Many and strange are the universes that sail like ships upon the River of Time. Most move with the
water, but some− a very few − move against it. And just one or two lie for ever beyond its reach,
knowing nothing of the future or of the past.
Shervane's small universe was strange in a different way. It held one world only − the planet of
Shervane's people− and a single star, the great sun Trilorne that brought it heat and light.
Shervane knew nothing of night, as the sun Trilorne was always high above the horizon, dropping
down closer to it only in the long months of winter. In the Shadow Land, it was true, there came a
season when Trilorne disappeared below the edge of the world, and a darkness fell in which nothing
could live. But even then the darkness was not absolute.
Alone in its little universe, turning the same face always towards its lonely sun, Shervane's world
was the last and the strangest joke of the Maker of the Stars.
As he looked across his father's lands, Shervane, like any human child, wondered what mysteries
and excitements lay beyond the horizons. When he turned to the north, with Trilorne shining full on his
face, he could see the long line of mountains, which ran from north to south until they disappeared into
the Shadow Land. One day, he knew, he would cross those mountains to the great lands of the East.
To the west, not far away, was the sea, and sometimes Shervane could hear the thunder of the
waves from the house. No one knew how far the sea reached. Ships had sailed northward but had always
had to turn back when the heat of Trilorne became too great. Old stories spoke of the distant Fire Lands,
and once, people said, there had been fast metal ships able to cross the sea even under the burning eye of
Trilorne.
All the lived−in countries of Shervane's world lay in the narrow strip between burning heat and
terrible cold. In every country, the far north was destroyed by the fire of Trilorne, and in the far south
lay the endless, grey Shadow Land, where Trilorne was no more than a faint circle on the horizon.
All these things Shervane knew, and while he was a child, he was happy to stay in his father's wide
country between the mountains and the sea. The farmland was good, and the whole land was rich in
flowers and trees and clear rivers.
But time passes, even in Shervane's strange universe, and he grew older. He had learned much
from his father, Sherval, but also much from his teacher, Grayle, who had taught his father and his
father's father. Now the time had come for Shervane to travel east across the mountains to continue his
studies.
Before he left, his father took him on a journey around his own country. They rode, on animals
which we can call horses, first west, then south, until Trilorne was quite close to the horizon and it was
better to turn east again. Shervane stared out across the empty Shadow Land.
`Father,' he said. `If you went south in a straight line, right across the Shadow Land, would you reach the other side of the world?'
His father smiled. `People have asked that question for centuries,' he said, `and there are two
reasons why they will never know the answer.'
`What are they?'
`The first, of course, is the darkness and the cold. Even here, on the edge of the Shadow Land,
nothing can live during the winter months. But there is a better reason. Come − I have something to
show you.'
They turned away from their route east, and for several hours rode once more with their backs to
the sun. At last they came to the top of a steep hill where Sherval stopped and pointed to the far south.
`It is not easy to see,' he said quietly. `My father showed it to me from this same hill, many years
before you were born.'
Shervane stared into the shadowy distance. The southern sky was dark, almost black, and it came
down to meet the edge of the world. But not quite black, because along the horizon, between the land
and the sky but belonging to neither, was a line of deeper darkness, black as the night which Shervane
had never known.
He stared at it for a long time, and after a while he suddenly felt that the darkness was alive and
waiting. He did not understand this feeling, but he knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
And so, for the first time in his life, Shervane saw the Wall.
In the early spring he said goodbye to his people and travelled over the mountains into the great
lands of the eastern world. Here he continued his studies, and in the places of learning he made friends
with boys who had come from lands even farther to the east. One of these boys, Brayldon, was studying
to be an architect, and he and Shervane spent many hours discussing their ideas and dreams for the
future.
Between them they took the world to pieces and rebuilt it to their own plan. Brayldon dreamed of
cities whose wide streets and beautiful buildings would be the wonders of the world, but Shervane was
more interested in the people who would live in these cities, and how they would order their lives.
They often spoke of the Wall, which Brayldon knew about but had never seen. Far to the south of
every country, rising huge and black into the grey sky, the Wall ran in an unbroken line across the
Shadow Land, never pausing even when it reached the sea. Travellers on those lonely coasts had
reported how the dark shadow of the Wall marched out into the waves and beyond the horizon. In
summer it was possible to make the journey to the Wall, though only with difficulty, but nowhere was
there any way of passing it, and no one knew what lay beyond.
