Текст книги "Imperial Earth"

Автор книги: Arthur Charles Clarke

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Feeling slightly foolish, Duncan reopened the sketchbook, then flipped it over as he realized that Karl had used it from both directions. (But he had been badly shaken by those last drawings, and was not thinking too clearly )

The inside back cover was blank, but the facing page bore the single enigmatic word ARGUS. It meant nothing to Duncan, though it did arouse some faint and unidentifiable association from history. He turned the page-and had one of the biggest shocks of his life.

As he stared incredulously at the drawing that occupied the entire area of the paper, he was suddenly transported back to Golden Reef. There could be no misinterpretation; yet as far as he knew, Karl had never shown the slightest interest in the minutiae of terrestial zoology. The very idea that any Titanian might be fascinated by marine biology was faintly incongruous.

Yet here was a detailed study, with the perspective meticulously worked out around the faintly limned x, y-, and z-axes of the spiny sea urchin,

Diadema. Only a dozen of its thin, radiating needles were shown, but it was clear that there were hundreds, occupying the entire sphere of space around it.

That was astonishing enough, but there was something even more remarkable.

This drawing must have required hours of devoted labor. Karl had dedicated to an unprepossessing little invertebrate-which surely he could never have seen in his life!-all the love and skill he had applied to the portrait of

Calindy.

In the bright sunshine outside the old State Department, Duncan and the

Ambassador had to wait for five minutes before the next shuttle came gliding silently down Virginia Avenue. No one was within earshot, so Duncan said with quiet urgency: “Does “Argus’ mean anything to you?”

“As a matter of fact, yes-though I’m damned if I see how it can help. I still have the remnants of a classical education, and unless I’m very much mistaken, Argus was the name of Odysseus’ old dog. It recognized him when he came home to Ithaca after his twenty years of wandering, then died.”

Duncan brooded over this information for a few seconds, then shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re right-that’s no help at all. And I still want to know why these people I met-or didn’t meet-are so interested in Karl. As they admitted at the start, there’s no suggestion that he’s done anything illegal, as far as

Earth is concerned. And I suspect that he may have only bent some Titanian regulations, not broken them.”

“Just a moment-just a moment!” said the Ambassador. “You’ve reminded me of something.” His face went through some rather melodramatic contortions, then smoothed itself out. He glanced around conspiratorially, saw that there was no one within hearing and that the shuttle was still three minutes away by the countdown indicator.

“I think I may have it, and I’ll be obliged if you don’t attribute this to me. But just consider the following wild speculation… “Every organism has defense mechanisms to protect itself. You’ve just encountered one-part of the security system of Earth. This particular

group, what259 ever its responsibilities may be, probably consists of a fairly small number of important people. I expect I know most of them-in fact, one voice… never mind…

“You could call it a watchdog committee. Such a committee has to have a name for itself-a secret name, naturally. In the course of my duties, I occasionally hear of such things, and carefully forget them…. “Now, Argus was a watchdog. So what better name for-such a group? Mind you,

I’m still not asserting anything. But imagine the acute embarrassment of a secret organization that happens to find its name carefully spelled out in highly mysterious circumstances.”

It was a very plausible theory, and Duncan was sure that the Ambassador would not have advanced it without excellent reasons. But it did not go even halfway.

“That’s all very well, and I’m prepared to accept it. But what the devil has all this to do with a drawing of a sea urchin? I feel I’m going slowly mad.”

The shuttle was now gliding to a halt in front of them, and the Ambassador waved him into it.

“If it’s any consolation, Duncan, be assured that you’re in very good company. I’d sacrifice a fair share of my modest retirement benefits if I could eavesdrop now on Under Secretary Smith and his invisible friends.”

BUSINESS AND DESIRE

There was no way of telling, as Duncan stood at the window of Calindy’s apartment, that he was not looking down at the busy traffic of 57th

Street on a crisp winter night, when the first flakes of snow were drifting down, to melt at once as they struck the heated sidewalks.

But this was summer, not winter; and even President Bernstein’s limousine was not as old as the cars moving silently a hundred meters below. He was watching the past, perhaps a hologram from the late twentieth century. Yet though Duncan knew that he was actually far underground, there was nothing that he could do to convince his senses of this fact.

