by Phillip Mann
I wish to conclude this introduction with two quite different images.
The first is taken from a drawing which Hera made during her first visit to my studio on Albertini. She called the sketch The Horse and the Woodpecker, and I have it framed on the wall before me even as I write.
The sketch depicts two women – they could be sisters separated by a decade – sitting together at a wooden table. The room in which they sit is my studio – a bit junk-strewn, very cluttered, with books covering one wall and a transcriber tucked away in an alcove away from the window. There is an empty bottle of wine on the floor and a half-full bottle on the table between the women. Their heads are almost touching as they study a sketch that the older woman is drawing. It is a Dendron in motion, its crest high and its flags waving. And yes, lest there be any confusion, I am the somewhat horsy one in the picture, and Hera the quick woodpecker.
Behind the women, beyond the curved translucent wall, is the busy darkness of space, sparkling with stars and enlivened by the sudden flashes of the Manson screen as it randomizes particles that could threaten our small haven. In the centre hangs the lapis lazuli disc of the Earth – blue and white and wholly beautiful in the full light of the sun.
But they are not looking at the Earth. They are many light years away in their minds, talking about Paradise. I hope you will think of this homely image when the going gets hard and we retreat from the comfortable and human.
My second image is more abstract. It is that of a labyrinth.
A labyrinth is not a maze, it is a journey. You begin by facing your desire, whether it be to find yourself, or Jerusalem, or enlightenment, and you follow a path of knowledge. Once committed you can not leave that path. Sometimes it is direct and your destination is clear before you. At other times it leads you to the side, and this is a time for reflection and the discovery of wider perspectives. Sometimes it seems to lead you directly away from your heart’s desire, and that is a dark night of the soul, a time of severe testing when your closest companion is despair. But always the path of the labyrinth turns again. It approaches the point from which you began, but it is a new point, a new departure. And eventually, by being persistent, you find your way to your heart’s desire.
That, at day’s end, is how I have come to see this work, and how I invite you to understand it.
We begin with an introduction to Paradise.
PART ONE
The Political Tale
1
Concerning Paradise
Paradise was named by the captain of the prospect ship Scorpion, the first craft to make its way there from the fractal gate Proxima MINADEC-over-Phobos. The captain’s name was Estelle Richter and she was just nineteen years old! We should remember that in the early days of fractal travel only the young could cope with the stress of passing through the fractal threshold. Why? Opinions, as they say, differ, but what is certain is that the young are more fearless, more optimistic, more confident of their sexual power and less weighted down by guilt than their jaded elders, and these qualities were important in the early days of fractal travel – and still are, for they diminish the risk of nightmare.
The Scorpion emerged from the temporary fractal gate established above the new world, and its crew found themselves staring out at a shining green and blue planet with twin moons.
Early indications of the planet were very positive. Measurements were made by means of an unmanned probe which touched down on the surface, first at a river delta and then at several other locations including the mountain tops and mid-ocean. But it was obvious to anyone who cared to look that the planet contained life. It was there in the dynamic swirling clouds, in the shining lakes reflecting the sun, in the deep blue wind-ruffled seas and the vivid green of the land.
Can we for a moment imagine the excitement of those young pioneers, as they gathered together to see the results of all the automatic diagnostic tests? Though the new planet was just a little smaller than Mars, its gravity was only slightly less than Earth normal. Good for sport and Scorpion-cramped limbs. The air was – yes, astonishingly – breathable, according to analysis. It was perhaps even tonic, being a bit richer in oxygen. And that was indeed H2O in the seas and rivers, not blue acid. And look at the tall trees, which reached up with broad flat leaves. Look at the high waves crashing on the shore and the lime-green meadows where you could follow the footsteps of the wind as it swirled up into the hills . . . Look at the red flowers bobbing like balloons in the valleys! All the colours could have been taken from a child’s palette. Strange only were the faint shimmering lines of energy, like the fading pattern of a rainbow, in the misty valleys; that, and the total absence of animals. There were no insects either, or nibbling fish. Flowers without insects? Seas without fish? Why? Why? How? Captain Estelle Richter did not delay but decided to investigate immediately.
As a name, Paradise was a happy choice. Unlike most worlds, this planet was not hostile to the kind of life that we represent. In ways beyond analysis, the air was sweet to breathe, the water pure to the taste, the seas buoyant, and there was a springy dense grass (later called brevet) for a tumble – and perhaps most extraordinary of all, fruits which were found to be edible.
The popular story is that it was Captain Estelle who picked and nibbled the first Paradise plum. The plum tree was growing by the shore close to where they had landed. She stared up into its branches and then in a single act of defiance, in contravention of all contact protocols and common sense, she reached up among the dark spade-shaped leaves and, as she reportedly said later, the fruit seemed to ‘leap into’ her hand. She bit into its flesh before anyone could stop her. The juice in her mouth startled her and the perfume made her senses reel, and she ate the entire fruit – licking her fingers – including the seeds, which she crunched and swallowed. Was woman ever so ‘giddy and bold’? Then, before the eyes of her astonished crew, she confidently removed her survival suit and waded naked into the sea, trailing her fingers behind her in the water, saying – if we are to believe the story – ‘Look at me. I’m Aphrodite. And I’m reclaiming Paradise.’ A symbolic act if ever there was one. Thus was the planet named, and a physical contact not too far removed from both baptism and the act of lovemaking took place. I suspect that in making her remarks Captain Estelle was remembering a wonderful painting by Botticelli. It is doubtful that the name Paradise had any specific biblical connotations for the young captain, or that in seeking out fruit she was consciously mirroring the actions of our mother Eve.
