by Hal Clement
It is not, however, impossible, if one is patient. The porpoiselike swimmer eventually ceased his violent antics and slid out on top of a half-hectare floe, and began to check his environment suit and oxygen supply; the ammonia in Habranha’s sea was a strong irritant to Cephallonian skins, while the one third atmosphere oxygen partial pressure, high enough to be risky to human beings if breathed for too long, was inadequate for the sea folk when they were being really active. The Erthumoi were now able to get his attention. He had not been rude — they knew his kind well enough to be sure of that; he simply hadn’t noticed them. Hugh introduced his wife.
Shefcheeshee was as willing as before to talk at great length about anything connected with the deep-sea fossil project. This time he seemed more upset that no one had yet perfected a diving fluid for his race, so he could not reach the ocean bottom himself. Instead of happy reports, he complained extensively. Hugh wondered whether nothing had been learned from the sea bottom since their last conversation, or Shefcheeshee were simply in a different mood this time. The latter seemed more probable; the mere fact that the Cephallonian remembered everything he had said earlier to one Erthumoi appeared unlikely to stop him from going through it all over again for another.
Neither Janice nor Hugh tried to make suggestions; Habranha’s gravity was feeble, but under five hundred kilometers of water it still produced a hydrostatic pressure of about ten thousand bars. Vessels could be built to resist this, but not so far to let people work through their walls to dig rocks. The Cedars simply listened sympathetically, and eventually the subject matter became more interesting.
Shefcheeshee was as sure as anyone that the Habras were descendants of colonists, not indigenous to the planet, though he lacked strong feeling about the matter. In response to a question slipped in edgewise, he had heard of the Trueliners, but none of them had ever approached him with an attempt to change his mind on that subject. If any of them knew anything relevant, naturally, he’d be glad to hear it; could the Cedars put him in touch with such a person?
Hugh, carefully not looking at his wife, said that they knew an enthusiast on the subject who might be available in a few Common Days and would be, Hugh felt sure, most willing to expound his views. Shefcheeshee, shifting position to keep from melting his way too far into the floe, responded as they had hoped, with wild excitement.
“Wonderful! The Box at the digging site reports by sounder every thirty hours, and as soon as I can make a summary of its information I incorporate it in my next public presentation at the Port of Deep Study. I told you about the one after we first met; I’m sorry you couldn’t be there, but you are both welcome to the next, in about thirty hours. I intend it for the Habras mostly, of course, since the knowledge concerns their planet, but there are always many listeners.”
“Naxians, largely, I expect,” Hugh couldn’t resist suggesting.
“Oh, yes. It was a Naxian group which contributed heavily to the project originally. I was rather surprised, since an Erthumoi artificial brain was involved in the actual work, but they admitted that probably nothing else could be used at such depths since Habras would take a long time to train in the instrumentation and coring equipment, and there are too few Erthumoi free, competent, and interested. It’s a great pity that we have not yet produced a pressure fluid for my race, especially since we are, after all, the natural ones for undersea research.”
Janice started to key words at once sympathetic and discouraging to a return to that subject, but this proved unnecessary. The Cephallonian was wavering only slightly in his course.
“I have, of course, been tactful about the wordage of my explanations — if you were not Erthumoi I would say I had kept it clean where mention of the artificial mind is concerned; but you know what I mean.”
This time it was Hugh who agreed, but both filed the same thought. Naxians were probably the most likely of the Races to accept artificial intelligence eventually on pragmatic grounds, in spite of the Cephallonian philosophical bent. Since there were many more Naxians on Habranha anyway, this was probably convenient. The principal remaining uncertainty was the one newly raised by Bill’s information.
Were the supporters interested, pragmatic Naxians who would carry weight with the rest of their kind, or were they just the Snoop-players? And were Snoop-players more nearly the Naxian equivalent of artists, sport fans, or chemical dependents?
