“Are you engaged, female of intellect?” he asked politely. “I would not interrupt a dream-logic.” That was her rendition of a certain concept, not very satisfactory but doubtless better than “meditation” or “philosophical thought” or “purposeful daydreaming.”
“No, I’m idle and wish I weren’t,” she assured him. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since—I don’t know. Time is meaningless in this damned place.”
“I was in the pool,” he said. Early on,
Emissary’s
biologists had warned that Fidelio would sicken and die if he couldn’t spend several hours per week in water like that of his native sea. The composition was not identical with that of Earth’s oceans, but not exotic either; any chemical laboratory could supply the ingredients. They had been fetched from the ship to the Wheel and a bath constructed. The trade in salt between coastal and inland communities had conditioned a great deal of Betan history.
“Good for you,” Joelle said, and thought how inadequate that was. What a tragedy it would be to lose him: for both species, and perhaps many more. Besides, he was brilliant and gentle, worth a million Ira Quicks.
We
will
lose him, if his food runs out,
she remembered. He couldn’t get nourishment from Earthborn tissues; most were poisonous to him. The returning expedition had carried a year’s rations for Fidelio, chiefly in freeze-dried form. They took for granted that well before then, the Union would have opened regular traffic with Beta.
She was not given to rage, but abruptly she tasted it. Seeking calm, she regarded him as he sat on feet and tail before her lounger. She always found something, a matter of shape or motion or less easily identifiable subtlety, which she had not noticed before.
Well, we two are the products of four billion years of separate evolution, from the primordial stuffs that went into our two very unlike planets. Names are necessary, but they mislead, they give us the impression that we have an insight when we actually don’t
.
Their arbitrariness made them twice deceiving. The explorers
dubbed the sun to which the star gate transported them “Centrum” for lack of a more imaginative proposal, and its attendants “Alpha,” “Beta,” “Gamma”… in outward order. “Fidelio” was bestowed by Torsten Sverdrup, who adored Beethoven, and stuck. At home the being was called, approximately, “K’thrr’u” on land, “Gaoung Ro Mm” in the water; but no Terrestrial alphabet rendered either appellation right.
He was as typical of his species as she was of hers, which ranged from Chinese to Papuan, Celt to Pygmy, Negro to Eskimo, and onward. Specifically, he came from the eastern seaboard of the principal continent in the northern hemisphere, at a middle latitude, and belonged to that society which had taken the lead in an industrial revolution a millennium ago. Civilizations didn’t seem to rise and fall on Beta as they had on Earth. Nevertheless, today his whole world, and its colonies around other stars, faced a peculiar crisis
Fidelio was a six-limbed biped. His body was the size of a large man’s, exclusive of a powerful tail, ending in horizontal flukes, which added half again the length. Because of his forward-leaning posture, he stood about a hundred and fifty centimeters tall, and blubber hid the formidable muscles. His legs, which reminded her of Tyrannosaurus Rex, ended in broad, webbed feet, the upper arms in long claws with webs between, the smaller lower arms in hands with three fingers and a thumb, not especially human-looking. The skeletal anatomy made limbs and digits, plus the torso, tail, and slender neck, so flexible as to seem almost boneless. His head was narrow, bulging backward to hold the brain. A short, sharp muzzle surrounded by stiff whiskers bore a single closable nostril and a mouth whose omnivore’s variety of teeth included a pair of alarming fangs. The two ears were small. The two eyes were large and of a uniform blue; nictitating membranes could change their optical properties for underwater seeing. Sleek dark-brown fur covered his entire skin, lighter on the belly. A tangy, iodine-like odor came from him. For clothing he wore a kind of bandolier with pockets. His reproductive organs being retractible, and not much like a man’s anyway, he wasn’t obviously male…except at home, where just for a starter he had two-thirds the bulk of the average female….
His distance vision in air was not equal to the human, though he saw far better when submerged or in the dark, and at least as
well at close range. His hearing was superior, and he possessed chemosensitivities which Joelle had decided not to label “taste” or “smell.” For his part, he was constantly amazed at the discriminations she could make with her fingertips.
