The Collected Stories of Arthur C. Clarke (42 page)

‘They were. The only way of
proving
that, of course, would be to play back Georges’s “recording”. We have to take his word for it, since the utter inadequacy of words in such matters is all too well known. The Baron
was
a genuine connoisseur, not one of those who merely pretend to powers of discrimination they do not possess. You know Thurber’s “Only a naïve domestic Burgundy, but I think you’ll admire its presumption”. The Baron would have known at the first sniff whether it was domestic or not—and if it had been presumptuous he’d have smacked it down.

‘I gather that Georges had his money’s worth out of that recording, even though he had not intended it merely for personal use. It opened up new worlds to him, and clarified the ideas that had been forming in his ingenious brain. There was no doubt about it: all the exquisite sensations that had passed through the Baron’s mind during the consumption of that Lucullan repast had been captured, so that anyone else, however untrained they might be in such matters, could savour them to the full. For, you see, the recording dealt purely with emotions: intelligence did not come into the picture at all. The Baron needed a lifetime of knowledge and training before he could
experience
these sensations. But once they were down on tape, anyone, even if in real life they had no sense of taste at all, could take over from there.

‘Think of the glowing vistas that opened up before Georges’s eyes! There were other meals, other gourmets. There were the collected impressions of all the vintages of Europe—what would connoisseurs not pay for them? When the last bottle of a rare wine had been broached, its incorporeal essence could be preserved, as the voice of Melba can travel down the centuries. For, after all, it was not the wine itself that mattered, but the sensations it evoked….

‘So mused Georges. But this, he knew, was only a beginning. The French claim to logic I have often disputed, but in Georges’s case it cannot be denied. He thought the matter over for a few days: then he went to see his
petite dame
.

‘“Yvonne,
ma chérie
,” he said, “I have a somewhat unusual request to make of you….”’

Harry Purvis knew when to break off in a story. He turned to the bar and called, ‘Another Scotch, Drew.’ No one said a word while it was provided.

‘To continue,’ said Purvis at length, ‘the experiment, unusual though it was, even in France, was successfully carried out. As both discretion and custom demanded, all was arranged in the lonely hours of the night. You will have gathered already that Georges was a persuasive person, though I doubt if Mam’selle needed much persuading.

‘Stifling her curiosity with a sincere but hasty kiss, Georges saw Yvonne out of the lab and rushed back to his apparatus. Breathlessly, he ran through the playback. It worked—not that he had ever had any real doubts. Moreover—do please remember I have only my informant’s word for this—it was indistinguishable from the real thing. At that moment something approaching religious awe overcame Georges. This was, without a doubt, the greatest invention in history. He would be immortal as well as wealthy, for he had achieved something of which all men had dreamed, and had robbed old age of one of its terrors….

‘He also realised that he could now dispense with Yvonne, if he so wished. This raised implications that would require further thought.
Much
further thought.

‘You will, of course, appreciate that I am giving you a highly condensed account of events. While all this was going on, Georges was still working as a loyal employee of the Professor, who suspected nothing. As yet, indeed, Georges had done little more than any research worker might have in similar circumstances. His performances had been somewhat beyond the call of duty, but could all be explained away if need be.

‘The next step would involve some very delicate negotiations and the expenditure of further hard-won francs. Georges now had all the material he needed to prove, beyond a shadow of doubt, that he was handling a very valuable commercial property. There were shrewd businessmen in Paris who would jump at the opportunity. Yet a certain delicacy, for which we must give him full credit, restrained Georges from using his second—er—recording as a sample of the wares his machine could purvey. There was no way of disguising the personalities involved, and Georges was a modest man. “Besides,” he argued, again with great good sense, “when the gramophone company wishes to make a
disque
, it does not enregister the performance of some amateur musician.
That
is a matter for professionals. And so,
ma foi
, is
this
.” Whereupon, after a further call at his bank, he set forth again for Paris.

‘He did not go anywhere near the Place Pigalle, because that was full of Americans and prices were accordingly exorbitant. Instead, a few discreet enquiries and some understanding cab drivers took him to an almost oppressively respectable suburb, where he presently found himself in a pleasant waiting room, by no means as exotic as might have been supposed.

‘And there, somewhat embarrassed, Georges explained his mission to a formidable lady whose age one could have no more guessed than her profession. Used though she was to unorthodox requests,
this
was something she had never encountered in all her considerable experience. But the customer was always right, as long as he had the cash, and so in due course everything was arranged. One of the young ladies and her boyfriend, an apache of somewhat overwhelming masculinity, travelled back with Georges to the provinces. At first they were, naturally, somewhat suspicious, but as Georges had already found, no expert can ever resist flattery. Soon they were all on excellent terms. Hercule and Susette promised Georges that they would give him every cause for satisfaction.

‘No doubt some of you would be glad to have further details, but you can scarcely expect me to supply them. All I can say is that Georges—or, rather, his instrument—was kept very busy, and that by the morning little of the recording material was left unused. For it seems that Hercule was indeed appropriately named….

‘When this piquant episode was finished, Georges had very little money left, but he did possess two recordings that were quite beyond price. Once more he set off to Paris, where, with practically no trouble, he came to terms with some businessmen who were so astonished that they gave him a very generous contract before coming to their senses. I am pleased to report this, because so often the scientist emerges second best in his dealings with the world of finance. I’m equally pleased to record that Georges had made provision for Professor Julian in the contract. You may say cynically that it was, after all, the Professor’s invention, and that sooner or later Georges would have had to square him. But I like to think that there was more to it than that.

