Imperial Earth

by Arthur C. Clarke

  "And you were able to get at its memory bank?"

  Mandel'stahm had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

  "It's surprising what can be done if you know the right people. Oh, don't misunderstand. There was nothing illegal; but I prefer to omit details."

  "On Titan, we're very particular about invasion of privacy."

  "So are we on Earth. Anyone who really wants to do so can easily by-pass the concierge. Which, in fact, suggests to me that Miss Ellerman does not have a guilty conscience, or anything to hide. But tell me, Mr. Makenzie — didn't you know that she had a Titanian guest staying with her?"

  Duncan stared at him open-mouthed, but quickly recovered himself. Of course —Karl might well have prevailed on some trusted friend to act as a courier. That must have been a good many months ago; there had been no passenger ship for six weeks before Sirius. Who could possibly...?

  That could wait. There was another little matter to clear up first.

  "You said staying with her? "

  "Yes. That is, until only two days ago."

  That explained everything — almost. No wonder Calindy had avoided him! In equal measure, Duncan felt jealousy, disappointment — and relief that his maneuverings had, after all, been justified by events.

  "Who is this Titanian?" he asked glumly. "I wonder if I know him."

  "That's what I'll be interested to hear. His name is Karl Helmer."

  35

  A Message From Titan

  "That's utterly impossible," said Duncan, when he had recovered from the initial shock. "I left Helmer at Saturn — and I came here on the fastest ship in the Solar System."

  Mandel'stahm gave an expressive shrug.

  "Then perhaps someone else is using that name, for reasons best known to himself. Miss Ellerman's concierge is not very bright — they seldom are — and incidentally, we were lucky to get at it just before the end-of-month memory update. I got hold of the visual recognition coding, and here's the recording circuit."

  He handed over the crude but perfectly adequate synthesis. Duncan could identify it as quickly as any robot pattern-detecting circuit.

  Without question, it was Karl.

  "So you know him," said Mandel'stahm.

  "Very well," Duncan replied faintly. His mind was still in a whirl; even now, he could not fully believe the evidence of his eyes. It would take a long time for him to work out all the implications of this stunning development.

  "You said he was no longer at Cal— Miss Ellerman's. Do you know where he is now?"

  "No. I was hoping you might have some ideas. But now that we know the name, I'll be able to trace him — though it may take some time."

  And doubtless expense, thought Duncan.

  "Tell me, Mr. Mandel'stahm, why are you taking all this trouble? Frankly, I don't see what you hope to get out of it."

  "Don't you? Well, it's a good question. I certainly began this out of a pure and honest lust for titanite, and I hope that in due course my efforts will win their just reward. But now it's gone beyond that. The only thing more valuable than gems or works of art is entertainment. And this little caper, Mr. Makenzie, is more interesting than anything I've seen on the viddy for weeks."

  Despite his gloomy preoccupations, Duncan could not help smiling. He had been cautious in his approach to Mandel'stahm, but now he was definitely beginning to feel genuine warmth toward the dealer. He was shrewd and perhaps even crafty, and Duncan did not doubt that he would drive a very hard bargain. But he was now quite convinced that George Washington was right: Ivor Mandel'stahm could be trusted implicitly, in all the things that really mattered.

  "May I make a modest proposal?"

  "Of course," Duncan answered.

  "Can you think of any reason at all, now that we've reached this stage, why you should not call Miss Ellerman, say that you've just heard from Titan that your mutual friend Mr. Helmer is on Earth — and does she know where he is?"

  Duncan thought it over; the suggestion was so blatantly obvious that, in his somewhat dazed state, he had completely overlooked it. Even now, he was not sure that he could give it an accurate evaluation.

  But the affair was no longer a matter of impersonal tactics and policy, to be worked out like the closing move so some chess game. For his own self-respect and peace of mind, it was time for a confrontation with Calindy.

  "You're right," he said. "There's no reason at all why I shouldn't call her. I'll do so, just as soon as I can get back to the hotel. Let's stop off at Union Station and take the express..."

  When Duncan reached the hotel twenty minutes later (the "express" was somewhat misnamed) he had the second surprise of the day, though by now it was something of an anticlimax. The longest fax that Colin had ever sent him was waiting in the Comsole.