He was alone with Calindy at last, though in circumstances of which he could never have dreamed only a few days ago. How ironic that, now the opportunity had come, he felt barely the faintest flicker of desire!

“What is it?” he asked suspiciously, as Calindy handed him a slim crystal goblet containing a few centimeters of blood-red liquid.

“If I told you, the name would mean nothing. And if I said what it cost, you’d be scared to drink it. Just taste it slowly; you’ll never have another chance, and it will do you good.”

It was good-smooth, slightly sweet, and, Duncan was quite certain, charged with several megatons of slumbering energy. He sipped it very slowly indeed, watching Calindy as she moved around the room.

He had not really known what to expect, yet her apartment had still been something of a surprise. It was almost stark in its simplicity, but large and beautifully proportioned” with dove-gray walls, a blue vaulted ceiling like the sky itself, and a green carpet that gave the impression of a small sea of grass lapping against the walls. There were fewer than a dozen pieces of furniture: four deeply cushioned chairs, two divans, a closed writing desk, a glass cabinet full of delicate chinaware, a low table upon which were lying a small box and a splendid book on twenty-second century primitives-and, of course, the ubiquitous Comsole, its screen now crawling with abstract art that was very far from primitive.

Even without the force of gravity to remind him, there was no danger that

Duncan would forget he was on Earth. He doubted if a private home on any other planet could show a display like this; but he would not like to live here. Everything was a little too perfect and displayed

altogether too clearly the Terran obsession with the past. He suddenly remembered Ambassador Farrell’s remark:

“We aren’t decadent, but our children will be.” That would include Calindy’s generation. Perhaps the Ambassador was right…. He took another sip, staring at Calindy in silence as she orbited the room.

Clearly ill at ease, she moved a chair through an imperceptible fraction of an inch, and gave a picture an equally invisible adjustment. Then she came back to the divan and sat down beside him.

A little more purposefully now, she leaned across the low coffee table and picked up the box lying upon it.

“Have you seen one of these?” she asked, as she opened the lid.

Lying in a nest of velvet was something that looked like a large, silver egg, about twice the size of the real eggs that Duncan had encountered in the Centennial Hotel.

“What is it?” he asked. “A piece of sculpture?”

“Pick it up-but be careful not to drop it.”

Despite this warning, that was very nearly what he did. The egg was not particularly heavy, but it seemed alive-even squirming in his hand, though it showed no sign of any visible movement. However, when he looked at it more carefully, he could see faint opalescent bands flowing over the surface and momentarily blurring the mirror finish. They looked very much like waves of heat, yet there was no sensation of warmth.

“Cup it in both hands,” Calindy instructed him, “and close your eyes.”

Duncan obeyed, despite an almost irresistible impulse to see what was really happening to the extraordinary object he held. He felt completely disoriented, because it seemed that the sense of touch-the most reliable of all man’s messengers from the external universe-was betraying him.

For the very texture of the egg was constantly changing. It no longer felt like metal; unbelievably, it was furry. He might have been fondling some small woolly animal-a kitten, perhaps…. But only for

seconds. The egg shivered, became 262 hard and rough-it was made of sandpaper, coarse enough to grate the skin … the sandpaper became satin, so smooth and silky that he wanted to caress it. There was barely time to obey the impulse when … the egg was liquefying and becoming gelatinous. It seemed about to ooze through his fingers, and Duncan had to force himself not to drop it in disgust. Only the knowledge that this could not really be happening gave him strength to control the reflex … . it was made of wood; there was no doubt of that, for he could even feel the grain … . before it dissolved into myriads of separate bristles, each so sharp and distinct that he could feel them prickling his skin…. And there were sensations that he could not even name, some delightful, most neutral, but some so unpleasant that he could scarcely control his revulsion. At last, when within his cupped palms Duncan felt the unique, the incomparable touch of human skin, curiosity and amazement got the better of him. He opened his hands; the silver egg was completely unchanged, though now it felt as if it were carved from soap.

“What in heaven’s name is it?” he cried.

“It’s a tacto id You haven’t heard of them?”

“No.”

“Fascinating, isn’t it? It does to the sense of touch what a kaleidoscope does to vision. No, don’t ask me how it works-something to do with controlled electrical stimulation.”

“What’s it used for?”

