When Activity Persists Without History

At Ignis-Vex Thermal Sinking the molten obsidian cools behind reinforced glass and no one touches the baffles while it does. There was a time when Juno Mahel’s rod readings stayed in her notebook and Elowen Dax’s refraction tallies had no log to sit against. The founder arrived at the facility at seven in the morning. The lock report was on the shelf beside the entrance.

When the molten obsidian at Ignis-Vex Thermal Sinking reached its transition threshold, Juno Mahel, the pulse listener, pressed her slate rod flat against the floor and held it there. Cyrus Rek, the flow warden, stood at the nitrogen coolant baffles with his oil-soaked leather gloves on the valve without turning it. Elowen Dax, the clarity registrar, held her prism to the candle flame and angled it toward the cooling glass to read the light passing through. Kael Oros, the seam guard, ran his long-handled iron rake along the base of the lead lining and cleared the slag without touching the wall. The founder arrived at the facility at seven in the morning. The lock report was on the shelf beside the entrance. He read it at his desk and set it down.

The Glass-Lock required the cooling to remain perfectly uniform for eighty minutes without a drop in nitrogen flow or a tremor from the ground beneath. If either occurred the glass shattered internally and the structural vein became a million jagged needles.

In the earlier years of the operation the founder stood at the baffles and made the calls. The obsidian glowed bruised purple behind the glass and the four of them stood in the grey ash and the scorching air and watched him. When the eighty minutes ended he collected his notes and left. Juno’s rod readings stayed in her notebook. Elowen’s refraction tallies had no log to sit against. The next cycle began when he returned.

The air in the bunker was viscous and scorching and smelled of sulfur and hot metal. Breathing felt like drawing air through wet wool and the heat caused the walls to shimmer and warp as though the lead lining were slowly inhaling. The cooling obsidian behind the glass glowed with a deep bruised purple light that pulsed as the temperature dropped. Everything was coated in a fine grey ash that settled on the hands and the equipment and the floor like talcum powder, and touching the lead lining through gloves sent a heavy dull throb of heat into the bone. The only sharp sound in the room was the rhythmic clink of Juno’s slate rod against the floor.

Juno kept the slate rod flat against the floor and felt the magma’s thrum move up through the stone and into her palm, logging the interval reading in the production record each time the frequency held. Beside her Cyrus stood at the baffles with his leather gloves on the valve, watching the nitrogen flow gauge without touching anything. Elowen angled the prism toward the candle flame and read the transparency of the cooling glass in the light it threw, recording the refraction tally in her log before moving the flame to the next measure point. At the far wall Kael dragged the iron rake slowly along the base of the lining, clearing the slag that had collected at the seam, and checked the lead for weeping without putting his hand against it.

Founding is the point at which an enterprise ceases to be a draft and begins to have a history.

The eighty minutes had run and when the founder read the lock report the thrum reading was already in Juno’s record in her own hand.