The White Mountains (The Tripods) Read Online Free PDF Page B

before. But all my life Capping had been something I had taken for granted. All my elders were Capped, and contented to be so. It was the mark of the adult, the ceremony itself solemn and linked in one’s mind with the holiday and the feast. Despite the few who suffered pain and became Vagrants, it was a duty to which every child looked forward. Only lately, as one could begin to count the months remaining, had there been any doubts in my mind; and the doubts had been ill-formed and difficult to sustain against the weight of adult assurance. Jack had had doubts, too, and then, with the Capping, they had gone. I said, “They make men think the things the Tripods want them to think?”
    “They control the brain. How, or to what extent, we are not sure. As you know, the metal is joined to the flesh, so that it cannot be removed. It seems that certain general orders are given when the Cap is put on. Later, specific orders can be given to specific people, but as far as the majority are concerned, they do not seem to bother.”
    “How do the Vagrants happen?”
    “That again is something at which we can only guess. It may be that some minds are weak to start with, and crumble under the strain. Or perhaps the reverse: too strong, so that they fight against domination until they break.”
    I thought of that, and shuddered. A voice inside one’s head, inescapable and irresistible. Anger burned in me, not only for the Vagrants but for all the others—my parents and elders, Jack …
    “You spoke of free men,” I said. “Then the Tripods do not rule all the earth?”
    “Near enough all. There are no lands without them, if that’s what you mean. Listen, when the Tripods first came—or when they revolted—there were terrible happenings. Cities were destroyed like anthills, and millions on millions were killed or starved to death.”
    Millions … I tried to envision it, but could not. Our village, which was reckoned no small place, numbered about four hundred souls. There were some thirty thousand living in and around the city of Winchester. I shook my head.
    He went on, “Those that were left the TripodsCapped, and once Capped they served the Tripods and helped to kill or capture other men. So, within a generation, things were much as they are now. But in one place, at least, a few men escaped. Far to the south, across the sea, there are high mountains, so high that snow lies on them all the year round. The Tripods keep to low ground—perhaps because they travel over it more easily, or because they do not like the thin air higher up—and these are places which men who are alert and free can defend against the Capped who live in the surrounding valleys. In fact, we raid their farms for our food.”
    “We? So you come from there?” He nodded. “And the Cap you wear?”
    “Taken from a dead man. I shaved my head, and it was molded to fit my skull. Once my hair had grown again, it was hard to tell it from a true Cap. But it gives no commands.”
    “So you can travel as a Vagrant,” I said, “and no one suspects you. But why? With what purpose?”
    “Partly to see things, and report what I see. But there is something more important. I came for you.”
    I was startled. “For me?”
    “You, and others like you. Those who are not yet Capped, but who are old enough to ask questions and understand answers. And to make a long, difficult, perhaps dangerous journey.”
    “To the south?”
    “To the south. To the White Mountains. With a hard life at the journey’s end. But a free one. Well?”
    “You will take me there?”
    “No. I am not ready to go back yet. And it would be more dangerous. A boy traveling on his own could be an ordinary runaway, but one traveling with a Vagrant … you must go on your own. If you decide to go.”
    “The sea,” I said, “how do I cross that?”
    He stared at me, and smiled. “The easiest part. And I can give you some help for the rest, too.” He brought something from his pocket and