I am struck by the contrast between these young adventurers and the staunch early astronauts from Earth who left their flags and bootprints and cars on the Moon. What a contrast too between new-found Paradise and the molten or freezing, harsh, dark and sterile worlds the crew visited most frequently. Her companions did not delay but stripped off and followed their leader into the sea. There is an old saying, ‘Innocence begets innocence.’ If we believe this, then we can be confident that there was no damage done in this first meeting of species. But how interesting it would have been to peer into the mind of Paradise at the moment when Estelle bit the fruit or breasted the sea, for I am sure those contacts were keenly felt in that psychically alive and innocent world.
As Estelle later explained, ‘When we came to leave I had one last swim. I have never felt such well-being.’ And that evidently was what the crew of the Scorpion and most subsequent visitors felt during their first contact. I say most because a small but significant number of people have always found Paradise an uncomfortable place to dwell.
I am saddened to report that the log of the Scorpion, as well as other early visual recordings of Paradise (including details of its subsequent commercial exploitation) were lost in the catastrophic fire which destroyed the entire Proxima MINADEC-over-Phobos torus. The rumour, widely believed at the time, was that the fire was the result of arson, and though this was never proved it is a fact that the directors of MINADEC (once the Mineral and Natural Resource Development Company) were under invest
igation for tax evasion and improper use of their prospect licence. The loss of these early records is irredeemable, and one can only lament that, as with Hera’s own documentation, the records of Paradise have an awkward habit of vanishing.
Within months of the Scorpion’s visit, the planet was being opened up commercially. MINADEC had a fifty-year licence for all its activities.
The miners, prospectors and lumberjacks that MINADEC sent to Paradise, while we know they visited and left their mark on almost every part of that planet, left few written accounts – graffiti apart. Their culture was essentially oral. It thrived at the well head and the pit face, round the campfires and in the mess huts. And, like so much else of value, it died with them. We have some of their songs and drawings and letters – and of course there are the eye-witness accounts written by young Sasha Malik, whose works we will dip into later. Many of the names used by the prospectors and miners became established. Thus the two moons which liven the night sky are called Gin and Tonic. The continents were named after certain distinguishing features. Chain, for instance, when seen from the air, can be seen to be a long thin continent with many promontories and inland lakes. Hammer and neighbouring Anvil require more imaginative interpretations to see the likeness. The continent called Horse has one large headland which does, somewhat, resemble the head of a horse, and Ball is, well, Ball is circular, and that is all that one can say. Some islands are named after composers, some after the names of settlers, some after hometowns on Earth (such as New Syracuse), and some features, like Baby Cry Falls, record important events such as the birth of the first child on Paradise.
Upon expiry of the commercial licence, Paradise was thrown open to agricultural colonists. Among these, one couple, Mayday and Marie Newton, wrote a daybook, in which they set down in homely detail the day-to-day life of the pioneer farmers. These men and women, apart from being visionaries with an urge to build families and create a new world, and who shared a common love of Paradise, were all trained in the basic arts of survival. They could both butcher and nurture. But by the time of their arrival I suspect that Paradise was already turning against invaders.
Despite their best efforts, agriculture on Paradise became harder as the years passed, and no one could explain why. During the first fifty years of colonization, the animals – initially imported in embryo and raised with care – failed to prosper and eventually the last goats and horses died out.
Fresh seed stock was brought in from Earth but this too, after initial success, gradually failed. Fruit would not set and seeds would not germinate, or when they did were sickly. The formation of the Observation, Regeneration and Botanic Expansion project was the result of efforts to bring scientific expertise to bear on this problem.
The failure of ORBE to make any significant difference to the agricultural situation was initially blamed on the lack of suitable equipment. Later it was claimed that its founder, Professor Israel Shapiro, was only interested in his own research and had no real sympathy for the agricultural colonists’ dilemma. From my reading, I would say that that is putting the matter mildly. He made it clear on numerous occasions that he found the presence of the ‘aggies’ on Paradise irksome.
On the death of Shapiro, Dr Hera Melhuish became head of the ORBE project. She held this position for eleven stormy years. But even she, despite many initiatives, could not halt the gradual agricultural decline.
And so we come to the fatal year: the year of Disestablishment.
When we enter her story, Dr Hera Melhuish is feeling well pleased with herself. After months of debate she has managed to defeat proposals which would have opened Paradise to tourism. Moreover the ORBE project research, if not spectacular, is stable and well funded. Her own programme of native out-planting is going well. Her delight in Paradise is as great as that of Marie Newton or the young Estelle Richter, though her aims are vastly different.
