by Brian Aldiss
It took some hours for the reply to reach Torang. When it came that afternoon, he went looking for Finchley.
He found the coordinator inspecting a newly finished canning factory on the coast, elated at the completion of one more link in making the colony self-sustaining.
‘Here it is,’ said Otis, waving the message copy. ‘Signed by the chief himself. “As of this date, the ape-like beings known as Torangs, indigenous to planet number and so forth, are to be considered a rare and protected species under regulations and so forth et cetera.”
‘Good enough,’ answered Finchley with an amiable shrug. ‘Give it here, and I’ll have it put on the public address system and the bulletin boards.’
Otis returned satisfied to the helicopter that had brought him out from headquarters.
‘Back, sir?’ asked the pilot.
‘Yes… no! Just for fun, take me out to the old city. I never did get a good look the other day, and I’d like to before I leave.’
They flew over the plains between the sea and the upjutting cliffs. In the distance Otis caught a glimpse of the rising dam he had been shown the day before. This colony would go well, he reflected, as long as he checked up on details like preserving native life forms.
Eventually the pilot landed at the same spot he had been taken to on his previous visit to the ancient ruins. Someone else was on the scene today. Otis saw a pair of men he took to be archaeologists.
‘I’ll just wander around a bit,’ he told the pilot.
He noticed the two men looking at him from where they stood by the shovels and other equipment, so he paused to say hello. As he thought, they had been digging in the ruins.
‘Taking some measurements, in fact,’ said the sunburned blond introduced as Hoffman. ‘Trying to get a line on what sort of things built the place.’
‘Oh?’ said Otis, interested. ‘What’s the latest theory?’
‘Not so much different from us,’ Hoffman told the inspector while his partner left them to pick up another load of artifacts.
‘Judging from the size of the rooms, height of doorways, and such stuff as stairways,’ he went on, ‘they were pretty much our size. So far, of course, it’s only a rough estimate.’
‘Could be ancestors of the Torangs, eh?’ asked Otis.
‘Very possible, sir,’ answered Hoffman, with a promptness that suggested it was his own view. ‘But we haven’t dug up enough to guess at the type of culture they had, or draw any conclusions as to their psychology or social customs.’
Otis nodded, thinking that he ought to mention the young fellow’s name to Finchley before he left Torang. He excused himself as the other man returned with a box of some sort of scraps the pair had unearthed, and strolled between the outlines of the untouched buildings.
In a few minutes he came to the section of higher structures where he had encountered the Torang the previous day.
‘Wonder if I should look in the same spot?’ he muttered aloud. ‘No… that would be the last place the thing would return to… unless it had a lair there abouts –’
He stopped to get his bearings, then shrugged and walked around a mound of rubble towards what he believed to be the proper building.
Pretty sure this was it, he mused. Yes, shadows around that window arch look the same… same time of day–
He halted, almost guility, and looked back to make sure no one was observing his return to the scene of his little adventure. After all, an inspector of colonial installations was not supposed to run around ghost-hunting like a small boy.
Finding himself alone, he stepped briskly through the crumbling arch – and froze in his tracks.
‘I am honoured to know you,’ said the Torang in a mild, rather buzzing voice. ‘We thought you possibly would return here.’
Otis gaped. The black eyes projecting from the sides of the narrow head tracked him up and down, giving him the unpleasant sensation of being measured for an artillery salvo.
‘I am known as Jal-Ganyr,’ said the Torang. ‘Unless I am given incorrect data, you are known as Jeff-Otis. That is so.’
The last statement was made with almost no inflection, but some still-functioning corner of Otis’ mind interpreted it as a question. He sucked in a deep breath, suddenly conscious of having forgotten to breathe for a moment.
‘I didn’t know… yes, that is so… I didn’t know you Torangs could speak Terran. Or anything else. How –?’
He hesitated as a million questions boiled up in his mind to be asked. Jal-Ganyr absently stroked the grey fur of his chest with his three-fingered left hand, squatting patiently on a flat rock. Otis felt somehow that he had been allowed to waste time mumbling only by grace of disciplined politeness.