`One of my uncles,' said Brayldon, `reached the Wall when he was a young man. He rode for ten
days before he came beneath it. I think it frightened him − it was so huge and cold. He could not tell
whether it was made of metal or stone, and when he shouted, his voice died away at once and there was
no echo at all. My people believe it is the end of the world, and there is nothing beyond.'
`My people believe it was built by men,' said Shervane, `perhaps by the engineers of the First Age,
who made so many wonderful things − even, people say, ships that could fly.'
`That may be true,' said Brayldon, `but we will still never know why they built it, or what lies
beyond it.'
But Shervane could not accept that there were no answers to these questions, and he went on
asking them. Before he came east, Grayle, his old teacher at home, had told him:
`There is only one thing beyond the Wall, so I have heard. And that is madness.'
Artex, one of the great teachers in the east, had given Shervane a different answer:
`The Maker built the Wall in the third day of making the world. What is beyond, we shall discover
when we die, as that is where the dead go.'
But Irgan, who lived in the same city, gave a different answer again:
`Behind the Wall is the land where we lived before we were born. If we could remember that far
back, we would know the answers to your questions.'
Shervane did not not know who to believe. The truth was that no one knew the answers, and perhaps
had never known.
Soon Shervane's year of study came to an end. He said goodbye to Brayldon and began the long,
dangerous journey home across the great mountains, where walls of ice rose high into the sky. As he
came to the last and highest part of the road, he could see, far below in the valley, the line of shadow
that was his own country. He went on down to the last bridge, looking forward to his homecoming and
journey's end.
But the bridge was gone, destroyed by the storms and rockfalls of early spring, and now lay in
pieces in the river three hundred metres below. It would take a year to rebuild it, Shervane realized
sadly, and he turned his horse and rode back to the east.
* * *
Brayldon was still in the city when Shervane returned. He was surprised and pleased to see his
friend again, and together they made plans for the year ahead.
It was Shervane's idea, and though many people shook their heads doubtfully and advised them not
to do it, by summer the two friends were ready to begin their journey. First they rode east, to lands that
Brayldon knew, then turned south and rode, for day after day; across the grey Shadow Land. The Wall
never seemed to get any nearer, and it was only when they were standing at its foot, staring up at its
huge, endless blackness, that they realized they had arrived.
It was even stranger than travellers' stories had prepared them for. It felt neither hard nor soft, and
was cold − too cold, even for something in a land untouched by the sun. Strangest of all was the silence:
every word, every sound died away with unnatural quickness.
Brayldon took out some tools, but he soon found that nothing could cut or even mark the Wall's
surface in any way. The Wall was not just hard; it was almost untouchable. At last Brayldon took out a
perfectly straight piece of metal and held its edge hard against the Wall, but when he looked carefully
along the line of contact, a very narrow line of light showed unbroken between the two surfaces.
Brayldon looked thoughtfully at his friend.
`Shervane,' he said. `I don't believe the Wall is made of anything known to our science.' He put
away his useless cutting tools and took out a theodolite. `If I can do nothing else,' he said with a smile,
`at least I can find out how high it is!'
When they rode away and looked back for their last view of the Wall, Shervane decided that there
was nothing more he could learn. He must forget this foolish dream, this wish to find out the Wall's
secret. Perhaps there was no secret at all. Perhaps beyond the Wall the Shadow Land just continued
round the curve of the world until it met the same Wall again on the other side. But then why. . .?
Angrily, he put it out of his mind and rode north into the light of Trilorne.
* * *
When Shervane took the road across the mountains again, he had been away for two years and he
was full of happiness to be going home again. As he rode down into the valley, he saw a line of
horsemen coming towards him, and he hurried on, hoping that his father Sherval had come to meet him.
But it was Grayle who rode up to him, and put his hand on Shervane's shoulder, then turned his
head away, unable to speak.
And presently Shervane learned that the storms of the year before had destroyed more than the
mountain bridge. The lightning in that storm had hit his home, burning the great house to the ground and
killing all his family in one terrible night.
In a single moment of time all the land had passed to Shervane, and he was now the richest man his
country had known. But it meant nothing to Shervane. He would give everything, he thought, to look again into the calm grey eyes of the father he would see no more.
* * *
Years passed and Trilorne rose and fell in the sky many times before Shervane thought again of the
Wall. He had taken good care of all his farms and land, and now he had time once more in which to
dream. More than that − he had the riches to make his dreams come true. And what was the use of
riches unless they could be used to shape one's dreams?
