Macrolife (29 page)

“Planets can be moved.”

“That's another form of macrolife, but no one we know has done that kind of thing.”

Suddenly John felt himself rushing toward the secret image of Anulka that he had buried within himself. He was nothing without her. She had taken everything from him. Margaret had tried to help, but the feeling was still as strong as ever. It came upon him at odd moments, mixing with his most rational thoughts, bending him to its will. He had lived for Anulka on Lea. He had dreamed of helping her people, but in reality it had all been to impress her. He had forgotten to live for himself. After months of trying to understand himself, he did not know what he was waiting for. The people in the hollow were waiting to see old earth, to see sol grow large on the sunscreen. They wanted to be frightened and awed. He was waiting for his thoughts to resolve themselves into a set of balanced feelings about his life, if thoughts could flow into feelings.

He wanted to banish the squalor he knew existed on planets. A tyranny prevented his wishes from coming true, the tyranny of spacetime that imprisoned intelligences in small, ineffectual bodies and condemned them to death.

Sensing his mood, Rob said, “I know. We can do so much, we can travel so far. It's hard for our young to realize that we cannot do everything. I was devastated by this fact once, and I think I am still living life as if it could be overcome one day.”

“I'm going to get some sleep,” John said, rising. “Wake me if anything important happens.”

 

The face of earth was gray. A ragged flash of lightning turned the planet into a devil's mask. John felt cold as he fell behind the shuttlecraft and watched it disappear into the brown and gray swirl of clouds. The cabin lights brightened, pulling him back into his body.

A dust storm raged outside. The cabin was a cozy enclave, but he felt helpless. He wanted to strip the dust away and strew the planet with sunlight, bringing it back to life.

The shuttle burst out of a low cloud front, a thousand feet over a desolate landscape. A faint sun rolled in the rusty clouds. The land was without trees or grass. A grainy sand blew in the ceaseless wind, creating flats and dunes, with only an occasional shaft of sunlight to brighten the day. The wind was wailing as it had for centuries now, wiping away the last traces of humankind from the planet.

The shuttle dropped low over the desert and drifted forward, its light beams searching the ground. The screen showed a gully of red clay, where a trickle of water ran.

Shapes appeared ahead, a column of crablike masses moving toward him. The shuttle was over them in a moment, and John saw the hole in the earth from which they were emerging. In a world without oceans, these creatures were masters of the sandy wilderness….

He was outside the craft, watching it hover above the creatures, a hard-shelled invader made of metal, with beams of light for legs….

He opened his eyes, remembering the room Rob had given him in the observatory area. It was little more than a place to sleep—a screen, a bed with g-controls, a small library-link desk—but he was glad to find himself in it.

Closing his eyes, he tried to see the desert of his dream. Somewhere on that ruined earth there had been a valley, the place where his grandfathers had lived and died. Samuel Bulero's father and mother were his parents also, dead for more than a thousand years.

When he opened his eyes again, the left corner of his screen was on, showing Wheeler's white-haired head.

“You're awake,” Rob said. “Come out here.”

“What is it?”

“You'll have to come out and see this.”

 

The earth was a small green disk on the central screen. Around the planet's magnified image hung a hundred or more motes of light, brilliant diamonds catching the sunlight. The moon seemed to belong to the swarm, but its light was duller.

“What are they?” John asked as he sat down next to Wheeler.

Blackfriar's face cut into the bottom-left-hand corner of the screen. “We've got a message on tachyon band, Rob. They don't use radio or laser, so we didn't hear anything when we came in.”

“What are they?” John asked again.

Blackfriar squinted at him. “Hello, John.”

“They're communities, like us,” Wheeler said, “in permanent positions around earth.”

“The biggest is some fifty kilometers across,” Blackfriar said.

“What about the anomaly?” John asked.

“It has receded,” Wheeler said. “There's no sign of any disturbance. What does the message say, Frank?”

“They demand that we identify ourselves and order us to take up a sun orbit just inside earth's, a million miles forward of its position. They're very suspicious of us.”

“But who are they?” John asked. “Where did they come from?”

“They're the descendants of earth,” Wheeler said, “the same as we are. Sol did not die. They have rebuilt and progressed.”

