"Crystal cathedrals are ... well, they start with an architect who picks a site and lives on it for one year, just watching the weather and the angles of the sunlight and moonlight, and how the people and animals move, and how the plants grow. And sometimes after a full year the architect decides the site isn't right, and leaves.
"But if it is right, there will be maybe three years of moving in resources, and enriching the soil, and planning the paths around it, and doing long-range weather projections and so on.
"The crystal cathedrals aren't built, you see: they're grown. Living crystals that take silicon from the soil, biofilms that deposit translucent nacre behind them, all joining and combining and forming spires and stairs and halls of every color. No two are alike, because each one is grown to fix exactly where it is planted. It takes years to grow, with the architect there to feed one part and inhibit another, shaping it like bonsai.
"And when it's done, it takes your breath away. A building like a ghost of a million flowers: every level and layer of overlapping structure forming new symphonies of color as you look through them. Like the stained glass of Earth churches, but clearer, and every part of the cathedral is transparent at some level. And the crystals can vibrate, with light or motion. They can sing. They sing when the sun shines, and when the rains hit them, and when people walk through them. And when you sing, and the cathedral sings back...there is nothing like it in all the worlds."
Her eyes darkened. "I have never seen one in person," she admitted. "I've seen recordings, taken virtual walkthroughs...but I always put it off, saying, the cathedrals will always be there, won't they? I can go another time. But then there were no more cathedrals, and no more time."
no subject
"Crystal cathedrals are ... well, they start with an architect who picks a site and lives on it for one year, just watching the weather and the angles of the sunlight and moonlight, and how the people and animals move, and how the plants grow. And sometimes after a full year the architect decides the site isn't right, and leaves.
"But if it is right, there will be maybe three years of moving in resources, and enriching the soil, and planning the paths around it, and doing long-range weather projections and so on.
"The crystal cathedrals aren't built, you see: they're grown. Living crystals that take silicon from the soil, biofilms that deposit translucent nacre behind them, all joining and combining and forming spires and stairs and halls of every color. No two are alike, because each one is grown to fix exactly where it is planted. It takes years to grow, with the architect there to feed one part and inhibit another, shaping it like bonsai.
"And when it's done, it takes your breath away. A building like a ghost of a million flowers: every level and layer of overlapping structure forming new symphonies of color as you look through them. Like the stained glass of Earth churches, but clearer, and every part of the cathedral is transparent at some level. And the crystals can vibrate, with light or motion. They can sing. They sing when the sun shines, and when the rains hit them, and when people walk through them. And when you sing, and the cathedral sings back...there is nothing like it in all the worlds."
Her eyes darkened. "I have never seen one in person," she admitted. "I've seen recordings, taken virtual walkthroughs...but I always put it off, saying, the cathedrals will always be there, won't they? I can go another time. But then there were no more cathedrals, and no more time."