Captive Universe

by Harry Harrison

  “Yes,” she told him, although she did not, but she wanted to please ham.

  “Good. Now the next step is the important one and I want you to be sure you are with me. If down is below your feet in the village and down is toward the sky when you are opposite it, then halfway between them the force must be equal, so that there is no force acting at all. If we could get halfway to the sky from the village we could just float there.”

  “That would be very hard to do, unless you were a bird. And even birds are prevented from leaving the valley by a certain device of which I have heard.”

  “Very true. We can’t climb up through the air, but we can go through a tunnel in the rock. The valley is in an opening in the rock, but it is solid at both ends. If there is a tunnel leading to the spot, it’s called the axis of rotation, that’s the name from the book, we could go there and float in the air.”

  “I don’t think I would like that.”

  “I would. And I have found the right tunnel on the charts. Will you go with me?”

  Watchman Steel hesitated; she had no desire to experience adventures of this land. But the First Arriver’s wishes must be treated as law.

  “Yes, I will come.”

  “Good. We’ll go now.” The books were satisfactory and he enjoyed his studies, but he needed human contact too. In the village people were always together. Watchman Steel was the first person he had met here, and they had snared experiences together. She was not bright, but she tried to please. He put some food concentrates and a water bottle into his belt pouch: he had taken to wearing this as did all the others. It held the communicator, his writing instruments, some small tools.

  “It’s the second stairway past the refectory,” he told her as they left.

  At the foot of the stairway they stopped while she set her eskoskeleton for climb. It moved one foot after the other, providing all the power to lift her weight and therefore prevented undue strain on her heart. Chimal slowed down to match her mechanical pace. They went up seven levels before the stairway ended.

  “This is the top level,” Steel said as she reset the controls. “I have only been up here once before. There are just storerooms here.”

  “More than that, if the diagrams are correct.” They walked the length of the corridor, past the last doorway, and on through the drill-scored, chill rock. There was no heated flooring here, but their boots did have thick, insulated soles. At the very end, facing them, was a metal doorway with the painted legend in large, red letters: OBSERVERS ONLY.

  “I can’t go in there,” she said.

  “You can if I tell you to. In the observer’s breviary it states that watchmen or anyone else may be ordered by observers into any area to do what is needed.” He had never read anything of the sort, but she did not have to know that

  “Of course, then I can go with you. Do you know the combination of this lock?” She pointed at the complex dial lock that was fastened to the edge of the door on a hasp.

  “No, there was nothing about there being a lock on this door.”

  This was the first sealed door that he had seen. Rule and order were enough to keep the Watchers from entering where they were not wanted. He looked closely at the lock, and at the hasp.

  “This has been added after the original construction,” he said, pointing to the screw heads. “Someone has drilled into the metal frame and door and attached this.” He took out a screwdriver and twisted a screw loose. “And not a very good job either. They did not fix it very securely.”

  It took only a few moments to remove the retaining screws and put the lock, still sealed to the hasp, onto the tunnel floor. The door opened easily then, into a small, metal-walled room.

  “What can this mean?” Steel asked, following him in.

  “I’m not sure I know. There were no details on the charts. But — we can follow the instructions and see what happens.” He pointed to the lettered card on one wall. “One, close door, that’s simple enough. Two, hold fast to handgrips.”

  There were metal loops fixed to the walls at waist height, and they both took hold of them.

  “Three, turn pointer in proper direction.”

  A metal arrow beneath the sign had its tip touching the word DOWN. It was pivoted on its base and Chimal released one hand to push the point of the arrow to UP. When he did so a distant humming began and the car began to move slowly upward.

  “Very good,” he said. “Saves us a long climb. This car must be fixed in a vertical shaft and is pulled up and down by a device of some kind. What’s the matter?”

  “I… I don’t know,” Steel gasped, clutching to the ring with both hands. “I feel so strange, different.”

  “Yes, you’re right. Lighter perhaps!” He laughed and jumped up from the floor, and it seemed to take longer than usual before he dropped back. “The centrifugal force is decreasing. Soon it will be gone completely.” Steel, not as enthused by the idea as he was, clasped tight and pressed her head to the wall with her eyes closed.

  The trip was relatively brief, and, when the car stopped, Chimal pushed up on his toes and floated free of the floor.

  “It’s true — there is no force acting. We are at the axis of rotation.” Steel curled over, gasping and retching, trying to control the spasms in her stomach. The door opened automatically and they looked along a circular corridor with rods, like raised rails, running the length of it. There was no up or down and even Chimal felt a little queasy when he tried to imagine in what direction they were facing.

  “Come on. We just float, then pull ourselves along those rods to wherever the tunnel goes. It should be easy.” When the girl showed no intention of moving he pried her hands loose and gently pushed her into the end of the tube, knocking himself back against the wall at the same time. She screamed faintly and thrashed about, trying to clutch onto something. He launched himself after her and discovered it was not easy at all.

