Chapter 29 Chapter VII

In the late afternoon, Paul stood outside his tent, the crack in their camp shrouded in thick shadow.He looked out, across the empty desert, at the distant cliffs, wondering if it was time to wake his mother, who lay asleep in the tent. Layers of sand dunes stretched far away, away from the setting sun, the sand dunes revealed imaginary shadows, very dark, as in the night. Monotonous without change. His brain searched for a height in the monotonous landscape, but found no convincing height between the dizzying heat and the horizon--no flowers, no gently swaying things. Showing that the breeze was blowing... and there were only sand dunes and distant cliffs under that silver-blue sky.

What if there isn't an abandoned testing station over there?he asked himself.What if, without the Freemen, the plants we see are nothing more than accidents? Inside the tent, Jessica woke up, rolled over and lay on her back, squinting through the transparent end of the tent, watching Paul furtively.He stood with his back to her, and his posture reminded her of his father.She felt a well of sorrow welling up inside her and looked away. After a while, she adjusted the filtration suit, refreshed herself with the water in the tent water bag, got out of the tent, stood up, and stretched her arms to drive away the sleepiness in her muscles.

Without turning around, Paul said, "I've found myself enjoying the tranquility here." How well the brain adapts itself to its environment!she thinks.She remembered a Bee Geist dictum: "The brain can move in any direction under tension—positive or negative, up or down." Consciousness, and on the positive end, its limit is superconsciousness.Under intense stress, the way the brain learns is largely influenced by training. "It could be a good life here," Paul said. She tries to see the desert through her eyes, tries to take over the planet, accepts all the atrocities, and marvels at the possible futures Paul sees.One can stand outside alone, she thought, without being afraid of someone behind you, or of a pursuer.

She walked up to Paul, raised the binoculars, adjusted the focus, and looked at the opposite slope.Sage and other thorns in the ditches...a low grass, chartreuse in the shadows. "I'm going to put up the tent," Paul said. Jessica nodded in agreement and walked to the exit of the rift, from where she could look around the desert.She swung the binoculars to the left and saw a gleaming white rock salt with a dirty, blackened mixture around its edge--there was nothing white on the outside.White is a symbol of death.But rock salt illustrates another problem—water.At some point, water had flowed through that whitish place.She put down the binoculars, adjusted her coat, and listened to Paul's voice for a while.

The sun was getting lower and lower, shadows climbed the salt rock, and the chaotic colors covered the sunset horizon.Colors flow into the darkness, surveying the desert.Coal-black shadows loomed over the sky, and a deep night enveloped the desert completely. Star! She looked up at them and felt Paul move as he climbed up to her side.The desert night is getting thicker and thicker, and there is a feeling that the stars are rising.The pressure of the day was waning, and a short, sudden gust of wind blew across her face. "The moon will be up soon," Paul said. "The backpack is packed, and I've got the drumsticks."

We won't be lost in this damned place forever, she thought, and no one knows. The night wind blows the stream of sand and whizzes past her face, bringing the smell of cinnamon, a fragrance in the darkness. "Smell the smell," Paul said. "I can even smell it through the filter," she said. "It's strong. But, does it buy water?" She pointed across the basin. "There's no artificial light there." "The Fremen are hiding in camps in those rocks," he said. A silver ring to their right rises above the horizon: the moon.As it rises into view, the lunar surface is a hand-shaped plane.Jessica looked at the desert under the silver moonlight.

"I put the drum stick in the deepest part of the crack," Paul said, "and once I light the candle, it can beat for thirty minutes." "thirty minutes?" "Before the sand lizards start coming..." "Ah, I'm ready to go." He moves away from her and she hears him walking up the crack. Night is a tunnel, she thought, a hole leading to tomorrow . . . if we have a tomorrow.She shook her head: why am I so depressed, I'm better trained than that! Paul returned, picked up his pack, and led the way to the first dune below.Pausing there, listening, his mother came after him.He heard her gently walking forward and the sound of a grain of sand dripping in the cold—the desert's own code, indicating how safe it is.

