The Big Eye (17 page)

 

 

"Furthermore, David, I could not announce this terrible phenomenon to the
world alone. The responsibility would be too great, and there would be
skepticism. After all, the world would have only my word, only one man's
word, that the catastrophe would occur. But if the announcement came
simultaneously from a group of the greatest astronomers in the world,
then there would be no room for doubt, it would then be accepted as the
truth it is."

 

 

Yes, thought David, this white-haired man sitting here in this quiet room
was the true prophet, whose gospel and predictions were made on cold,
hard facts. And these facts had been attested to by other true prophets
like himself.

 

 

"Then that tremor we had in New York -- those other phenomena General
Hawthorne spoke about . . ." began David.

 

 

"Are all the result of natural stress and strain from the intrusion of
this new astronomical body in the solar system," said the Old Man. "The
fact is, they should have been even more violent and widespread, and in
our discussion here we were puzzled as to why they were not. The only
explanation we can offer is that, curiously enough, the other celestial
bodies in our system seem to have moved into a new position of balance,
compensating the strain. And so we can count on a little more time than
we had expected."

 

 

It was clear to David now -- too clear.

 

 

"Then there's no Russian secret weapon, after all."

 

 

"No, David. And as far as I know, there never was. What happened in the
city of New York was a cracking of the bedrock, a minor earthquake fault
in the rock. The other phenomena can no doubt be similarly explained."

 

 

David could have sworn that he saw the flicker of a smile on Dr, Dawson's
face as the Old Man continued:

 

 

"Professor Varanov of Leningrad is here at Palomar, David, as you
probably know. And I have it from him that the same kinds of baffling
phenomena have taken place recently, not only in the Soviet Union, but
in Soviet-dominated Europe and Asia. There has been an earthquake in
Warsaw and tidal waves at both Naples and Vladivostok, to name a few.
The Russians are sure I've have a new and terrible weapon of some kind."

 

 

David suddenly recalled the news broadcast aboard the strato-cruiser as
they were coming into San Diego a few hours ago.

 

 

"Then it was you who called the President, Doctor?"

 

 

The Old Man nodded. "I told him about the planet, told him it was on
its way, and begged him to hold off any positive move for a few hours,
until we were absolutely sure there would be a collision. Now -- we are."
Dr. Dawson paused for a moment. "We had to stop the fools from destroying
each other before the planet ended their natural time."

 

 

Before the planet ended their natural time.

 

 

When? When would it strike?

 

 

That was the question, the question he avoided, the question that stuck
in his throat, that he did not dare ask.

 

 

But now it was insistent, it wouldn't stay down, it demanded an answer.

 

 

"Do you know when the collision will come, Dr. Dawson?"

 

 

The Old Man nodded, but he did not answer immediately. It was still in
the study, very still, except for the regular ticking of the clock in
the corner. Then finally he spoke.

 

 

"A decade ago, as you well know, David, even a rough conclusion would
have been impossible. But we have come a long way since then, with the
new instruments we have developed and the new mathematical techniques we
have evolved, and indeed with the 200-inch reflector itself. But now,
although it is too early yet to calculate the exact hour, we have been
able to calculate the day."

 

 

"When will it be?" asked David. He was impatient; he wanted the Old Man
to get to it, and get to it quick. "What day will it be?"

 

 

"The end will come in two years and one month," answered the Old Man
quietly. "On Christmas Day, 1962."

 

 

Christmas Day, 1962!

 

 

"A date not without its irony," Dr. Dawson was saying. "And yet an
appropriate day, when one considers that almost two thousand years ago
a miracle had been ushered in by a new heavenly body shining in the
sky. It had heralded the birth of a new idea and then disappeared off
into the void." The Old Man's voice was hushed now, almost inaudible.
"It would almost seem, David, that it had made a complete circuit of
the heavens and returned, this time in a different and final role."

 

 

Yes, David thought wildly, one thing was certain. Planet
Y
didn't
just happen, it couldn't have just happened; the odds were stacked
against it, millions and millions to one.

 

 

Whatever it was, it was a sign, a sermon in the sky, a divine wrath,
a terrible judgment upon the creatures who called themselves men.

 

 

There could be no other answer. The Old Man was right. It was the hand
of God!

 

 

David stared at Dr. Dawson. "What do you think will happen to people
when they find out, sir?"

 

 

The Old Man leaned back and closed his eyes. "No man can tell, David.
All we know is that there'll be profound changes, not only in our
social and economic patterns, but in our mental processes. In a way,
I got a preview of that this morning. When we started to go over my
calculations, two of the astronomers present were confirmed atheists,
and others were agnostics. They had believed in a kind of divinity of
order, because the system of the heavens had functioned according to a
kind of heavenly Hoyle ever since time began.

 

 

"But when they learned about this outlaw, this huge gob of matter,
plummeting into our lives from nowhere, it smashed their faith or lack of
it. The runaway planet up there was the great dissenter, the disrupter
of order, the harbinger of chaos. It was the first and final exception
to the rule they had worshiped, and they could not escape its timeliness
and significance. And when they walked out of here a few minutes ago,
David, they were men of religion."

 

 

"Two years and one month," murmured David. "It isn't very long."

 

 

"No. It's precious little time, David, for man to put his house in order
after cluttering it with the refuse and the mistakes and the prejudices
of centuries. But I suspect that Planet
Y
will turn out to be a
large and efficient broom."

 

 

They sat there silently for a minute, each lost in his own thoughts,
listening to the methodical ticking of the clock. Finally David roused
himself and asked:

 

 

"When will you break the news, sir?"