Must everything have -a -purpose? It’s just a toy’a novelty. But I had a very good reason for showing it to YOU.”

“Oh, I know. “The latest from Earth.”

Calindy gave a wistful smile; she recognized that old ~arch phrase. It brought back vividly to both of them those days together on Titan, a lifetime ago.

“Duncan,” she said, so quietly that he could barely hear the words, “do you think it was all my fault?” They were now sittin igy two meters

apart on the divan, and he had to twist his body to face her. The woman he saw now was no longer the selfassured executive and impresario he had met on the Titanic, but an unhappy and uncertain girl. He wondered how long the mood of contrition would last, but for the moment it was genuine enough.

“How can I answer that?” he replied. “I’m still completely in the dark. I don’t know what Karl was doing on Earth, or why he came here.”

This was only partially true; Karl’s Minisec had begun to reveal its secrets. But Duncan was not yet prepared to discuss those with anybody, least of an with Calindy.

She looked at him with an air of faint surprise and answered: “Do you mean to say that he never told you-in fifteen years?”

“Told me what?” said Duncan.

“What happened on that last night aboard Mentor.”

“No,” replied Duncan, with painful slowness. “He never talked about it.”

After all these years, that betrayal was still a bitter memory. He knew now, of course, that it was absurd for two young adults like Karl and

Calindy, obsessed by their own grief, to have given any thought to the feelings of the boy who adored them both. He could not blame them now; but in his heart he had never forgiven them.

“So you didn’t know that we used a joy machine.”

“Oh, no!”

“I’m afraid so. It wasn’t my idea. Karl insisted, and I didn’t know any better. But at least I had sense enough not to use it myself. Well, only at very low power … “They were illegal even in those days. How did one get aboard Mentor?”

“There were a lot of things on Mentor that no one ever knew about.”

“I’m sure of that. What happened?”

Calindy got to her feet again and began to pace nervously to and fro. She avoided Duncan’s eyes as she continued.

“I don’t like to think about it. Even now, it frightens me, and I can understand why people get hopelessly addicted. I’m sure your fingers

have never 264 touched anything as-well, I suppose -palpable is the only word-as that tacto id The joy machine is just the same; it makes real life seem pale and thin-and Karl, remember, used it at full power. I told him not to, but he laughed. He was confident that he could handle it …… Yes, thought Duncan, that would be just like Karl. Though he had never seen an emotion amplifier, one was kept under proper supervision at the Oasis

Central Hospital. It was a very valuable psychiatric tool, but when the simple, portable versions quickly christened “joy machines” had become available around the mid century they had spread like a plague over the inhabited worlds. No one would ever know how many immature young minds had been ruined by them. “Brain burning” had been a disease of the sixties, until the epidemic had run its course, leaving behind it hundreds of emotional husks. Karl had been lucky to escape…. But, of course, he had not escaped. So this was the truth about his “breakdown,” and the explanation of his changed personality. Duncan began to feel a cold anger toward Calindy. He did not believe her protestation of innocence; she must have known better, even then. But part of his anger was not based on moral judgments. He blamed Calindy because she was alive, while Karl lay frozen in the Aden morgue, like some splendid marble statue defaced by time and carelessly restored. There he must wait until the legal complications involved in the disposal of an extraterrestrial corpse were unraveled. This was another duty that had fallen upon Duncan; he had done everything he believed necessary before saying farewell to the friend he had lost before his death.

“I think I see the picture,” continued Duncan, so harshly that Calindy looked at him with sudden surprise. “But tell me the rest-what happened then?”

“Karl used to send me long, crazy speeches sealed special delivery. He said he would never be able to love anyone else. I told him not to be foolish, but to forget me as quickly as he could, since we’d never be able to meet again. What else could I have said? I didn’t realize how

absolutely useless that ad265 vice was-like telling a man to stop breathing. I was ashamed to ask, and only discovered years later what a joy machine does to the brain.

“You see, Duncan, he was telling the literal truth when he said he could never love anyone else. When they reinforce the pleasure circuits, joy machines create a permanent, almost unbreakable pattern of desires. The psychologists call it electro-imprinting. I believe that there are techniques to modify it now, but there weren’t fifteen years ago, even on

Earth. And certainly not on Titan.

