To THE LAND OF THE ELECTRIC ANGEL: Hugo and Nebula Award Finalist Author (The Frontiers Saga) Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: William Rotsler
hollow the rock out, make it into a home where, if I chose, I could live comfortably for many years. That is why I selected you. Should I ... um ... decide to live in it for an extended period, it would still be a pleasant place."
Blake nodded, though still not certain what was expected of him.
"You will begin to understand as our talks progress. This mountain, I own the sixty thousand acres surrounding it. Or rather, certain companies I control do, or foundations. We'll fly up there soon and look it over. When can you go? I'd like you to get an idea of the location soon."
Blake blinked but didn't answer.
Voss peered at him. "We do have a deal, do we not? The lawyers and the contracts can get here in good time. This is the important part: the agreement, the meeting of minds."
"Uh? Yes, of course."
Voss grinned. He stuck out his hand and Blake took it automatically. "When can you fly up?" he asked again.
"Uh, anytime next week. No, this weekend. This weekend all right?"
"Fine. Saturday morning. Which is more convenient for you, Palmdale International or the Catalina float?"
"Catalina."
"Fine. Be at the Voss hangars at, ur, nine?"
Blake felt just a bit dizzy and more than slightly confused. A hundred-million-franc tomb for a living man? Hollowing out a mountain. Top artists? Pharaohs, indeed!
"Mr. Voss, er, Jean-Michel, there must be other reasons why you picked me?"
Voss stopped as he strode toward the door. "You have the right sort of engineering degrees, the reputation of being discreet, and,, of course, because you were the most sensual."
"Sensual? You want a sensual tomb?"
"Yes, of course. No one has ever had a sensual tomb before, certainly not on this scale. Oh, a few nudes in sterile white marble – very virginal. A bed for the pharaoh's afterlife. That's all." His wry smile widened. "People don't think of death as being sensual, do they?"
"No. Neither do I, to be perfectly frank."
Voss threw back his head, and his laugh was a sharp bark. "But you see, after it is built, I will live in it, at least for a little while; and later on, too, perhaps. I may have companions. Then, perhaps, if I have an afterlife, the tomb will certainly be my home." He paused, came back, and clasped Blake's upper arm. "Who knows what the world of the future may be like?"
Chapter 3
Blake left the studio that night in a state of total bemusement. The crowds that thronged the malls and corridors of the arcolog did not bother him. Usually their jostling and noise gave him a feeling of claustrophobia and loneliness. He had often contemplated moving closer to his studio, or even expanding and building a home as an extension of the studio, but the space he would need had never become available. Now he enclosed himself in the ark dweller's capsule of indifference and pushed his way mechanically through the crowds.
He stopped at a restaurant and ate a bowl of soysoup without really tasting it. His thoughts were on the project ahead.
Epic. That's what Voss wants, Blake told himself. Something fabulous, as well as eternal. Something with a unifying sense, something that has to be taken as a whole, not just as a collection of items. The Egyptians had it because their art was of one style, with only one way of doing things, one way of looking at art. From the top down, Blake thought as he paid for the soup.
He took an escalator up two decks and walked along the commercial level until he came to the Swain Gallery. The pedestrian traffic was very light here, for the shops were closed. A new sensatron artist had an exhibit, and an example of his art was in each window of the dark gallery. The plastic window panels were especially fenestrated with microholes to allow the Alpha and Beta waves as well as the sonic waves to come through directly.
The first cube was a pastoral, a square of primitive forest in some long-gutted section of the world. Blake could see through the thick underbrush toward a clearing in the trees, almost as if
Blake nodded, though still not certain what was expected of him.
"You will begin to understand as our talks progress. This mountain, I own the sixty thousand acres surrounding it. Or rather, certain companies I control do, or foundations. We'll fly up there soon and look it over. When can you go? I'd like you to get an idea of the location soon."
Blake blinked but didn't answer.
Voss peered at him. "We do have a deal, do we not? The lawyers and the contracts can get here in good time. This is the important part: the agreement, the meeting of minds."
"Uh? Yes, of course."
Voss grinned. He stuck out his hand and Blake took it automatically. "When can you fly up?" he asked again.
"Uh, anytime next week. No, this weekend. This weekend all right?"
"Fine. Saturday morning. Which is more convenient for you, Palmdale International or the Catalina float?"
"Catalina."
"Fine. Be at the Voss hangars at, ur, nine?"
Blake felt just a bit dizzy and more than slightly confused. A hundred-million-franc tomb for a living man? Hollowing out a mountain. Top artists? Pharaohs, indeed!
"Mr. Voss, er, Jean-Michel, there must be other reasons why you picked me?"
Voss stopped as he strode toward the door. "You have the right sort of engineering degrees, the reputation of being discreet, and,, of course, because you were the most sensual."
"Sensual? You want a sensual tomb?"
"Yes, of course. No one has ever had a sensual tomb before, certainly not on this scale. Oh, a few nudes in sterile white marble – very virginal. A bed for the pharaoh's afterlife. That's all." His wry smile widened. "People don't think of death as being sensual, do they?"
"No. Neither do I, to be perfectly frank."
Voss threw back his head, and his laugh was a sharp bark. "But you see, after it is built, I will live in it, at least for a little while; and later on, too, perhaps. I may have companions. Then, perhaps, if I have an afterlife, the tomb will certainly be my home." He paused, came back, and clasped Blake's upper arm. "Who knows what the world of the future may be like?"
Chapter 3
Blake left the studio that night in a state of total bemusement. The crowds that thronged the malls and corridors of the arcolog did not bother him. Usually their jostling and noise gave him a feeling of claustrophobia and loneliness. He had often contemplated moving closer to his studio, or even expanding and building a home as an extension of the studio, but the space he would need had never become available. Now he enclosed himself in the ark dweller's capsule of indifference and pushed his way mechanically through the crowds.
He stopped at a restaurant and ate a bowl of soysoup without really tasting it. His thoughts were on the project ahead.
Epic. That's what Voss wants, Blake told himself. Something fabulous, as well as eternal. Something with a unifying sense, something that has to be taken as a whole, not just as a collection of items. The Egyptians had it because their art was of one style, with only one way of doing things, one way of looking at art. From the top down, Blake thought as he paid for the soup.
He took an escalator up two decks and walked along the commercial level until he came to the Swain Gallery. The pedestrian traffic was very light here, for the shops were closed. A new sensatron artist had an exhibit, and an example of his art was in each window of the dark gallery. The plastic window panels were especially fenestrated with microholes to allow the Alpha and Beta waves as well as the sonic waves to come through directly.
The first cube was a pastoral, a square of primitive forest in some long-gutted section of the world. Blake could see through the thick underbrush toward a clearing in the trees, almost as if
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