Childhood's End (7 page)

whole thing had been a piece of psychological trickery, and he

had been completely deceived. Always assuming, of course, that Duval's theory was correct. But he was jumping to conclusions again: no one had proved anything yet.

"If you're right," he said, "all I have to do is to smash the glass-"

Duval sighed.

"These unscientific laymen! Do you think it'll be made of anything you could smash without explosives? And if you succeeded, do you im~agine that Karellen is likely to breathe the same air that we do? Won't it be nice for both of you if he flourishes in an atmosphere of chlorine?"

Storrogren felt a little foolish. He should have thought of that.

"Well, what do you suggest?" he asked with some exasperation.

"I want to think it over. First of all we've got to find if my theory is correct, and if so learn something about the material of that screen. I'll put a couple of my men on the job. By the way, I suppose you carry a brief-case when you visit the Supervisor? Is it the one you've got there?"

"Yes."

"It should be big enough. We don't want to attract attention by changing it for another, particularly if Karellen's grown used to it."

'What do you want me to do?" asked Stormgren. "Carry a concealed X-ray set?"

The physicist grinned.

"I don't know yet, but we'll think of something. I'll let you know what it is in a fortnight's time."

He gave a little laugh.

"Do you know what all this reminds me of?"

"Yes," said Stormgren promptly, "the time you were building illegal radio sets during the German occupation."

Duval looked disappointed.

"Well, I suppose I have mentioned that once or twice before. But there's one other thiug-"

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"What's that?"

"When you are caught, I didn't know what you wanted the gear for."

"What, after all the fuss you once made about the scientist's social responsibility for his inventions? Really, Pierre, I'm ashamed of you!"

Stormgren laid down the thick folder of typescript with a sigh of relief.

"Thank heavens that's settled at last," he said. "It's strange to think that these few hundred pages hold the future of mankind. The World State! I never thought I would see it in my lifetime!"

He dropped the file into his brief-case, the back of which was no more than ten centimetres from the dark rectangle of the screen. From time to nine his fingers played across the locks in a half-conscious nervous reaction, but he had no intention of pressing the concealed switch until the meeting was over. There was a chance that something might go wrong: though Duval had sworn that Karellen would detect nothing, one could never be sure.

"Now, you said you'd some news for me," Stormgren continued, with scarcely concealed eagerness. "Is it about-"

"Yes," said Karellen. "I received a decision a few hours ago."

What did he mean by that? wondered Storingren. Surely it was not possible for the Supervisor to have communicated with his distant home, across the unknown numbers of light years that separated him from his base. Or perhaps-this was van Ryberg's theory-he had merely been consulting some vast computing machine which could predict the outcome of any political action.

"I don't think," continued Karellen, "that the Freedom League and its associates will be very satisfied, but it should help to reduce the tension. We won't record this, by the way.

"You've often told me, Rikki, that no matter how unlike you we are physically, the human race would soon grow accustomed to us. That shows a lack of imagination on your part. It would probably be true in your case, but you must remember that most of the world is still uneducated by any reasonable

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standards, and is riddled with prejudices and superstitions that may take decades to eradicate.

"You will grant that we know something of human psychology. We know rather accurately what would happen if we revealed ourselves to the world in its present state of develop-merit. I can't go into details, even with you, so you must accept my analysis on trust. We can, however, make this definite promise, which should give you some satisfaction. In fifty years-two generations from now-we will come down from our ships and humanity will at last see us as we are."

Stormgren was silent for a while, absorbing the Supervisor's words. He felt little of the satisfaction that Karellen's statement would once have given him. Indeed, he was somewhat confused by his partial success, and for a moment his resolution faltered. The truth would come with the passage of time:

all his plotting was unnecessary and perhaps unwise. If he still went ahead, it would be only for the selfish reason that he would not be alive in fifty years.

Karellen must have seen his irresolution, for he continued:

"I'm sorry if this disappoints you, but at least the political problems of the near future won't be your responsibility. Perhaps you will think that our fears are unfounded, but believe me we've had convincing proofs of the danger of any other course."

Stormgren leaned forward, breathing heavily.

"So you have been seen by Man!"

"I didn't say that," Karellen answered promptly. "Your world isn't the only planet we've supervised."

Stormgren was not to be shaken off so easily.

"There have been many legends suggesting that E5L'th has been visited in the past by other races."

"I know: I've read the }Iistorical Research Section's report. It makes Earth look like the crossroads of the Universe."

"There may have been visits about which you know nothing," said Stormgren, still angling hopefully. "Though since you must have been observing us for thousands of years, I suppose that's rather unlikely."

"I suppose it is," replied Karellen, in his most unhelpful manner. And at that moment Stormgren made up his mind.

"Karellen," he said abruptly, "I'll draft out the statement and send it up to you for approval. But I reserve the right to continue pestering you, and if I see any opportunity, I'll do my best to learn your secret."

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"I'm perfectly well aware of that," replied the Supervisor, with a slight chuckle.

"And you don't mind?"

"Not in the least-though I draw the line at nuclear weapons, poison gas, or anything else that might strain our friendship."

Stormgren wondered what, if anything, Karellen had guessed. Behind the Supervisor's banter he had recognized the note of understanding, perhaps-who could tell?-even of encouragement.

"I'm glad to know it," Stormgrcn replied in as level a voice as he could manage. He rose to his feet, bringing down the cover of his case as he did so. His thumb slid along the catch.

"I'll draft that statement at once," he repeated, "and send It up on the teletype later today."

While he was speaking, he pressed the button-and knew that all his fears had been groundless. Karellen's senses were no subtler than Man's. The Supervisor could have detected nothing, for there was no change in his voice as he said goodbye and spoke the fRnlili2r code-words that opened the door of the chamber.

