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Authors: D. B. Reynolds-Moreton

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BOOK: Extreme Difference
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‘Ah, hoped to catch you two. This poking about in the gas generating cave, I’m not really happy about it. You might destroy the whole system, and then we would have no lights. Why do you really want to do it? Surely the fact that it works is enough, so what do you hope to prove?’ Nan was visibly agitated, having spent half the night thinking about it, and fearful of the status quo being upset beyond his control.

‘Oh it’s nothing much really,’ Sandy responded, trying to sound casual, and failing, ‘I’m just curious how so small a plant can supply so much gas, and at a constant pressure.’

‘Well it does, so why question it?’ replied Nan, seeing the argument slipping out of his control, once again.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll not harm it, just want to see how it works. We’ll tell you what we find out, if anything, and then you’ll know a little bit more about this place.’

Defence and Attack

R
ealizing that Sandy would do his investigation of the gas plant one way or another, Nan reluctantly gave in to his persistent attitude, insisting that he did not fiddle with anything he did not understand, in a last vain attempt to assume some degree of authority.

‘Jez is helping Bell plant up some new growing bins, so he’ll be out of your way for a while. Don’t take too long though,’ Nan said as he left the cavern, ‘he'll not like you messing about with his equipment.’

‘I don’t think Nan liked that,’ Ben said a little timidly, as they left the despondent Nan, ‘he didn’t look very happy.’

Sandy gave him a withering look, and asked him to bring along the bar they had used the day before, and something to hit it with.

On the way down to the gas generating cavern, Sandy pointed out the sections of passageway which had been cut out, as opposed to being naturally worn by water, or whatever nature had used to form them.

‘If you look quickly, you’d not notice the difference, so why would anyone go to the trouble of trying to make ’em look natural?’ Sandy asked a perplexed Ben, who just shrugged his shoulders and grunted in reply.

‘It seems to me,’ he continued, ‘that someone is trying to make us believe in something other than what is really going on, and that’s what I want to find out.’

‘But why?’ asked a worried sounding Ben. ‘You can’t do anything about it, things are as they have always been, and if we alter them, we may not survive. There’s only just enough food, water is strictly rationed,...’ before he could continue his list of excuses not to interfere, Sandy interrupted him with,

‘Not now it isn’t, with the water cave.’

After a quick check around the darker corners of the cavern to make sure Jez was absent, Sandy went over to the two digester tanks in the middle of the cavern.

‘The first thing I want to do is reduce, and then cut off the gas supply.’

‘You can’t do that!’ exclaimed a startled Ben, ‘you’ll plunge us all into darkness and we’ll never get out of this maze of tunnels.’

‘Don’t be so bloody silly, I’ll reduce the flow first, and if the lamps don’t dim down a little, then we’ll know there must be another supply coming in somewhere.’

Ben was terrified at the prospect, but did not have the courage to physically restrain Sandy as he rummaged about in the tangle of pipes connecting the two big tanks and the subsidiary cylinders comprising the gas generating plant.

‘It looks as if these two valves control the flow of gas from each tank, sending it eventually up to the main delivery pipes up there,’ he said, indicating a pair of tubes which snaked along the ceiling of the cavern, to later disappear into the wall adjoining the next cave.

‘I’ll turn this one off a little,’ he said to a trembling Ben, ‘and see what happens.’

Nothing did, so he turned it off fully, and then the other valve was shut down. Still the little gas lamps on the wall of the cavern flickered, sending ghostly shadows dancing around the walls as the two of them moved about. Sandy looked for the extra supply inlet he was so sure existed.

‘Well, so far the lamps haven’t gone out, and the gas supply from the tanks is off. That proves my point, there is another supply feeding the lamps, so why do you think that is, eh?’

Ben had stopped shaking as he realized Sandy had been right all along, but what did it imply? 

‘OK Sandy, you’ve convinced me that the digesters are not supplying the gas, but does it really matter where the gas comes from? We seem to be getting it from somewhere and we’ve never run out, as far as I can remember.’

