Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World Read Online Free PDF Page A

down," the man replied. "I take it out."
    Well, I guess, if he said so. I kept walking, saying nothing. Everything was very peaceful now, thanks to his softening the sound of the water. I could even hear the squish-squish of my rubber boots. From overhead there came a weird grinding as if someone were rubbing pebbles together. Twice, three times, then it stopped.
    "I found signs that those INKlings were sneakin' in here. I got worried, so I came't'fetch you. By rights INKlings shouldn't ever make it this far in, but sometimes these things happen. A real problem," the man said.
    "INKlings?" I said.
    "Even someone like you, bet y'wouldn't fancy runnin' into an INKling down here, eh?" said the man, bursting into a loud guffaw.
    "I suppose not," I said. INKling or whatling, I wasn't up for a rendezvous in a dark place like this.
    "That's why I came't'get you," the man repeated. "Those INKlings are bad news."
    "Much obliged," I said.
    We walked on until we came within hearing of what sounded like a faucet running full blast. The waterfall. With only a quick shine of my flashlight, I could see it wasn't your garden variety. If the sound hadn't been turned down, it would have made a mean rumble.
    I moved forward, my goggles wet with spray.
    "Here's where we go under, right?" I asked.
    "That's right, son," said the man. And without further explanation, he headed straight into the waterfall and disappeared. I had little choice but to head straight into the waterfall, too.
    Fortunately, our route took us through what proved to be a "dry" part of the waterfall, but this was becoming absurd. Even all suited up in this rain gear, I was getting drenched under sheets of water. And to think the old man had to do this every time he entered or left the laboratory. No doubt this was for information-security purposes, but there had to be a more graceful way.
    Inside the waterfall, I stumbled and struck my kneecap on a rock. With the sound turned down, I had gotten confused by the sheer discrepancy between the non-sounds and the reality that would have produced them had they been audible. Which is to say, a waterfall ought to have a waterfall's worth of sound.
    On the far side of the falls was a cave barely big enough for one man. Dead center was an iron door. The man pulled what looked like a miniature calculator out of his pocket, inserted it into a slot, and after he maneuvered it a bit, the door opened silently inward.
    "Well, here we are. After you," said the man. He stepped in after me and locked the door.
    "Rough goin', eh?"
    "No, uh… that wasn't…"
    The man laughed, lantern hanging by a cord around his neck, goggles and hood still in place. A jolly ho-ho-ho sort of laugh.
    The room we'd entered was like a swimming pool locker room, the shelves stacked with a half dozen sets of the same gear we had on. I took off my goggles and climbed out of the slicker, draping it over a hanger, then placed my boots on the shelf. The flashlight I hung on a hook.
    "Sorry't'cause you so much trouble," the man apologized, "but we can't be slack on security. Got't'take the necessary precautions. There's types out there lyin' in wait for us."
    "INKlings?" I prompted.
    "Yessir. And those INKlings, in case you were wonderin', aren't the only ones," said the man, nodding to himself.
    He then conducted me to a reception room beyond the lockers. Out of his slicker, my guide proved to be a kindly old man. Short and stout; not fat so much as sturdily built. He had good color to his complexion and when he put on his rimless spectacles, he was the very image of a major pre-War political figure.
    He motioned for me to sit on the leather sofa, while he himself took a seat behind the desk. This room was of exactly the same mold as the other room. The carpet, the walls, the lighting, everything was the same. On the coffee table in front of the sofa was an identical smoking set, on the desk an identical appointment book and an identical scattering of paperclips. Had I