 

 

"Tomorrow morning. Better phone the news syndicates and the
radio-television people immediately, David. Oh -- and have Hart-schorn make
slides of those photoplates so that they can be used in the auditorimn
projector. I'll want you to run the slides ofE for the press while
I lecture."

 

 

"Yes, sir," said David mechanically. "I'll call them for tomorrow at ten."

 

 

The Old Man nodded. "I'll inform the staff of what's happened at a
preliminary meeting and then meet with the other astronomers before we
go in."

 

 

David hesitated. "You're sure you want to break this -- this whole thing,
Dr. Dawson?"

 

 

"Yes. We decided at the meeting that there was no point in withholding
the news. In the first place, we wanted the world to know before it had a
chance to blow itself up. In the second place, people would know sooner
or later anyway, if they survived themselves. The planet's traveling
at tremendous speed, David. And of course it will become visible long
before the end comes."

 

 

The Old Man rose, put his hand on David's shoulder. His voice was
marvelously gentle.

 

 

"David, I'm an old man. This coming catastrophe may rob me of some of
the years of my life -- but not many. It's people like you -- you and
Miss Kenny -- who'll be cheated. I -- I don't know what to say to you
now. I don't know what any father would say to his son at a time like
this." The Old Man hesitated a moment. "I can only say this, try to
console you with this -- there's still faith. You must have faith."

 

 

"Faith?" echoed David. He thought of Carol and the future they had looked
forward to. His calm suddenly disappeared, and a wave of bitterness took
its place, and he began to tremble a little. Faith. The word stuck in
his throat. He looked at the Old Man.

 

 

"Faith? Now? Faith in what, sir?"

 

 

"In a miracle," said the Old Man quietly. "Another miracle. A miracle
of redemption, David."

 

 

Not much chance of that, David told himself cynically. That planet was
on its way, on its regular course up there around the sun, and the earth
would be drawn into it, and slam against it on schedule, sometime on
Christmas Day, 1962. That was the scientific fact, that was what the
Old Man's calculations and charts had said, and they were never wrong,
they were as final as doom.

 

 

But now the Old Man seemed helpless, seemed to be groping for another sign
in the sky. Now he had no calculations, no charts, no telescope photos,
no slide rules to conjure up any future miracle. He was without benefit
of these comforting things now; he could only fall back on an intangible
they called faith and pass it on to him, David Hughes.

 

 

And another miracle in another two years was a little too much to
hope for.

 

 

At the door to the study the Old Man suddenly took David's shoulders
and turned him around so that their eyes met.

 

 

"Don't let it get you down, my boy. Face it. Try to live normally. Get
married. Have a child."

 

 

Funny, thought David as the door closed; he had been shaken for a moment,
but now he felt better. The Old Man's eyes had been compassionate, they
had been serene with a strength of their own, and somehow they had poured
that strength into David.

 

 

Try to live normally. Get married. Have a child.

 

 

That was what Dr. Dawson had said. But the Old Man was tired, he wasn't
thinking.

 

 

If Carol had a child, if she became pregnant almost immediately, it
would live hardly more than a year.

 

 

 

 

5.

 

 

It was well past midnight when David made the last phone call from
his office.

 

 

"Corey talking." The tired voice over the receiver belonged to the
managing editor of the World Press in Los Angeles.

 

 

"Mr. Corey, this is David Hughes, Dr. Dawson's assistant here at Palomar
Observatory."

 

 

"Yes?"

 

 

"Dr. Dawson has an important announcement to make. Will you have a
representative here at ten o'clock tomorrow morning?"

 

 

There was a moment of hesitation at the other end. Then: "What's it all
about, Mr. Hughes?"

 

 

"I'm sorry. I can't tell you over the phone."

 

 

Corey's voice became a little querulous. "You don't seem to realize,
Mr. Hughes, that L.A. right now is a ghost town and I've only got a
skeleton staff on hand. Under ordinary circumstances anything that Dr.
Dawson had to say would be big news, and naturally we'd be more than
glad to cover it. But with all hell due to break loose at any moment,
you understand I couldn't let a man go all the way up to Palomar unless
it was a really big story."

 

 

It was all David could do to stop himself from yelling what he knew into
the phone. That fool down there in L.A. prattling about how big a story
he wanted, thinking in terms of columns and half columns and paragraphs!

 

 

Instead David said quietly, "It's a bigger story than you think, Mr.
Corey. So big that some of the world's greatest astronomers have flown
in to Palomar here to consult with Dr. Dawson. They'll be at the press
conference tomorrow."

 

 

Corey seemed to be somewhat impressed at this. Then he said:

 

 

"Look, Mr. Hughes, if you could just give me an idea of what it's all
about over the phone, I could have a rewrite man take it down and give
you my solemn promise that we wouldn't break it until you gave us a
release with the others."

 

 

"No," said David. "I'm sorry. Your man will have to be here. Dr. Dawson
will make his announcement personally."

 

 

"I see." Corey seemed a little bored now, weary. "And who'd you say
would be there besides Dr. Dawson?"

 

 

"Well, to name a few, Ellender of Harvard, Bornson of Sweden, Smythe of
the Royal Astronomical Society, Van Vreeden of Holland, Varanov of the
Pulkovo Observatory in Leningrad "

 

 

"Varanov? The Russian?" Corey's voice leaped suddenly like an electric spark.
"He's at Palomar?"

 

 

"Yes."

 

 

David could almost hear Corey's mind clicking over, savoring the news
value of this. "How'd he get out of the U.S.S.R. at a time like this?
They won't let a sparrow across the Soviet border now."

 

 

"We located him in Mexico City."

 

 

"I see." Corey was eager now. "Do you think he'll talk?"

 

 

"Talk?"

 

 

"Yes. About the threat of war, I mean. About the Soviet point of view.
As a Russian scientist, he "