at dawn, stiff and shivering, they stumbled outside and by unspoken consent started directly up the slope.

by full daylight they found themselves in a chestnut grove. they stopped to fill their pouches. the last mile was made in the hot warmth of the sun. at the top of the ridge they stopped to rest.

as they did, they feasted their eyes on the orderly groves below them. but henry's eyes were seeking out the squares of brown among the green of the lower valley. he counted twenty. far more than he realized. the defrosters had gone dead at intervals, years apart.

his eyes crept up the valley to the structure at its head, with the captive lake behind it. it must be the house of the old ones the old stories told about but no one had ever seen. from it they had worked the magic that made the valley what it was. there, they said, they could be seen and heard to speak.

if he could get to see the old ones, ask them questions, perhaps they would tell him what should be done.

"where are we going now?" theta asked.

"to the house of the old ones. up there," he said, pointing. "perhaps they can tell us something."

she clutched his arm. "you can't!" she cried. "they'll ... they'll...."

"they'll what?"

"i don't know! something awful!"

"that's what they said about the learning house, but there was nothing in it but dust. i found, from the size of the chairs, that you had to start learning almost from the time you walked. i didn't even know how to start!"

"then you didn't learn anything?"

"nothing."

he came to his feet. "you don't have to go if you don't want to."

"i go where you go," she said with stubborn determination.

they had to dip down below the force fence to find water, then keep to the harvested portions where the masters had gone to town for the winter. they were lucky in finding houses where the keys had been lost, and thus had been left unlocked.

it was noon the next day when they forced themselves through the brush to find themselves within feet of their destination. with henry leading they skirted it, looking for an entrance. close to the center they found a deep indentation with a pair of doors at its inner end. cautiously, over the accumulated leaves and rubble, they moved toward them, wondering how to get inside.

the moment henry came within three feet of them they flew open, inwards.

theta screamed and sprang back. henry stopped, startled.

"it's nothing to be scared of," he reassured her. "they say that the doors of hall in town used to open this way until someone broke a glass button on the wall. come on."

there was another pair of glass doors that opened the same way as they approached. they led to a large reception room with a desk and chair opposite the door, chairs in a row along the wall. the floor was red tile, with a white line, about six inches wide, circling around to a door to the left.

behind the desk was another door.

"sightseers," said a voice from out of nowhere that made theta scream, "will follow the white line through the door to the left. those with business in the offices will consult the receptionist. please proceed."

almost in a state of trance, henry led the way along the white line. the door opened and admitted them, then a second door.

here everything was spotless, dustless, though no one had been there for years.

"you are now in the generating room," the voice began again. "the humidity is zero. all dirt and dust has been removed. what you bring in with you will be gone in five minutes."

they were on a balcony, looking down into a large space. on the floor below them seemed to be a huge cylinder, suspended between two metal-covered blocks. only by the glimmering reflections from its polished surface could one tell that it was revolving.

"before you is the main generator," the voice began again. "if you look closely you will note that the armature shaft does not touch its supporting bearings. it is held in suspension by polarized barumal obtained from mars, so there is no friction and no wear. it is powered by water reduced to hydrogen and oxygen. the excess gases are used in the hoppers and storage bins to force out the air and preserve the foods on their way to their destinations. some gas is piped to the disposal plants, in which all organic matter is converted into fertilizer."

henry felt let down, cheated. it was just an empty building containing soundless machinery and a recorded lecture. no old ones. nothing he wanted.

"now behind you," the voice began again, "you can see into the control room. from there every machine, store or house can have its power cut on or off. and if anything goes wrong with its circuit a button on the board flashes red until it is repaired. the glowing red button close to the window is the master switch that will shut off everything in case of an emergency, such as an earthquake."

theta pressed her nose to the glass window. "just think," she breathed, "push that and everything stops!"

perhaps that's what happened in the other valley, thought henry. someone pushed the red button ... then couldn't get things going again.

"now follow the line to the next room and be seated. there you will be shown how the complex of the valley was constructed and how it operates."

on entering the hall they found several rows of seats facing a large screen. soft music began as they entered. the hall darkened and the screen lit up, showing the valley as it was before the work began. forest mainly, a few farms scattered along the narrow bottoms.

what startled henry was that they were above the valley, looking down as they seemed to drift through the air. so the old tales were right! the old ones could fly through the air! here was proof of it.

he sat on the edge of his seat, breathing hard, waiting to see the old ones, giant of stature, who could tear a tree out of the ground or shovel away a mountain.

but the first humans he saw were men like himself and those in the valley. men who pointed at places while others squinted in that direction through strange instruments. he wished he could follow the talk, but the men pronounced words differently and used many he had never heard. he had to use his eyes instead of his ears.

they started to work right where he was—he recognized the outlines of the ridges about them—but it was done by no giant extending his hand and showering magic. big machines dug away the ground. other things with no visible means of locomotion brought building materials up a broad road where there was not even a path now. a little man, graying and wrinkled, answered questions of their invisible guide, and, as he did, he gave directions to others. was he one of the old ones, not as large as himself, no older than his father?

behind him on the screen the building henry was in was going up. and men were making it, ordinary men, not magic.

were the old ones just ordinary men, their magic not strange words and motions but machines they manipulated with their hands and feet? they were not gods, just men who had begun to learn sitting in the little chairs in the learning house.

he watched them dig the trenches from the groves-to-be to the hidden storage bins, put in the pipes lined with gravity-repellent barumal, lay the snakelike cables that he had seen occasionally where erosion had exposed them. he saw the building of town, the master's houses and the final planting of the groves. the record ended.

henry remained staring at the blank screen until theta nudged him and brought him back to the present.

the white line led on, past large offices on one side, on the other windows looking down into a vast storeroom that contained parts for repairing everything in the valley. the old ones knew that, some day, things would start breaking down and had prepared for it. they had not prepared for life dropping into routine, interest in progress being lost.

what need was there to spend years in school when everything was already done for you?

the picture had shown some buildings close to the cliffs on one side that looked like the apartment houses in town. they broke through the brush and found one.

other than for dust it was in good condition. the food bins were filled, but the contents had dried to the hardness of stone. as soon as they were emptied they began to refill; but it was two days of constant emptying before eatable fruit began to appear.

by the end of a week they had the rooms they needed cleaned and some of the brush about the place cut clear.

it left henry free to roam the plant. he sat again and again through the record of construction, understanding a little more each time. he noted, for instance, where what was now forest at the entrance to the valley was once farmland, laid out in squarish, varicolored fields. he found his way into the control room, discovered how to trace the lines from the board to their end on the large map on the wall across from the board.

one day, while it was snowing heavily above the permanent defrosters, he heard a buzzer sound and saw a light turn from green to red. he traced it down. it was the damaged house where they had first taken refuge.

there was plenty of time to ponder. each time it ended in the same question and the same conclusion. something had to be begun before it was too late. the valley had to be stirred out of its antipathy.

but how?

one morning, before dawn, he sat up in bed. theta asked what was wrong.

"i'm going to the meeting in town at peach blossom time," he announced. "something has to be done."

theta clutched his arm. "you can't! they'll kill you!"

"i have to! do you want our children, or our children's children, to die like those people on the other side of the ridge?"

"no, but...."

"i have to go—have to make them listen."