The Gods Themselves (25 page)

"Do you know anything about what Lamont has been doing in the last few years?"

"What is it you're thinking of, Commissioner?" asked Denison, cautiously.

"About a year ago, maybe a little more, Lamont spoke to Burt. I am not on the senator's staff any longer, but we see each other occasionally. He talked to me about it. He was concerned. He thought Lamont might have made a valid point against the Electron Pump and yet could see no practical way of taking up the matter. I, too, was concerned—"

"Concern everywhere," said Denison, sardonically.

"But now, I wonder. If Lamont talked to you and—"

"Stop! Stop right there, Commissioner. I think I see you sidling toward a point and I don't want you to move any further. If you expect me to tell you that Lamont stole my idea, that once again I am being treated badly, you are wrong. Let me tell you as forcefully as I can; I had no valid theory. It was purely a guess. It worried me; I presented it; I was not believed; I was discouraged. Since I had no way of demonstrating its value, I gave up. I did not mention it in my discussion with Lamont; we never went past the early days of the Pump. What he came up with later, however much it may have resembled my guess, was arrived at independently. It seems to be much more solid and to be based on rigid mathematical analysis. I lay claim to no priority; to
none"

"You seem to know about Lament's theory."

"It made the rounds in recent months. The fellow can't publish and no one takes him seriously, but it was passed along the grapevine. It even reached me."

"I see, Doctor. But
I
take it seriously. To me the warning was second time round, you understand. The report of the first warning—from you—had never reached the senator. It had nothing to do with financial irregularities, which were what was then on his mind. The actual head of " the investigating panel—not myself—considered it—you will forgive me—crackpot. I did not. When the matter came up again, I grew disturbed. It was my intention to meet with Lamont, but a number of physicists whom I consulted—"

"Including Hallam?"

"No, I did not see Hallam. A number of those I consulted advised me that Lament's work was utterly without foundation. Even so, I was considering seeing him when I was asked to take up this position, and here I am, and here
you
are. So you see why I had to see you. In your opinion is there merit in the theories advanced by yourself and by Dr. Lament?"

"You mean is continued use of the Electron Pump going to blow up the Sun, or maybe the entire arm of the Galaxy?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

"How can I tell you? All I have is my own guess, which is just a guess. As for Lament's theory, I have not studied it in detail; it-has not been published. If I saw it, the mathematics might be beyond me. . . . Besides, what's the difference? Lamont won't convince anyone. Hallam has ruined him as earlier he ruined me, and the public generally would find it against their short-term interest to believe him even if he went over Hallam's head, so to speak. They don't want to give up the Pump, and it's a lot easier to refuse to accept Lament's theory than to try to do something about it."

"But you're still concerned about it, aren't you?"

"In the sense that I think we might indeed destroy ourselves and that I wouldn't like to see that happen, of course."

"So you've come to the Moon, now, to do something that Hallam, your old enemy, would prevent your doing on Earth."

Denison said, slowly, "You, too, like to make guesses."

"Do I?" said Gottstein, indifferently. "Perhaps I am brilliant, too. Is my guess correct?"

"It may be. I haven't given up hope of returning to science. If anything I do were to lift the specter of doom from mankind, either by showing that it does not exist or that it does exist and must be removed, I would be pleased."

"I see. Dr. Denison, to discuss another point at the moment, my predecessor, the retiring Commissioner, Mr. Montez, tells me that the growing edge of science is here on the Moon. He seems to think a disproportionate quantity of the brains and initiative of mankind is here."

"He may be right," said Denison. "I don't know."

"He may be right," agreed Gottstein, thoughtfully, "If so, doesn't it strike you that this may be inconvenient for your purpose. Whatever you do, men may say and think it was accomplished through the Lunar scientific structure. You personally might gain little in the way of recognition, however valuable the results you present. . . . Which, of course, would be unjust."

"I am tired of the rat-race of credit, Commissioner Gottstein. I want some interest in life, more interest than I can find as vice-president in charge of Ultra-sonic Depilatories. I'll find it in a return to science. If I accomplish something in my own eyes, I will be satisfied."