“They have a stay-at-home form of macrolife,” Blackfriar said. “I wouldn't have guessed it, yet it's an obvious development.”

John had been looking at the earth without noticing what was different about it.

“Rob, Frank—look. The earth is green!” The earth was alive. It had not died here in the stellar desert where the suns thinned out toward the galaxy's edge. He yearned suddenly. As he looked at the earth and its glowing children, he questioned why he so often thought of the end of the universe, the end that was implicit in the fact of gravity. As long as earth's orbital motion staved off its fall into the sun, as long as the motion of suns delayed their collapse into their galactic centers, so long would a universe of lighted spaces prevail against death's in-pulling, and there would be time for every kind of life.

“The earth is green,” he said again.

“Let's hope they're friendly,” Blackfriar said. “We've never dealt with an equal who might have the ability to destroy us.”

“You mean weapons?” John asked.

“It's not impossible,” Blackfriar said. “We've come into their space suddenly, without warning. It's too late to turn back.”

“We could intercept or deflect any hostile object,” John said.

“Not at point-blank range. There are weapons powerful enough to destroy us.” Blackfriar was silent for a moment. “They're calling again. I'll get back to you later.” His face faded from the screen, leaving the earth and its firefly companions to dominate the screen.

“What do you think, Rob?”

“This is a new situation for us.”

Within a week the two mobiles settled into their assigned positions sunward and ahead of earth. The earth-moon system and its companions now filled the rear screens in the observatory. More than a thousand worldlets cupped the earth in a porous half-shell that caught the sun's streaming energy. The moon was a dull pearl floating near the rim.

A delegation would be arriving to discuss the renewal of contact between earth and her prodigals. John wondered what, if anything, would be decided. For the last two weeks he had felt more at peace with himself. Margaret had come to see him in his room, and they had talked—about the link, about Anulka, about the effect that earth's recovery was having on the population. They had made love, but it was filled with friendly feelings and laughter more than with desire. As he sat alone one day in the observatory, he realized that he was recovering, that he was changing. His youth was coming to an end, he told himself, even though he knew that others might feel the same way at five times his age.

The meeting would be witnessed in every assembly watch. Although he was too young to be directly involved in the negotiations, he was experiencing apprehension. The orders given out by earth to the arriving worlds had conveyed an impression of resentment. John felt a vague guilt about returning to the solar system, but he told himself that it was the result of earth's reception. Blackfriar and Wheeler had been too busy to talk to him during the weeks following the arrival, and this added to his uneasiness. He had begun to suspect that something hidden was going on. “Almost everyone on our two worlds is waiting with you,” Margaret had said, “so be patient.”

John walked into the outer workroom. He went over to Wheeler's desk and sat down, his mind wandering. He would give anything to be suddenly Rob's age, to look back to this time as a faraway moment of growth and discovery. Facing the desk space were four old library screens, the controls on hold, set to recall the reference material Rob had been studying. John reached out to the touch plate and the screen at his right lit up:

A. Forward Time Travel Procedures to Verify Cosmological Models

1. Near light-speed passage
   
2. Black Hole ergosphere passage
   
3. Tipler 2-way time machine
   (construction of large rotating cylinder of dense matter)
   

B. Comments

Only (3) above offers a method that would not be psychologically ruinous to most human subjects, as they are now constituted, although unusual individuals may be able to adjust to (1) and (2).

See Feinberg, Ettinger, Haldane on the sanity and outlook of long-lived individuals.

C. Cosmological Models of Current Interest

A list appeared, but John turned off the screen. He looked at the wall clock and saw that it was almost time for assembly. A sick feeling came into his stomach, as if the world had dropped away below him. He went out into the hallway.

The auditorium was five hundred meters back from Wheeler's research center. John enjoyed the walk, grateful for the release of tension; it reminded him of Lea. Suddenly he was remembering the small, pleasant things of his life on the planet. He paused a moment, then walked through as the door slid open.

It was a small auditorium, with seats for a few hundred people. Most of the researchers had already arrived—astronomers, physicists, mathematicians, cosmologists—all of them from Wheeler's science sections in world forwards; all of them were over a hundred years old. John felt out of place, but Rob was already waving him to an empty seat in the second row. John walked down the aisle, then three seats across, and sat down next to Wheeler.