  After the initial quick reading, Duncan's first reaction was, "This time, at least, I'm one jump ahead." But even that, he realized, was not quite true. When one allowed for the fact that Colin's message had left Titan two hours ago, it was virtually a photo-finish.

  SECURITY AAA PRIORITY AAA

  INQUIRIES MNEMOSYNE DISCLOSE KARL LEFT MID MARCH ON NONSKED EARTH FLIGHT AND ARRIVED APPROXIMATELY TWO WEEKS BEFORE YOU. ARMAND PROFESSES SURPRISE AND TOTAL IGNORANCE. MAY BE TELLING TRUTH. IMPERATIVE YOU LOCATE KARL FIND WHAT HE IS DOING AND IF NECESSARY WARN HIM OF CONSEQUENCES. PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION AS ANXIOUS TO AVOID PUBLICITY OR INTERPLANETARY COMPLICATIONS. YOU APPRECIATE THE SITUATION MAY BE TO OUR ADVANTAGE BUT DISCRETION ESSENTIAL. SUGGEST CALINDY MAY KNOW WHERE HE IS. COLIN AND MALCOLM.

  Duncan reread the message more slowly, absorbing its nuances. It contained nothing that he did not know, or had not already guessed; however, he did not relish its uncompromising tone. Being signed by both Colin and Malcolm, it had the authority of a direct order — something rare indeed in Makenzie affairs. Though Duncan admitted that it made good sense, he could also detect an underlying note of satisfaction. For a moment he had an unflattering image of his older twins moving in like a pair of vultures, scenting a kill...

  At the same time, he was wryly amused to see that Colin had drafted the Telex in a great hurry; it contained half a dozen superfluous words, most offensive to the economical maxims of the clan. Why, there were even ‘and's’ and ‘the's’...

  Perhaps, after all, he was not suited for politics. He felt a growing disenchantment with these machinations. There were, despite genetics, subtle differences between the Makenzies, and it might well be that he was not as tough — or as ambitious — as his precursors.

  In any event, his first step was obvious, especially as all his advisers had suggested it. The second move could be decided later.

  It was no surprise when Calindy failed to appear on the screen of his Comsole, and he soon had proof that the social convention was justified. Unless there was some excellent reason, it was indeed bad manners to switch off one's viddy circuit. Duncan felt both frustrated and at a serious disadvantage, knowing that Calindy could see him but he could not see her. The voice alone did not convey all the shades of emotion. There was so many times when the expression of the eyes could contradict the spoken word.

  "Why, what's the matter, Calindy?" said Duncan in feigned astonishment. He would feel genuine sympathy if she were indeed hurt; but he intended to reserve judgment.

  Her voice was — could it be imagination on his part? —not quite under control. She appeared surprised to see him, perhaps disconcerted.

  "I'm terribly sorry, Duncan — I'd rather not show my face at the moment. I fell and hurt my eye — it looks ghastly. But there's nothing to worry about — it will be all right in a few days."

  I'm sorry to hear that. I won't bother you if you feel unwell."

  He waited, hoping that Calindy could read the concern that he had carefully imprinted on his face.

  "Oh, that's no problem. Otherwise it's business as usual — I've just cut out my weekly trip to the office, and now do everything by Comsole."

  "Well, that's a relief. Now I've
got a piece of news for you. Karl is on Earth."

  There was a long silence before Calindy replied. When she finally answered, Duncan realized, with amused mortification, that he was really not in her league. He could not hope to outwit her for very long.

  "Duncan," she said, in a resigned tone of voice, "you really didn't know that he was staying with me?"

  Duncan did his best to exhibit incredulity, shock, and umbrage — in that order.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" he cried.

  "Because he asked me not to. That put me in a difficult position, but what was I to do? He said you were no longer on good terms... and his business was highly confidential."

  Duncan guessed that Calindy was telling the simple truth, if indeed the truth was simple. Some, but not all, of his pique evaporated.