‘The full details of the scheme for exploiting the device are, of course, unknown to me. I gather that Georges had been expansively eloquent—not that much eloquence was needed to convince anyone who had once experienced one or both of his playbacks. The market would be enormous, unlimited. The export trade alone could put France on her feet again and would wipe out her dollar deficit overnight—once certain snags had been overcome. Everything would have to be managed through somewhat clandestine channels, for think of the hubbub from the hypocritical Anglo-Saxons when they discovered just what was being imported into their countries. The Mothers’ Union, the Daughters of the American Revolution, the Housewives League, and
all
the religious organisations would rise as one. The lawyers were looking into the matter very carefully, and as far as could be seen the regulations that still excluded
Tropic of Capricorn
from the mails of the English-speaking countries could not be applied to this case—for the simple reason that no one had thought of it. But there would be such a shout for new laws that Parliament and Congress would have to do something, so it was best to keep under cover as long as possible.

‘In fact, as one of the directors pointed out, if the recordings were banned, so much the better. They could make much more money on a smaller output, because the price would promptly soar and all the vigilance of the Customs Officials couldn’t block every leak. It would be Prohibition all over again.

‘You will scarcely be surprised to hear that by this time Georges had somewhat lost interest in the gastronomical angle. It was an interesting but definitely minor possibility of the invention. Indeed, this had been tacitly admitted by the directors as they drew up the articles of association, for they had included the pleasures of the cuisine among “subsidiary rights”.

‘Georges returned home with his head in the clouds, and a substantial cheque in his pocket. A charming fancy had struck his imagination. He thought of all the trouble to which the gramophone companies had gone so that the world might have the complete recordings of the Forty-eight Preludes and Fugues or the Nine Symphonies. Well,
his
new company would put out a complete and definite set of recordings, performed by experts versed in the most esoteric knowledge of East and West. How many opus numbers would be required? That, of course, had been a subject of profound debate for some thousands of years. The Hindu textbooks, Georges had heard, got well into three figures. It would be a most interesting research, combining profit with pleasure in an unexampled manner…. He had already begun some preliminary studies, using treatises which even in Paris were none too easy to obtain.

‘If you think that while all this was going on, Georges had neglected his usual interests you are all too right. He was working literally night and day, for he had not yet revealed his plans to the Professor and almost everything had to be done when the lab was closed. And one of the interests he had had to neglect was Yvonne.

‘Her curiosity had already been aroused, as any girl’s would have been. But now she was more than intrigued—she was distracted. For Georges had become so remote and cold. He was no longer in love with her.

‘It was a result that might have been anticipated. Publicans have to guard against the danger of sampling their own wares too often—I’m sure
you
don’t, Drew—and Georges had fallen into this seductive trap. He had been through that recording too many times, with somewhat debilitating results. Moreover, poor Yvonne was not to be compared with the experienced and talented Susette. It was the old story of the professional versus the amateur.

‘All that Yvonne knew was that Georges was in love with someone else. That was true enough. She suspected that he had been unfaithful to her. And
that
raises profound philosophical questions we can hardly go into here.

‘This being France, in case you had forgotten, the outcome was inevitable. Poor Georges! He was working late one night at the lab, as usual, when Yvonne finished him off with one of those ridiculous ornamental pistols which are
de rigeur
for such occasions. Let us drink to his memory.’

‘That’s the trouble with all your stories,’ said John Beynon. ‘You tell us about wonderful inventions, and then at the end it turns out that the discoverer was killed, so no one can do anything about it. For I suppose, as usual, the apparatus was destroyed?’

‘But no,’ replied Purvis. ‘Apart from Georges, this is one of the stories that has a happy ending. There was no trouble at all about Yvonne, of course. Georges’s grieving sponsors arrived on the scene with great speed and prevented any adverse publicity. Being men of sentiment as well as men of business, they realised that they would have to secure Yvonne’s freedom. They promptly did this by playing the recording to
le Maire
and
le Préfet
, thus convincing them that the poor girl had experienced irresistible provocation. A few shares in the new company clinched the deal, with expressions of the utmost cordiality on both sides. Yvonne even got her gun back.’

‘Then when—’ began someone else.

‘Ah, these things take time. There’s the question of mass production, you know. It’s quite possible that distribution has already commenced through private—
very
private—channels. Some of those dubious little shops and notice boards around Leicester Square may soon start giving hints.

‘Of course,’ said the New England voice disrespectfully, ‘you wouldn’t know the
name of the company
.’

You can’t help admiring Purvis at times like this. He scarcely hesitated.

‘
Le Société Anonyme d’ Aphrodite
,’ he replied. ‘And I’ve just remembered something that will cheer
you
up. They hope to get round your sticky mail regulations and establish themselves before the inevitable congressional enquiry starts. They’re opening up a branch in Nevada: apparently you can still get away with anything there.’ He raised his glass.

‘To Georges Dupin,’ he said solemnly. ‘Martyr to science. Remember him when the fireworks start. And one other thing—’

‘Yes?’ we all asked.

‘Better start saving now. And sell your TV sets before the bottom drops out of the market.’

Refugee

First published in
The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction
, July 1955, as ‘?’

Collected in
The Other Side of the Sky