“After a while, I stopped answering; there was nothing I could say. But I still heard from Karl several times a year. He swore that sooner or later, he would get to Earth and see me again. I didn’t take him seriOusly.tg

Perhaps not, thought Duncan; but I am sure you weren’t wholly displeased.

It must have been flattering to have held in your hand the soul of someone as talented and beautiful as Karl-even if he had been enslaved accidentally, with the aid of a machine….

He saw very clearly now why all Karl’s later liaisons and marriages had exploded violently. They had been doomed to failure at the start. Always, the image of Calindy would have stood, an unattainable ideal, between Karl and happiness. How lonely he must have been! And how many misunderstandings might have been averted if the cause of his behavior had been realized in time.

Yet perhaps nothing could have been done, and in any case it was futile to dream about missed opportunities. Who was the old philosopher who had said:

“The human race will never know happiness, as long as the words “If only .” can still be spoken”?

“So it must have been a surprise, when he finally did turn up.”

“No. He’d dropped several hints-I’d been half expecting him for a year.

Then he called me from Port Van Allen, said he’d just arrived on a special flight, and would be seeing me as soon as he’d completed his gravity reconditioning.”

“It was a Terran Survey supply ship, going back empty-and fast. Even

so, it took him fifty days.” And it couldn’t have been a very comfortable trip, Duncan added to himself-fifty days inside one of those space trucks, with minimal life-support systems. What a contrast to Sirius! He felt sorry for the officers who had innocently succumbed to Karl’s persuasion, and hoped that the current Court of Inquiry would not damage their careers.

Calindy had recovered some of her poise. She stopped pacing around, and rejoined Duncan on the divan.

“I was not sure whether I really wanted to see him again, after all these years, but I knew how determined he was; it would have been useless trying to keep him away. So-I suppose you can say I took the line of least resistance.”

She managed a wry smile, then continued: “It didn’t work, of course, and I should have known it. Then we saw in a newscast that you’d just arrived on

Earth.”

“That must have been a shock to Karl. What did he say?”

“Not much; but I could see that he was upset and very surprised.”

“Surely he must have made some comment.”

“Only that if you contacted me, I was not to tell you that he was on Earth.

That was the first time I suspected something was wrong, and started to worry about the titanite he’d asked me to sell.”

“That’s a trivial matter-forget about it. Let’s say it was just one of the many tools that Karl used to reach his objective. But I’d like to know this-when we met aboard Titanic, was he still with you?”

Another hesitation, which in itself supplied half the answer. Then Calindy replied, rather defiantly: “Of course he was. And he was very angry when I said I’d met you. We had a bad row over that. Not the first one.” She sighed, slightly too dramatically. “By that time, even Karl realized that it wouldn’t work -that it was quite hopeless. I’d warned him many times, but he wouldn’t believe me. He refused to face the fact that the Calindy he’d known fifteen years before, and whose image was burned in his brain, no longer existed….”

Duncan had never thought that he would see tears in Calindy’s eyes. But was she weeping for Karl, he wondered—or for her own lost youth?

He tried to be cynical, but he did not succeed. He was sure that some part of her sorrow was perfectly genuine, and despite himself was deeply touched by it, And more than touched, for now, to his great surprise, he found that sympathy was not the only emotion Calindy was arousing in him. He had never realized before that shared grief could be an aphrodisiac.

This was a development that he did nothing to discourage, but he did not want to hurry matters. There was still much that he hoped to learn and that only Calindy could tell him.

“So he was always disappointed when we made love,” she continued tearfully, “though at first he tried to conceal it. I could tell-and it wasn’t pleasant for me. It made me feel-inadequate. You see, by this time I’d learned a good deal about imprinting and knew exactly what the trouble was.

Karl’s case isn’t unique…. “So he got more and more frustrated-and also violent. Sometimes he frightened me. You know how strong he was-look at this.”

With another theatrical gesture, she slipped open her dress, displaying the upper left arm-not to mention her entire left breast.

“He hit me here, so hard that I was badly bruised. You can still see the mark.”

With the best will in the world, Duncan could discover no trace of a bruise on the milky-white skin, smooth as satin, that was exposed before his eyes.

Nevertheless, the revelation did not leave him unmoved.

“So that’s why you switched off the viddy,” he said sympathetically, and edged closer.

