01 Taxilas Children

TAXILA'S CHILDREN
He walked round a half circle to look at the features, already certain of what he would find.
He was not mistaken. He stared at the face of Steve Holt and the tenfold magnification of his
physical self. It was an image which had existed from the time of the city builders and that
had been suggested as being at least ten thousand years earlier. It was an impossibility and
suddenly, his mind refused to deal with the trauma. He fell forward on to the face of Taxila,
but it was no act of supplication. Once again, Steve Holt had sought escape into
unconsciousness.
Nothing had changed within the chamber when he came to his senses. The Bole had
detected his lack of consciousness and had elected to stand above him protectively, like a
broody hen. The shafts of light from the long slit windows had moved around, giving him
some indication of the time which had elapsed. He judged it to be late afternoon. He was stiff
from his unnatural position on the floor and he spent some time easing his muscles before
trying to stand. He looked down at the clear plastic and found that he was staring into the left
eye of his image. It was unsettling enough to send him to the stone floor beyond the
Pentagram.
On the wall opposite the one where he had entered, was another door. To one side of it was
a flight of steps which led to a gallery which girded the main chamber. The other walls were
broken by the long slit windows. His choice lay between exploring the upper level, or what
lay beyond the smaller door. He decided on the door. Exploration of any description was
better than allowing himself to try to puzzle out how his image could be imbedded in alien
material forged by unknown artisans, ten thousand years into the past of a planet orbiting a
star which was not the Sun.
What was beyond the door, was almost an anticlimax. It was simply a room similar to that
which Zayez had occupied in the School of the Adepts. It was furnished with a small table
and several stools. There was a low recliner which didn't look particularly comfortable. At
one end, under the window, was a trestle which looked about as attractive as the recliner. A
curtained doorway led to an early example of Lynxe plumbing, with a pit for a bath and a
stone basin attached to the opposite wall. On the third wall was a floor to ceiling, wall length
mirror of smooth metal. An adequate water closet completed the fixtures.
Steve viewed himself in the mirror. His reflection looked back soberly. He was still
wearing the elaborate tunic he had been given for his appearance before Rho Arpor. It was
stained and streaked with sweat from the journey and his subsequent activities. He felt as
stale and dirty as his tunic. The man in the mirror seemed to be watching him. Steve almost
looked over his shoulder to see if it was the image of someone else. He turned away from the
mirror abruptly, his imagination was working overtime, he was seeing images everywhere.
The bath pit looked inviting. There was a spigot which he turned, feeling slightly
ridiculous that he should expect a flow of water after ten thousand years. When it came, he
jerked his hand back as if he had been stung. It was actually warm! He stripped off the soiled
tunic and waded in and stopped the flow when he was almost submerged. The Bole had taken
up station near the door.
"What do you make of all this, Bole?"
He received the answer he could have expected.
"This is a room designed for ablutions."
Steve sighed, some things never changed! Perhaps he shouldn't complain, the Bole was the
one thing to which he could cling, even if his sanity was threatened all else around him. He
kept his patience.
"I was referring to that image of myself in the other room, not the state of the plumbing!"
The Bole remained silent.
"Well!"
"Insufficient data to formulate a conclusion."
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