Текст книги "Imperial Earth"

Автор книги: Arthur Charles Clarke

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Titan and its problems; but when Bernie, as an interested party, wanted to join in the festivities,

Duncan selfishly threw him out.

That was shortly before Ivor Mandel’stahm-this time in the Penn-Mass auto jitney-totally demolished his peace of mind. They had just left the

Dupont Circle Interchange when he told Duncan: “I’ve some interesting news for you, but I don’t know what it means. You may be able to explain it.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I think I can claim, without much exaggeration or conceit, that I can get to anyone on Earth in one jump. But sometimes discretion suggests doing it in two, and that’s how I proceeded with Miss Ellerman. I’ve never had any dealings with her personally-or so I thought, until you advised me otherwise-but we have mutual friends. So I got one, whom I can trust without question, to give her a call…. Tell me, have you tried to contact her recently?”

“Not for—oh, at least a week. I thought it better to keep out of the way.”

Duncan did not add, to this perfectly good excuse, the fact that he had felt ashamed to face Calindy.

“She answered my friend’s call, but there’s something very odd. She wouldn’t switch on her viddy.”

That certainly was peculiar; as a matter of common good manners, one never overrode the vision circuit unless there was a very good excuse indeed. Of course, this could sometimes cause acute embarrassment-a fact exploited to the utmost in countless comedies. But whatever the real reason, social protocol demanded some explanation. To say that the viddy was out of order was to invite total disbelief, even on those rare occasions when it was true.

“What was her excuse?” asked Duncan.

“A plausible one. She explained that she’d had a bad fall, and apologized for not showing her face.”

“I hope she wasn’t badly hurt.”

“Apparently not, though she sounded rather unhappy. Anyway, my friend had a brief conversation with her and raised the subject of Titan—quite legitimately, and in a way that couldn’t possibly arouse suspicion. He knew that she’d been there, and asked if she could put, him in touch with any

Titanians she 226 happened to know on Earth. Actually, he said he had an export order in mind.”

“Not a very good story. All business is handled through the Embassy Trade

Division, and he could have contacted them.”

“If I may say so, Mr. Makenzie, you still have a lot to learn. I can think of half a dozen reasons for not going to the Embassy-at least for the first approach. My friend knows that, and you can be sure that Miss Ellerman does.”

“If you say so-I don’t doubt that you’re right. What was her reaction?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. She said that she did have a good Titanian friend who might be able to help, that he’d just arrived for the celebrations, and he was in Washington….”

Duncan began to laugh; the anticlimax was so ridiculous…. “So your friend wasted his time. We’re right back where we started.”

“Along this line, yes. I thought you’d be amused. But there’s rather more to come.”

“Go on,” said Duncan, his confidence in Mandel’stahm now somewhat diminished by this debacle.

“I tried several other lines of inquiry, but they all came to nothing. I even thought of calling Miss Ellerman myself and saying outright that I knew she was the principal behind the titanite negotiations without accusing her of anything, of course.” -“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Oh, it would have been a perfectly reasonable thing to do-she wouldn’t be surprised if I found out sooner or later. But as it happened, I had a better idea-one I should have tried in the first place. I checked on her visitors for the last month.”

“How,” Duncan asked in astonishment, “could you do that?”

“It’s the oldest trick in the world. Have you never seen one of those twentieth-century French detective films? No. I suppose not. I simply asked the concierge

“The what?” “You don’t have them on Titan?”

“I don’t even know what they are.”

“Perhaps you’re lucky. On Earth, they’re an indispensable nuisance. Miss

Ellerman, as I assume you know, lives in a very luxurious Deep Ten just south of Mount Rockefeller. In f act, she has the basement penthouse-a hankering I’ve never understood; the farther down I go, the more claustrophobic I get. Well, any large complex has a doorkeeper at the entrance to tell visitors who’s in and who’s out, take messages, accept deliveries-and authorize the right people to go to the right apartments.

That’s the concierge.

“And you were able to get at its memory bank?”

Mandel’stalun 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.”

“Soare 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. 228 “T~ho 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.”

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 regular end-of-month memory update. I got hold of the visual recognition coding, and here’s the reconstruction.”

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 stun i g 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 if 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 of 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. ARM AND 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 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 now 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 that 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 feet 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 not really in

her league He could not hope to outwit her for very long. “Duncan,” she said, in a resigned tone of voice, 4tyou 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 ring of truth, though he did not delude himself about her power to deceive him if she wished.

“In that case, IT 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 imaoi e the reason,” retorted Duncan, in 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 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 enigmatic of smiles on his face. Then he said: “What do Malcolm and Colin think he’s doing? Plotting a coup dYtat 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. Goodbye 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 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 aren’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’stalun a brief resume of his discussions 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’stalun.

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

THE EYE OF ALLAH

I I 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 236 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 that anyone with much to hide would behave in 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 skulduggery…. “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 power to span the interstellar gulfs 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 resultat 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 this 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 astonomers. 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.

It was a noble vision, though there were some who feared its success as much as its possible failure. However, during the Time of Troubles that brought the twentieth century to its unlamented close, there was little hope of funding such a project. It could be considered only during a period of political and financial stability; and therefore CYCLOPS did not get under way until a hundred years after the initial design studies.

A child of the brief but brilliant Muslim Renaissance, it helped to absorb some of the immense wealth accumulated by the Arab countries

during the 238 Oil Age. The millions of tons of metal required came from the virtually limitless resources of the Red Sea brines, oozing along the Great Rift

Valley. Here, where the crust of the Earth was literally coming apart at the seams as the continental plates slowly separated, were metals and minerals enough to banish all fear of shortages for centuries to come.