Here he is,
she thought,
the good-faith goodwill ambassador of his people, slammed into jail; and I don’t even know how he feels about it. He’s tried to tell me, but he can’t make himself clear unless I go holothetic, and maybe then he can’t quite
.
“What can I do for you, Fidelio?” she asked softly.
“I seek to bring into my dream-currents [to know with his entire being?] how your kind first came to the transport engines and to information about the Others.”
“Why, you’ve heard,” she said, surprised. “We simply found the machine in the Solar System, the same as your interplanetary explorers earlier found the one that orbits Centrum.”
Earlier?
she wondered.
What does that mean? Simultaneity is not a concept that applies across interstellar distances. Moreover, it turns out that the “T” in “T machine” stands not only for “Tipler” and “Transport,” but also for “Time.” The Betans themselves aren’t sure whether, in a passage through a different system, they visit their future or their past. For that matter, we don’t know what our temporal relationship is to our colony on Demeter. All that astronomers can determine is that the three gates open on the same general era of this galaxy
.
And, for whatever it’s worth, which may be nothing, we have the fact that the Betans have behind them centuries more of being scientific-civilized than we do on Earth
—
if we are civilized yet
.
“That is a truth cast onto a reef and bleached dry,” Fidelio said. “I am in search of the living coral. [Of course, Beta had no coral, but it did have a genus which behaved similarly.] You have told me, Joelle [indescribable pronunciation], you did not predict this detention. I begin to doubt that what has happened is the result of deviation [Villainy? Misguidedness? Disagreement? The word contained the possibility that Quick and his minions were right.] The impact of that original disclosure was tremendous upon Beta. It must have been comparable on Earth. Still, the wave it raised bore a shape peculiar to your kind, in whatever condition contemporary humanity was. And the ripples cannot have died out… I have been reading histories, Joelle, but they are gorged with references to events and personalities that mean nothing to me.”
“I see,” she answered slowly.
(“Comprendo”
= “I grasp.” English and Spanish idioms are not equivalent. As for his, at sea he would have said, “My teeth close on it,” ashore he would have said, “I sense it in my vibrissae.”)
“Well,” she went on, “I hardly think I can give you a complete answer, when I myself am rather lost. But let’s make an attempt.” She stroked her chin, pondering. “Yes, I remember a documentary on the whole subject, intended for schools, which contains much original material. I’ll try to retrieve it.”
Like every apartment in the Wheel, hers had a computer terminal, with display and printout. The piece she had in mind was such a classic, and went back such a number of years—back to when folk expected a permanent population here, including children—that she supposed it was in the data bank. She activated the keyboard and tapped out her request.
It was.
(V
IEW OF THE MACHINE
seen from afar, a thousand-kilometer length like a needle afloat in space, dwarfed by the Milky Way.)
NARRATOR
—unmanned probes reported indications of something curious, orbiting the sun on the same track as Earth but a hundred and eighty degrees off, so that it was always on the opposite side. A flyby confirmed that it was strange indeed. No asteroid could have a perfectly cylindrical shape. Most certainly, none could be so massive, nor spin so fast….
(An astrophysicist, famous at the time, speaks from his desk, occasionally screening an animated diagram for illustration.)
IONESCU
—should not be possible. That thing is as dense as a collapser, barely short of the black hole condition. Its atoms must have been compressed down to where they are no longer true atoms but nearly continuous nuclear matter, the stuff we call neutronium. Only the gravitational field of a larger star than Sol, falling in on itself after its fires are extinct, can bring them to that condition. The cylinder cannot. Gigantic though it is, its mass is far too small—in fact, not enough to perturb the planets identifiably. Besides, a natural body would form a spheroid.
Yet there the thing is. Forces of a kind we know nothing about shaped it, gave it its unbelievable rotational energy, and hold it together. I have no doubt whatsoever that here is the product of a technology farther advanced from ours than ours is from the Stone Age….
