Ten yards away. Five. And then it stopped.
Rather, it was stopped. Abruptly the near side of it flattened as though it had run up against an invisible wall. It bounced, actually bounced back.
Then it rolled forward again, but more cautiously. It stopped again, at the same place. it tried again, a few yards to one side.
Then it rolled forward again, but more cautiously. It stopped again, at the same place. It tried again, a few yards to one side.
There was a barrier there of some sort. It clicked, then, in Carson’s mind, that thought projected by the Entity who had brought them there:
“— accident of physical strength will not completely decide the issue. There is a barrier.”
A force-field, of course. Not the Netzian Field, known to Earth science, for that glowed and emitted a crackling sound. This one was invisible, silent.
It was a wall that ran from side to side of the inverted hemisphere; Carson didn’t have to verify that himself. The Roller was doing that, rolling sideways along the barrier, seeking a break in it that wasn’t there.
Carson took half a dozen steps forward, his left hand groping out before him, and touched the barrier. It felt smooth, yielding, like a sheet of rubber rather than like glass, warm to his touch, but no warmer than the sand underfoot. And it was completely invisible, even at close range.
He dropped the stone and put both hands against it, pushing. It seemed to yield, just a trifle, but no farther than that trifle, even when he pushed with all his weight. It felt like a sheet of rubber backed up by steel. Limited resiliency, and then firm strength.