"Let us say that that would be insufficient for me. What credit you earn, you should receive; and it should be quite possible for me, as Commissioner, to present the facts to the Terrestrial community in such a way a$ to preserve for you what is yours. Surely you are human enough to want what is your own."

"You are kind. And in return?"

"You are cynical. But justly so. In return I want your help. The retiring Commissioner, Mr. Montez, is not certain as to the lines of scientific research being undertaken on the Moon. Communications between the peoples of Earth and Moon are not perfect, and coordination of the efforts on both worlds is clearly for the benefit of all. It is understandable that there's distrust, I suppose, but if you can do anything to break down that distrust, it will be as valuable to us as your scientific findings might be."

"Surely, Commissioner, you can't feel that I'm the ideal man to bear witness to the Lunarites as to how fair-meaning and well-disposed the Earth's scientific establishment is."

"You mustn't confuse one vengeful scientist with the men of the Earth as a whole, Dr. Denison. Let's put it this way. I would appreciate being kept aware of your scientific findings so that I could help you retain your fair share of credit; and in order to understand your findings properly—I am not a professional scientist myself, remember —it would be helpful if you were to explain them in the light of the present state of science on the Moon. Is it agreed?"

Denison said, "You ask a hard thing. Preliminary results, prematurely disclosed, whether through carelessness or over-enthusiasm, can do tremendous harm to a reputation. I would hate to talk about anything to anyone until I was sure of my ground. My earlier experience with the committee on which you served would certainly encourage me to be cautious."

"I quite understand," said Gottstein, heartily. "I would leave it to you to decide when I might usefully be informed. . . . But I have kept you late and you probably want to sleep."

Which was a dismissal. Denison left, and Gottstein looked after him thoughtfully.

7

Denison opened the door by hand. There was a contact that would have opened it automatically, but in the blur of waking, he could not find it.

The dark-haired man, with a face that was somehow scowling in repose, said, "I'm sorry... . Am I early?"

Denison repeated the last word to give him time to absorb matters. "Early? ... No. I... I'm late, I think."

"I called. We made an appointment—"

And now Denison had it. "Yes. You're Dr. Neville."

"That's right. May I come in?"

He stepped in as he asked. Denison's room was small, and held a rumpled bed that took up most of the available space. The ventilator was sighing softly.

Neville said with meaningless courtesy, "Slept well, I hope?"

Denison looked down at his pajamas and passed his hand over his rumpled hair. "No," he said abruptly. "I had an abominable night. May I be excused long enough to make myself more presentable?"

"Of course. Would you like to have me prepare breakfast meanwhile? You may be unacquainted with the equipment."

"It would be a favor," said Denison.

He emerged some twenty minutes later, washed and shaved, wearing trousers and an undershirt. He said, "I trust I didn't break the shower. It went off and I couldn't turn it on again."

"The water's rationed. You only get so much. This is the Moon, Doctor. I've taken the liberty of preparing scrambled eggs and hot soup for the two of us."

"Scrambled—"

"We call it that. Earthmen wouldn't, I suppose."

Denison said, "Oh!" He sat down with something less than enthusiasm and tasted the pasty yellow mixture that clearly was what the other meant by scrambled eggs. He tried not to make a face at the first taste and then manfully swallowed it and dug in for a second forkful.

"You'll get used to it with time," said Neville, "and it's highly nourishing. I might warn you that the high-protein content and the low gravity will cut your need for food."

"Just as well," said Denison, clearing his throat.

Neville said, "Selene tells me that you intend to stay on the Moon."

Denison said, "That was my intention." He rubbed his eyes. "I've had a terrible night, though. It tests my resolution."

"How many times did you fall out of bed?"

"Twice. ... I take it that the situation is a common one."

"For men of Earth, an invariable one. Awake, you can make yourself walk with due regard for the Moon's gravity. Asleep, you toss as you would on Earth. But at least falling is not painful at low gravity."