(Scenes of excitement, speeches, crowds, demonstrations,
sermons, prayer meetings everywhere on Earth and in the satellites. Excerpt from a press conference held by Manuel Fernández-Dávila, Donald Napier, and Saburo Tonari, the three men who are to go, the most nearly international team that chaos throughout much of the world has left it possible to assemble. Liftoff of the shuttle, blast vivid against an austere cordillera. Rendezvous with
Discoverer,
the ship, and transfer to her.
(Scenes during the flight., which at that time took weeks, mostly in free fall. Shots through the ports: the cylinder waxing in view until its enormousness begins to be apparent and the glowing attendants are visible. Spacesuited men go outside, at the ends of tethers, to take pictures and instrumental readings. They speak at Earth via a relay which has been orbited especially for them. The words are usually dry, but shaken by awe.)
FERNÁNDEZ-DÁVILA
—they are not satellites. They don’t go around the cylinder, they stay in place relative to the sun and each other. God knows how that is done, but we guess they’re held by some of the power that keeps the main body in one piece. We’ve counted ten. They appear featureless except for the different wavelengths they emit. They’re spaced around the spin axis of the cylinder—which is exactly normal to the ecliptic—at various distances and orientations, the farthest about a million kilometers out, the closest about a thousand. When we watch the whole system through our main telescope, it’s a pretty sight. Well, anything astronomical is….
(At a later date, when the goal is looming.)
TONARI
—glowing attendants are definitely spheres, diameter estimated at ten kilometers. They don’t seem to be material. More like balls of energy, nexuses in a force-field. We have confirmed that they are not absolutely stationary. The configuration changes, extremely slowly but continuously, according to a plan we cannot decipher….
(Outside view taken by Tonari in EVA: a glimpse of the ship, a straight look at the cylinder, whose length now fills the screen, and a pair of its moons which are not moons, and behind and around everything, the stars.)
NAPIER
(meanwhile, aboard)
—satisfactory approach curve. We’ll swing around it at a distance of ninety-five hundred kilometers, recede to one hundred thousand, establish ourselves in a circular orbit, and—
Name of God! What’s that?
VOICE
(melodious, androgynous, speaking Spanish like an educated denizen of Lima)
Your attention, please. Your attention, please. This is a message to you from the builders of the device you are seeking. You are welcome here. But you must change your course. Your present path is dangerous to you. Prepare for acceleration and stand by for instructions. Please record. You will need the information you are about to receive. Please record. In five minutes, these words will repeat for that purpose, followed by the necessary data. They are words of welcome, of joy that you have finally reached this far. Thank you.
(Interior scene. Fernández-Dávila has started the movie cameras for the sake of the history books.)
NAPIER
How in Christ’s name—?
FERNÁNDEZ-DÁVILA
Probably sonic vibrations set up in the hull. No trick at all for
them
—Saburo! Saburo, get your ass back in the airlock!
(No repeat of the greeting; this documentary has used the replay that was promised, since the original was captured only at the end of a radio beam two hundred and ten million kilometers long, after which it was passed an equal distance to Earth, losing quality along the whole way.)
VOICE
—understand that the truth will not be easy to make clear. Now, while you calm yourselves, you should retreat to approximately five hundred thousand kilometers and take orbit. Otherwise you will not likely see your homes again. Here are the timing and the vectors for you—
(Miscellaneous shots, exterior and interior, taken during the days that follow: the titanic artifact, star, Milky Way, Magellanic Clouds, the sister galaxy in Andromeda, the men, who somehow continue their routines, actually joking or playing games, in between grave discussions of what they have learned each time a message comes.)
VOICE
(excerpts)
You hear a kind of computer-effector system, a robot, if you will. No living being could or should abide out here, awaiting your arrival….
The universe is a cornucopia of life….
The builders have existed through age after age. They wish the cosmos well, but for that very reason do not seek to be overlords, let alone gods. Best that each race make its own destiny, tragic though that may prove. Only thus can it grow, in strength, mind, and spirit. Too, the builders have lives of their own to live, dreams of their own to pursue. Thus you will hear little more than this about them, ever. To you, to countless beings more among the suns, they must remain the unknown Others….