by Hogan, James
plus he knew what the owner of the wallet looked like. Now think about that."
Whittaker thought hard for a while, then looked over at Conlon. Conlon shrugged.
Whittaker looked back at Massey, shook his head, and showed his empty palms.
"Okay, I give in. How'd he know?"
Massey laughed, produced Whittaker's wallet from his armpit, and tossed it back
to him. "That tell you enough? And there wasn't anything on your jacket, by the
way, so don't worry about it."
"You're kidding!" Whittaker protested. "You mean somebody stole it and then
turned it in?"
"See what I mean, Pat—too simple to think of, isn't it?"
"And the things the people showed while he had the bag over his head?"
Massey brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his eyebrow, rubbed the tip of
his nose with a thumb, drew a finger lightly from left to right along his upper
lip, and then pinched the lobe of his right ear. "A confederate giving coded
signals from somewhere in the front rows . . . probably an Armenian character
called Abaquaan, who's always close by Zambendorf somewhere, but you never see
him."
"And the metal bar?"
"Standard magician's equipment. If you saw it done at a school variety show
without all the hype, you'd applaud politely and say it was a clever trick. In
fact that's one aspect of some research that Vernon and I are into at the
moment. It's amazing—if people have made their minds up that what they're seeing
is genuine paranormal power in action, they'll stick to their conviction even
after they've agreed that any good stage magician can produce exactly the same
effect. No amount of appealing to reason will change them. In fact—"
At that moment the organ behind Vernon blasted out a series of rising and
falling notes, and a hollow, synthetic computer voice announced, "Visitor at the
portals."
Massey glanced at the sarcophagus clock. "That'll be the cab. Drink up. We can
have a couple more at the bar before we sit down to eat."
They left the house five minutes later and stopped for a moment below the porch
to pick out the pinpoint of Mars in the evening sky. "It makes you think,"
Conlon said absently. "Sometime back in the eighteen hundreds, they thought it
was miraculous when the first clipper ship made it from Boston round the Horn to
San Francisco in under a hundred days. And here we are a century and a half
later, going to Mars and back in the same time."
"Limits to Growth," Vernon murmured.
"Huh?" Whittaker said.
"Oh, it's the title of some dumb book I read from the seventies," Vernon
replied.
"I see no limits," Conlon said, scanning the stars. "Where do I look?"
"In people's minds," Massey answered.
A thoughtful look came over Vernon's face as he followed Conlon's gaze upward.
"I guess there have to be other intelligences out there somewhere," he mused.
"Do you think they have kooks too, or is it a uniquely human thing?"
Massey snorted as they resumed walking toward the waiting cab. "Nothing out
there could be dumber than some people," he said.
5
FRENNELECH, PRESIDING EMINENCE OF THE HIGH COUNCIL OF Priests at Pergassos, the
principal city in the land of the Kroaxians, stared down from his raised,
central seat behind the Council bench and waited for the accused to begin his
explanation. His tall headdress of fine-grown, reflective organic scales and his
imposing robes of woven wire, heavily embroidered with carbon fibers and plastic
thread, enhanced his stature and made all the more intimidating the stem
expression formed by the setting of the coolant outlet vanes above his chin and
the thermal patterns radiating from his metal facial surfaces. An acolyte
standing behind the chair held the organic-grown rod of yellow and red spiral
stripes, topped by an ornamented ball, that was Frennelech's emblem of office,
while to the left and right, the lesser priests sat in solemn dignity, holding
their own, lesser emblems in their steel fingers.
Heavy chains rattled as the accused, Lofbayel, Maker-of-Maps, rose nervously to
his feet in the center of the Council Chamber. The guards standing on either
side of him remained impassive while for a few seconds he stared, cowed and
bewildered. Then Horazzorgio, the sadistic-looking captain of the Royal Guard
who had been in command at the time of Lofbayel's arrest, jabbed him roughly in
the back with the handle of a carbide-tipped lance. "Speak when the Illustrious
One commands!" he ordered.
Lofbayel staggered, and caught the bar before him to steady himself. "My words
were not spoken with any intent to contradict the Holy Scribings," he stammered
hastily. "Indeed, they were not spoken with thought of the Scribings at all.
For—"
"Aha!" Rekashoba, Prosecuter for the High Council, wheeled round abruptly and
pointed an accusing finger. "Already he confesses. Is it not written: 'In all
thy words and deeds, be thou mindful of the Holy Scribings'? He stands condemned
by his own words."
"The impiety has been noted," Frennelech said coldly from the bench. And to
Lofbayel, "Continue."
The mapmaker's imaging matrixes flickered despondently. "It has long been my
practice to collect writings and drawings of travelers, navigators, explorers,
soldiers, and scholars from both this and other lands," he explained, and added,
". . . for the purpose of further improving the quality of the services that I
render to His Supreme Majesty, the King."