‘I am not of the Torangs,’ said Jal-Ganyr in his wheezing voice. ‘I am of the Myrbs. You would possibly say Myrbli. I have not been informed.’
‘You mean that is your name for yourselves?’ asked Otis.
Jal-Ganyr seemed to consider, his mobile eyes swivelling inward to scan the Terran’s face.
‘More than that,’ he said at last, when he had thought it over. ‘I mean I am of the race originating at Myrb, not of this planet.’
‘Before we go any further,’ insisted Otis, ‘tell me, at least, how you learned our language!’
Jal-Ganyr made a fleeting gesture. His ‘face’ was unreadable to the Terran, but Otis had the impression he had received the equivalent of a smile and a shrug.
‘As to that,’ said the Myrb, ‘I possibly learned it before you did. We have observed you a very long time. You would unbelieve how long.’
‘But then –’ Otis paused. That must mean before the colonists had landed on this planet. He was half afraid it might mean before they had reached this sun system. He put aside the thought and asked, ‘But then, why do you live like this among the ruins? Why wait till now? If you had communicated, you could have had our help rebuilding –’
He let his voice trail off, wondering what sounded wrong. Jal-Ganyr rolled his eyes about leisurely, as if disdaining the surrounding ruins. Again, he seemed to consider all the implications of Otis’ questions.
‘We picked up your message to your chief,’ he answered at last. ‘We picked up your message to your chief,’ he answered at last. ‘We decided it is time to communicate with one of you.
‘We have no interest in rebuilding,’ he added. ‘We have concealed quarters for ourselves.’
Otis found that his lips were dry from his unconsciously having let his mouth hang open. He moistened them with the tip of his tongue and relaxed enough to lean against the wall.
‘You mean my getting the ruling to proclaim you a protected species?’ he asked. ‘You have instruments to intercept such signals?’
‘I do. We have,’ said Jal-Ganyr simply. ‘It has been decided that you have expanded far enough into space to make necessary we contact a few of the thoughtful among you. It will possibly make easier in the future for our observers.’
Otis wondered how much of that was irony. He felt himself flushing at the memory of the ‘stuffed specimen’ at headquarters, and was peculiarly relieved that he had not gone to see it.
I’ve had the luck, he told himself. I’m the one to discover the first known intelligent beings beyond Sol!
Aloud, he said, ‘We expected to meet someone like you eventually. But why have you chosen me?’
The question sounded vain, he realized, but it brought unexpected results.
‘Your message. You made in a little way the same decision we made in a big way. We deduce that you are one to understand our regret and shame at what happened between our races… long ago.’
‘Between –?’
‘Yes. For a long time, we thought you were all gone. We are pleased to see you returning to some of your old planets.’
Otis stared blankly. Some instinct must have enabled the Myrb to interpret his bewildered expression. He apologized briefly.
‘I possibly forgot to explain the ruins.’ Again
, Jal-Ganyr’s eyes swivelled slowly about.
‘They are not ours,’ he said mildly. ‘They are yours.’
The Rescuer
ARTHUR PORGES
It was by far the largest, most intricate machine ever built.
Its great complex of auxiliary components covered two square blocks, and extended hundreds of feet beneath the earth. There were fifty huge electronic computers at the heart of it. They had to be capable of solving up to thirty thousand simultaneous partial differential equations in as many variables in any particular millisecond. The energy which the machine required to operate successfully on a mass of M pounds was given by a familiar formula: E = MK2. The K was not, as in Einstein’s equation, the velocity of light; but it was large enough so that only one type of power could be used: the thermonuclear reaction called hydrogen fusion.
Designing the machine and developing the theory of its operation had taken thirty years; building it, another ten. It had cost three billion dollars, an amount to be amortized over roughly one hundred years, and supplied by fifteen countries.
Like the atomic bomb, the machine could not be tested piecemeal; only the final, complete assembly would be able to settle the question of success or failure. So far, no such trial of its capabilities had been made. When the time came, a one milligram sample of pure platinum would be used.