“Then Ivor’s friend called me, with that query about Titan. I thought it was an odd coincidence… you know, Duncan, that was an unkind trick to play on me.” She sounded more sad than angry; and she did not

268 move away from him. Almost half of the sofa was now unoccupied.

“And then everything started to happen at once. Did you know that Terran

Security sent two of its agents to interview me?”

“No, but I guessed it. What did you tell them?”

“Everything, of course. They were very kind and understanding.”

“And also clumsy,” said Duncan with deep bitterness.

“Oh, Duncan, that was an accident! You were an important guest-you had to be protected. There would have been an interplanetary scandal if something had happened just before you were going to address Congress. But you should never have gone after Karl, in such a dangerous place.”

“It wasn’t dangerous-we were having a perfectly friendly discussion. How did I know that trigger happy idiot was lurking in the next antenna?”

“What was he to do? He’d been ordered to protect you at all costs, and had been warned that Karl might be violent. It looked as if you were starting to fight and that laser blast would only have blinded Karl for a few hours.

It was all a terrible accident. No one was to blame.”

Perhaps, thought Duncan; it would be a long, long time before he could view the whole sequence of events dispassionately. If there was blame, it was spread thinly, and across two worlds. Like most human tragedies, this one had been caused not by evil intentions, but by errors of judgment, misunderstandings…. If Malcolm and Colin had not insisted that he have a showdown with Karl, confronting him with the facts… if he had not wanted Karl to prove his innocence, and deliberately given him the opportunity to assert it, even to the extent-unconsciously, but he was aware of it now-of putting himself in his power… Perhaps Karl had been really dangerous; that was something else he would never know.

It seemed as if they had both been enmeshed in some complex web of fate

from which there had never been any possibility of escape. And though the scale of that disaster was so much greater that the very comparison appeared ludicrous, Duncan was again reminded of the Titanic. She too had been doomed, as if the gods themselves conspired against her, by a whole series of apparently random and trivial chances. If the radioed warnings had not been buried under greetings and business messages… If that iceberg had not sliced so incredibly through all those watertight compartments… If the radio operator on the ship only twenty kilometers away had not gone off duty when the first of all

SOS signals was flashed into the Atlantic night… If there had been enough lifeboats … It was like the failure of a whole series of safety devices, one by one, against incalculable odds, until catastrophe was inevitable.

“Perhaps you are right,” said Duncan, trying to console himself as much as

Calindy. “I don’t really blame anyone. Not even Karl.”

“Poor Karl. He really loved me. To have come all the way to Earth..

.”

Duncan did not answer, though for a moment he was tempted. Surely Calindy did not believe that this was the only reason! Even a brain-burned man, imprinted by one of those diabolical joy machines, was driven by more than passion. And Karl’s main objective had been so awesome that, even now,

Duncan could scarcely believe the picture that was slowly emerging from his sketchbook and the guarded portions of his Minisec.

Karl had had a dream-or a nightmare-and Duncan was the only man alive who even partially understood it. How utterly baffled and bewildered the Argus

Committee must be! That thought gave Duncan a heady sense of power, though there were times when he wished that the burden of knowledge had reached him in some other way, or had not come at all…. For power and happiness were incompatible. Karl had reached for both, and both had

slipped through his fingers. How Duncan could profit by the lesson he did not yet know; but it would be with him for all the years to come.

But if happiness was perhaps unattainable, at least pleasure was not beyond his grasp, nor was it to be despised. For a few moments he could forget the affairs of state and turn his back upon an enigma far more profound than any of those that Calindy peddled to her clients.

It was strange how the wheel had gone full circle. Fifteen years ago, he and Karl had turned to each other in shared sorrow for the loss of Calindy.

Now he and Calindy were mourning Karl.

And presently Duncan knew, though it could be only a faint shadow of that unassuageable hunger, something of the disappointment Karl must have experienced. How true it was that one could never quite recover the past…. It was almost as good as he had hoped, but one thing was lacking.

Calindy no longer tasted of honey.

ARGUS PANOPTES

So they had the wrong Argus. If this were a time for humor, Duncan would have felt like laughing.

Colin had put him on the track, with one of his usual economical Telexes.

It should not have been necessary to go all the way to Titan to check such an elementary point.

WHICH ARGUS DO YOU MEAN? Colin had asked.