  In the end he found that the surest way to progress was to pull forward lightly, then guide himself by sliding his hands along the bar as he went. Watchman Steel, after emptying her stomach felt somewhat better and managed to follow his instructions. Bit by bit they progressed the length of the tube to the doorway at the end, then let themselves through into a spherical room that looked out onto the stars.

  “I recognize that long instrument,” Chimal said excitedly. “It’s a telescope, for making far away things look bigger. It can be used for looking at the stars. I wonder what the other instruments do.”

  He had forgotten Steel, which she did not mind at all. There was a couch attached to one portion of the wall and she found that she could fix herself in it by tightening straps across her body. She did this and closed her eyes.

  Chimal was almost unaware of the lack of any force pulling him down as he read the operating instructions on the machine. They were simple and clear and promised wonders. The stars outside of the bulging, hemispherical window, were rotating in slow circles about a point in the middle. Not as fast as the stars in the observation room, and they weren’t rising or setting, but they were still moving. When he actuated a control, as instructed, he felt a sudden force pulling on him, the girl moaned, and the sensation quickly stopped. When he turned to look out of the doorway it looked as though the tunnel was now turning — and the stars were now still. The room must now be rotating in the opposite direction from the rest of the world, so they were motionless in relation to the stars. What wonders the Great Designer had created!

  Once the computer was actuated it needed two points of reference. After it knew these it was self orientating. Following the instructions, Chimal pointed the pilot scope at a bright, glowing red star, fixed it in the crosshairs of the telescope, then pressed the spectrum analysis button. The identification was instantly projected on a small screen: Aldebaran. Not far away from it was another bright star that appeared to be in the constellation he knew as The Hunter. Its name was Rigel. Perhaps it was in The Hunter, it was so hard to tell even well-known constellations
with the infinitude of lights that filled the sky.

  “Look at it,” he called to the girl, in pride and wonder.

  “That is the real sky, the real stars.” She looked quickly and nodded, and closed her eyes again. “Outside this window is space, vacuum, no air to breathe. Just nothing at all, an empty immensity. How can the distance be measured to a star — how can we imagine it? And this, this world of ours, is going from one star to another, will reach it some day. Do you know the name of the star that is our destination?”

  “We were taught — but I’m afraid I have forgotten.”

  “Proxima Centauri. In an old language that means the closest star in the constellation of the centaur. Don’t you want to see it? What a moment this is. It is one of those out there, right in front of us. The machine will find it.”

  Carefully, he set the dials for the correct combination, checking them twice to be sure he had entered the right numbers from the printed 1ist. It was correct. He pressed the actuate button and moved back.

  Like the snout of a great, questing animal the telescope shivered and swung slowly into motion. Chimal stayed clear as it turned with ponderous precision, slowed and stopped. It was pointing far to one side, almost 90 degrees from the center of the window.

  Chimal laughed. “That can’t be,” he said. “There has been a mistake. If Proxima Centauri were way over there, out to the side, it would mean that we were going past it…”

  His fingers shook as he returned to the list and checked his figures over and over again.

  4

  “Just look at these figures and tell me if they are true or not — that’s all I ask.” Chimal dropped the papers onto the table before the Master Observer.

  “I have told you, I am not very practiced at the mathematics. There are machines for this sort of thing.” The old man stared straight ahead, looking neither at the papers nor at Chimal, unmoving except for his fingers that plucked, unnoticed, at his clothing.

  “These are from a machine, a readout. Look at them and tell me if they are correct or not.”

  “I am no longer young and it is time for prayers and rest. I ask you to leave me.”

  “No. Not until you have given me an answer. You don’t want to answer, do you?”

  The old man’s continued silence destroyed the last element of calmness that Chimal possessed. The Master Observer gave a hoarse cry as Chimal reached out to seize his deus and, with a quick snap, broke the chain that supported it. He looked at the numbers in the openings in the front.

  “186,293… do you know what that means?”

  “This is — close to blasphemy. Return that, at once.”

  “I was told that this numbered the days of the voyage, days in old Earth time. As I remember it there are about 365 days in an Earth year.”

  He threw the deus onto the table and the old man snatched it up at once, in both hands. Chimal took a writing tablet and a stylus from his belt. “Divide… this shouldn’t be hard… the answer is…” He scrawled a line under the figure and waved it under the Master Observer’s nose. “It’s been over 510 years since the voyage began. The estimate in all the books was five hundred years or less, and the Aztecs believe they will be freed in 500 years. This is just added evidence. With my own eyes I saw that we are no longer going toward Proxima Centauri, but are aimed instead almost at the constellation Leo.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “Because I was in the navigation chamber and used the telescope. The axis of rotation is no longer pointing at Proxima Centauri. We are going somewhere else.”

