
the language well enough to write a history.”
Aelios frowned disapprovingly. “Oh, but you have already a good
speaking command of Atlantean,” she pointed out. “And with practice
you should be able to write passably well. Meanwhile I’d advise you to
go to the government library, and read up all you can to familiarize
yourself with our language--and with our life.”
I thanked Aelios for the suggestion, and promised to visit the library
at the first opportunity.
“But don’t forget that mere working and studying won’t be enough,”
she continued. “I hope you’ll make friends of many of our people, and
participate in our intellectual contests and recreations. You might
even join one of the political parties.”
“Political parties?” I repeated. “I didn’t know there were any parties
in Atlantis.”
“Oh, yes, of course there are,” she quickly returned. “There are
always several parties to present their opinions at the Hall of Public
Enlightenment.”
“What parties are those?” I inquired.
“Well, let’s see,” she enumerated, reflectively. “First of all,
there’s the Party of Submergence, so-called because it was founded
by Agripides and has been the ruling group ever since the Good
Destruction. Then there is the Industrial Reform Party, which
contends that all machines and in particular intra-atomic engines
are incongruous in Atlantis and should be reduced to a minimum far
below the present number. Then, again, there is the Party of Artistic
Emancipation, which is really literary rather than political, and
appeals for freedom in art. Also, there is the Party of Birth
Extension, which maintains that the government should relax its
restrictions on population. And, finally, enlarging the principles
of the Birth Extension Party, there is the Party of Emergence, which
is the smallest of them all and has always been highly unpopular if
not actually despised, since it holds that we should renounce the
principles of Agripides, enter into communication with the upper world,
and send our excess population to live above seas.”
“That sounds quite interesting,” I commented, for the Party of
Emergence seemed to me to be the most understandable of the group. “But
you say this last party has never had much success?”
“Fortunately not. Its members have always been looked down upon
as anti-social agitators, for they have transgressed against
that fundamental principle, ‘Atlantis for the Atlanteans.’ Few
self-respecting citizens have ever lent them support, and they have
never been powerful enough to carry any of their proposals.”
“Too bad,” I found myself remarking, with unguarded frankness; and the
shocked expression on Aelios’ face showed me how I had erred.
“At any rate, now that you know something about the parties, you will
be better able to choose among them,” she concluded.
I assured her that I would choose as best I could.
“If there’s ever anything you’re in doubt about,” she urged, “don’t
be afraid to ask me. I know that things aren’t easy here for you, a
stranger from a strange land, and I’d like to help if I could.”
I thanked her fervently, and declared that I should not hesitate to
consult her should occasion arise. And secretly I was determined that
the occasion should arise.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” she returned. And her eyes shone with
a bright light, and her lips quivered sympathetically, and her whole
face radiated kindliness and warmth.
But at this juncture she saw fit to give the interview an impersonal
turn. “See, over there!” she exclaimed, pointing through a break in the
dense green foliage. “Those are the towers of Archeon!”
I looked eagerly, and far across the plain I beheld a minute glittering
spire, more than half obscured by the intervening array of tinted
columns--the first sign of that city which I was this day to enter, and
where I was to make my home, and seek the fulfillment of my love, and
undertake my duties as a citizen of the Sunken World.
* * * * *
[Illustration: ... By degrees it lengthened until it seemed a long
jet of water shot horizontally out of some colossal hose. Intensely
white, with the whiteness of foam and edges blurred with spray, it went
hurtling with the impetuosity and swiftness of an arrow from the nozzle
of a gigantic pipe, a plunging outward hundreds of yards in a graceful
parabola and giving rise to the River.]
* * * * *