"What you're saying," Caird said loudly so he could be heard, "is that you broke day just so you could obey the letter of the law?"

"The letter is the soul of the spirit!" Gril cried.

He paused, and he glared.

"Also, there was another reason. It was strong, though not strong enough to have made me a daybreaker if it had not been coupled with my desire to observe, even if only once, only once, the Shabbos as it should be observed.

"I am a human being. I am the son of a species that has always been one with the rhythm of Nature as decreed by G.o.d. Countless generations from the beginning of the species have enjoyed the slow unfolding of the seasons, a phenomenon that they took for granted though it was one of G.o.d's many gifts. But the New Era.., the New Era! ... they did away with the seasons, man! They've ruined them, shrunk them!

"Spring is an explosion of green, come and gone in a few days! Summer... summer is a hot flash! Too many summers, I'll get only the searing days and none of th~ cool! Autumn doesn't slowly change into its beautiful colors! It doesn't slip into one color after the other like a woman trying out clothes! It's green one day and a burst of fully realized colors the next and then it's all dead, dead! And you may miss the snow, G.o.d's blanket, entirely!"

"That's true," Caird said. "On the other hand, the racing-by of the seasons can be exhilarating, and think how many more seasons you get to see than if you lived like our ancestors did. There's always something gained when you give up something and vice versa."

"No," Gril said, shaking his head violently, "I want it as G.o.d said it should be. I will not . .

Caird did not hear what else he said. He rose swiftly, staring past Gril's shoulder at the patrol car that had appeared from around the corner of the building on the street by the ca.n.a.l. It would be past the underground access tube at' the northwest corner of the park long before he could get to it. He was cut off.

Gril turned his head, looked once, and said, "Perhaps they are headed elsewhere." He sounded calm.

There was another access tube at the northeast corner of the park. He must not run now, though. Wait and see if the car went on.

It was going fast, its headlights spearing the dim light and bouncing off the raindrops. Several feet from the junction of Fifth Avenue and Washington Square North, however, it slowed and then it came to a stop.

Gril had quit talking for a moment. Now. seeing the car, he said, "Our destiny is here." He closed his eyes, and his lips moved.

"Yours, maybe. Not mine," Caird said.

Gril opened his eyes just as the car doors opened. The clouds also opened up, the rain coming down as if it were ambitious to become Niagara Falls. It bent the leaves above the two and dumped a cascade on them. They were soaked and chilled, though the rain was only partly responsible for the coldness.

Two men and a woman got out of the vehicle. The driver came around the front of the car, revealing the green-andbrown uniform in the headlights. His belt held a holster, from which stuck the b.u.t.t of a gun.

The woman screamed something and ran toward Gril and Caird. The two organics shouted after her. Caird thought that he heard, "Stop!" Lightning struck immediately thereafter, seeming so close that Caird thought that a nearby tree must have been hit. The flash showed him Ruth Zog Dinsdale, his no. . . Isharashvili's wife. Her face was distorted; her screeching cut through the rumble of thunder.

Her block building was across the ca.n.a.l almost directly opposite the Tao Towers. He had been reckless to walk so boldly down the street in front of the building. Since he knew that she might look out her window and see him, he should have gone to the back street. But the probability of her seeing him had been low, and he had not been himself. Zurvan had been in no shape to think of such details.

He turned and ran south. Flight toward the access tube he had planned to take was too dangerous. He could be intercepted too easily. There was another tube located at the corner of La Guardia Place and Washington Square South.

Gril called, "Good luck, man!" and said something in an unintelligible language. A Yiddish blessing?

"I need it!" Caird said, and he ran.

He zigzagged, trying to keep trees between him and his pursuer. A glance behind during a lightning flash had shown his wife standing stilland one organic running after him. Gril was gone. He probably had just walked away. Another glance in the dimness told him that the driver had gone back to the car. Outlined against the streetlight, which had just 'come on, the car was moving eastward toward Washington Square East. Its driver was following organic procedures. While one man chased the fugitive, the other would drive the car to head the fugitive off.

Caird thought that he could get to the tube before the car did. He also had a good head start on the other organic. But he could not outrun the beam from a gun. By the time that he reached the tube, however, he had not been shot at. Or, if he had been, he was not aware of it.