  "Well, I'm upset and disappointed. I should have thought you'd have trusted me. Anyway, there's no further need for — subterfuge — now that I know he's here. I've an urgent message for him — where can I locate him?"

  There was another long pause; then Calindy answered: "I don't know where he is. He left suddenly, and never told me where he was going. He might even have returned to Titan."

  "Without saying good-bye? Hardly! And there are no ships to Titan for a month."

  "Then I suppose he's still on Earth, or no farther away than the Moon. I simply don't know."

  Oddly enough, Duncan believed her. Her voice still had the right of truth, though he did not delude himself about her power to deceive him if she wished.

  "In that case, I'll have to trace him in some other way. It's imperative that we meet."

  "I wouldn't advise that, Duncan."

  "Why ever not?"

  "He's — very angry with you."

  "I can't imagine the reason," retorted Duncan, swiftly imagining several. Calindy's voice sounded such a genuine note of alarm that he felt himself responding strongly to her concern.

  However, it seemed that this avenue was closed, at least for the time being. He knew better than to argue with Calindy. With a mixture of emotions, he expressed hopes for her continued improvement, and broke the circuit. He hoped that she would interpret his attitude as one of both sorrow and anger, and feel correspondingly contrite.

  A minute later, he was looking — with some relief — at a screen that was no longer empty, and could reveal the other party's reactions.

  "Did you know," he asked Ambassador Farrell, "that Karl Helmer is on Earth?"

  His Excellency blinked.

  "I certainly did not. He never contacted me — I'll see if the Chancery knows anything."

  He punched a few buttons, and it was obvious that nothing happened. The ambassador glanced at Duncan with annoyance.

  "I wish we could afford a new intercom system," he said accusingly. "They cost a very small fraction of the Titan Gross National Product."

  Duncan thought it was wise to let this pass, and luckily on the second attempt the ambassador got through. He muttered a few inaudible questions, waited for a minute, then looked at Duncan and shook his head.

  "No trace of him — not even a Terran forwarding address for any messages from home. Most odd."

  "Wouldn't you say — unprecedented?"

  "Um — yes. I've never heard of anyone failing to contact the Embassy as soon as they reach Earth. Usually, of course, we know that they're coming, weeks in advance. There's no law compelling them to get in touch — but it's a matter of courtesy. Not to mention convenience."

  "That's what I thought. Well, if you hear anything of him, would you let me know?"

  The ambassador stared back at him in silence for a moment, with the most emphatic of smiles on his face. Then he said: "What do Malcolm and Colin think he's doing? Plotting a coup d’état with smuggled guns?"

  After a moment's shock, Duncan laughed at the joke.

  "Not even Karl is that crazy. Frankly, I'm completely baffled by the whole thing — but I'm determined to locate him. Though there may be half a billion people on Earth, he's not exactly inconspicuous. Please keep in touch. Good-bye for the present."

  Two down, thought Duncan, and one to go. It was back to Ivor Mandel'stahm, in his self-appointed, and by no means unsuccessful, role of private eye.

  But Ivor's Comsole answered: "Please do not disturb. Kindly record any message."

  Duncan was annoyed; he was bursting to pass on his news, but he was certainly not going to leave it stored in a Comsole. He would have to wait until Mandel'stahm called back.

  That took two hours, and meanwhile it was not easy to concentrate on other work. When the dealer finally returned the call, he apologized profusely.

  "I was trying a long shot," he explained. "I wondered if he'd bought anything in New York on a credit card. There weren't all that number of aitches, and the Central Billing computer zipped through them in an hour... Alas — he must be using cash. Not a federal crime, of course. But a nuisance to us honest investigators."

  Duncan laughed.

  "It was a good idea. I've done slightly better — at least I've eliminated some possibilities."

  He gave Mandel'stahm a brief résumé of his discussion with Calindy and Ambassador Farrell, then added: "Where do we go from here?"

  "I'm not sure. But don't worry — I'll think of something."

  Duncan believed him. He now had an almost unreasoning confidence in the dealer's ingenuity, not to mention his influence and his knowledge of the ways of Earth. If anyone could locate Karl — short of going to the police, or inserting a personal appeal in the World Times — it would be Mandel'stahm.