"May the Lifemaker protect the King!" Horazzorgio shouted from behind.
"Let it be so," the bench of priests chanted in response, with the exception of
Frennelech, whose rank excused him from the obligation.
Lofbayel continued, "In amassing many such records originated over a time of
many twelves of twelve-brights, I found impressing itself upon me a strange but
persistent recurrence: that beyond any place that lies as far to the east as one
may choose to name, there are always reported more places that lie yet farther
to the east . . . until they become places that other travelers have encountered
to the west. And the same is found to be true of north and south, for either
becomes the other. I have evidence which suggests the same is true for all
directions, and for a journey commenced at any place." Lofbayel looked along the
line of stony-faced priests. "Consideration of these facts—if they are facts, of
course—led me to the supposition that any journey, if protracted long enough
without hindrance or deviation, must eventually close a path back to its
beginning."
"And therefore you conclude the entire world to be round in form?" Frennelech
sounded incredulous and at the same time appalled. "Through idle daydreaming,
you believe that you can acquire knowledge . . . spurning the Scribings, which
are the sole source of all true knowledge? What arrogance is this?"
"I ... It was intended merely as a conundrum concocted for the amusement of
students who seek my instruction in the methods of calculation and the graphic
arts," Lofbayel replied. "We asked: 'What form has no center, yet has centers
everywhere, and is limited in size
but unlimited in extent?' Further
contemplation and experiment revealed that the sphere alone possesses properties
consistent with the conditions which the riddle specified, and this prompted the
further question: 'Given that the world shares properties in common with the
sphere, must it not follow that it shares the sphere's form also?'"
Rekashoba, the Prosecutor, snorted and turned away contemptuously, indicating
that he had heard as much as his patience would withstand. He straightened and
raised his head to address the bench. "First, to dispose of the possibility of
there being any factual basis to this allegation, I will present three
independent proofs that the world cannot be round. And second, I will show that
this is no mere innocent exercise in riddles as has been claimed, but a
pernicious attempt to challenge the authority of the Lifemaker's worldly
representatives by poisoning the minds of the young and casting doubts upon the
teachings of the divinely inspired Scribings. Therefore the strictest of
penalties is not only in order, but mandatory."
Rekashoba paused, appealed to the chamber with a flourish, and then picked up a
cellulose ball and a goblet of methane. "My first proof is based on no more than
the sense that is common to all robeings, and will delay us for but a short
while." He poured a small quantity of liquid onto the top of the ball and
watched as it trickled down to the underside and finally fell away in a thin
stream to the floor. "A body of liquid cannot sustain itself upon the surface of
a sphere," he observed. "It follows that the surface of a world formed as a
sphere could not contain oceans of methane. But the oceans exist, do they not?
Or am I misinformed? Or do thousands of navigators and voyagers delude
themselves?" He looked penetratingly at Lofbayel. "What reply do you have,
Denier-of-Oceans?"
"I have none," Lofbayel murmured unhappily.
Rekashoba put down the goblet and tossed the ball aside as unworthy of consuming
more of the Council's time. "But were the sphere vast enough, the oceans might
be constrained just to its upper regions, one might suppose," he said airily.
"However, that brings us to my second proof—that what has been claimed
contradicts itself logically."
Rekashoba half turned to point to one of Lofbayel's charts, which was being
displayed on one side of the chamber as evidence. "This chart, we are told,
represents the entire world in extent, although much of it remains blank and
devoid of any detail," he said. "Now observe—do not the oceans compose the major
portion of it? But were this indeed the entire world, and were that world indeed
a sphere, the oceans, being constrained by necessity as shown in my first proof
to occupying only its upper regions, would compose the minor portion. Therefore
either the world cannot be a sphere, or the chart does not depict the entire
world. If the world is not a sphere, then the proof rests. If the chart is not
of the entire world, then the accused's own words stand in contradiction to the
fact, and since his conclusion follows from an assertion thereby shown to be
erroneous, the conclusion is disproved. Hence, by the second alternative also,
the world is not a sphere. Since there was no third alternative, the proposition
is proved by rigorous logic."
Rekashoba surveyed the faces of the Council members solemnly. "My third proof
follows from sacred doctrine." His voice had taken on an ominous note, and he
paused for a moment to allow the more serious mood to take effect. "If this
matter had no further implications, I could dismiss it as a consequence of
nothing more than foolishness and ignorance. But it transcends far beyond such
limits by denying one of the fundamental teachings given to us in the Holy
Scribings: the Doctrine of Temporal Representation and Succession." He paused
again, turned to address the whole chamber, and raised a hand in front of him.
