Meridian Days Read Free Page B

hellish lagoon of molten lava. Even the most hardy of the planet's fauna dwelled within the safety margin of zone blue, beside the meridional ocean.
    One hour later we were still kilometres from the ochreous foreshore of the Brightside, and the thermometer on the dash indicated that the temperature outside was one hundred and ten fahrenheit. Every breath of air, seemingly devoid of oxygen, parched my throat. I took frequent drinks from Abe's canteen.
    He leaned forward and peered through the viewscreen, then pointed. "Look..."
    I followed his gesture. To our left, high in the blue sky above the ocean, a falling bolt of white light appeared suddenly as if by magic. The first bolt, to which Abe had alerted me, had already found its target, the great arched column reducing in length as it hit the Telemass reception pad. The second bolt followed instantly, then a third, all landing on the largest island of the chain some two hundred kilometres south of our present position. Each pulse, from its first appearance in the stratosphere to the time it hit destination, lasted for barely a second, and as ever I found it hard to believe that I had witnessed the medium which transported the constituent molecules of human beings and supplies more than twenty light years through space from Earth to Meridian. I found it even more difficult to accept that I too had undergone the same process of reduction, transmission and reconstitution.
    "The sight always gives me one hell of a thrill."
    Abe smiled. "You're not alone. I think everyone feels the same. I know I do. And it's not just our intellect trying to come to terms with the technological wonder of it."
    I was staring to my left, imagining the sensation of dislocation and relief that the travellers would be experiencing as they were reformed on the deck of the station.
    "We always feel awe at that which we don't understand," Abe was saying. "But it's more than that. When we see the bolts, we're reminded of the connection to Earth. It's the life-line to the one place we all have in common. The sight of the bolts reassures us that mother Earth still cares, that we're still connected by the techno-umbilical that gave us our new life here."
    "Hence the massive news coverage when something goes wrong, like the mistranslation last year?"
    He nodded. A thousand droplets of sweat stood out on his face. "And hence the concern over recent rumours concerning the station."
    There were times when my isolation and indifference to what was happening outside the confines of my head put me at a serious disadvantage. "What rumours?"
    "You haven't heard?" Abe glanced quickly from the viewscreen to me. "There's been a reduction of staffing levels at the station over the past couple of months. The Director's leaving soon for a more prestigious posting. Rumour is that both incoming and outgoing shots will be cut to one a month."
    "But it's just that, I take it? A rumour?" At present, there were three shots to and from Earth every month.
    "It's a rumour Director Steiner hasn't bothered to deny, Bob. On a broadcast last week he was non-committal. If it is true, it'll probably mean a waiting list and one hell of a price increase. I'm glad I don't send that much to Earth, but some of the artists will not be pleased." I thought I detected a slight note of irony in his tone.
    "Meridian isn't that popular anymore," I commented.
    "Tourism's down fifty percent since last year, after the quake scare. A dozen big hotels on Main have shut up shop over the past six months. Also, Consolidated Mining has got what it can from the margins of Brightside and Darkside — they reckon increased investment to go further in wouldn't be a sound proposition. Earth is looking to other, bigger colonies for investment, hence the rumours of scale-down." Abe laughed. "We'll soon be a backwater, Bob. Here we go."
    We had reached the parched plains of Brightside. Abe accelerated and we rocketed at great speed across the wastes of the