World's End

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"Yes . . ." the Lake whispers, echoing, echoing in my head. "Lost . . . lost in time . . buried alive!

Your servant.

. . ."

My vision, my hearing, are ablaze with phantoms. At last I understand the Lake's obsession with humans--its creators, its gods.

But it drove them away. "Why did you destroy this city?

Why do you cause chaos in World's End?" The stardrive was designed to do one thing only: to manipulate the space-time continuum, to permit timelike movement by a ship through space without paradox. It could never be allowed to act on whim, or it would catastrophically disrupt human civilization. It was by definition a creature of perfect sanity and control. But it acts randomly, unpredictably . . . Insanely

"Order," the Lake whispers. "Lost . . . lost . . . order me!"

Torment shakes my mind. Order, disorder, madness-- why? What trauma had it suffered. . . . Of course. "The crash!" I gasp, hanging on to the door, hanging on-- "The crash damaged you." The crash must have

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destroyed its sense of order, turned its space-time interactions random. Its ability to maintain its own physical integrity had become uncontrollable mutation. . . .

Until now there are countless separate states of potential order, each functioning in its own reality, altogether.

Together they breed madness, helplessness, despair--a tortured mind. Fire Lake.

"I understand!" I whisper. It has waited for its creators to hear it, to heal it, to give back its reason for existing.

. . .

And at last, after a thousand years of waiting, someone has answered. I have. I am the right one, the one who knows, after all I press my forehead against the metal filigree, supported by the solid reality of the door. "I

know what you need."

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"Yes1" Song screams with theLake 's voice. She turns from the window, I see her reaching out to me, tears running down her cheeks . . . but it is not her face that Page 161

I see, it is Moon's, as theLake enters my mind to reward me.

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Istir on the floor and sit up. I shake my head, grimacing, wondering how much time has passed.

It is night outside, but that means nothing, here. I wonder why I am still even trying to keep track of time.

TheLake . . I pull myself up the door until I am standing, barely. My body is rubbery and weak from hours lost in theLake 's rejoicing. I run my hands uncertainly over my stained clothing, to be sure all the parts are still there; look down at myself, but not too closely

--knowing, but not ready to remember too much. I

laugh, and there is still an edge of hysteria on it. I think that I will never be afraid of letting go, of losing myself in too much sensory pleasure, again . . . because nothing

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in human experience could possibly equal what I have just been through.

Aftershocks and afterimages spark and smoulder in my burnt-out nerve fibers, but my mind is clear enough to think again. I stagger to Song's bedside table through the ember-light of her fire globe. I look at the globe closely for the first time, and realize at last that it holds a captive droplet of theLake itself. I touch it with uncertain hands, feeling its heat dimly through the heavy protective surface; feeling the Lake lapping inexorably on the shores of my mind. I unstopper the brandy and take a long drink. The liquor burns in my throat, making me cough, but feeding me strength. When I have enough strength to move again, I go back to the door. It is still 202

WORLD S END

locked; Song never reached it before theLake overwhelmed us both. "Song?" I call, but she doesn't respond.

I can't see her in the darkness beyond.

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After some searching I find a light panel, and turn lights on in the room; realizing that somewhere here there is actually a generator. I begin to search through Song's piles of treasure. There must be something in this warehouse of contraband with a powerpack I can use in the beamer.

I find my desert boots, wince as I pull them onto my swollen feet. And at last I find what I am looking for-- a broken module off of some unlucky pilgrim's rover. I jam one of the oversized packs into the gun butt, hoping that it still has enough of a charge to do me some good.