“I thought you'd gone to your room to watch,” Wheeler said.

“I decided to have people around.”

“You'll be more alert here.”

John turned to look behind him and recognized Tassos the biologist, his childhood exemplar.

“Hello, John,” Tassos said softly.

John tensed. The suddenness of the reunion was like an assault; he was not ready to see Tassos again. The man was unchanged. His hair was still gray, his brown eyes still kindly. He hunched more than sat in his seat. John smiled and turned away.

Assembly watch was something he remembered always doing, from primary to continuing school, first with Tassos, then with Margaret, later alone. He had broken the habit while on Lea, though he might have kept up through the flitter link. Now he felt all the old feelings returning as he looked up at the screen.

“The earth is not happy about our being here,” Wheeler said.

“Have they said anything?”

“Think how you would feel if an economic and military power entered your stable and prosperous system. As a leader you would have to be skeptical.”

“But we're no danger to them.”

“They have to be convinced.”

Suddenly John knew that part of his uneasiness came from the fear that earth might be a danger to them.

On the screen, Frank Blackfriar was sitting down opposite three delegates from earth. The round table was of teak from earth's forests. The room was a simple conference chamber on level thirty.

The delegates introduced themselves.

“I am Drisa Haldane. My associates are Melcia Chin and Reger Huw. On behalf of our people and government, I welcome you to our sunspace. Please bear in mind that you are subject to our laws and customs until you leave.”

“Of course,” Blackfriar said, but the tone of uneasiness had been set. “Is there a limit to how long we may stay?”

“What are your plans?”

“The potential for exchange of news and information is to our mutual advantage. We have been away for almost ten centuries.”

There was an awkward silence before Drisa Haldane replied.

“We would not wish for you to stay indefinitely.”

“Perhaps you would suggest an acceptable stay,” Blackfriar said.

Drisa Haldane's short hair was a bright red, and she seemed rather small behind the table. She was leaning forward, profile to the screen; it was a strong profile, perfectly matched to her manner. Reger Huw was a tall, thin man with sandy hair and a weak chin; he sat with his arms folded across his chest. Melcia Chin was a stocky woman with straight black hair down to her shoulders. She sat with her hands on the table, her lips pressed tightly together.

“We would prefer an early departure,” Drisa Haldane said.

“I don't understand,” Blackfriar said quickly.

“You are not owed an explanation.”

“Everything seems to be well here, and we don't pose you any threat.”

“Councilman Blackfriar, we do not wish to be unfriendly, but since you press me…” She paused. “I have examined the circumstances of your leaving the solar system. Your way of life has grown and prospered and so has ours. You cannot have claims here.”

“You misunderstand,” Blackfriar said. “We shall not interfere in your internal affairs. We produce all we need, and we're curious only for news and knowledge. Surely you feel the same way? We're not exactly strangers.”

“Are you planning a legal or a moral claim to be here, to return?”

“None at all.”

Haldane looked at her two companions briefly. It seemed that her composure had weakened.

“You must do as we ask,” she said.

Blackfriar was looking directly at her. “What is wrong? Can we help?”

“You must leave at once.”

“And if we don't?”

“Are you threatening us?”

“Not at all.”

“Then you will leave.”

“To set your mind at ease, let me assure you that we are not a belligerent people.”

“Neither are we—but you and I do not really know that, do we?”

“Nothing about this situation requires the use of force,” Blackfriar said.

“Yes, of course.”

“I don't understand your eagerness to have us leave.”

“Must we give you a reason?”

“You do not have to—we respect your sovereignty. My aim is to persuade you to share some history and knowledge with us. I repeat: much time has elapsed, but we are not strangers. We may have a lot to give each other.”

Drisa Haldane looked to her companions. “Just a moment, Councilman Blackfriar.” She leaned toward them for a consultation. After a few moments of whispering, she retured her gaze to Blackfriar and said, “Are you empowered to speak for your government and all your people, here and now?”

“Of course. They're all watching this meeting.”