"The second time, I slept on the floor awhile before waking. Didn't remember falling. What the hell do you do about it?"

"You mustn't neglect your periodic checks on heartbeat, blood pressure, and so on, just to make sure the gravity change isn't introducing too much of a strain."

I’ve been amply warned of that," said Denison with distaste. "la fact, I have fixed appointments for the next month. And pills."

"Well," said Neville, as if dismissing a triviality, "within a week you'll probably have no trouble at all. ... And you'll need proper clothing. Those trousers will never do and that flimsy upper garment serves no purpose."

"I presume there's some place I can buy clothes."

"Of course. If you can get her when she's off duty, Selene will be glad to help, I'm sure. She assures me you're a decent sort, Doctor."

"I'm delighted she thinks so." Denison, having swallowed a spoonful of the soup, looked at it as though he were wondering what to do with the rest. Grimly, he continued the task of downing it.

"She judged you to be a physicist, but of course she's wrong."

"I was trained as a radiochemist."

"You haven't worked at that either for a long time, Doctor. We may be out of it up here, but we're not that far out of it. You're one of Hallam's victims."

"Are there so many you speak of them as a group?"

"Why not? The whole Moon is one of Hallam's victims."

"The Moon?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"I don't understand."

"We have no Electron Pump Stations on the Moon. None have been established because there has been no cooperation from the para-Universe. No samples of tungsten have been accepted."

"Surely, Dr. Neville, you don't intend to imply that this is Hallam's doing."

"In a negative way, yes. Why must it be only the para-Universe which can initiate a Pump Station. Why not ourselves?"

"As far as I know, we lack the knowledge to take the initiative."

"And we will continue to lack the knowledge if research into the matter is forbidden."

"Is it forbidden?" Denison asked, with a faint note of surprise.

"In effect. If none of the work necessary to expand knowledge in that direction finds adequate priorities at the proton synchrotron or at any of the other large equipment —all controlled by Earth and all under the influence of Hallam—then the research is effectively forbidden."

Denison rubbed his eyes. "I suspect I will have to sleep again before long. ... I beg your pardon. I did not mean to imply you were boring me. But tell me, is the Electron Pump so important to the Moon? Surely the Solar batteries are effective and sufficient."

"They tie us to the Sun, Doctor. They tie us to the
surface."

"Well— But why does Hallam take this adverse interest in the matter, do you suppose, Dr. Neville?"

"You know better than I, if you know him personally, as I do not. He prefers not to make it clear to the public generally that the entire Electron Pump establishment is the product of the para-men, with ourselves merely servants of the masters. And if, on the Moon, we advance to the point where we ourselves know what we are doing, then the birth of the true Electron Pump technology will date from our moment, not from his."

Denison said, "Why do you tell me all this?"

"To avoid wasting my time. Ordinarily, we welcome physicists from Earth. We feel cut off here on the Moon, victims of deliberate Terrestrial policy against us, and a physicist-visitor can be helpful, even if only to give us a feeling of lesser isolation. A physicist-immigrant is even more helpful and we like to explain the situation to him and encourage him to work with us. I am sorry that you are not, after all, a physicist."

Denison said, impatiently, "But I never said I was."

"And yet you asked to see the synchrotron. Why?"

"Is that really what's bothering you? My dear sir, let me try to explain. My scientific career was ruined half a lifetime ago. I, have decided to see some sort of rehabilitation, some sort of renewed meaning, to my life as far away from Hallam as I could get—which means here on the Moon. I was trained as a radiochemist, but that has not permanently paralyzed me as far as any other field of endeavor is concerned. Para-physics is the great field of today and I have done my best to self-educate myself there, feeling that this will offer me my best hope for rehabilitation."

Neville nodded. "I see," he said with clear dubiousness.

"By the way, since you mentioned the Electron Pump— Have you heard anything about the theories of Peter Lamont?"

Neville eyed the other narrowly. "No. I don't think I know the man."