Voyage to Alpha Centauri: A Novel (34 page)

Without voicing it, I asked myself,
Do I believe in the existence of the soul
?

As if he had heard my thoughts, Dariush said, “In our civilization’s psychological
ecology
, as one might call it, not a single person has eternal value; everyone and anyone is ultimately disposable. And yet one becomes accustomed to this most severe disorder because it is
normality
. This has a cost.”

“What cost?” I asked.

“For those who suffer disposal, the cost is their very lives. For those of us who survive, there is a creeping indifference to anything other than one’s own survival, which results in increased selfishness, hardness of heart, denial—which in the long range will bring about the devaluation of self. To counter this devaluation, therefore, one flees into pride of accomplishment. Isn’t what we
do
the defining measure of selfhood in our society?”

“Is it? I can’t agree. Not everyone thinks that way.”

“Not everyone, this is true, Neil. Yet very few see further than their own public honors.”

“Pia lost her parents and siblings”, I said. “Did you know that?”

“Yes”, he nodded. “I know.”

“It may have prejudiced her view of humanity.”

“It may have opened her eyes. I, too, have lost family. My brother and my two sisters were illegals. I was the eldest, and thus I was a legal child.”

With sorrowing, quiet eyes, he observed my reaction. I stood abruptly.

“Were you an only child, Neil?”

The pain that surged up from within was nearly unbearable. I had not felt anything like it for years. Choking, I said good night and left him.

Day 2664
:

There has been too much focus on dark issues. I can solve nothing in our situation. Nor can I change the past.

To counteract the magnetism of negativity, I have spent several days going through my old papers that occasioned the two Nobels. My work was a major contribution to progress.
This
is what I gave to mankind.

Day 2702
:

Xue and I celebrated our Nobel anniversary by blowing hundreds of
Uni
credits in the Asian restaurant. Somewhere in the middle of the meal I looked at the protein nuggets in sauce, and without warning, phantom images of the hidden “recycling” flashed through my mind. Old memories too. I don’t need to remember everything. It was so long ago, and I can’t change what happened.

I killed the pain by inebriating myself with rice wine, and as a result made a grand fool of myself, loudly declaring to everyone in the restaurant that we needed more kangaroo meat in our diet. Angry for no reason, I smashed a glass to the floor. Then I mouthed off to Xue, telling him that Asiatics should try being less inscrutable some time. I was awful. I deserved a kick in my bad leg. Xue tenderly took charge of me and led me by the arm back to my room.

This is not without beneficial side effects, since it adds to the cumulative appearance of my supposed degeneration.

Day 2703
:

The morning after my shameful display, I went to Xue’s room and apologized to him for my behavior and especially for my comments the night before.

“Ah, dear Neil, you were merely being scrutable”, he replied with a smile. Then he presented me with a Shui-mo drawing on pale green rice paper, with little ferns trapped in the fibers. Ink-brushed on it is an elegant swirl, an incomplete circle (or sphere) in mauve ink bleeding into silver, the latter achieved with a combination of white and gray. Three tiny stars dance around the rim of the circle. There are Chinese characters at the bottom of the page in red ink, his pictograph name, and the title. He calls it “Diagram of the Universe”.

As a belated NP anniversary gift, I gave him my leather-bound facsimile edition of Edwin Hubble’s notebooks, which includes his stunning black-and-white photographs of spiral galaxies, the images which had first demonstrated that galaxies are composed of stars, are “island universes” rushing away from our galaxy at unthinkable speeds.

I also gave him my paperback copy of
The Enigma of the Quasar
, which I had brought on the voyage before knowing that its author would be along for the ride. I had often reread passages in it, appreciating the amalgamation of pure science and philosophy. Indeed, within that old scientist there was a bard.

I had toyed with the possibility of giving Xue the clothbound copy that Stron had bequeathed to me, but in the end I couldn’t bring myself to part with it.

Day 2705
:

Today I received an official letter delivered by hand to my door, co-signed by the directors of DM and DSI, informing me that my continuing “instability” has caused the authorities to review the “advisability” of me being part of any on-planet exploration teams. They leave me a small loophole. If there is “significant improvement” in my “behavior”, my status will be reviewed, and permission to land on AC-A-7 may be granted to me.

Uh-huh. Just so I don’t forget them, they give me a little warning now and then, a jerk on my chain.

Day 2748
:

Life continues: I swim, I read, I haunt the hallways, I chat with Paul and Pia in our customary modes, but there is little to add to what has already been said.

Dariush and I continue our studies. I wonder if there is any word in the Kashmiri vocabulary that he doesn’t know. He is obsessed with mastering accents. As for myself, I have now memorized more than three thousand words, a point he reached some years ago. I am also working on perfecting my grammar.

Day 2922
:

Eight years down, the final year begins. Nothing changes in ship routine.

I have been rereading my old notes on anti-matter enhancement combined with fusion power. Also a few articles about Nihman’s early work on anti-gravity.

Anti-matter has been inactive for years. We sail through the cosmos at constant speed because there is no resistance. No thrust is needed.

Day 3135
:

Today, we began deceleration. Five months to go (an imprecise measurement, but mentally serviceable, since relativity will speed our clocks as the ship decelerates.)

The robot telescopes flying in formation with us had all been brought back into the holds. The two reverse engines were lowered from the body of the ship and emitted micro-seconds of burst, very small measures of released energy. So small, in fact, that the body of the ship did not really feel it. It was experienced as a faint tremor, but there was no slamming of bodies and possessions into the bulkheads. Everything inside the
Kosmos
would be instantly liquidated if full power were suddenly turned on. Our internal gravity would not be sufficient to resist the g-force.