The car was sixty feet away when Caird got to the tube. The man on foot was about a hundred feet back. Caird went around the tube to the side by the street, Washington Square South. The entrance was oblong; the interior, half-lit by the streetlights. He put his hand on a plaque on the back wall six inches above his head. This was a globe with superimposed letters, MSUTS (Manhattan State Underground Transporta tion System). He pressed the M and then the T The seemingly immovable plaque responded to his hand on its lower edge, swinging up to the left. He reached within the exposed recess and felt the two b.u.t.tons there. Monday's code was left b.u.t.ton, one short press, right b.u.t.ton, one long press, one short press. He was fortunate that Isharashvili, as a Central Park ranger, knew the code and that enough of the ranger was still in him to remember that.

Having released the locking mechanism on the personhole cover, he bent down, lifted the handle inset in its middle, and pulled. The cover came up, but only because he was heavy enough to register as an adult on the security sensor plate around it.

Light had come on in the tube and from the hole as he had raised the lid. Below the hole was an irradiated plastic ladder inside a plastic framework. He let himself down, stopped, reached up, and pulled the cover down with the handle on its underside. It came down easily, restrained by a hydraulic mechanism from falling. Just before the lid closed, Caird saw the organic's feet. A hoa.r.s.e voice said, "Stop in the name of the law!"

"Whose law?" Caird muttered.

His pursuers were organics, but they were also immers. There had not been time for them to go to a precinct station and withdraw charged-particle beam weapons. These two must have been in the neighborhood or close to it, and they must have been looking for him. They were lucky-unlucky for him-to be the nearest to Ruth Dinsdale when she had called in. They had brought out the illegal weapons, their own property, from a hidden place in the car, and they meant to use them.

Caird went down the ladder for thirty feet before stepping off onto the rubbery plastic walkway. It extended east and west as far as he could see, which was not more than a hundred feet either way. Whichever way he went, the lights would travel with him and darkness would follow and precede him.

The walkway was bounded on one side by a thick plastic wall and on the other by a guardrail. Beyond it were two goods transportation belts, each fifteen feet wide. At the moment, they were not moving. Beyond them, against the wall, were two huge pipes. One was a water main; the other was for sewage.

Because he was both an organic and an immer, Caird had studied the systems. Every three hundred feet the rock wall bore tunnel and belt identification signs and diagrams of the local system. By each was a communication strip. These could also be used to monitor the tunnel. If the men after him took time to call in to an immer at the monitor control center, they could check with the monitor through the tunnel strips. The monitor could tell them exactly where their quarry was.

He did not know if the immers had anybody at the control center. He could not take the chance they might not have one. He had to get to a place where there were no monitors. Though he knew of such a place and was running toward it, he would encounter dangers there of which his pursuers would be only one.

He ran, his feet slapping the walk and his breathing the only sounds. When he looked back, he saw another light following him. The two men were tiny figures inside a worm of light. They were about six hundred feet behind him, too far for effective range of their guns. He had to keep that distance. So far, they had not stopped to call in and they would have if they had someone at the monitor control center.

The tunnel sloped down so gradually that he would not have been aware of it if he had not studied the system. It would pa.s.s under the Kropotkin Ca.n.a.l, but, before it got there, he would come to two tunnels crossing this tunnel at right angles. He took the first one and ran north. The belt by the walkway was lower than the previous one and was carrying a few boxes of goods. The belt plates, two microns thick, were not joined but moved silently like a caravan of caterpillars, one behind the other. They slid on the lubricant provided by the continuous strip beneath them and were propelled by magnetic impulses.

Jogging, looking back often to make sure that his pursuers had not broken into a run, Caird kept on until he came to a three-level tunnel intersection. Just off the walkway was a large room cut out of the dirt, rocks, and cement blocks forming the first level under the streets of Manhattan. The room was walled, floored, and ceilinged with thick plastic. He went into it, the lights turning on as he entered. This was a tool and recreation room and toilet for the workers. After looking hurriedly around, he ran to a table and picked up a flashlight, two batteries, a hammer, and a screwdriver with a long thin shaft. He tested the flashlight and put the five artifacts in his shoulderbag. On the way out, he stopped to drink from a fountain.

