The Romance of Atlantis by Taylor Caldwell Read Free Book Online Page A

bowed low. “We have our own generator, for just such emergencies, as thou, Majesty, in thy Palace and the government chambers.”
    She pointed vaguely out a window. “I see the waves churning as before, taking energy from the tides, so why do not thy pumps churn with all this power?”
    “Our pumps are powered, Majesty, by solar energy, from the vast solar center which circles the mountain, and for a reason we do not yet understand this energy flow has stopped.”
    “Is it not madness to rely on but one energy source when the sea sits ready to do our bidding, a sea that no cloud can obscure?”
    Minotaur hesitated, flustered under the Empress’ stern gaze.
    “Speak, man, this is no time for protocol. Why doth not the ocean move thy pumps?”
    “Thy pardon, Majesty. We can normally generate enough sea power for a hundred and one household uses. This alternate program was intended to become operational when the sun hid behind the clouds for three days or more, and the solar supply dwindled.” He shrugged unhappily. “With the sun obscured, tidal energy is being produced, as we can tell by our gauges, but it dissipates before our transformers can convert it to energy. It is a mystery.”
    “So how doth thy generator work?” The Empress glanced pointedly at the overhead lamp.
    Minotaur was happy for an opportunity to have something explainable to discuss. “This functions on a limited range, Majesty, on a closed-circuit system, independent of atmospheric vibrations, but—” he frowned “—even so, we find the impulse weaker than usual, with some units losing power after a few hours.”
    Moved by the man’s sincerity, Salustra laid a hand on his shoulder. “It is men like you, Minotaur, who make me feel that my efforts are worthwhile.”
    Minotaur blushed and bobbed his head. “This visit, Majesty, is reward enough for whatever service I perform.”
    She turned to the hovering Creto with a wave of her hand. “Now for the desalinization plant which is nearest us. Without fresh water,” said she, “how long can we survive?”
    “There is always the rainfall, Majesty, collecting in the mountain streams.”
    “Polluted, my dear Creto, with these insufferable fumes that smell of the sulfur that grows on gravestones.”
    The de-salting plant was a miracle of subterranean pipes, tubes and chambers, all intricately interwoven, so that minerals such as sodium, phosphorus, magnesium, calcium, cobalt, nickel, manganese were successively drained off from the churning seawater at different temperatures. Volatile elements such as chlorine, fluorine and iodine were distilled into massive chambers, and there refined for commercial use. Meanwhile, the freshened water, reinforced with certain beneficial minerals such as calcium, was drawn into great pipes and pumped into reservoirs throughout the city.
    As at the pumping area, all activity had come to a halt. The foreman was in a nervous state, perspiring from the heat accumulating underground since the power failure.
    The Empress felt faint with the heat. “How dost thou stand this temperature?” she asked.
    The foreman was of the same stripe as Minotaur, loyal to his monarch and well trained for his particular task. He replied apologetically. “Our air-cooling machines require more power than the emergency generators can produce, and so we must stand this heat, Majesty, until we return to normal.”
    “And when will that be, Fresto?” she asked, picking up his name from a desk plate.
    Fresto shrugged unhappily. “None can say, Majesty. The Minister for Science was here earlier and asked that very question.”
    Salustra’s face was incredulous. “The minister asked thee? Then indeed we are in trouble.”
    Fresto looked at her blankly.
    “And what say you to the waste-disposal system? Shall we strangle in our own offal?”
    The foreman shook his head. “No, Majesty, the ocean tides, funneled in and out of the moat, still carry off the wastes, which flow by