So Shervane wrote to Brayldon, now an architect famous in many lands for his wonderful
buildings, and asked him to join in his old friend's dream − and his plan.
Early the next summer Brayldon came and the two men were soon deep in discussions, studying
the drawings and the architect's plans that Brayldon had already prepared. Before Shervane finally
decided, he took his friend to see Grayle.
Grayle was now very old but his advice was always ready when it was needed, and it was always
wise. Brayldon put out the plans and drawings, and Grayle studied them in silence. The largest drawing
showed the Wall, with a great stairway rising along its side from the ground beneath. At six places on
the stairway there was a wide platform; the last one was only a short distance below the top of the Wall.
At last Grayle spoke. `I always knew you would want to do something like this one day, Shervane.
But how much will it cost?'
Brayldon told him, and the old man's eyes opened wide in surprise.
`That's because,' the architect said quickly, `we have to build as well a road across the Shadow
Land and a small town for the workmen to live in during the building of the stairway. We will have to
make our own building materials in the Shadow Land, you see; it would be even more expensive to
carry them across the mountains.'
Grayle looked more closely at the drawing. `Why have you stopped short of the top?'
`I want to be the only one to go all the way up,' replied Shervane. `There will be a lifting machine
on the highest platform. There may be danger; that is why I am going alone.'
It was not the only reason, but it was a good one. Behind the Wall, so Grayle had once said, lay
madness. If that were true, no one else need face it.
`'That is good,' said Grayle quietly. `If the Wall was built to keep something from our world, it will
still be impassable from the other side.'
`And,' added Brayldon, `we can, if necessary, destroy the stairway in seconds by explosives
already built in at certain places.'
* * *
It was seven years before the last stones were in place on the great stairway. Work could only
continue during the summer months while Trilorne was above the horizon, and there was always the
worry that the winter storms would destroy the work of the summer before. But Brayldon had built well
and each year the stairway grew slowly higher.
At last came the time when Shervane knew that his dream would soon become real. Standing two
kilometres away, so that he could see the whole stairway, he remembered the day when, as a boy at his
father's side, he had first seen the Wall and felt it was alive and waiting for him.
The top platform was so high above the ground that Shervane did not care to go near its edge. With
Brayldon's help, he got into the lifting machine that would take him the last ten metres to the top, then
turned to his friend.
`I shall only be gone a few minutes,' he said, more calmly than he felt. `Whatever I find, I'll return immediately.'
How could he guess that there would be little for him to choose or decide?
* * *
Grayle's eyesight had almost gone during the seven years of building, but his hearing was still
sharp and he recognized Brayldon's footsteps before his visitor had time to speak.
`Ah, Brayldon, I'm glad you came,' he said. `I've been thinking of everything you have told me
about the Wall, and I believe I know the truth at last.' He paused for a moment. `Perhaps you have
guessed it already.'
`No,' said Brayldon. `I have been afraid to think of it.'
The old man smiled a little.
`Why should one be afraid of something just because it is strange? The Wall is wonderful, yes −
but there is no need to fear it, for those who understand its secret.
`So many stories have been told about the Wall, Brayldon. But I think I can now see the ones that
are true. Long ago, during the First Age, Trilorne was hotter than it is now and it was possible to live
and farm in the Shadow Land. People could go as far southward as they wanted, because there was no
Wall to stop them. What happened to Shervane happened to them also, and so the scientists of the First
Age built the Wall to stop people going mad. Stories say− though I cannot believe this − that the Wall
was built in a single day, out of a cloud that encircled the world.'
He fell silent, and for a moment Brayldon was silent too, trying to imagine that distant world of the
past.
* * *
As the lifting machine took him up to the top of the Wall, Shervane tried to bury his fear deep
inside him. But it was hard. What if, after all, the Wall had been built to keep some horror from the
world? Then, suddenly, he was there, staring out at something he did not at first understand.
Then he realized that he was looking across an unbroken black sheet, which disappeared into the
distance. He stepped onto the Wall and began to walk carefully forward, keeping his back to Trilorne.
There was something wrong: it was growing darker with every footstep he took. Afraid, he turned
around and saw that Trilorne had now become faint and shadowy, like a light seen through a darkened
glass. Then his fear grew greater, as he realized that was not all − Trilorne was smaller than the sun he
had known all his life. He shook his head angrily; he was imagining it. A thing like that couldn't
possibly be true. He walked on bravely, with only the occasional look at the sun behind him.