"The world was created in a form designed by the Lifemaker to provide a constant
reminder that the Church and State function as the divinely ordained instruments
of His authority, and that their organizational hierarchies constitute visible
embodiments of His will. Thus the solid canopy of the sky, beyond which the
mortal world is not permitted ever to look, symbolizes the Supreme
Archprelate"—the Prosecutor turned and inclined his head deferentially in
Frennelech's direction— "who sits at the highest position attainable by mere
robeings. The sky is supported by the unscalable mountains of the Peripheral
Barrier that bounds world, just as the Supreme Archprelate is supported by the
spiritual and secular leaders of the civilized world, who are chosen to command
heights unclimbable by ordinary robeings, one of whom, of course, is His Supreme
Majesty."
"May the Lifemaker protect the King!" Horazzorgio shouted.
"Let it be so," the bench responded.
Rekashoba continued, "The lesser mountains support the higher, and the foothills
support the lesser, just as the lower clerics and officials of the State support
higher edifices above them. And below, the plains and deserts must reconcile
themselves to their rightful place in the scheme, as must the masses." He
extended a warning finger. "But the masses must not make the mistake of
imagining from these considerations that their lot is a harsh or an unjust one.
Indeed, quite the opposite! For, just as the lowlands are sheltered from the
storms that rage in the mountains and nourished by the streams flowing down to
them from above, so the common masses are protected and receive spiritual
nourishment from the Lifemaker through the succession of higher agencies that He
has appointed."
Rekashoba's voice took on a harder note as he looked back at Lofbayel. "But a
round world would be incompatible with the sacred translations of the Scribings.
Since the Scribings cannot be questioned, a round world cannot exist." He waited
a second for his argument to register, and then continued in a louder voice,
"But, more than that, any claim to the contrary must therefore constitute a
denial of the Scribings. And such a denial amounts, in a word, to ... heresy!" A
murmur ran round the chamber. Lofbayel clutched weakly at the bar and for a
moment looked as if he was about to collapse. The full penalty in the event of a
charge of heresy being upheld was the burning out of both eyes, followed by slow
dissolution in an acid vat. Horazzorgio's eyes glinted in gloating anticipation;
the arresting officer had first option to command the execution in the event of
a death sentence. The Council members leaned forward to confer among themselves
in low voices.
Seated behind the officials and scribes, to one side of the chamber, was a
rustic-looking figure, simply attired in a brown tunic of coarse-woven copper,
secured by a heavy, black, braided belt, and a dull red cloak assembled from
interlocking ceramic platelets. Thirg, Asker-of-Forbidden-Questions, drew in a
long stream of nitrogen to cool his overworked emotive circuits and took a
moment to prepare himself. As a longtime friend of Lofbayel, a fellow inquirer
after truth, and one who had
enjoyed the hospitality of Lofbayel's house on many
occasions during visits from his solitary abode in the forest below the
mountains, Thirg had promised Lofbayel's wife that he would plead her husband's
case if the trial went badly. Thirg was far from optimistic about his ability to
achieve anything useful, and what he had seen of Rekashoba's zealousness led him
to fear that the mere act of speaking out in his friend's defense might well be
enough to make him a marked person in future, subject to constant scrutiny,
questioning, and harassment. But a promise was a promise. Besides, the very idea
of not trying was unthinkable. Thirg braced himself and gripped the edges of his
seat.
Frennelech looked back out over the chamber. "Does the accused have anything to
say before the Council's verdict is announced?"
Lofbayel attempted to speak, but fear made him incoherent. Frennelech shifted
his gaze to the Court Warden. "One is present who is willing to speak for the
accused," the Warden said. Thirg took off his cap of aluminum mail, and
clutching it before him, rose slowly.
"Who speaks for the accused?" Frennelech demanded.
"Thirg, a recluse dweller of the forest, who describes himself as a friend of
the accused," the Warden replied.
"Speak, Thirg," Frennelech ordered.
The court and the priests of the Council waited. After a slight hesitation, to
find his words, Thirg began speaking cautiously. "Illustrious members of the
High Council and officers of the Court, it cannot be denied that words have been
uttered rashly, which a moment of prudence and wisdom would have left unsaid.
Since truth and justice are the business of the Court, whatever consequences
must lawfully follow, it is not my desire to dispute. But the suggestion of
heresy, I would respectfully submit, warrants further examination if the
possibility of a hasty decision unbecoming of the elders and wisest of Kroaxia
is to be avoided." He paused to look along the line of faces, and found a
modicum of reassurance that he was being heeded.
"For by its very definition, a heresy, we are told, is a denial of the truths
set forth in the Holy Scribings. But does not a denial require a statement of
that which is denied? We have heard no such statement uttered, and neither has