‘But that
is
the point,’ Sandy retorted impatiently, ‘don’t you see? If the digesters are not producing our gas, then they have been set up to fool us into thinking we are keeping the supply going ourselves, when in fact what we are doing is just a waste of time, and producing nothing, except perhaps some compost for the growing bins. Someone doesn't want us to realize that this whole place has been set up to house us, hence all this subterfuge. Anyway, I still want to know just where these pipes really go.’

‘You’ll need something to stand on if you are going to reach where they go into the wall.’ said a chastened Ben.

They both hunted around in the gloom of the big cavern, Sandy finally falling over a box-like thing in a dark corner and uttering a rude expletive in the process.

‘Must be what he sits on when he’s not twiddling the gas controls.’ Ben offered, feeling he should say something.

They dragged the heavy box over to the wall, Sandy climbed up and stood looking intently at the point where the pipes disappeared into the stonework.

‘Pass up the metal rod, and standby with the lump to hit it with. A little poke about should reveal something.’

A small shower of stone chips fell on the unsuspecting Ben as Sandy chipped away at the point where the pipes disappeared into the wall.

‘Looks like they have stuck the small pieces back with something.’ Sandy mused as he jabbed away at the wall, finally getting the rod into a position where he thought he could do some real damage.

‘OK, whack it one,’ Sandy called out, ‘but not too hard, I only want to chip away a little of the wall where the pipes go in to see exactly where they go.’

‘They go into the next cave,’ Ben replied, ‘I thought you knew that.’

‘I’m not so sure they do, at least, not directly.’

A few minutes later and they had removed enough of the friable stone to reveal where the pipes were actually going, a large lump slipping out of Sandy’s hand and hitting Ben on the head. This brought forth a very strong expletive which surprised Sandy, and he hastily reinforced his earlier point,

‘Bet you didn’t learn that word here!’

‘I’ve never used it before.’ said a mildly embarrassed Ben, going a dull pink. ‘I’m beginning to see what you mean.’

A few more chips, and the gas pipe mystery was solved.

‘If you look up there, you’ll see the pipes from the gas generator bend upwards, and disappear up into the rock. Another pair of pipes come down besides them, and then go into the next cave, carrying the real gas supply. That’s where the gas supply is really coming from, not the generators down here.’

‘Why would anyone want to do that?’ asked a surprised Ben, after he had taken a look at the two sets of pipes, ‘surely that’s a bit deceitful, and why make us go to all the trouble of working the generators when there’s no need?’

‘This place is all about deceit, nothing is quite what it seems. That’s why I want to solve some of these mysteries, and so get a better idea of what it’s really all about. Come on, we’d better put back as much of this stone a possible, although it’s so gloomy in this corner I doubt anyone will notice our handiwork.’ Most of the stone was wedged back in place, and the exploration reasonably well concealed.

‘What do we tell Nan?’ asked Ben, when they had redistributed the remaining rubble on the floor of the cave into convenient dark corners, ‘I don’t suppose he’ll like it.’

‘It’s about time Nan faced up to some of the odd things which happen here, instead of just accepting everything at face value and then building a mythical ritual around it.’

Sandy turned the gas supply from the generator back on, being careful to leave everything as it was before.

‘Are you going to tell Jez what we’ve found?’ asked Ben, eager to spread the news now that he had had his interest awakened in matters mystical.

‘No, I think we’ll keep that a little secret to ourselves, and Nan of course, the fewer people who know about this sort of thing the better, for the time being. I would like us to get into a position where we can really look after ourselves without the help of any outside force before we show our hand, as it were, ’cos who knows what will happen then.’

Ben promptly assumed his worried look, as the idea of major changes to their regime looked more than likely, if Sandy had his way.

They met up with Nan in the main cavern just before the midday meal.

‘Well, what did you two find out?’ asked a somewhat complacent Nan, not really expecting any disturbing news.

They told him what they had found, and Sandy’s theory that the gas supply had been rigged a long time ago to fool everyone into thinking that it was they who were making the gas for the lights, when the system could not possibly make enough for their needs. Nan did not look a happy man.

‘Why do you think ‘they’, if ‘they’ really exist, went to so much trouble to fool us? I don’t see any point in it. I think you’re jumping to conclusions.’ said a rattled Nan.