"We have to walk without rhythm," Paul said, thinking of people walking in the sand...with both precognitive and real memories. "Watch how I walk," he said. "It's the way the Fremen walk in the desert." He walked up to the windward side of the dune and moved along its curve with a waddling gait. Jessica watched him take ten steps carefully, and imitated him.She understood what it meant: they had to make the sound of sand moving naturally... like wind blowing sand. But the muscles protest against this unnatural, broken pattern.Take a step forward - shuffle - shuffle - take a step forward - pause -

To shuffle – take a step forward. As the time elongated, the rocks in front seemed not to be approaching, and the cliffs behind were still towering. "Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!" This is the sound of drumsticks beating behind the rock. "Drumsticks," Paul whispered. The pounding of the drumsticks continued, and they found it difficult to avoid its rhythm as they strode forward. "Dongmu... Dongmu... Dongmu... Dongmu..." In the moonlight, in the great basin pierced by that hollow knock, they moved forward, up and down, over dunes of quicksand, a step forward—a shuffling—

Stop - take a step forward... Their ears were constantly searching for that particular hiss. When the sound came, it was so low at first that it was drowned out by their shuffling.But it's getting... bigger and bigger... coming from the West. "Dongmu... Dongmu... Dongmu... Dongmu..." The drumsticks were beating. The hissing came closer in the night, behind them.As they walked, they looked back and saw the hill arched by the fast-moving sand lizard. "Keep going," Paul whispered, "don't look back." From the shadow of the rock they had left, there erupted an angry rattling, like the sound of a flail striking a rock avalanche.