The bursts will steadily increase in minute quantities and frequency throughout the remaining months, until we are in proximity to the outermost ring of AC-A’s planetary orbits. There, the engines will cease their counterthrust of the forward trajectory, which by then will have slowed to about 0.025% of lightspeed. The rear engines will be activated and continue to push us forward at a moderate speed as we navigate through the solar system.

Day 3164
:

This morning, I received another letter from the powers that be. They have now concluded, “after a comprehensive review” of my medical condition, that I cannot be permitted to take part in the exploration teams. I have permission to live my daily routine on board the ship, as long as I continue to submit to “proper medical supervision”.

So, there it is. This is bad news. Very bad. Nevertheless, I am surprised by my lack of outrage. Xue, Pia, and Paul are outraged for me. Dariush expresses his empathy in less vocal form. They promise to organize a protest among their fellows. Without doubt, their attempt will come to nothing.

I wonder why I have sacrificed nineteen years of my life (if I should live that long), only to come to this.

Despite all that has happened during the voyage, there are moments when I feel the first flickers of excitement over our impending arrival at our destination—so long anticipated. I will not be able to land on the new planet, but it is some compensation to know that I will be able to behold it near at hand. The on-ground cameras, we are told, will transmit a continuous series of images to the public screens, and there will also be special programs on the findings of the various scientific teams. It is with mixed feelings that I realize I will see what Stron and David cannot see.

We are close. At this range, the onboard telescope images reveal a planet that is apparently pristine.

The Planet

     Old men ought to be explorers

     Here or there does not matter

     We must be still and still moving

     Into another intensity

     For a further union, a deeper communion

     Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,

     The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters

     Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.

—T. S. Eliot,
East Coker
, in
Four Quartets

AC-A-7, Day 1
:

The ship rests. The
Kosmos
will remain at 4,300 kilometers above the mean sea level, positioned over the equator and orbiting the entire sphere once every three hours. (The following day / time references in this journal are shipboard measure, not AC-A-7 days / hours.)

I am sure that no one has slept much. We are all somewhat breathless, gazing for timeless hours at the huge panorama screens.

I am enraptured by the planet’s immensity, most of all by its beauty. It resembles Earth in many ways. The long-distance analyses of atmosphere, land and sea formations, the presence of organic life are now confirmed as more or less correct.

It is so beautiful, so beautiful, like a newborn child.

Day 2
:

This morning, the shuttle holds were unsealed, and the four ship-to-earth vessels descended, each bearing dozens of satellites that will be positioned in geo-stationary orbits around the planet so that communications with the ship will have no blind spots. These were released as scheduled and are now doing their work.

Day 3
:

After returning to the ship, the shuttles were loaded with smaller robot craft for scanning the planet. Again, they descended. Once the shuttles approached the upper layer of the stratosphere, they released the robots to follow their own planned trajectories. Any lower than that and the fringe of the planet’s atmosphere would create drag, slowing the vessels and causing their orbits to decay. During the coming month, each will perform a particular task among a host of operational surveys, which includes atmosphere, sea temperature, land-surface temperature, cloud systems, wind patterns, interim above-ground geological and biological analysis. They will also map the entire planet. It is estimated that three to four weeks will be needed for completion of the robots’ surveys. Until then, there will be no giant steps for mankind.

The shuttles have just returned to the
Kosmos
, hovering beneath us like a pod of whales—soon to reenter the womb.

Day 4
:

The social events in honor of our arrival are incessant. Today is officially Green Day (GD), which according to the daily DSI update newsletter is for the celebration of “interplanetary bio-consciousness”. I had forgotten how much I loathed those enforced global rituals back on our home planet. Here, they are being dragged out of the psychological holds, dusted off, and pushed to the forefront with fervent socio-speak. I will not ensludge this journal by describing the slogans and graphics on the banners which have appeared in every public space. The hoopla also attempts to invade our personal rooms through the
max
, whenever one is foolish enough to power it up. Today, we are encouraged to wear green articles of clothing, if we own any. Green scarves and neckties are being handed out by staff. Hundreds of people wear them with playful smiles and a mood of jolly fellowship, as if we are all suddenly Irish, all members of an esoteric clan. There may be real Irish people on board, but if so, I have not yet met them.

I own nothing green. I do have a red bandana from my sagebrush years. I wear it around my neck, celebrating my own private IBD (Innocent Blood Day). I do not promote it vocally since I am hardly a respectable ambassador of my theme, though I am prepared to explain it, if anyone asks. No one has.

I shouldn’t be so negative. I am enthusiastic about the coming explorations. Though I will not be permitted to participate directly, I will be able to observe everything on the big screens, as well as follow the special programs, the daily updates in every scientific field. The latter have already commenced, and I watch them via my
max
. Though I hate the thing with a passion, it can be useful. The robot reports and the first nightly summations are fascinating. This is one magnificent planet!

In the fore and aft panorama rooms on all four concourses, the screens display the planet revolving on its axis in real time. People are now always present in each of these eight enormous halls, often dozens of people, occasionally a hundred or more when AC-A rises over the arc of the planet.

Padded benches with comfortable backs have unfolded from the floors, capable of seating hundreds of people at once. I wander from one panorama chamber to another and always find someone sitting there in a trance, just looking, drinking it all in—
breathing
it in. I do likewise, hour after hour.

It is a strange feeling to look at the “real” and experience it as actual, as sensorial, when in fact it is a 3D image. I am never—never—looking out a window onto a solid object. I cannot explain why, but today I felt caged. After nine years of living within the normality of our environment, I suddenly saw in a flash that it is extremely abnormal. I don’t even know what I mean. Maybe I just want to breathe fresh air, dip my head into a brook and suck water, get my bare feet muddy, yell and hear my voice echo against a mountain. My old stabs of panic returned. I squashed them pretty fast. I gave myself a rational reprimand, and the radical fear and the aftershocks of anguish gradually receded.