It was the largest, most intricate, expensive, fascinating, and dangerous machine ever built. And two men were about to destroy it. They would have to release a large amount of thermonuclear energy in order to wreck the machine. It was the only way in the circumstances. It was a heartbreaking decision to have to make. Perhaps they should have contacted higher authorities in Washington, since the machine, although quite international in scope, was located in California; but that was too dangerous with time so short. Bureaucratic timidity might very well cause a fatal delay. So, knowing the consequences to them, the two scientists did what they believed had to be done. The machine, together with several blocks of supporting equipment, including the irreplaceable computers, was vaporized. They escaped in a fast air car.
PRELIMINARY HEARING – A TRANSCRIPT
THE UNITED STATES versus DR CARNOT
THE UNITED STATES versus DR KENT
14 April, 2015
(Extract)
JUDGE CLARK: How did the man know the operation, when the machine had never even been tested?
DR CARNOT: The theory had been widely discussed in many scientific papers – even popular magazines. And the man was a technician of sorts. Besides, it wasn’t necessary to understand the theory; not more than forty or fifty men in this country could. He must have seen numerous pictures of the controls. The settings are simple; any engineer can use a vernier.
JUDGE CLARK: I think you’d better tell this court just what happened from the beginning. Your strange reticence has caused a great deal of speculation. You understand that if found guilty you must be turned over to the UN Criminal Court for prosecution.
DR CARNOT: Yes, Your Honour; I know that.
JUDGE CLARK: Very well. Go ahead.
DR CARNOT: Dr Kent and myself were the only ones in the area that night. It was a matter of chance that we decided to check some minor point about the bus bars. To our astonishment, when we arrived at the control room, the machine was in operation.
JUDGE CLARK: How did you know the machine was being used?
DR CARNOT: In many ways; all the indicators were reacting; but primarily the mass-chamber itself, which had dislimned and assumed the appearance of a misty, rainbow-coloured sphere.
JUDGE CLARK: I see. Go on.
DR CARNOT: Dr Kent and I were shocked beyond expression. We saw from the readings that the person, whoever he was, had entered for a really fantastic number of ergs – that is, energy. Far more than any of us would have dared to use for many months, if at all. (At this point Senator King interposed a question.)
SENATOR KING: How did the fellow get into the area? What about the Security?
DR CARNOT: As you know, the machine is international, and sponsored by the UN. Since there is no longer any military rivalry among the members, the work is purely scientific, and no country can be excluded. Naturally, the complex is protected against crackpots; but this man worked on the project as a Class 5 technician, and must have known how to avoid the infra-red and other warning systems.
JUDGE CLARK: We had better not confuse the issue with such digressions. How the man got in is no longer important. But your sudden knowledge of his background is, Dr Carnot. In an earlier statement you claimed to have no information about his identity. How do you explain that?
DR CARNOT: I had to lie.
JUDGE CLARK: Had to?
DR CARNOT: Yes, Your Honour. All of that will become clear, I hope, later in my testimony. Right now, let me clarify our dilemma. The machine was definitely in operation, and had been for about eight minutes. We couldn’t be certain that it would work – I mean to the extent of completing the job as programmed by the intruder; but the theory had been carefully investigated, and all the computations, which, as you know, took many years, checked out. It is a peculiarity of the machine, related to the solution of thousands of the most complicated differential equations, that there can be neither a cessation nor a reversal of its operation without grave danger to the entire state – perhaps even a larger area. The combination of vast energies and the warping of space-time that would result, according to theory, might vapourize hundreds of square miles. For this reason, and others, our plans had not gone beyond trying masses less than one gram.
JUDGE CLARK: Let me understand your point. It was impossible merely to shut off the machine? Stop the power?