This didn’t seem to be anything which could be learned either from Shefcheeshee or by casual inquiry at the Guild office.
The talk with — more accurately, by — Shefcheeshee went on for nearly another hour, since there seemed no courteous way to terminate it, but both Erthumoi were guilty of allowing their thoughts to wander much of the time. Fortunately, the Cephallonian was quite content to talk, and asked few questions of his audience.
They both agreed, when he asked, to attend his next presentation, since they had already decided to do so; they wanted to observe any Naxian attendees themselves. The fact that their own feelings would be plain to the serpentine listeners could not be helped, and might possibly be made useful.
Shefcheeshee eventually decided that he was straining his oxygen budget, since he had fifty or sixty kilometers to swim. He once again made sure they would attend his talk, and slid into the water. The Erthumoi reentered their flier, which Hugh had parked on the floe after careful testing of the latter’s buoyancy, and decided to return to Pitville for sleep. There was after all ordinary work to be done, especially by Janice. They reported to Administration before going “home.”
They had forgotten to check on Ennissee at the Naxian medical station, and Ged claimed to be annoyed. He only forgave them, he said, because Rekchellet had been really responsible for the matter. It was too much trouble to point out that he could call the Naxians just as well himself; the couple simply listened. The Samian said nothing about S’Nash, and neither Erthuma caught sight of it/him between flier and office or office and home. They didn’t even think of individual Naxians.
Just of the species in general, and even more generally, the subject of Entertainment.
Neither Hugh nor his wife was surprised when Ged Barrar stated his intention of attending the Cephallonian talk. They were even less so when S’Nash appeared unannounced at the aircraft. The man gestured to Janice to take the controls, but the only one to speak was the Samian.
“It’s lucky I hadn’t started actually putting that article together,” he remarked. “But now that I think of it, maybe something could be made of it after all. Janice, did you find anything about the specimen itself to prove it was not genuine? Is there anything to go on except that Erthuma’s word?”
Hugh had given his wife the controls in the hope of sparing her this predictable inquisition, and did his best to answer for her.
“It was a good job, unless you want to call Ennissee just lucky. Remember, the Naxians do their culturing from chemically purified solutions and synthesized compounds, and start their synthesis from minerals — I think I mentioned Rekchellet’s complaining about that. Naturally, that meant there was no carbon-fourteen present in the specimen, since the carbon would have come from carbonate rock somewhere off Habranha, and it registered maximum age on that count. Of course, there was no argon-forty either and no way to tell whether there was too much calcium-forty; but the first was explainable enough. It was frozen in ice I, which has a very open structure, and you could argue that the argon had leaked out as fast as it formed.”
“How about the biological structure itself? Was it a reasonable one for an ancestral Habra?”
“I couldn’t say, except to point out that one dot on a graph — or two, if you count the present species— don’t go for much. McEachern didn’t seem very startled by anything, but of course he hasn’t had much time with it yet. The mere fact that it was an early attempt to grow a Habra body would have given something reasonable along that line, I’d guess.”
“Then we have only the Erthuma’s story?” Barrar was plainly di
sappointed. Hugh smiled rather grimly.
“No. There’s one other fact. According to the claim, the item was found at a depth of — I forget just how many kilometers, but it was far below the depth at which Ice I would change to the distinctly denser Ice III. I don’t know how the collection was done, but I don’t see how the body could have been brought down to normal pressure without a lot of cell damage as the ice changed back, or for that matter during the original compression. There’s no evidence of such damage. Its ice had never changed phase.”
“But wouldn’t there have been damage anyway as it froze originally? Liquid water expands as it forms Ice I. That’s why freezing is so bad for most life forms.”
“Habras, like Crotonites, have alcohols in their blood which inhibit crystallization, Jan says. You’ll really have to have a talk with McEachern, though, if you want enough details for a meaningful paper.”
