CHAPTER XXII

The Journey Ends

During the thirty days of our journey, I was the witness of marvels so numerous that, if I were to dwell upon them all, I might fill hundreds of pages. Yet while there is much that cannot be recorded and much that I have forgotten, there are some observations which have stamped themselves indelibly upon my memory, and which are so essential for an understanding of Atlantis that I could not well overlook them.

Thus, I found that the wall enclosing the country formed a vast circle, of a diameter impossible to determine precisely but probably in the neighborhood of two hundred miles. Thus, also, I learned that the glass roof was at an average height of five hundred feet above the ground, although the distance varied greatly according to the level of the land; and I discovered that it was everywhere supported by myriads of the huge tinted columns--columns with steel interiors and surface of concrete or stone. I ascertained, likewise, that the Salty River followed an absolutely unbending course, flowing in a straight-line and on an even, gradual grade from the western wall of Atlantis to the eastern (since it was really a canal rather than a river); and I was amazed and dazzled at sight of the great intra-atomic pumps which forced the torrents back into the sea.

Since they were expected to overcome a pressure of many tons to the square foot, these pumps had to be very powerful; and powerful they were, with their labyrinths of levers and revolving chains, and three-hundred-foot pistons and rods that pounded against the waters like gigantic pile-drivers, pressing them slowly back into the sea to the accompaniment of a roaring and thundering that could be heard for miles and that proved deafening upon close approach.

The cities of Atlantis, according to the count I made, were eighteen in number (exclusive of the smaller towns and villages). But an Atlantean city, although always occupying considerable space, was what we in America should scarcely regard as a city at all, since it never had more than twenty or twenty-five thousand inhabitants. This insignificant population, when considered along with the liberal amount of territory allotted each town, accounted for the fact that no great crowds were ever to be seen on the streets; and it also explained how it was possible for efficient popular assemblages to debate and decide public questions.

But the surprising fact about the Atlantean cities was not so much their small population as their almost unbelievable variety. No town in Atlantis was like any other town; the only characteristic possessed by them all in common was their unfailing beauty. To give some idea of their amazing diversity, I might mention the city of Atolis, which, when seen from the hill that surmounted it, formed a definite pattern, resembling some colossal Grecian temple of which the streets and avenues were the columns. Or I might picture Aedla, which was built along a series of canals connecting with the Salty River, with a lake in the center, giving a Venetian effect, except that the palaces were more exquisitely designed than any in the upper world. Then, again, I might depict the small town of Acropolon, in which all the houses were connected in an enormous colonnaded quadrangle surrounding a vividly flowering park, reminding me of some university I had seen long before; or I might launch into a lengthy description of Mangona, another small town, whose houses were all roofless and collapsible, and were generally taken down during the day and put into place only at night or when the inhabitants desired seclusion.

But more interesting to me than any of these was Sardolos, one of the few present-day Atlantean cities that had existed before the Submergence. Although of course the town was not the same as in ancient times, and although its gracefully winding thoroughfares and marble friezes and frescoed domes represented the work of modern artists, yet some relics of the old days had been carefully preserved.

In one corner of the city, concealed from the general gaze in a statue-lined bronze enclosure, were the remains of buildings said to date from the second century B. S. Yet, ancient as these ruins were, my first impression was that there was something familiar about them. The most conspicuous exhibit was a stone wall, five stories high and with gaping rectangular holes where the windows had been; and to the rear was a mass of rusted and distorted steel, reaching the full height of the wall with twisted, spidery arms that had once lent it support.

“A splendid specimen of pre-Submergence architecture,” stated a placard placed prominently before the exhibit. “This was the seat of the Stock Market of old Sardolos--a wholesale gambling house abolished by the Anti-Corruption Act of the first century A. S. The mass of shapeless and desiccated stone opposite is all that remains of the Inter-Atlantean Bank, which owned a controlling share in this gambling resort; while just to the right were the ruins of the shrine in which the owners of the bank worshipped, and of the clubhouse in which, late in the second century B. S., they convened in the interest of their lotteries, and decided to declare the fifth Atlanto-Bengenese war.”

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But when I looked to see the ruins, all that I beheld was a series of irregular stone walls, not over two or three feet high and brown with the lifeless parchment hue of extreme age. Somehow, it made me uncomfortable to look upon these vestiges of the past; nor was I relieved when I gazed at a picture of Sardolos as it had been, and saw two long opposing rows of geometrically regular five-story buildings. To think of these, and then to turn to present-day Atlantis, was merely to shudder at the contrast; yet all the while I could not repress the sense that I was standing in the presence of something undefinably familiar.

If it was somewhat irritating to gaze at the ruins of Sardolos, the disagreeable moments were few indeed during the thirty days of the journey. All in all, I have rarely taken part in so thoroughly delightful an expedition; and my joy in the trip is not to be explained merely by the engrossing sights of Atlantis, nor by the companionship of the twenty enthusiastic, friendly young students, but rather by the presence of one who meant more to me than all else that Atlantis contained. My opportunities of speaking with Aelios were not plentiful, for she seemed always to be engaged in conversation with some member of the party; but occasionally I exchanged a few words with her, and occasionally she darted a bright smile in my direction, thereby reassuring me when at times I gave way to disturbing doubts.