Yet Stormgren still felt like a shoplifter leaving a department store under the eyes of the house-detective, and breathed a sigh of relief when the smooth wall had sealed itself behind

"I admit," said van Ryberg, "that some of my theories haven't been very successful. But tell me what you think of this one."

"Must I?" sighed Stormgren.

Pieter didn't seem to notice.

"It isn't really my idea," he said modestly. "I got it from a story of Chesterton's. Suppose the Overlords are hiding the fact that they've got nothing to hide?"

"That sounds just a little complicated to me," said Stormgren, beginning to take slight interest.

'What I mean is this," van Ryberg continued eagerly. "I think that physically they're human beings like us. They realize that we'll tolerate being ruled by creatures we imagine to be- well, alien and super-intelligent. But the human race being what it is, it just won't be bossed around by creatures of the same species."

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"Very ingenious, like all your theories," said Stormgren.

"I wish you'd give them opus numbers so that I could keep up with them. The objections to this one----" But at that moment Alexander Wainwright was ushered in.

Storzngren wondered what he was thinking. He wondered)

too, if Wainwright had made any contact with the men who had kidnapped him. He doubted it, for he believed Wainwright's disapproval of violence to be perfectly genuine. The extremists in his movement had. discredited themselves thoroughly, and it would be a long time before the world heard of them again.

The head of the Freedom League listened carefully while the draft was read to him. Stormgren hoped he appreciated this gesture, which had been Karellen's idea. Not for another twelve hours would the rest of the world know of the promise that had been made to its grandchildren.

"Fifty years," said Wainwright thoughtfully. "That is a long time to wait."

"For mankind, perhaps, but not for Karellen," Stormgren answered. Only now was he beginning to realize the nearness of the Overlords' solution. It had given them the breathing space they believed they needed, and it had cut the ground from beneath the Freedom League's feet. He did not imagine that the League would capitulate, but its position would be seriously weakened. Certainly Wainwright realized this as well.

"In fifty years," he said bitterly, "the damage will be done. Those who remembered our independence will be dead:

humanity will have forgotten its heritage."

Words-empty words, thought Stormgren. The words for which men had once fought and died, and for which they would never die or fight again. And the world would be better for it.

As he watched Wainwright leave, Stormgren wondered how much trouble the Freedom League would still cause .in the years that lay ahead. Yet that, he thought with a lifting of his spirits, was a problem for his successor.

There were some things that only time could cure. Evil men could be destroyed, but nothing could be done with good men who were deluded.

"Here's your case," said Duval. "It's as good as new."

"Thanks," Storrugren answered, inspecting it carefully none

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the less. "Now perhaps you'll tell me what it was all about, and what we are going to do next."

The physicist seemed more interested in his own thoughts.

"What I can't understand," he said, "is the ease with which we've got away with it. Now if I'd been Kar-"

"But you're not. Get to the point, man. What did we discover?"

"Ah me, these excitable, highly-strung Nordic races!" sighed Duval. "What we did was to make a type of low-powered radar set. Besides radio waves of very high frequency, it used far infra-red-all waves, in fact, which we were sure no creature could possibly see, however weird an eye it had."

"How could you be. sure of that?" asked Stormgren, becoming intrigued by the technical problem in spite of himself.

"Well-we couldn't be quite sure," admitted Duval reluctsntly. "But Karellen views you under normal lighting, doesn't he? So his eyes must be approximately similar to ours in spectral range. Anyway, it worked. We've proved that there is a large room behind that screen of yours. The screen is about three centimetres thick, and the space behind it is at least ten metres across. We couldn't detect any echo from the far wall, but we hardly expected to with the low power which was all we dared use. However, we did get this."

He pushed across a piece of photographic paper on which was a single wavy line. In one spot was a kink like the autograph of a mild earthquake.

"See that little kink?"

"Yes: what is it?"

"Only Karellen."

"Good Lord! Are you sure?"

"It's a pretty safe guess. He's sitting, or standing, or whatever it is he does, about two metres on the other side of the screen. If the resolution had been a bit better, we might even have calculated his size."

Stormgren's feelings were very mixed as he stared at that scarcely visible inflexion of the trace. Until now, there had been no proof that Karellen even had a material body. The evidence was still indirect, but he accepted it without question.

"The other thing we had to do," said Duval, "was to calculate the transmission of the screen to ordinary light. We think we've got a reasonable idea of that-anyway it doesn't matter If we're out even by a factor often. You'll realize, of course,

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that there's no such thing as a truly one-way glass. It's simply

a matter of arranging the lights. Karellen sits in a darkened room: you are illuminated-that's all." Duval chuckled.

"Well, we're going to change that!"

With the air of a conjurer producing a whole litter of white

rabbits, he reached into his desk and pulled out an overgrown

nash-lamp. The'end flared out into a wide nozzle, so that the whole device looked rather like a blunderbuss.

Duval grinned.

"It's not as dangerous as it looks. All you have to do is to tam the nozzle against the screen and press the trigger. It gives out a very powerful beam lasting ten seconds, and in that

dine you'll be able to swing it round the room and get a good view. All the light will go through the screen and it will floodlight your friend beautifully."

"It won't hurt Karellen?"

"Not if you aim low and sweep upwards. That will give his eyes time to adapt-I suppose he has reflexes like ours, and we don't want to blind him."

Stormgren looked at the weapon doubtfully and hefted it in his hand. For the last few weeks his conscience had been pricking him. Karellen bad always treated him with unmistakable affection, despite his occasional devastating frankness, and now that their time together was drawing to its close he did not wish to do anything that might spoil that relationship. But the Supervisor had received due warning, and Stormgren had the conviction that if the choice had been his, Karellen would long ago have shown himself. Now the decision would be made for him: when their last meeting came to its end, Stormgren would gaze upon Karellen's face.