Ideally CYCLOPS should have been situated on the Equator, so that its questing radio mirrors could sweep the heavens from pole to pole. Other requirements were a good climate, freedom from earthquakes or other natural disasters-and, if possible, a ring of mountains to act as a shield against radio interference. Of course, no perfect site existed, and political, geographical, and engineering compromises had to be made. After decades of often acrimonious discussion, the desolate “Empty Quarter” of Saudi Arabia was chosen; it was the first time that anyone had ever found a use for it.

Wide tracks were roughly graded through the wilderness so that ten-thousand-ton hover-freighters could carry in components from the factories on the shore of the Red Sea. Later, these were supplemented by cargo airships. In the first phase of the project, sixty parabolic antennas were arranged in the form of a giant cross, it’s five-kilometer arms extending north-south, east-west. Some of the faithful objected to this symbol of an alien religion, but it was explained to them that this was only a temporary state of affairs. When the “Eye of Allah” was completed, the offending sign would be utterly lost in the total array of seven hundred huge dishes, spaced uniformly over a circle eighty square kilometers in extent.

By the end of the twenty-first century, however, only half of the planned seven hundred elements had been installed. Two hundred of them had filled in most of the central core of the array, and the rest formed a kind of picket fence, outlining the circumference of the giant instrument. This reduction in scale, while saving billions of so lars had degraded performance only slightly. CYCLOPS had fulfilled

virtually all its design objectives, and during the course of the twenty-second century had wrought almost as great a revolution in astronomy as had the reflectors on Mount Wilson and Mount Palomar, two hundred years earlier. By the end of that century, however, it had run into trouble-through no fault of its builders, or of the army of engineers and scientists who served it.

CYCLOPS could not compete with the systems that had now been built on the far side of the Moonalmost perfectly shielded from terrestrial interference by three thousand kilometers of solid rock. For many decades, it had worked in conjunction with them, for two great telescopes at either end of an

Earth-Moon baseline formed an interferometer that could probe details of planetary systems hundreds of light-years away. But now there were radio telescopes on Mars; the Lunar observatory could achieve far more with their cooperation than it could ever do with nearby Earth. A baseline two hundred million kilometers long allowed one to survey the surrounding stars with a precision never before imagined.

As happens sooner or later with all scientific instruments, technical developments had by-passed CYCLOPS. But by the mid-twenty-third century it was facing another problem, which might well prove fatal. The Empty Quarter was no longer a desert.

CYCLOPS had been built in a region which might see no rains for five years at a time. At Al Hadidah, there were meteorites that had lain un rusting in the sand since the days of the Prophet. All this had been changed by reforestation and climate control; for the first time since the Ice Ages, the deserts were in re treat. More rain now fell on the Empty Quarter in days than had once fallen in years.

The makers of CYCLOPS had never anticipated this.

They had, reasonably enough, based all their designs on a hot, and environment. Now the maintenance staff was engaged in a continual battle against corrosion humidity in coaxial cables, fungus-induced breakdowns in high-tension circuits, and all the other ills that afflict electronic equipment if given the slightest chance. Some of the hundred-meter antennas had even rusted up solidly, so that they

could no longer be moved and had to be taken out of service. For almost twenty years, the system had been working at slowly decreasing efficiency, while the engineers, administrators, and scientists carried out a triangular argument, no one party being able to convince either of the others. Was it worth investing billions of so lars to refurbish the system—or would the money be better spent on the other side of the Moon? It was impossible to arrive at any clear-cut decision, for no one had ever been able to put a value on pure scientific research.

Whatever its present problems, CYCLOPs had been a spectacular success, helping reshape man’s views of the universe not once, but many times. It had pushed back the frontiers of knowledge to the very microsecond after the Big Bang itself, and had trapped radio waves that had circumnavigated the entire span of creation. It had probed the surfaces of distant stars, detected their hidden planets, and discovered such strange entities as neutrino suns, anti tachyons gravitational lenses, space quakes and revealed the mind-wrenching realms of negative-probability “Ghost” states and inverted matter.

But there was one thing that it had not done. Despite scores of false alarms, it had never succeeded in detecting signals from intelligent beings elsewhere in the universe.

Either Man was alone, or nobody else was using radio transmitters. The

two explanations seemed equally improbable.

MEETING AT CYCLOPS

He had known what to expect, or so he had believed, but the reality was still overwhelming. Duncan felt like a child in a forest of giant metal trees, extending in every direction to the limit of vision. Each of the identical “trees” had a slightly tapering trunk fifty meters high, with a stairway spiraling round it up to the platform supporting the drive mechanism. Looming above this was the huge yet surprisingly delicate hundred-meter-wide bowl of the antenna itself, tilted toward the sky as it listened for signals from the deeps of space.

Antenna 005, as its number indicated, was near the center of the array, but it was impossible to tell this by visual inspection. Whichever way Duncan looked, the ranks and columns of steel towers dwindled into the distance until eventually they formed a solid wall of metal.

The whole vast array was a miracle of precision engineering, on a scale matched nowhere else on Earth. It was altogether appropriate that many key components had been manufactured in space; the foamed metals and crystal fibers which gave the parabolic reflectors strength with lightness could be produced only by the zero-gravity orbiting factories. In more ways than one, CYCLOPS was a child of space.