Coming out of the room, he saw that the two had gained on him. One raised his weapon and fired. Caird ducked even though the movement was useless. The ray struck close to him but did not damage the wall. He jogged faster than before. The two were gaining on him at the rate of about ten feet every ten seconds. He increased his speed so that he could get to the previous six-hundred-foot distance from them.

Beginning to pant now, he ran toward his first goal, a yellow enclosure of uprights circled by two horizontal rails. He was running so fast that he had to stop himself by grabbing the top railing. He went around it and let himself swiftly down another plastic ladder. Just as his head disappeared into the hole, the light above him went out. An angry yell reached him before he was halfway down the ladder.

"You won't go so fast now, you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," he muttered. At the foot of the ladder, he groped in the bag and brought out the flashlight. Its ray, poking here and there, showed him what was left of the old transportation belts. This system had been aban doned seven hundred obyears ago when the second great earthquake had struck Manhattan. The plates were thick aluminum alloy, many of them torn off or buckled. The gaps exposed the rusty and dislodged rollers beneath. The system had been obsolete long before it, along with three-fourths of the buildings on the island, had been destroyed by the temblor.

That catastrophe had been terrible, though not as difficult to recover from as the even greater quake of N.E. 498. On this level, however, the quick-drying plastic sprayed thickly to enclose the tunnels had not been as twisted as that on the first level. It was bad enough. Here and there, the plastic had been bent out past its strength to withstand the shock. Dirt had spilled through the cracks, and seepage had brought more dirt through. The flashlight showed no complete blockage trapping him. Not in this area.

The light had come on above him. The two were getting closer. He hesitated. He could get away as fast as possible from here or he could wait and try to knock out or kill the first one to come down the ladder. To do that, he would have to retreat beyond the range of their flashlights while they played the beams from the entrance above. Then he must run in after the first man began the descent, and somehow ... No. If he threw the hammer, it might miss or only slightly hurt the immer. Both men would have their guns in their hands, and the one above would be directing his flashlight into the area below.

Just as he decided not to attack, the expected light beam came down through the entrance hole past the ladder. Caird turned and walked swiftly away, hoping that he was going in the right direction for him. There was enough light from the hole for him to see dimly for some distance ahead of him, though he had rough footing. The walkway was buckled and bent, and once he almost stepped into a gap.

Knowing that the man to first come down would stop on the ladder and explore the area with his light, Caird stepped up his pace. He did look back once. Seeing the beam dart around, he got down behind a pile of wet dirt that had fallen through a hole in the wall. He was just in time. The light played on the mound and then went away.

Caird's second goal, if he remembered correctly, was about four hundred feet away. He got up and stumbled on, feeling his way by the walkway railing, walking crouched over, afraid that he would fall. And then he did tumble, sprawling forward when he stepped onto a part of the walkway that was not there. He repressed a shout and shot his arms out and across to avoid injury if he struck something. He landed unhurt in a small hole. He did not get up at once because the beam shot above him. If he had been upright, he would have been caught in it.

The tunnel amplified sounds. He heard one of the men say, in a low tone, "Where'd he go so fast? We shouldn't split up!"

"You're talking too . . ." the other man said. His voice died down so that Caird could hear only a muttering.

"Too loud," Caird finished for him. They would probably stay together and explore the areas in both directions for a hundred or so yards. Watching from the edge of the broken walkway, he saw them turn away from him. He breathed easier. He crawled back onto the runway and continued on hands and knees. When a beam flashed near him, he flattened out. They would be turning from time to time to try to catch him with the beam.

They also would be looking at the numerous piles of dirt. It would not take them long to know that he had not gone in the direction they had taken. Though he might jump over some of the dirt, he would eventually step in some. Blundering through the darkness, he could not avoid leaving prints.

Which meant that, when they came back this way, they would see his tracks.

As fast as he could crawl, he followed the walkway. He had estimated that he must be very close to his goal. A few more yards, and he would be there. He was near to the wall so that he would not miss it. Once he got down it, he could use his light. For a while, at least.

Groaning softly, he stopped crawling. Something had driven into his face just below the right cheekbone. It came loose when he jerked his head back, and his cheek burned. He put his hand to it and felt blood flowing. Cursing, though softly, he slipped off his shoulderbag, opened it, felt around, and came out with some tissue paper. After sticking it on the wound, he felt carefully around until he got hold of the thing that had gouged his face. It was the broken end of a pipe or a railing.