Just then, the rest of the group began arriving for the midday meal, so any further discussion on the faked gas supply was suspended. Nan suggested that they continue later on after the evening meal, as they would be less likely to be disturbed then.

Mop excelled herself with the food offering, although she would not divulge what the chewy bits were, except they were something she had recently discovered. The juice they were suspended in was thick and glutinous, and tended to stick to the teeth.  Sandy dreaded to think what it was she had used, and did not dare ask.

Most of the afternoon was spent rummaging about in Ben’s store of bits and pieces, Sandy not saying exactly what it was he was looking for, merely getting an idea of what was available, should the need arise. Ben was sure it would.

The growing boxes were taken out when the sun dipped below the highest peaks, the bowl of the crater taking on a more gentle glow instead of the white hot blast of light which constituted the main part of the day.

The boxes had hardly been out for more than a few minutes when a loud bell sounded, and everyone rushed out to the main entrance.

Karry and Kel were pointing their gas guns at a small group of cloak clad bald headed people who had crept up to the growing bins, and were intent on helping themselves.

‘Shoot the tallest one,’ Nan said quietly, ‘he’s most likely their leader, and that should throw them into disarray.’

A loud bang shattered the otherwise stillness of the crater, and several more cloak clad figures suddenly sprang into view from their hiding place among the rocks at the base of the towering cliffs. Karry must have been lucky, or a good shot, for the tall target fell to the ground, clutching his leg.

The fallen one made much of his damaged leg, while two of his henchmen tried to get him up onto his feet again. One of the bolder members of the raiding party took several steps forward, waving a long silver coloured rod at the defenders, and this prompted Nan to give the order to fire again.

This shot hit the rod waver in the forehead, and he too fell to the ground, blood spurting out from the gash, and staining the sands a deep crimson as it soaked in.

Both gas gun carriers took a step forward and pointed their guns at the remaining group of attackers, as if to fire again.

Not realizing the guns were now inoperative, they took to their heels, dragging the last casualty rather carelessly by one leg, until they were well out of range.

The group reassembled, shaking their fists at the triumphant defenders and yelling unintelligibly before marching off defiantly, trying to rescue some degree of dignity from their failed attempt to acquire what was not theirs.

‘Well done,’ said Nan, ‘that was good shooting and should teach them a lesson they won’t forget in a hurry.’

Ben stepped forward to take the gas guns for reloading, and Sandy followed him down to his workshop, to see how it was done. One of the gas lamps had a piece of flexible tubing attached to the outlet of the lamp, and Ben thrust the tube into the end of the gun, after removing the bung. Unscrewing a small knob on the bulbous end of the weapon, he then turned on the gas and held a burning taper which he had lit from one of the lamps, over the hole.

Nothing happened for a moment, and then a small flame appeared at the hole, burning brightly. Ben then turned off the gas, removed the tube, and inserted a rod with a leather like plunger on the end, into the gun barrel, pushing it in as far as it would go, and then the little flame went out. 

The rod was withdrawn from the barrel end of the gun, the little knob screwed back in and small wad of some fluffy material pushed down the barrel. This was followed by the round stone missile and another wad of material to hold it in place, and then the bung, still attached to its string, was  firmly pushed home, to seal the end of the barrel.

When Ben had recharged the other gun, Sandy asked him to explain exactly what he had done, and why.

‘It’s really very simple. When the gun is fired, burnt air is left in the tube, so the bung is put back to keep it that way.

‘Whoever fires the gun, removes the bung just before they fire. The bung stops the gas mixture from leaking out after it has been charged, and is attached to the gun by this piece of string, so that we don’t lose it each time the gun is fired.

‘When I get the gun back for recharging, I connect up the gas pipe and hold a light to the little hole where the knob was, so that when the incoming gas has driven all the burnt air out, the gas will light, and I know it’s full of gas.

‘Next, I push the rod with the little flange on it into the barrel, pushing some of the gas out the other end, and when I withdraw the rod, it sucks air back in to mix with the gas.

BOOK: Extreme Difference
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