"Go on," Paul whispered. They came to an unmarked place, between two rocks, the one in front and the one behind, which appeared to be at the same distance.Behind them, the sound of frantic whipping and tearing of rock still filled the night air. They keep moving...the muscles reach a stage of mechanical pain and seem to elongate without limit.But Paul saw that the rock slope ahead of them rose higher and beckoned to them. Jessica moved forward, distracted.She understands that only her own pressure is keeping her going.Her mouth was achingly dry, but the horrific sound behind her drove away the desire to stop and take a sip from the dialysis suit hydration bag. "Dongmu... Dongmu..." The sound of renewed flails hitting the rock, erupting from the cliffs far behind, drowned out the sound of drumsticks beating. quiet! "Come on," Paul whispered. She nodded, knowing that he hadn't seen the movement she was signaling, but needed action to tell herself that it was necessary to demand more unnatural movement from muscles that had reached their limit... Ahead of them, the safe face of rock rose into the starry sky, and Paul saw a flat stretch of sand spread out at its feet.He climbed onto the sand, staggered from exhaustion, and stretched out one foot reluctantly to balance himself. The sound of "dong dong" shook the sand around them. Paul took two steps sideways. "Boom! Boom!" "Sounds of knocking on the sand," Jessica whispered. Paul regained his balance and took a quick glance at the surrounding desert. The rocky slope was perhaps two hundred meters away from them. A hiss behind them, like a wind blowing, like a rising tide without water. "Run!" Jessica screamed, "Paul, run!" The sound of "dong dong" hitting the sand sounded under their feet, and they ran out of the sand and onto the gravel.After a while, the running relieved the aching muscles, but the sand and gravel dragged their feet.The hiss of the sand lizard's swimming gradually increased, and finally let out a roar like a storm. Jessica staggered and fell to her knees, all she could think about was fatigue, voices, and fear. Paul pulled her up.They held hands and continued to run forward. A thin pole protruded from the sand in front of them, and they ran past it and saw another pole. Jessica didn't notice them until they ran over the pole. Another pole—protruding from a crack in the weathered rock on the surface. Another one. rock!Her feet felt it, the shock of unresisting rock, and she gained strength from a firmer footing. A deep chasm, its vertical shadow stretching up the cliff in front of them, they plunged through, squeezing into the narrow, tiny hole. Behind them, the sound of sand lizards passing by stopped. Jessica and Paul turned and peered out onto the desert. At the foot of a rocky beach, where the rocks begin to appear, about 50 meters away, a silver-gray arc runs across the desert, and sand and dust fall around like a waterfall.It rose higher and became a huge, food-prowling mouth—a great black, round hole, its edges glowing in the moonlight. A big mouth snaked toward the little crack where Paul and Jessica had roosted, nostrils smelling of cinnamon, crystal teeth reflecting moonlight. The big mouth stretches back and forth. Paul held his breath; Jessica crouched, her eyes fixed. She needed Bee Geist's intense focus to suppress her innate fears, the fears of racial threats that filled her brain. Paul felt elated.In the recent period of time, he has crossed the barrier of time and entered the unknown realm.He could feel the black hole ahead, but nothing would reveal itself from his inner eye, as if he had been thrown down a well, or thrown into a trough by some step he had taken, unable to see the future. Instead of frightening him, the sense of a black hole in time forces his other perception into overdrive.He found himself remembering the essence of the thing that had risen from the sand to seek him, its mouth about 80 meters in diameter... curved in shape, cold knife-like teeth gleaming at the edges... the sound of angry breathing A hint of acetaldehyde - a smell of cinnamon... sour... Sand lizards brushed against the rocks above them, blocking out the moonlight, and showers of stone and sand fell into their narrow hiding places. Paul squeezed his mother inward. Cinnamon!Its scent wafted over his face like a tide. What does the sand lizard have to do with the spice of decay?he asked himself.He remembered Let Keynes revealing some connection between the sand lizard and the Spice of Decay. "Click..." It was like the sound of dry thunder crashing against a keep tower in the distance to their right. Another "click..." The sand lizard retreated into the desert and hid there.Its shining teeth weave the reflection of the moon. "Dongmu... Dongmu... Dongmu... Dongmu..." Another burst of drumsticks!Paul thought. It sounded again to their right. The sand lizard shuddered and retreated further into the desert.Only the protruding upper abdomen remained, like a half-bell mouth, erecting a curved tunnel above the sand dunes. There was a rustling sound. The creature went on sinking, backing, rolling, it became a small bulging hill of sand, and crawled away in a zigzagging way over the saddle of the dune. , Paul stepped out of the crack and watched the waves of sand roll across the desert toward the sound of new drumsticks. Jessica followed out of the crack, listening to the knocking of "Dum...Dum...Dum...Dum...". After a while, the sound of drumsticks stopped. Paul reached for the tube on the filtration suit and took a sip of the recovered water. Jessica watched his actions, her mind blank from fatigue and lingering fear. "Surely it's gone?" she asked quietly. "It's being called," Paul said. "The Fremen." She felt her strength regained. "It's so big!" "Not as big as the one that ate our orthopter." "Are you sure it's a Fremen?" "They use these drumsticks." "Why are they helping us?" "Maybe they're not helping us, maybe they happen to be calling for the sand