Architect Neron's Arc

Chapter 4 of 8

The survey map showed Neron everything. The wet root beds ran through the flattest ground. The herd needed them. The city had to bend around them. Neron finally understood the shape of the problem. But understanding was not a drawing. He spread a blank plan sheet across the crate lid and picked up a pen. His hand froze. He had always designed inside a machine, with light and grids. He had never drawn a city by hand. He pressed the pen down. The line came out crooked. He tried again. Worse. The ridge in his head refused to reach the paper. "I can see it," Neron said. "I cannot put it here." Nevin knelt by the supply crate and lifted the lid. He was Neron's assistant, hired to solve the small problems Neron never noticed. He dug past the coiled rope and the chisels. "Your drafting kit," he said. "It was packed for shipping. Bottom compartment." He pulled out a flat case and set it on the crate. Inside lay a ruler, a compass, and a plumb line on a string. Neron opened the case. The tools were plain. No screens, no light. "These are for hands," he said. "Then use your hands," Nevin said. He tapped the survey map. "The machine drew this. Copy the machine." Neron laid the ruler along the map's edge. He measured the dry crown of the ridge. He marked the wet beds as lines he could not cross. Then he moved the ruler to the blank sheet and drew the first straight edge. It held. He set the compass and swung an arc for the outer wall. The plan began to take shape, small and tight, hugging the dry stone. A muddy hand reached over the crate. Dax leaned in, his cracked chest glowing faint blue. He had counted the herd longer than anyone. "You left room," he said, pointing at the wet beds. "For the roots. Sev-seventeen now. Another calf this morning." "The roots stay," Neron said. He kept drawing. But the crown was too small. Neron measured it twice. The largest buildings needed flat ground, and the flat ground belonged to the herd. He stared at the sheet. Every structure he wanted spilled past the safe line. He could not spread out. He looked up, past the meadow, to the distant research lab that rose on layered decks. It stood tall, not wide. Neron pulled a fresh sheet. He drew a single narrow footprint. Then he stacked levels above it, one over the next. "I build up," he said. "Not out. The city climbs." Nevin frowned. "On mud? Anything tall will sink." Neron set down the pen. The plan was real now, drawn in ink. But a tall city on scarce stone needed legs to hold its weight above the wet ground. He did not have them. "Then I need something to stand on," he said.