Soon the darkness was all around him, and Trilorne had almost disappeared, leaving only a faint
light in the sky to mark its place. A wise man would turn back now, he thought, but still he went on.
Then he saw, far ahead of him, a second light appearing in the sky. Behind him, Trilorne had now
disappeared completely, but as he walked on, he saw that this new light was another sun, growing
bigger by the minute, just as Trilorne had grown smaller. Amazement took hold of him. Did his world
have two suns, one shining on it from either side?
Now at last he could see, faintly through the darkness, the black line that marked the Wall's other
edge. Soon he would be the first man in thousands of years, perhaps ever, to look upon the lands on the
other side of the wall. Would there be people in those lands, and what kind of people would they be?
He had no idea − how could he? − who they were, and that they were waiting for him.
* * *
Grayle put out his hand to the table beside him and found a large piece of paper that was lying on
it. Brayldon watched him in silence, and the old man continued.
`People have always argued about the universe − how big it is, where it ends, whether it ends at all,
or goes on for ever. It is difficult for our minds to imagine something that has no end. There have been
many answers given to these questions, and some of them may be true of other universes − if there are
other universes − but for our universe the answer is rather different.
`Along the line of the Wall, Brayldon, our universe comes to an end − and yet does not. Before the
Wall was built, there was nothing to prevent people going onwards. The Wall itself is only a man−made
thing, but it has the same strangeness as the space it now fills.'
He held the piece of paper towards Brayldon and slowly turned it round and round.
`Here,' he said, `is a simple piece of paper. It has, of course, two sides. Can you imagine one that
has not?'
Brayldon stared at him in amazement.
`That's impossible − quite impossible!'
`But is it?' said Grayle softly. On the table his hand searched for and found a long, thin strip of
paper. He ran his fingers along the paper strip, then joined the two ends together so that the strip had the
shape of a circle.
`The scientists of the First Age,' he went on, `had minds that could understand this fully, but this
simple example may help to show you the truth. Watch. I run my finger around the inside, so − and now
along the outside. The two surfaces are quite separate; you can go from one to the other only by moving
through the thickness of the strip. Do you agree?'
`Of course,' said Brayldon, still puzzled. `But what does it prove?'
`Nothing,' said Grayle. `But now watch. . .'
* * *
This sun, Shervane thought, was exactly the same as Trilorne. The darkness had now lifted
completely, and he no longer had the feeling that he was walking endlessly into nothingness. He began
to walk more slowly, afraid of coming too suddenly to the Wall's edge, and in a while he could see a
distant horizon of low hills, as grey and lifeless as those he had left behind. But he was not
disappointed; the Shadow Land of his own world would look no better than this.
So he walked on. And when presently an icy hand fastened itself upon his heart, he did not pause
or show any sign of fear. He went bravely on, watching the land in front of him, until he could see the
place where his journey had started, and the great stairway itself, and at last Brayldon's worried, waiting
face.
* * *
Again Grayle brought the two ends of the paper strip together, but now he had given it a half−turn
so that the circle of paper had a twist in it. He held it out to Brayldon.
`Run your finger around it now,' he said quietly.
Brayldon did not do so; he could see the old man's meaning.
`I understand,' he said. `You no longer have two separate surfaces. It is now a single continuous
piece of paper − a one−sided surface − something that at first sight seems quite impossible.'
`Yes,' said Grayle softly. `I thought you would understand. A one−sided surface. Of course, a piece
of paper only has two dimensions, but it gives us a simple example of what must happen, in three
dimensions, at the Wall.'
There was a long silence. Then Grayle spoke again:
`Why did you come back before Shervane?' he asked, though he knew the answer well enough.
`We had to do it,' said Brayldon sadly, `but I did not wish to see my work destroyed.'
`I understand,' said Grayle kindly.
* * *
Shervane looked up and down the great stairway on which no feet would ever step again. He did
not feel sad; he had learnt, as much as it was possible to learn.
Slowly he lifted his hand and gave the sign. The explosion seemed to make no sound at all, and the
stones of the great stairway flew outwards and began to fall in a calm, unhurried way that Shervane
would remember all his life. For a moment there came into his mind a picture of another stairway,
watched by another Shervane, falling in just the same slow, gentle way on the far side of the Wall.
But that, he realized, was a foolish thought; as no one knew better than he that the Wall had no
other side.
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