“But Respected Opinion McEachern would expect…”
“Academic credit. So does Janice. We’re landing. We’ll have to show you the way. Shefcheeshee has a setup down at the port, here — a tank with microphones.”
Barrar showed no sign of being disgruntled either by Hugh’s last statement about his wife, or by the rather pointed change of subject, but of course the Erthuma couldn’t tell. S’Nash might be getting a real kick from the reaction, he suspected. Which is to he found out. He exchanged glances with Janice, who gave a half smile and nodded. It didn’t matter that S’Nash must know their feelings; it shouldn’t even matter, in a few minutes, if it/he could actually read their minds.
The Habras were not very real estate conscious except when they had to relocate people from the melting side of the Iris, and Shefcheeshee had apparently met with no objection when he turned the top of a local hill into a lecture hall, though “hall” was hardly an appropriate term; the Cephallonian had never seriously considered putting a roof over his winged audience, the Erthumoi were sure. The ice was bare, smooth, and by nature or art shaped like half a stadium bowl focusing on a level area originally at the edge of the sea. New icebergs had changed this last fact, but the Habras maintained the open water of their port behind his lecture platform. The Cephallonian had arranged to place meter-square patches of roughened polymer sheeting, separated by narrower lanes of bare ice, over most of the sloping surface to provide traction.
There were a few enclosed cubicles, also of clear polymer, around the upper edge of the bowl, for attendees who were uncomfortable in Habranhan atmosphere or temperature and preferred not to wear armor too long at a time. Hugh and Janice had learned about these earlier, and made them part of their plan; what they wanted to do would be discourteous if the general audience could hear them. They guided Barrar to one of the cubicles and entered, watching with interest while S’Nash decided, after visible hesitation, to remain outside.
There was a bench, not specifically designed for Erthumoi but usable, and the two sat down. Barrar remained standing in his mechanical walker.
There was already a large crowd, mostly natives, and it was possible to turn up translator receivers again without hearing only a hopeless blur of incomprehensible overload noise. The Habras, Janice noticed, were quite willing to press side by side, wings folded, with far too little space around most of them to allow takeoff; the few Crotonites, predictably, remained near the upper edges of the bowl and made sure they could spread their wings. Erthumoi, Locrians, and Naxians were scattered through the area, indifferent to flight opportunity. Janice nudged Hugh without speaking; her hypothesis had made another correct prediction. One might have thought that the snakelike part of the audience would have wanted to gather at the front, where they could hear and especially see the speaker more easily, since there were no facilities for them to elevate themselves above the floor anywhere in the bowl. They did not seem to be doing this.
Janice now strongly suspected that it was not just the speaker they would want to watch. Both Erthumoi looked around more closely, but couldn’t be certain that there was any real concentration of serpentine bodies around Crotonites The Naxians were too hard to see in the crowd.
The Erthumoi tensed as Shefcheeshee leaped far out of the water into the huge, transparent tank which formed the speaker’s rostrum, and began his talk without preamble.
Chapter Fourteen
And Still Be “Only Theory” At Its Best
It was as though he were addressing a class rather than delivering an oration. A speaker in the booth transmitted his sounds faithfully enough for the translators. He spoke for some time of general Habran prehistory, and Barrar began to grow impatient, judging by the uneasy motions of his walker and its handlers. This was nothing new — Hugh felt he could almost read the Samian’s mind — and nothing he could use.
Then Shefcheeshee began an explanation of the artificial intelligence which was guiding the bottom search and identifying, selecting, and analyzing the finds, and the Samian froze. Shocked? Revolted? If the speaker could stomach the subject, why couldn’t a would-be scholar? This time Hugh was more amused, familiar as he was with the attitudes of the Other Five.
Janice nudged her husband again. There were four — no, five snakelike forms within a meter or two of their booth, every one staring at Ged Barrar. As she started to form a triumphant grin, one of them shifted its gaze to her; as the implication of that change in attention struck both Erthumoi, the other Naxians also turned their eyes on the pair.
