“Nice,” Bill said. “Finite but unbounded describes a sphere. I don't think the description of the topopolis is right, but they may not have fully explored it yet, lengthwise.”
“A billion miles,” I shook my head. “Not really a surprise.”
“Very interesting,” Garfield said, “but it still doesn't explain the backward technological level of the inhabitants. Do you think it was voluntary? Or maybe voluntary like my-way-or-the-highway voluntary?”
Bridget paused and gave Garfield a shrug. “That part still isn't clear. I need to spend more quality time in the library. Talking to people works, up to a point, but if you appear too ignorant of common knowledge, they start to get suspicious.”
“Actually suspicious?”
She nodded. “I couldn’t ask, obviously. But maybe they think you're either Administration and checking on the knowledge, or you’re a government operative trying to check on loyalty or attitude.”
“Or both,” I said. “We don't know the extent to which the Administrator operates as a level of government.”
Bridget nodded. “I noticed, too. My research isn't clear on a lot of details, but I'm sure the Quinlans have been living like this for hundreds of years. The Administrator, as the person or group is called, maintains order by Scattering any group that breaks the rules, like attempting to circumvent the tech limits, but otherwise seems to maintain a hands-off policy.”
“The existence of a Resistance would make me think the Administration is at least partly hands-on.”
I tapped my chin and thought. “What about Administration staff? Are they known? Do they have offices?”
“Understand, a lot of this is inferred from reading between the lines, so everything I say comes with a large dollop of uncertainty. But no, they're not an official part of the hierarchy. They are generally referred to as ‘Crew’. It's not clear whether they live somewhere else or are just part of the population, which leads me to believe it might be both. Hard muscle for the in-country work, and full-time Crew somewhere else.”
“Well it's a pretty good analysis, Bridget.” Bill said. “So with the group that just wanted to bump off Skeev, we now have three factions. Administration plus Crew, Resistance, and locals who don't want anything to do with either one.”
“The business in Galen makes more sense now.”
We discussed strategy the next morning. First Stop didn't have any other libraries, as it turned out. Bridget grumbled and made faces, but we recognize that it was to be expected. It wasn’t a small town, but it did appear to be a backwater. Bridget, not surprisingly, wanted to head out immediately. We asked around and determined that the biggest closest town was Three Lagoons. It was located on the next river system south of us, The Utopia, at the mouth of the connecting tributary. I immediately voted to head there, as it would give me a chance to examine how Heaven's River handled the connection between two rivers heading in opposite directions.
“We really have to stop pre-paying our room rentals,” Bill complained. “At least until we know how long will be staying. I think we've overpaid about a month’s worth already.”
Garfield made a head motioned toward Bill. “The accountant has spoken.”
Bill showed Gar his teeth, but didn't reply.
For a change, we’d be leaving town in a dignified and completely unexceptional manner. Not even any looking-in-carts jokes. We marched to the docks, jumped in the water, and per directions from the locals, swam determinedly for the south side of the river. Once we were close enough, we formed into a Quinlan raft and let the current take us. It would be 12 miles or so before we'd reach the tributary, known locally as The Gronk, which would take us to the main river to the south: the Utopia.
Meanwhile, it was a good opportunity to get some sun and do a little thinking. The others apparently felt the same, as there is no attempt to start any kind of discussion. As one, we tilted our heads back and worked on our under-beak tans.
After some indefinite but comfortable amount of time, Bill said “We’ve got company.”
Three heads jerked up and swiveled. The company though turned out to be a hound-driven riverboat, which was gradually closing in on us. We could tell immediately from their heading and relaxed pace that they were simply traveling to the same destination as us, rather than actively trying to intercept.
Garfield glared at Bill. “You didn’t have to be so dramatic. I almost had a coronary.”
Bill managed an injured innocence look. “What? All I said was that we have company. The coronary is your fault. You have a guilty conscience.”
Garfield responded with a dismissive “pfft”, but the statement was technically true, and Bill would just that it had anything to do with the earlier accountant comment anyway.
As the boat came closer, we were able to get a good look. It was a cargo hauler with very little in the way of passenger accommodations. Some Quinlans had obvious duties, and a few were hustling around, but there is another group of four just sitting on the deck, relaxing.
One of the crew waved at us and called out, “If you're taking the Gronk, we’ll give you a lift for a copper each. Got another set of sabbatarians here already!” He motioned to the group that was sunning themselves.
Bridget said, “Can’t hurt, and we might pick up something. And the ride is supposed to be a little rough.”
Without further discussion, we broke up, submerged briefly, and pooted onto the deck. The deck hand held out a paw, and I dropped four Quinlan coins into it. We ambled along to the other group, which moved over to give us some deck space.
“Planning on heading east?” the deckhand asked, walking with us.
“Going to Three Lagoons,” I replied. “We haven't planned past that point. Bridget here wants to visit their library.”
“Ah. A seeker.” The Quinlan made a gesture that translated as mildly dismissive. “There's fewer of them every year, seems to me. Most of you youngsters
