The Audience

THE AUDIENCE

SHE BARELY NOTICED the open metalwork, as sturdy as any factory joists and as delicate as rime. She paid little attention to the marvel of the huge but silent mechanisms that gently rotated the structures within the Tower, each hanging sphere big as an average apartment block. Of the POP operatives who accompanied them through the mirror-lined corridors and into a glittering elevator, like a hollowed-out diamond, she retained only the general impression of young stern faces and long leather overcoats. All Svetlana remembered afterwards was the abundance of Light. It spilled from every giant window and skylight, gleamed on the polished marble floors and ceilings, reflected from mirrors and gilded cornices, twinkled in the garlands of tiny bulbs draped over arched doorways and blazed from the giant electric chandeliers. Light was everywhere, filling Svetlana with its promise of the bright future and washing away the grief and despair that had clogged her mind like layers of