lizards." "why?" The answer hung on the edge of his consciousness, but he didn't say it.There is a vision in his mind, which is somehow related to the barbed stick embedded in the backpack - "the maker's hook". "Why are they calling the sand lizard?" Jessica asked. A tinge of fear touched his heart, and he forced himself to turn away from his mother and look up at the cliff. "We'd better find our way up the mountain before daylight," he said. "There are still many of the poles we passed." She looked in the direction of his fingers, saw some poles--weatherposts, and made out a narrow shadow of a rocky outcrop that zigzagged into a crack high above them. "They marked a way up the cliff," Paul said.He put his backpack on his shoulder, walked to the foot of the tor, and began to climb up. Jessica waited for a while, rested, waited for her strength to recover, and then climbed up. They climbed up the path led by the pole until the tor dwindled and formed a narrow ledge at the mouth of the dark crevasse. Paul tilted his head, peering into the shadows.He could feel the narrow tor underfoot as unreliable, but he forced himself not to be too careful.All he could see was darkness in the crack, stretching upwards to join the starry sky above.His ears searched and heard only the sounds he expected--the sound of small sand droplets flowing, the chirping of insects, the patter of small animals running.He probed the darkness of the crevasse with one foot, probing the hissing rock face.Slowly, bit by bit, he rounded a corner, signaling for his mother to follow.Holding tightly to the hem of her robe, he turned her around the rocky corner. They looked up, at the starlight between the tops of the two rocks.Paul saw his mother beside him, moving like a gray cloud. "If only we could risk lighting a lamp!" he whispered. "We have other senses besides the eyes," she said. Paul slid a foot forward, shifted his weight onto one foot, and explored with the other, hitting an obstacle.He raised his foot, found a step, and stood up.He reached back, touched his mother's arm, and tugged at her robe, urging her to follow. Another step. "It goes all the way to the top of the cliff, I think," he whispered. Low, level steps, Jessica thought.There is no doubt that it was hand-hewn. She followed Paul's walking shadow, testing the steps.The gaps between the rock walls narrowed until her shoulders nearly brushed against them.The steps ended in a silt-filled narrow passage some twenty meters long, with a flat floor, leading to a low-lying moonlit basin. Paul stepped out of the narrow passage into the basin and whispered, "What a beautiful place!" Jessica agreed only in silence, standing a step behind him. Despite the tiredness, the clogged body tubes, nasal congestion, and filtration suits to be cleaned, despite the fear and desperate desire to rest, the beauty of the basin satisfied her, forcing her to stop and admire its beauty. "Like Wonderland," Paul whispered. Jessica nodded in agreement. Desert creatures—bushes, cacti, small clumps of leaves spread out before her, here and there, quivering in the moonlight.The circular rock wall to her left is black, and the rock wall to her right is moon white. "This must be a Fremen camp," Paul said. "There should be people here to keep all these plants alive." She agreed with Paul.She opened the tubing of the dialysis suit's water storage bag and took a sip of water.Warm, slightly spicy water slides down your throat.It brought her strength back, Paul thought.She put the cap back on, and the cap of the tube rattled against flying sand. Movement in the basin below them caught Paul's attention.He looked down, through smoking bushes and grass, to a flat wedge of sand in the moonlight, with little thumping animals. "Mouse!" he whispered. bang bang bang!They jumped into the shadows and jumped out again. Something passed their eyes and fell among the rats.With a soft screech and flapping wings, a ghostly gray bird rose up, grabbed a small black thing, flew across the basin, and flew away. We need those leftovers, Jessica thought. Paul continued to look across the basin. He inhaled, smelling the slightly pungent smell of sage filling the night sky.Birds of prey—he sees it as the way the desert exists, it brings tranquility to the basin.Silently, blue moonlight sweeps over sentinel sage and spiky, painted bushes.Moonlight sang softly, more harmoniously than any music in his world. "We'd better find a place to pitch our tent," he said. "Tomorrow we can try to find the Fremen, they..." "Most outsiders who come here regret finding the Fremen!" It was a heavy and powerful voice that interrupted his words and broke the silence.The sound came from above and to their right. "Don't run, intruders," said the voice, as Paul was about to retreat back into the narrow passage. "If you run, you're just wasting the water in your body." They want the water in our bodies, Jessica thought.All her muscles overcome fatigue and inject maximum readiness strength, but she doesn't show it.She accurately determined where the sound came from, thinking: Such a sneak attack!I didn't even hear him. She realized that the people who made the voices allowed themselves only small voices, the sounds of nature in the desert. Another voice came from the edge of the basin to their left: "Hurry up, Stilgar. Get their water so we can continue on our way. There's not much time until dawn." Paul was chagrined for not responding as quickly to emergencies as his mother.He froze and backed away again and again, his abilities blocked by momentary panic.At this time, he had to follow her command: relax, not just relax on the surface, put the muscles in a controlled sudden state, so that they can exert force in any direction. He didn't move, feeling the fear inside him and knowing where it came from.In this uncertain moment, there was no future he could see... They were caught between the mad Fremen whose only interest was the water in these two unshielded bodies.