“Very well, then.” She folded her hands on the table. “Since it is clear to me that this is not a matter that either of our peoples would use force to resolve, I will tell you why we are reluctant for you to stay.” She patently did not like what she was saying. “You will stay anyway, it seems, so we have no choice but to tell you in good faith, requesting that you honor our way of handling what is about to take place. We have spent years in preparation, so you must pledge not to interfere. You may observe, no more.”

“Observe what? How can we pledge anything about something we know nothing about?”

“I do not find your attitude reassuring.”

“I beg your pardon,” Blackfriar said.

“In a moment you will understand why I am being circumspect.”

“I think I know,” Wheeler whispered. The assembly was perfectly still.

Melcia Chin spoke next. “You must remain bystanders,” she said in a low voice, “to a meeting that will take place shortly with an alien emissary. In fact, we almost mistook you for that emissary.”

“Your presence is already a risk,” Reger Huw said, “since this culture restricts its contacts to a circle of eligible civilizations. Your arrival may have changed our status.”

“How do you mean?” Blackfriar asked.

“They may not come,” Drisa Haldane said. “You might have sent a message instead of behaving as if solar space was still yours.”

“But we are the same people,” Blackfriar said. “You cannot deny it.”

“Matters of origin are trivial differences,” she said.

“I can see that you were not planning to tell us, were you?”

Drisa Haldane rose abruptly. “I am not aware of any obligation to have done so. This is our project, one for which we have spent many years preparing. Doubtless, you have also considered the problem of alien civilizations. If you believe with us that intelligence is the most precious aspect of reality, then you must see the implications of contacting alternate humanities. Intelligences vaster than our own, or simply different, may help us see ourselves with an increased objectivity, help us check the validity of our systems of knowledge…. I don't have to go on.”

Blackfriar nodded. “Of course. “We will be bystanders.”

Drisa Haldane sat down.

“But can I ask that if you see fit, you may share your findings?” Blackfriar asked in a softer voice.

“If the situation permits, in the long run.”

“I'm convinced that you are probably better able to handle such a contact, given all your preparation,” Blackfriar said.

“Is she telling the truth?” John whispered to Wheeler.

Rob shrugged, but did not answer.

“Could you tell us what happened after the anomaly receded?” Blackfriar asked.

“Certainly. A century after Asterome's departure, the disturbance fell back to the confines of earth and disappeared within the next half century. In the second century, we came sunward from Mars and the Jovian system. We found the earth a desert, but growing back. Some of us resettled the earth. Others live in the habitats you see around the planet.”

“Have there been other departures from the solar system?”

“Once every few decades, but we never hear from them. You were the first to leave and the first to return.”

“I take it that you do not approve of mobiles?”

“Many of us do not, though we see that it must be permitted. I feel that interstellar communication has the greatest potential.”

“You consider information to be superior to firsthand experience,” Blackfriar said.

“What is experience without the proper background of information and theory against which to view it? In any case, mobility, like the old idea of colonizing earthlike planets, is immature and uncreative. While it may be necessary to escape a sun or local disaster, colonization ignores the fact that a habitable planet belongs to the life that exists there or will develop on it. Mobile macroforms go in search of what they already possess—the environment of their own consciousness and culture.”

“But you don't know what we have seen and learned,” Blackfriar said.

“We probably know as much,” she said. “As to what you have seen, that's an aesthetic matter, for adventurous types. To be useful, wide experience must be interpreted properly, not simply savored. Intensive development and creativity is superior to looking for what may lie over the next hill.” John found himself liking Drisa Haldane.

“How can one help not interpreting?” Blackfriar asked.

“Mobility is not an absolute necessity.”

“The aliens—why are they coming physically?”

“It's their choice, as it has been ours, to release those among them who wish to travel.”

“Do you have a fix on their home system?”

“No, just the mobile,” she said.

“Don't you mistrust them?”

“They have nothing to gain by deceiving us.”

“Are you certain?”

“As certain as we are of your peaceful intentions.”

“Do you know what they are like?”

“Physiologically, they stem from birdlike forms rather than from apes. We've exchanged DNA information and built up a common language. That took two centuries. In some ways, they seem more familiar to us than you do.”

“Earth has grown up,” Wheeler said softly. “She makes me feel like a roving wild man.”

“She doesn't miss a chance to dig at us,” John acknowledged.