  “These are all very complex questions,” the old man said, dabbing a kerchief at the corners of his red-rimmed eyes. “I remember no relationship between the axis of rotation and our direction…”

  “Well I do — and I have checked already to make sure. To keep the navigational instruments functioning correctly, Proxima Centauri is fixed at the axis of rotation. Automatic course corrections are made if it drifts — so we move in the direction of the main axis. This cannot be changed.” Chimal chewed at a knuckle in sudden thought. “Though we might now be going to a different star! Now tell me the truth — what has happened?”

  The old observer stayed rigid for a moment longer, then collapsed, sighing, inside the restraining support of his eskoskeleton.

  “There is nothing that can be kept from you, First Arriver, I realize that now. But I did not want you to know until you had come to full knowledge. That must be now, or you would not have found out these things.” He threw a switch and the motors hummed as they lifted him to his feet and moved him across the room.

  “The meeting is recorded here in the log. I was a young man at the time, then the youngest observer in fact, the others are long since dead. How many years ago was that? I am not sure, yet I still remember every detail of it. An act of faith, an act of understanding, an act of trust.” He seated himself again, holding a red bound book in both hands, looking at it, through it, to that well remembered day.

  “We were weeks, months almost, weighing all of the facts and coming to a decision. It was a solemn, almost heart-stopping moment. The Chief Observer stood and read all of the observations. The instruments showed that we had slowed, that new data must be fed in to put us into an orbit about the star. Then he read about the planetary observations and we all felt distress at what had been discovered. The planets were not suitable, that was what was wrong. Just not suitable. We could have been the Observers of the Day of Arrival, yet we had the strength to turn away from the temptation. We had to fulfill the trust of the people in our charge. When the Master Observer explained this we all knew what had to be done. The Great Designer had planned even for this day, for the chance that no satisfactory planets could be found in orbit about Proxima Centauri, and a new course was set to Alpha Centauri. Or was it Wolf 359 in Leo? I forget now, it had been so many years. But it is all in here, the truth of the decision. Hard as it was to make — it was made. I shall carry the memory of that day with me to the recycler. Few are given such a chance to serve.”

  “May I see the book? What day was this decided?”

  “A day fixed in history, but look for yourself.” The old man smiled and opened the book, apparently at random, on the table before him. “See how it opens to the correct place? I have read in it so often.”

  Chimal took the book and read the entry. It occupied less than a page. Surely a record of brevity for such a momentous occasion.

  “There is nothing here about the observations and the reasons for the decisions,” he said, “No details on the planets that were so unsuitable.”

  “Yes, there, beginning the second paragraph. If you will permit me I can quote from memory. ‘…therefore, it was the observations alone that could determine future action. The planets were unsuitable.’ ”

  “But why? There are no details.”

  “Details are not needed. This was a decision of faith. The Great Designer had made allowance for the fact that suitable planets might not be found, and He is the one who knew. If the planets were suitable he would have not given us a choice. This is a very important doctrinal point. We all looked through the telescope and agreed. The planets were not suitable. They were tiny, and had no light of their own like a sun, and were very far away. They obviously were not suitable…”

  Chimal sprang to his feet, slamming the book onto the table.

  “Are you telling me that you decided simply by looking through the telescope while still at astronomical distance? That you made no approaches, no landings, took no photographs… ?”

  “I know nothing of those things. They must be things that Arrivers do. We could not open the valley until we were sure these planets were proper. Think — how terrible! What would it have been like if the Arrivers found these planets unsuitable! We would have betrayed our trust. No, far better to make this weighty decision ourselves. We knew what was involved. Every one of us searched his heart and faith before coming to a reluctant decision. The planets were uns
uitable.”

  “And this was decided by faith alone?”

  “The faith of good men, true men. There was no other way, nor did we want one. How could we have possibly erred as long as we stood true to our beliefs?”

  In silence, Chimal copied the date of the decision onto his writing tablet, then put the book back onto the table.

  “Don’t you agree that it was the wisest decision?” the Master Observer asked, smiling.

  “I think you were all mad,” Chimal said.

  “Blasphemy! Why do you say that?”

  “Because you knew nothing at all about those planets, and a decision made without facts or knowledge is no decision — just superstitious nonsense.”

  “I will not hear these insults — even from the First Arriver. I ask you respectfully to leave my quarters.”

  “Facts are facts, and guesswork is guesswork. Stripped of all the mumbo-jumbo and faith talk, your decision is just baseless. Worse than a guess since you make a guess from incomplete facts. You pietistical fools had no facts at all. What did the rest of your people say about the decision?”

  “They did not know. It was not their decision. They serve, that is all they ask. That is all we observers asked.”

  “Then I’m going to tell them all, and find the computer. We can still turn back.”

  The eskoskeleton hummed to follow his body as the old man stood, straight and angry, pointing his finger at Chimal.

  “You cannot. It is forbidden knowledge for them and I forbid you to mention it to them — or to go near the computers. The decision of the observers cannot be reversed.”

  “Why not? You are just men. Damn fallible, stupid men at that. You were wrong and I’m going to right that wrong.”