  In fact, it took him only thirty-six hours.

  36

  The Eye of Allah

  "I've found him," said Mandel'stahm. He looked tired but victorious.

  "I knew you would," Duncan replied with unfeigned admiration. "Where is he?"

  "Don't be so impatient — let me have my reasonably innocent fun. I've earned it."

  "Well, whose concierge did you bamboozle this time?"

  Mandel'stahm looked slightly pained.

  "Nobody's. I first tried to find all I could about your friend Helmer, by the brilliant device of looking him up in the Interplanetary Who's Who. I assumed he'd be there, and he was — a hundred-line print-out. I looked you up at the same time, by the way... You rate one hundred fifty lines, if that's any satisfaction."

  "I know," said Duncan, with what patience he could muster. "Go on."

  "I wondered if it would list any Terran contacts or interests, and again I was in luck. He belongs to the Institution of Electronic Engineers, the Royal Astronomical Society, the Institute of Physics, and the Institute of Astronautics — as well as several Titanian professional organizations, of course. And I see he's written half a dozen scientific papers, and been joint author in others: the Ionosphere of Saturn, origins of ultra-long-wave electromagnetic radiation, and other thrilling esoterica... nothing of any use to us, though.

  "The Royal astronomers are in London, of course — but the engineers and astronauts and physicists are all in New York, and I wondered if he'd contacted them. So I called on another of my useful friends — a scientist this time, and a most distinguished one, who could open any doors without questions being asked. I hoped that a visiting Titanian colleague was a rare enough phenomenon to attract attention... and indeed he was."

  Mandel'stahm gave another of his pregnant pauses, so that Duncan could simmer for a while, then went on.

  "This is what puzzles me. Apart from ignoring the Embassy, and telling Miss Ellerman to keep quiet, he's done absolutely nothing to cover his tracks. I don't think anyone with much to hide would behave that way..."

  "It was really very simple. The Electronics people were happy to help. They told us he'd left North Atlan and could be contacted care of the Assistant Chief Engineer, Division C, World Communications Headquarters, Tehran. Not the sort of address you'd associate with gem smuggling and interplanetary skullduggery...

  "So over to Tehran — just in time to
miss him, but no matter. He'll be at the same location now for a couple of days, and in view of his background, at last we've got something that makes a little sense."

  "World Com's Division C are the boys who keep Project CYCLOPS running. And even I have heard of that."

  * * * * *

  It had been conceived in the first bright dawn of the Space Age; the largest, most expensive, and potentially most promising scientific instrument ever devised. Though it could serve many purposes, one was paramount — the search for intelligent life elsewhere in the universe.

  One of the oldest dreams of mankind, this remained no more than a dream until the rise of radio astronomy, in the second half of the twentieth century. Then, within the short span of two decades, the combined skills of the engineers and the scientists gave humanity the power to span the interstellar gulf — if it was willing to pay the price.

  The first puny radio telescopes, a few tens of meters in diameter, had listened hopefully for signals from the stars. No one had really expected success from these pioneering efforts, nor was it achieved. Making certain plausible assumptions about the distribution of intelligence in the Galaxy, it was easy to calculate that the detection of a radio-emitting civilization would require telescopes not decameters, but kilometers, in aperture.

  There was only one practical method of achieving this result — at least, with structures confined to the surface of the Earth. To build a single giant bowl was out of the question, but the same result could be obtained from an array of hundreds of smaller ones. CYCLOPS was visualized as an antenna "farm" of hundred-meter dishes, uniformly spaced over a circle perhaps five kilometers across. The faint signals from each element in that army of antennas would be added together, and then cunningly processed by computers programmed to look for the unique signatures of intelligence against the background of cosmic noise.

  The whole system would cost as much as the original Apollo Project. But unlike Apollo, it could proceed in installments, over a period of years or even decades. As soon as a relatively few antennas had been built, CYCLOPS could start operating. From the very beginning, it would be a tool of immense value to the radio astronomers. Over the years, more and more antennas could be installed, until eventually the whole array was filled in; and all the while, CYCLOPS would steadily increase in power and capability, able to probe deeper and deeper into the universe.