((The Monday Triple: page 2 of 3))
‘Funnels?’ Hector vaguely recalled one of the reapers mentioning such a thing when he’d first learned of the Undercrust’s existence.
‘It’s an absolutely ancient technique. Perhaps the oldest method, even.’
He still wasn’t quite sure he understood. ‘Oldest method of what, exactly?’
‘Of creating survivable conditions here. Of colonization, that is.’
Hector blinked.
‘The invention of heat funneling--down here? Historically speaking, it’s on par with the invention of agriculture. Its importance and influence to civilization here can’t really be overstated.’
‘Wow, uh. Okay. How does it work?’
‘It’s pretty simple. Have you ever heard the phrase “heat rises?”’
‘Sure.’
‘Well, that’s a lie.’
‘What?’
‘Or at least, it’s not the whole truth. Really, heat just flows from an area of high concentration to an area of low concentration. From hot to cold. Until both areas are the same temperature. It’s part of nature’s eternal pursuit of equilibrium. We only think of heat as “rising” because heat affects the density of matter, and matter with a low density will generally get pushed up by matter with a high density. That’s why a rock sinks in water, and oil rises above it. But anyway, the point is, heat often gets conflated with the rising movement created by changes in density, even though heat itself is not prone to any particular direction.’
‘...I feel like I should’ve known this, already.’
‘Eh, you probably did, on some level. It’s fairly intuitive. And if not, well. That’s why I’m here, right? Don’t be too hard on yourself.’
‘You’re not gonna call me stupid again?’
‘Oh, yeah. You’re stupid.’
‘Ugh.’
‘Thanks for reminding me.’
‘Happy to help.’
‘Anyway, what was I talking about?’
‘Uh. Heat funneling?’
‘Right, right. So, ah, okay. Everything I just explained is an important part of how these cities down here maintain relatively safe temperatures. It’s hard for me to tell, since I can’t actually feel temperature, myself, but at a guess, I’d say that the streets of Babbadelo here are hovering around four or five hundred degrees.’
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every day at noon PST by ~400 words.
Monday, January 2, 2017
Page 1250
((The Monday Triple: page 1 of 3))
‘Not quite a thousand,’ said Garovel. ‘My knowledge is a bit archaic when it comes to the Undercrust, but as I recall, the average Hun’Kui can comfortably withstand temperatures of up to eight hundred degrees. In thermoregulatory terms, they’re what’s called eurytherms, meaning they can live in an extremely wide range of temperatures. But that’s all relative to the Undercrust. If you tried to take one of them back up to the surface, they’d still freeze to death.’
‘Oh.’
‘In Fahrenheit, the surface has a temperature spectrum of three hundred degrees or so. One-fifty in either direction, that is. But the Undercrust has a much, much larger temperature spectrum, beginning around five hundred degrees and ending around four thousand.’
‘That... sounds unpleasant.’
‘Just a bit, yeah. For reference, any area that’s more than three thousand degrees is generally regarded as uninhabitable by the people here. They don’t even try to mess around with temperatures that high.’ The reaper paused. ‘Or at least, that’s how it was when I last visited a few hundred years ago. Maybe they’ve made some breakthroughs while I was gone. In fact, I hope they have. I love seeing new technology.’
‘So, wait. They can deal with TWO thousand degrees? That still sounds completely insane to me.’
Garovel pointed a bony finger upward. ‘Take a look up there.’
Hector wasn’t sure what Garovel was talking about. He only saw a dark and very distant cavern ceiling amid a visibly warm haze.
But no, wait. After a few moments, he began to see it, even through his visor. There was something there. His eyes needed time to distinguish the deeper blackness from the rest, to interpret the faint contours in the darkness.
‘Holes?’ thought Hector. There seemed a few of them. Maybe five or six--he couldn’t be sure. They must’ve been gigantic to be visible at this distance.
‘Yes,’ said Garovel. ‘Heat funnels, to be precise.’
‘Not quite a thousand,’ said Garovel. ‘My knowledge is a bit archaic when it comes to the Undercrust, but as I recall, the average Hun’Kui can comfortably withstand temperatures of up to eight hundred degrees. In thermoregulatory terms, they’re what’s called eurytherms, meaning they can live in an extremely wide range of temperatures. But that’s all relative to the Undercrust. If you tried to take one of them back up to the surface, they’d still freeze to death.’
‘Oh.’