THERE WERE THREE.

A couple of minutes with the Comsole’s ENCYCLOPEDIA section had confirmed this. As Ambassador Farrell had recalled, Argus was indeed

Odysseus’ faithful old watchdog, who had recognized his master when the wanderer returned from exile. The name was certainly appropriate for a secret intelligence organization, though now that Duncan had started making inquiries, it turned out that the Argus Committee was not as secret as it might have wished. Bernie Patras (needless to say) had heard of it; so had

George Washington, who admitted with some embarrassment: “Of course they’ve asked me questions. But there’s nothing to worry about.”

Ivor Mandel’stahm had been more forthcoming even a little sarcastic.

“I’m used to secrecy in my business, and I could teach these people a thing or two. They wouldn’t have lasted five minutes under Stalin-or even the old czars. But I suppose they’re necessary. Society will always need some warning system to spot malcontents before they can cause real trouble. I only doubt if any system will really work, when it’s needed.”

The second Argus, had been the builder of Jason’s mythical—or perhaps not so mythical-ship, the Argo. Duncan had never heard of the Golden Fleece, and the legend fascinated him. Argo would be a good name for a spaceship, he thought; but even this association had nothing to do with Karl Helmees notes.

He wondered how Karl had ever come across the third Argus; his inquisitive mind had wandered down many byways of fantasy as well as science. And now that he had the key, Duncan understood why the project that had clearly dominated Karl’s later years could have only one name-that of the all-seeing, multiple-eyed god, Argus Panoptes, who could look in every direction simultaneously. Unlike poor Cyclops, who had only a single line of vision … There had been a delay of almost thirty hours before the legal computer on

Titan could probate Karl’s will. Then Armand Helmer reported that, as

Duncan had hoped, it contained a list of obvious code words -presumably the keys to the Minisec’s private memories.

Armand had been perfectly willing to Telex the codes, and Duncan had

stopped him just in time. 272 Thanks to recent experience, the naive young Makenzie who had arrived on

Earth only a few weeks ago had now developed a mild paranoia. He hoped that it would not become obsessive, as sometimes seemed to be the case with

Colin. Yet perhaps Colin was right…. Not until the Argus Committee had, with some reluctance, handed over Karl’s

Minisec did Duncan allow Axmand to radio the codes from Titan. Now it would not matter even if they were intercepted. He alone could use them.

In all, there were a dozen combinations, with identical formats. Each began with the G/T or GO TO instruction, followed by the six binary digits 101000. That might be an arbitrary number, but it was more likely to have some mnemonic association. A common trick was to use one’s day or year of birth; Karl had been born in ‘40, and Duncan was not surprised at the answer when he converted 101000 to base ten -though he was a little disappointed at so obvious a subterfuge.

Yet the code was secure enough, for the chances were astronomically remote that anyone, in a random search, would ever hit upon the alphabetical sequences that followed. Though they were easy to remember-at least for a

Titanian-they were safe from accidental triggering. Each was a name spelled backward-another old trick, but one which never lost its effectiveness.

The list began with G/T 101000 SAmrm and continued with G/T 101000

SYHTET,

G/T 101000 suNAj, G/T 101000 ENom, G/T 101000 EBEOHP. Then Karl grew tired of moons, for the next, unsurprisingly, was G/T 101000 DNAmRA. That would certainly be a personal message-and so, of course, would be

G/T 101000

YDNILAC….

There was no G/T 101000 NAcNm. Though it was unreasonable to have expected it, Duncan stiff felt a momentary flicker of regret.

A few more family names, but he scarcely noticed them, for his eyes had already caught the final entry: G/T 101000 suGRA. The search was

ended. But it was not yet successful; there could be one last barrier. Most men had some secrets that they wished to preserve inviolate, even after death.

It was still possible that unless these codes were used correctly, they might trigger an ERASE instruction.

Possible-but unlikely. Karl had clearly intended these memories to be released, or he would not have ‘left the codes in his will, with no warning attached to them. Perhaps the wisest move would be to Telex Armand again, just in case Karl had left any further instructions that his distraught father had overlooked.

That would take hours, and it might still prove nothing. Duncan scanned the list again, looking for clues and finding none. The sequence 101000 might mean ERASE. He could speculate forever, and get nowhere.