It was not until our travels were drawing to a close that I had another intimate talk with her. The morning of the thirtieth day had arrived, and we had set out through wide fields of the wheat-like reed toward the city of Archeon, which we hoped to reach shortly after noon. But, absorbed in somber contemplation, I took no part in the merriment of my companions, and almost from the first I lagged moodily behind them. Hence it was a relief to hear light footsteps suddenly at my side, and to find a flaxen-curled head nodding a greeting and a pair of kindly bright blue eyes peering at me inquiringly.

“Aelios!” I exclaimed. And I returned her greeting in terms that could not half express my pleasure.

She wasted no time about plunging into the subject that had brought her to me. “Today our journey ends,” she reminded me, almost regretfully. “And tomorrow you must take up your duties as a citizen. You may find matters a little strange at first. Perhaps there are already some things that puzzle you.”

“Indeed there are,” I admitted. “I really have very little idea what I am expected to do.”

“Oh, but you must have some idea!” she remonstrated. “Why, haven’t you been appointed Historian of the Upper World?”

“Yes, that is so,” I murmured.

“Then you must set out at once upon your duties. In work such as yours, no record will be taken of the hours you employ, but you have a moral obligation to work not less than two hours a day.”

“That doesn’t seem excessive,” I stated, with a smile.

“Yes, but remember you have also an obligation to do some work on your own account for the State. And things won’t be any easier, if, as you say, you will combine your assigned and chosen work.”

“The real problem,” I acknowledge hesitatingly, “is that I don’t know the language well enough to write a history.”

Aelios frowned disapprovingly. “Oh, but you have already a good speaking command of Atlantean,” she pointed out. “And with practice you should be able to write passably well. Meanwhile I’d advise you to go to the government library, and read up all you can to familiarize yourself with our language--and with our life.”

I thanked Aelios for the suggestion, and promised to visit the library at the first opportunity.

“But don’t forget that mere working and studying won’t be enough,” she continued. “I hope you’ll make friends of many of our people, and

## participate in our intellectual contests and recreations. You might

even join one of the political parties.”

“Political parties?” I repeated. “I didn’t know there were any parties in Atlantis.”

“Oh, yes, of course there are,” she quickly returned. “There are always several parties to present their opinions at the Hall of Public Enlightenment.”

“What parties are those?” I inquired.

“Well, let’s see,” she enumerated, reflectively. “First of all, there’s the Party of Submergence, so-called because it was founded by Agripides and has been the ruling group ever since the Good Destruction. Then there is the Industrial Reform Party, which contends that all machines and in particular intra-atomic engines are incongruous in Atlantis and should be reduced to a minimum far below the present number. Then, again, there is the Party of Artistic Emancipation, which is really literary rather than political, and appeals for freedom in art. Also, there is the Party of Birth Extension, which maintains that the government should relax its restrictions on population. And, finally, enlarging the principles of the Birth Extension Party, there is the Party of Emergence, which is the smallest of them all and has always been highly unpopular if not actually despised, since it holds that we should renounce the principles of Agripides, enter into communication with the upper world, and send our excess population to live above seas.”

“That sounds quite interesting,” I commented, for the Party of Emergence seemed to me to be the most understandable of the group. “But you say this last party has never had much success?”

“Fortunately not. Its members have always been looked down upon as anti-social agitators, for they have transgressed against that fundamental principle, ‘Atlantis for the Atlanteans.’ Few self-respecting citizens have ever lent them support, and they have never been powerful enough to carry any of their proposals.”

“Too bad,” I found myself remarking, with unguarded frankness; and the shocked expression on Aelios’ face showed me how I had erred.

“At any rate, now that you know something about the parties, you will be better able to choose among them,” she concluded.

I assured her that I would choose as best I could.

“If there’s ever anything you’re in doubt about,” she urged, “don’t be afraid to ask me. I know that things aren’t easy here for you, a stranger from a strange land, and I’d like to help if I could.”

I thanked her fervently, and declared that I should not hesitate to consult her should occasion arise. And secretly I was determined that the occasion should arise.

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” she returned. And her eyes shone with a bright light, and her lips quivered sympathetically, and her whole face radiated kindliness and warmth.

But at this juncture she saw fit to give the interview an impersonal turn. “See, over there!” she exclaimed, pointing through a break in the dense green foliage. “Those are the towers of Archeon!”

I looked eagerly, and far across the plain I beheld a minute glittering spire, more than half obscured by the intervening array of tinted columns--the first sign of that city which I was this day to enter, and where I was to make my home, and seek the fulfillment of my love, and undertake my duties as a citizen of the Sunken World.

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[Illustration: ... By degrees it lengthened until it seemed a long jet of water shot horizontally out of some colossal hose. Intensely white, with the whiteness of foam and edges blurred with spray, it went hurtling with the impetuosity and swiftness of an arrow from the nozzle of a gigantic pipe, a plunging outward hundreds of yards in a graceful parabola and giving rise to the River.]

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