So, here we are in the world inside the world. Beneath your feet is rough terrain: to your left is a wormy, brainlike structure which, after a moment, you realize is the inverse of an ant mound.
Overhead, there is the sky, which is the center of the earth. As one proceeds farther up (which is in), the 'air' pressure increases to unsurvivable levels. People don't generally do that. There's a little bit of heat radiating from it, but not much. Somewhere within there is a distant twinkling, as of moving water; perhaps within sight is a tremendous, slow-pouring waterfall.
There is a day/night cycle of sorts. Co-photons pass through the Earth, striking the far side from the sun, which is thereby illuminated. On the far side, the sky is dark, but the ground glows brightly; on the near side, the ground is dark, but the far side (seen dimly through three or four thousand miles of intervening worldspace) generally provides enough light to see by, weather permitting. The undersides of particularly dense objects on the near side sometimes glimmer. (Their historical analogue to geocentrism was that the world floated in a sea of hot liquid, and spun. They did eventually figure out where the sun actually was, based on light-angles and parallax; this came as quite a shock.)
* (With apologies to Christopher Priest... wait a minute. I've used this title before, haven't I?)
Friday, May 15, 2009
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