Hugh expected them to turn away again after a moment, to avoid betraying themselves, but Janice had a different picture. A clearer one, she thought. Yes, they had sensed her feeling of triumph; no, they didn’t — they couldn’t, surely — realize its cause. She basked happily in the glow that any scientist feels when an infant hypothesis, nurtured lovingly for weeks and fed carefully with observations, speaks its first words — makes one of its earliest predictions. She knew, of course, that the feeling couldn’t last long; theories this young were usually far too tender. It would be hurt by something very soon, and need help. Still, the gold-brown Naxian optics remained fixed on her, and she could enjoy that while it lasted.
That wasn’t long. The glow vanished as it occurred to her to wonder what they might do to convince her they had only emotion sensing powers, and were not mind readers….
It had been wonderful while it lasted, but she was back on the ground. She glanced once more at the watchers. Their eyes were still on her. Maybe they were reading her thoughts — no. She brought herself up sharply. That may not be impossible, but don’t worry about it; just file it as something to devise a test for at some handier time.
Shefcheeshee was still speaking. Ged Barrar was still listening. The subject was now more speculative, on why no fossils recognizable as azide-chemistry organisms had been found at the sea bottom. Hugh muttered his own notion, expressed earlier by Bill and, apparently, already widely held.
“Because the ocean is loaded with azide-using scavengers who evolved here, and can take care of the remains before they get to the bottom!”
Barrar heard, and thought for a moment.
“But why wouldn’t there be other scavengers, too?”
“I’d guess its non-azide life is all descended from things the Habras’ ancestors brought with them, deliberately or otherwise, when they arrived, and that there hasn’t been time since then for evolution to till very many niches. You ought to consult McEachern or an educated Habra on that.”
“All the Habras seem to be able to talk about that sort of thing, whether they’re farmers or submarine operators or chemists or…”
“I know. It’s interesting. Maybe you should do your article on Habra sociology.”
“You’re laughing at me.” Hugh glanced outside without answering. Naxian attention seemed to be fading. There were now only three of them near the booth, and these seemed to be concerned with a nearby Crotonite as Shefcheeshee casually dismissed the idea that Habranhans might be descended from the mysterious Seventh Race.
“But don’t let that
keep you from star travel,” he went on. “You can be a Seventh Race yourselves, or an Eighth if you consider that number taken. There are wonders beyond your atmosphere rivaling those under your sea. You have the knowledge, or most of it; what you lack, we who already enjoy the sights and adventures both of worlds like your own and worlds marvelously different can gladly supply. You can…”
Hugh looked outside again; the question of Habras joining the star-faring races was one on which many Crotonites felt strongly, some on one side and some on the other. Maybe this one was reacting, and the Naxians were enjoying the display.
But the Crotonite unceremoniously spread his wings and departed before either of the Erthumoi could decide whether the Naxians were watching him especially or not. Also, there was no way Hugh could infer either from their own motions or those of the watching Naxians that the Habras were responding at all intensely to the Cephallonian’s appeal. Shefcheeshee finished a few minutes later with a summary which told the Erthumoi nothing that they hadn’t heard from him before and must have left Barrar deeply disappointed. Hugh and Janice rose and started to leave the booth.
Two things delayed them, one sight and one sound.
Hugh’s eye for the first lime really caught the ice which formed the floor of the small chamber, and perceived that it was covered with a pattern of cuplike dents like those S’Nash had pointed out on the road east of Pitville. They did not form any sort of regular trail, however, and this time the reason was obvious enough. They had been made by Barrar’s walker, and his motions in the booth had been irregular. Even Hugh could see them without trouble, since there were no interfering marks.
Before he could comment or explain to Janice, much less confront the Samian, a sound took his attention. Barrar had opened the door, and auditory patterns from outside were reaching his translator again. Some of the loudest were far enough above background to let the equipment separate and interpret them.