He put the shoulderbag back on and slid between the wall and the pipe. The walkway twisted so that he tended to slide into the wall. Wriggling, he got by the railing. He had to stand up then because he kept sliding back. His feet slipped out from under him, but his wildly flailing hand grabbed a railing.

He crouched down at the peak of the bent walkway and slid down on his feet into the next upward slope. Just beyond it, he b.u.mped his head against another railing. He cursed at the pain, then smiled. His hands told him that he had found his second goal.

It had been a protective enclosure around the entrance to the next level down. It was, however, squeezed in at the top. He had to take off the bag and drop it into the entrance hole before he could get his body into the narrow aperture. For a tense few seconds, it threatened to hold him.

Just as he sc.r.a.ped through, feeling that the skin on his ribs had come off, he was speared by light. The men shouted. He dropped and caught hold of the edge of the entrance. His feet groped for and found the ladder rungs. He scrambled down the ladder, which was twisted and at a slant. Halfway down, he had to let his feet dangle while he gripped the junction of the uprights and the rungs. He wished that he had taken the flashlight out of the bag so that he could see how far the end of the ladder was above the ground. Then his feet touched the earth, and he let loose. After groping around, he found the bag. The flashlight in his hand, he turned it on.

The place looked just as he remembered it. He had never been here, but, three Wednesdays ago, he had seen a strip show about it. This was Wednesday's allotted share of the early New Era archaeological dig. It was mostly the old sewage and water and power systems, not very interesting. He went forward on the dirt past bent and broken mains and pipes and snapped cables. The beam shone on the quick-drying plastic the archaeologists had sprayed to keep the walls and ceiling of dirt and debris from falling in. He walked fifty feet and found another safety enclosure around the entrance hole to the level below. This was new and had been put in by the archaeologists.

The old goods transportation and water-sewage level had been filled with dirt and cement and stone blocks and other debris after the second great earthquake. Because the ocean waters were rising as a result of the melting of polar ice, the authorities wanted the ground level to be higher. The present underground system had been built on top of the old one.

The level in which Caird was now standing had been excavated some years ago. During the digging, the archaeologists had found the bent safety enclosure to the ladder. It had not been removed but had been preserved as a historical site. When the level below had been excavated, the ladder had also been left as it was. Though the darkness had kept Caird from seeing the plaque that indicated the historical site, he had remembered it from the show.

Caird went down the ladder into the next level, the flashlight in one hand so that he could see the rungs. He got off the ladder and directed the beam around the immense cavern. The upper part of the cavern had once been dirt and the sewage and water system under the old transportation level. After this had been thoroughly studied and everything measured and photographed, the artifacts had been removed. The level beneath, that which had been the ruins of the city after the first great earthquake, had then been exposed. The cavern in which he now stood had once been occupied by two layers of archaeological treasure.

To the west, a hundred feet beyond the ladder, was a solid wall of dirt from which projected parts of stone and cement blocks and unrecognizable artifacts. Near it were two digging machines, looking like metal elephants on treads, two plasticspraying machines looking like praying mantises, piles of temporary shoring material, and machines for carrying the dirt away.

Caird had to go the other way. If the two immers knew that, they could go through the level above and try to get to the next exit before he did. Or one could come down to drive him ahead while the other waited above for him.

Today was, however, Monday. The immers might have seen Monday's show about Monday's digs. But that would not be about this area. They had to be ignorant of the layout in this area. Not until they got down here would they realize that Caird had made for the exit and would beat them to it.

He hoped that that was the situation. It was possible that the two, carrying out their organic duties, had once pursued an outlaw down here. If so, they would know the area.

His light stabbing the gigantic hollow, veering to pa.s.s by plastic-walled blocks of earth on top of which were artifacts, sidestepping trenches in which were artifacts not yet completely uncovered, he trotted swiftly. The air-conditioning machines were not turned on; the air was dead and heavy. It was also warmer than he had thought it would be. He was sweating and getting thirsty.

It was unfortunate, he thought, that the floors were soft wet dirt. If the floor had been hard, its lack of prints would have slowed down the immers. They would have been forced to look into the huge pipes above to make sure that he was not hiding in one.