And now she is doing what she most enjoys: ‘working in the garden’ as she called it. It is a fine sunny morning and she is outside, her sleeves rolled up, tending the plants of Paradise.
2
Political Games
Hera was working at the southern tip of Royal Straits, at the dangerous place where the island of Lennon comes closest to the steep cliffs of Horse. It is dangerous because of the rip tide that comes roaring through the narrow strait when the two moons of Paradise are pulling together. This is, of course, also a time of extreme low tide, and that was why Hera and her student assistant were there. They were trying to establish a new submarine seedbed for the spongy green pancake wrack which had once been common in that region but was now, like so much else, in decline.
The work was going well on that fine sunny morning when the peaceful routine was broken by the shrill bleep-bleep of a high-priority call demanding attention. The student worker, on shore and unpacking supplies at the time, took the message. It was from Hemi Katene, the administrator at ORBE HQ , and he was asking to speak to Hera urgently.
That lady was some fifty feet out from the shore, down on her knees, leaning over the side of one of the flat-bottomed barges used for marine work. She was reaching out, her arms brown in the clear water, and trying to attach a cable to bolts bedded in a rock just under the surface. The boat bobbed under her, striking her uncomfortably under the arms and splashing water up into her face. Reluctantly Hera was coming to the decision that she would have to don a wetsuit and plunge fully into the water.
‘Tell him I’m busy,’ she called through clenched teeth and without looking up. Time was short as this particular rock only became accessible at extreme low tide.
‘He says it’s urgent,’ called the student worker, raising the radio phone above her head and waving it.
The loop in the cable passed over the bolt head and Hera began to screw it tight. ‘OK, I’m coming,’ she called, ‘Be there in a mo.’ She completed a twist where strands of wire were sticking out sharply – they had already scratched her arm – and snipped off the pointed parts and twisted them under. Satisfied, she loosened the anchor rope and started to pull the barge back to the shore. ‘This’d better be good,’ she said as she climbed out onto the rocks and accepted the phone. ‘You go out there and take over. I’ve got the first two ends tied but we need to secure the central piece. And watch out for the bloody wire ends.’
The student set off and Hera climbed up to where she could sit on one of the rocks and dry out in the sun. ‘Hello there, Hemi. This is Hera. What’s the trouble?’
‘Yeah, sorry to bother you, but it’s pre y important, eh? I’ve just had a call from Captain Abhuradin. Priority alph—’
‘She’s not still going on about that tourism proposal is she? I thought we’d scotched that one.’
‘No, no. This is something else. No details as yet but, according to Abhuradin, she’s just received a message from Space Council head office. Evidently the Economic Subcommittee has just come out of a long session. They’ve passed a resolution suggesting that three planet colonies be disestablished – and we are one of them.’
‘What?’
‘Yes. The recommendation is due to be discussed at a full Council meeting in a few weeks and if it is passed then it will be actioned immediately. Part of the new fast-track initiatives.’
‘But they can’t just—’
‘I know, that’s what I said. But it is definite. Old Ahab’s no happier than you are. She wants to see you as soon as possible. This afternoon if you can get back here. There’ll be a shuttle waiting.’
Hera was silent for a moment. She didn’t trust snap announcements like this. In her experience, they usually meant that someone had been plotting for quite a while and now was striking fast to minimize resistance. The fact that it was the Economic Subcommittee that had come up with the proposal made matters worse. That committee had become more militant of late, the result of a change of head, a new broom sweeping clean. Some woman (Hera had been told her name but had forgotten it), a hardliner by repute, had taken over. No doubt
they had been stewing over the latest production statistics for Paradise. ‘When did Abhuradin hear the news?’
‘Just a short time ago, she said.’
‘She hasn’t been sitting on it?’
‘Look, I’ve no idea. But I don’t think so. She didn’t sound happy, I can tell you that.’
‘Does anyone else know?’
‘No. Don’t think so. Alpha coding, so that’s just us. She didn’t want to tell me, but I told her you were out in the field and probably wouldn’t respond unless you knew what the fuss was.’
‘Yeah. Good lad. OK. I’m on my way. Call all the heads of departments in. Tell them to drop whatever they are doing and, if they are within three hours’ flying time, to get back to HQ pronto. If not, tell them to stand by for a tri-vid link. Don’t tell them what the issue is. I don’t want a lot of gabble on the airwaves until we’ve had a chance to talk. I want a quick meeting before I go up top. And you start gathering statistics. Usual stuff – number of out-plantings, endangered species, economies of scale and so on. And get on to the hospital too; get any info you can on how the anti-toxin programme is working.’
‘Will do.’
‘I’ll give you an ETA as soon as I’m airborne. We’ve got a battle on our hands, sunshine.’
She broke contact.
The student working out on the barge called across the water to her: ‘Bad news?’
‘I’ve got to get back to HQ ,’ answered Hera. She glanced at her watch. ‘I’m going to have to leave you here. You’ll have to camp out overnight.’
The student grinned. ‘Suits me,’ she said. They had planned to camp anyway, so the tents were already up and there was food.