‘In Fahrenheit, the surface has a temperature spectrum of three hundred degrees or so. One-fifty in either direction, that is. But the Undercrust has a much, much larger temperature spectrum, beginning around five hundred degrees and ending around four thousand.’
‘That... sounds unpleasant.’
‘Just a bit, yeah. For reference, any area that’s more than three thousand degrees is generally regarded as uninhabitable by the people here. They don’t even try to mess around with temperatures that high.’ The reaper paused. ‘Or at least, that’s how it was when I last visited a few hundred years ago. Maybe they’ve made some breakthroughs while I was gone. In fact, I hope they have. I love seeing new technology.’
‘So, wait. They can deal with TWO thousand degrees? That still sounds completely insane to me.’
Garovel pointed a bony finger upward. ‘Take a look up there.’
Hector wasn’t sure what Garovel was talking about. He only saw a dark and very distant cavern ceiling amid a visibly warm haze.
But no, wait. After a few moments, he began to see it, even through his visor. There was something there. His eyes needed time to distinguish the deeper blackness from the rest, to interpret the faint contours in the darkness.
‘Holes?’ thought Hector. There seemed a few of them. Maybe five or six--he couldn’t be sure. They must’ve been gigantic to be visible at this distance.
‘Yes,’ said Garovel. ‘Heat funnels, to be precise.’
Sunday, January 1, 2017
Page 1249
Their eyes shone with white light, and if they had irises or pupils, then Hector couldn’t see them. It was such a strange yet familiar sight, like something out of a cartoon. Or perhaps a horror film--he wasn’t quite sure.
Everyone seemed to be completely bald, as well, even lacking eyebrows and facial hair. If not for their still very human-looking physiques, he might have thought they were from a different planet.
And boy, could he see their physiques. They barely wore any clothing at all. Occasionally, he’d spot someone entirely nude.
That much, he wished Garovel would’ve warned him about. Maybe it would’ve made him feel a modicum less uncomfortable right now. He tried not to stare.
It was difficult to discern their skin color, though. The poor lighting and the gloss on his suit’s visor didn’t help, but he was fairly certain that he saw slight variations in skin tone, at least.
As they proceeded on, however, Hector noticed changes among the crowd. More and more people wore clothes--or perhaps, harnesses was a better word for it, since the primary purpose of their clothing seemed to be in carrying things.
He supposed it made sense, though. Given the extreme temperatures down here, these people probably didn’t ever have to worry about staying warm.
‘What can you tell me about these people?’ Hector asked.
‘Well, there are several different races who live in the Undercrust,’ said Garovel privately. ‘In Mohssian, these gray folks with the glowing eyes are called the Hun’Kui--or “people of the ash.” They’re probably who you’ll be seeing the most of out in the open like this. There aren’t many other races who can withstand these temperatures as well as they can.’
Their sheer numbers made Hector curious. ‘They’re not all servants, are they?’
‘No.’
‘Then, how do they survive? Isn’t it like a thousand degrees down here or something?’
Everyone seemed to be completely bald, as well, even lacking eyebrows and facial hair. If not for their still very human-looking physiques, he might have thought they were from a different planet.
And boy, could he see their physiques. They barely wore any clothing at all. Occasionally, he’d spot someone entirely nude.
That much, he wished Garovel would’ve warned him about. Maybe it would’ve made him feel a modicum less uncomfortable right now. He tried not to stare.
It was difficult to discern their skin color, though. The poor lighting and the gloss on his suit’s visor didn’t help, but he was fairly certain that he saw slight variations in skin tone, at least.
As they proceeded on, however, Hector noticed changes among the crowd. More and more people wore clothes--or perhaps, harnesses was a better word for it, since the primary purpose of their clothing seemed to be in carrying things.
He supposed it made sense, though. Given the extreme temperatures down here, these people probably didn’t ever have to worry about staying warm.
‘What can you tell me about these people?’ Hector asked.
‘Well, there are several different races who live in the Undercrust,’ said Garovel privately. ‘In Mohssian, these gray folks with the glowing eyes are called the Hun’Kui--or “people of the ash.” They’re probably who you’ll be seeing the most of out in the open like this. There aren’t many other races who can withstand these temperatures as well as they can.’
Their sheer numbers made Hector curious. ‘They’re not all servants, are they?’
‘No.’
‘Then, how do they survive? Isn’t it like a thousand degrees down here or something?’
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)