He went around a crushed and rusty automobile, an ancient internal combustion vehicle. Its occupants were now pieces of bone. Past that was another obstacle, a tangled ma.s.s of steel that the strip-show mentor had said was the ruins of a Ferris wheel. Another detour was around a tangled mess the identification of which he did not remember. It was roped off like all the other artifacts and was marked with a sign. He did not have time to stop and read it.

He came around a block of earth on top of which was a huge mirror which had miraculously not been shattered. He stopped, and, despite the extreme need not to do so, he yelled.

Centered in the beam was a gigantic monster, a thing with a colossal head, enormous many-faceted eyes gleaming a vicious red, dripping mandibles, and a body with many legs. It was crouched, ready to spring upon him.

His yell bounced back from the far walls.

He swore at himself and muttered, "I forgot about it."

His terror was gone, but his heart was still beating hard.

The plastic monster had once been part of a "house of horrors." Most of that had been destroyed during'the earthquake, but there were some exhibits or "monsters" here and there, roped off and labeled.

Hoping that the gigantic spider would give his pursuers heart attacks, he ran on. His beam played on some of the artifacts, one of which was the severed head of a woman with tangled snakes where her hair should have been. Medusa. The unhappy woman of ancient Greek myth whose look turned all she saw into stone statues. He ran on, pa.s.sing many other remnants of the fun fair until, panting and thirsty again, he stopped. There were four vertical tubes here, shafts for elevators. Two were very large, containing cages for bringing down machinery and supplies and taking up dirt and debris. The smaller cages were for use by personnel. A half-mile east was another bank of elevators.

Caird's flashlight shone on the control panel by the elevators. It had OVERRIDE b.u.t.tons that permitted remote control of the cages. According to the indicator panel, these were all on the level of the new transportation system. Caird pressed three of the DOWN b.u.t.tons and then the corresponding LL (lowest level) b.u.t.tons. Presently, the doors to three of the tubes opened, and light flooded out from the cages.

He hoped that the immers, when they got here, would believe that he had taken the one still at the top transportation level.

When the cages got to the bottom, he stepped outside of the light that shone from them when their doors opened. He stood in the darkness and looked toward the west. A few seconds later, a flashlight shone from the ceiling, illuminating the ladder. A man climbed down in the beam directed by his colleague in the next level above.

When the two men had reached the ground, Caird turned and sped toward the next bank. He tried to run as softly as he could because the cavern amplified sounds. He did not turn his light on until he was beyond the paleness shed by the cage lights. He kept the flashlight at belly level and directed straight ahead. There were many blocks of earth and artifacts between him and his pursuers. These, he hoped, would prevent them from seeing his light. When the light struck an obstacle, he turned it off and detoured, letting his memory carry him past the blocks and objects for a few steps. After which he turned the light on.

Though he had rested a minute and had drunk from a fountain by the elevators, he was still tired. The air seemed to thicken. It was dead, rising from dead earth and dead things. It suggested slowness, sluggishness, and an eventual motionlessness. The half-mile to the bank seemed to stretch to a mile and a half. Just as he arrived, panting and sweating heavily, he was surrounded by light.

He groaned. The immers had found the switch to turn on all the illumination in the cavern.

Had they seen him?

That was answered quickly. Here they came running, their guns in their hands. They were so far away that they looked small, but they would become large sooner than he wanted.

He jabbed the OVERRIDE, the number-one cage, and the DOWN and the LL b.u.t.tons. He had been wrong in trying to fool them. He should have taken the elevator at the first bank. He would gain nothing by attempting to beat them to the next bank, another half-mile away. He would have to wait until the cage here got to the bottom. But would they be here before then? Or, if he did get into the cage and its door shut before they got to it, could they stop his cage?

They could. Not only could the cage be stopped at any level but a control also permitted it to be halted halfway between levels. Which, of course, it would be. They would trap him and then leisurely take him.

He could run and try to hide. That would only put off the end.

Though the immers were getting closer, they were slowing down. Their faces were agonized with the strain of pushing their dead legs and heaving lungs to the limit of speed. Within a minute or so, though, they would be shooting at him at the same time as they ran.

The elevator doors opened.