DR CARNOT: If the theory is sound, yes. I can only suggest the analogy of breaking an electrical circuit involving millions of amperes – the current jumps the gap, forming an arc which is very difficult to stop. Well, in this case, it was not merely millions of amps, but energies comparable only to those emitted by a large mass of the sun itself. In short, the only way to prevent completion of this particular operation was to bleed off enough of that energy to destroy most of the complex. That, at least, would save the populated areas. Remember, we had only about twelve minutes in which to choose a course of action.
JUDGE CLARK: But you weren’t even sure the machine would work; that is, that the man would really survive. Yet you deliberately wiped out a three billion dollar project.
DR CARNOT: We simply couldn’t risk it, Your Honour. If the man did survive, and succeeded in his mission, the dangers were almost inconceivable. Even philosophically they are more than the human mind can grasp.
JUDGE CLARK: But neither of you has been willing so far to explain that point. This court is still completely in the dark. Who was the man, and what did he attempt to do?
DR CARNOT: Up to now, we weren’t ready to speak. But if you will clear the court except for yourself, the President, and a few high, responsible officials, I’ll try to satisfy this tribunal. The fact is, as you will see, that a large part of the public, in this country, at least, might approve of what that man tried to do. It may not be possible to convince laymen – people not used to the abstractions of philosophy or science – of the great risk involved. I can only hope that this court will appreciate the implications. I should add that Dr Kent and myself have seriously considered refusing any further information, but merely pleading guilty to wilful destruction of the machine. As it is, if you decide to release us to the UN for criminal proceedings, we still might have to do just that – which means your records would have to be suppressed. Our only reason for testifying is not to save our own lives, but the hope that we can contribute to the design of a new machine. And to better understanding of the problems involved in the operation. Among the public, that is.
JUDGE CLARK: I must take your attitude seriously; that is plain. Do you persist in maintaining that this room should be cleared, and all broadcasting suspended? Press, distinguished scientists, senators – all these are not
qualified to hear the testimony?
DR CARNOT: I only mean that the fewer who hear me, the fewer mouths to be guarded. And I’m sure this court will feel the same way when all my evidence is in.
JUDGE CLARK: Very well, then. The bailiffs will clear the room, except for the President, the National Security Council, and the Chairman of the Research Committee of the Congress. All electronic equipment will be disconnected; a complete spy curtain will be put on this room. Court will adjourn for two hours, reconvening at 1500.
PRELIMINARY HEARING (continued)
JUDGE CLARK: We are ready to hear your testimony now, Dr Carnot.
DR CARNOT: Do I have Your Honour’s absolute assurance that nobody outside this room can hear us?
JUDGE CLARK: You do. The spy curtain, which your own colleagues in science claim bars all wave lengths, is on at full strength.
DR CARNOT: If I seem too cautious, there is a reason, as you will see.
JUDGE CLARK: I certainly hope so. Now, will you please give the real point of this testimony? What was the man – and incidentally, has any identification come in on him yet? No? Well, what was he doing that seems to have scared you so?
DR CARNOT: His name doesn’t matter; it was on the note he left.
JUDGE CLARK: What note? Nothing was said about a note. Here this court has been trying to identify the man, and all the time –
DR CARNOT: I’m sorry, Your Honour; that is part of the testimony we thought had better be withheld until now. The man did leave a note, explaining just what he meant to do with the time machine.
JUDGE CLARK: And what was that?
DR CARNOT: He had set the dial for a two thousand year trip into the past. That accounted for the vast amount of energy required. You see, it varies not only with the mass transported, but the time as well.
JUDGE CLARK: Two thousand years!
DR CARNOT: That’s right, Your Honour. In itself, that’s bad enough. It is one thing to send a small mass or a sterile insect back in time; even then, there are dangers we can hardly predict. The present is intricately involved with the past – stems from it, in fact. It’s like altering the origin of a river; a little change at the source can make a tremendous difference at the mouth. Even move it fifty miles away. Now a modern man in the world of two thousand years ago – frankly, Your Honour, we just don’t know what that might do. It seems fantastic to believe that he could change the here-and-now, and yet the theory implies that this whole universe might change completely, or even vanish. Don’t ask me where or how.