Caird jumped into the cage, turned, and punched the UP b.u.t.ton and then the b.u.t.ton for the third level, the next one above. He might get to it before the immers realized that they could stop him. Trying for any floor above that was suicidal. Trying for the next level might be suicidal, too.

The doors were closing when a ray struck the edge of one. The metal hissed and pooled, but the door closed, and the cage moved up.

Four seconds later, the cage stopped. The doors began sliding back. He grabbed their edges and pushed. He fell out through the narrow opening. The doors opened all the way and then slid back shut. Total darkness closed in on him. Somewhere on this level was a panel with a b.u.t.ton to turn on all the lights in this area. He had been lucky that the immers had not found it when he was escaping from them. He did not have time to look for one now. Using the flashlight to light the floor before him, he ran.

They would expect him to take the next bank of elevators. But which bank? The one to the east or the one to the west? And which level would he go to?

If he had breath to spare, he would have laughed. One would have to go back to the first bank and the other would have to run on to the eastern bank. Both would then go to the top level, the transportation system tunnel just below the street. From the cages there, they would head toward each other, expecting, hoping, anyway, to catch him between them.

But what if one of them took the elevator in the middle? He could go to the same level as Caird, and he could see Caird's flashlight. He would go after him while his quarry was running again as fast as he could to beat the other immer striving for the western bank. Then they would know that Caird was heading for the ladder down which he had come.

He stopped, breathing hard, his heart thudding. Some of his tiredness was lost in a surge of delight. His flashlight had shone on another ladder.

He went up that and had no trouble with a bent enclosure. He was in the tunnel of the old transportation system. He walked as swiftly as he could, too fatigued to run anymore, until he came to the first ladder down which he had sunk into the buried and ancient darkness. At the top of the ladder, he raised his head until his eyes were just above the edge of the hole. The light would not come until he had emerged to his waist.

As far as he could see, there was darkness.

When he climbed out, light blooming around him, he found that the belts, which had been inactive, were now moving. A large green plastic box moved swiftly from the blackness, through the light he had caused, and into the blackness. Before he had turned to walk westward, another box was squeezed out by the artificial night. And two more, going eastward, were carried to their destination.

He walked until another westering box approached. He climbed over the railing and jumped onto the belt. The light filled the belt area for a hundred feet in each direction. There was nothing he could do about that, but he could rest. At the same time, he would be going faster than if he walked. He sat down on the cool plate, his back against the box, and watched the east for a sudden glow in the night. It might be caused by workers, but the probability was that it would announce the two killers.

Three minutes later, his box was s.n.a.t.c.hed from him. Aware that it would be, he had risen and leaped to the railing. Here was an intersection where the belt pa.s.sed beneath a northward belt. The sensors of the pair of mechanical arms stationed here had read the coded plaque on the box, had determined that its route should be changed, and had lifted it and deposited it on a belt in a recess. Caird climbed up a short ladder and got onto the north-going belt. For a moment, he thought about switching to the south-going belt. In a little more than a quarter-mile, he could get onto an east-going belt. The immers would not know where he was because they could not see his light. However, that would be the longer route to his destination. He could take the chance that the immers would not catch up. How would they know when they got to the intersection-if they got to it-that he had taken this belt? They would not know unless they arrived quickly enough to see the light wrapping him like a photonic shroud. He was gambling that he could switch to an east-going belt before then.

His back against another box, he pa.s.sed quietly under the Kropotkin Ca.n.a.l. Above him was rock, metal, water, fish, and the storm. He was, at the moment, both subterranean and subaqueous. And he was pa.s.sing from darkness into darkness, his presence birthing new light. In the darkness behind were known terrors. Who knew what unknowns faced him?

("Corny," Repp said.) ("It's life," Dunski said.) ("Clinched, cloistered, and cloyed by cliches," Tingle said.) The next voice startled Caird. He had thought that it was gone forever.

("I was wrong," Will Isharashvili said. "I've wrestled with the ethics of the situation, and I've decided that I shouldn't just give up to avoid violence. What I think-") ("My G.o.d! Isharashvili rides again!" Repp said.) ("You can't keep a good man down," Dunski said. "And Will is good.") ("What I think," Isharashvili said gently, "is that-") "Quiet!" Caird said more loudly than he intended. "Shut up, you fools! They've found me! I can't think with you chattering away at me!"