a gas discharge in a fluorescent tube, it moved until it enveloped the whole Earth. And then, while they stared and wondered if they were seeing what they thought they saw, it was gone.
Wilmer leaned back against Celine. "We're screwed," he said. "Dead unlucky, the geometry must have been just wrong. I knew it was a possibility, but I never thought it would happen. Ludwig, check the time codes on the data streams. I bet data loss in and around Earth began coincident with that high-atmosphere free electron phenomenon we just witnessed."
"What will it do?" Reza asked. He had the least electronic background of anyone on board.
"If it was as strong as I think," Wilmer answered, "it will have knocked out a lot of electronic gear down on Earth. Anything with microchips in it is probably dead."
"Well, doesn't that mean . . ." Reza said.
He was asking more questions. Celine could hear him, but his words didn't even register with her. If everything containing microchips no longer worked, then the planet would be plunged back to a pre-electronic age; except that the world of 2026, unlike the world of 1926, depended on electronic devices for every phase of living.
And there was more. Equipment in low Earth orbit would also be affected. That included the space stations—stations on which the Mars expedition had been depending for its safe return to Earth.
Celine thought again of her parents and her brother. They were probably not in situations critically dependent on electronic technology. They were all right.
But she was not. The chances of survival of the first Mars expedition had suddenly dropped by many orders of magnitude.
Sure, they should be able to fire retro-rockets to match speed with Earth. Sure, they ought to be able to park the Schiaparelli in Earth orbit. But the most difficult part of the journey home, the final reentry, would still lie ahead. And for that reentry, they needed resources that no longer existed.
5
As Grace Mackay was leaving Saul's office, Auden Travis popped back in the doorway. "You have no other meetings on your calendar this evening, Mr. President—"
"And plenty to do. I'll eat right here, if you could pass the word."
"Yes, sir. But I was about to add, you have two people still waiting to see you, Dr. Singer and Ms. Silvers. Also, we have more working lines. South Carolina is patched in—"
"Good."
"—and Mrs. Steinmetz is on the line. It's not one of her better days, sir. She is referring to you as Ben."
"Bring Dr. Singer in, and tell him to take the other headset. Then put Mrs. Steinmetz on the line. I want Dr. Singer to hear her. I'll see Ms. Silvers last, and she can eat with me. Order for two."
"Very good, sir."
Was that a faint look of distaste on Auden Travis's handsome face as he left? Better that, Saul decided, than the knowing smirk that a heterosexual aide might offer.
He sighed— Why me, God? —and picked up the old-fashioned headset as Dr. Forrest Singer entered, nodded, and moved to the other working telephone.
"Hello, Mother." Saul waited. When there was no reply, he went on, "How are you feeling?"
"They're not feeding me right." The voice on the other end of the line came through faint and scratchy, with odd breaks between the words. "And they have different people giving me my bath and cleaning my rooms."
"I'll talk to them, Mother. I'll make sure it gets fixed. We have trouble lots of places, because of the supernova."
"Oh? Well, you know that's nothing to do with me. I can't do anything about that. What are you doing, Ben? Are you meeting any nice girls?"
"This is Saul, Mother. I'm very busy. Too busy to think much about meeting girls."
"Why haven't you been calling me? I don't think you've called for a long time. I don't know when you last called me."
"I'm sorry, Mother. They've had a lot of trouble with the telephones. I'll try to call more often."
"You ought to take a break, you work too hard. Make them fix the food better here. They'll listen to you,
Wilmer leaned back against Celine. "We're screwed," he said. "Dead unlucky, the geometry must have been just wrong. I knew it was a possibility, but I never thought it would happen. Ludwig, check the time codes on the data streams. I bet data loss in and around Earth began coincident with that high-atmosphere free electron phenomenon we just witnessed."
"What will it do?" Reza asked. He had the least electronic background of anyone on board.
"If it was as strong as I think," Wilmer answered, "it will have knocked out a lot of electronic gear down on Earth. Anything with microchips in it is probably dead."
"Well, doesn't that mean . . ." Reza said.
He was asking more questions. Celine could hear him, but his words didn't even register with her. If everything containing microchips no longer worked, then the planet would be plunged back to a pre-electronic age; except that the world of 2026, unlike the world of 1926, depended on electronic devices for every phase of living.
And there was more. Equipment in low Earth orbit would also be affected. That included the space stations—stations on which the Mars expedition had been depending for its safe return to Earth.
Celine thought again of her parents and her brother. They were probably not in situations critically dependent on electronic technology. They were all right.
But she was not. The chances of survival of the first Mars expedition had suddenly dropped by many orders of magnitude.
Sure, they should be able to fire retro-rockets to match speed with Earth. Sure, they ought to be able to park the Schiaparelli in Earth orbit. But the most difficult part of the journey home, the final reentry, would still lie ahead. And for that reentry, they needed resources that no longer existed.
5
As Grace Mackay was leaving Saul's office, Auden Travis popped back in the doorway. "You have no other meetings on your calendar this evening, Mr. President—"
"And plenty to do. I'll eat right here, if you could pass the word."
"Yes, sir. But I was about to add, you have two people still waiting to see you, Dr. Singer and Ms. Silvers. Also, we have more working lines. South Carolina is patched in—"
"Good."
"—and Mrs. Steinmetz is on the line. It's not one of her better days, sir. She is referring to you as Ben."
"Bring Dr. Singer in, and tell him to take the other headset. Then put Mrs. Steinmetz on the line. I want Dr. Singer to hear her. I'll see Ms. Silvers last, and she can eat with me. Order for two."
"Very good, sir."
Was that a faint look of distaste on Auden Travis's handsome face as he left? Better that, Saul decided, than the knowing smirk that a heterosexual aide might offer.
He sighed— Why me, God? —and picked up the old-fashioned headset as Dr. Forrest Singer entered, nodded, and moved to the other working telephone.
"Hello, Mother." Saul waited. When there was no reply, he went on, "How are you feeling?"
"They're not feeding me right." The voice on the other end of the line came through faint and scratchy, with odd breaks between the words. "And they have different people giving me my bath and cleaning my rooms."
"I'll talk to them, Mother. I'll make sure it gets fixed. We have trouble lots of places, because of the supernova."
"Oh? Well, you know that's nothing to do with me. I can't do anything about that. What are you doing, Ben? Are you meeting any nice girls?"
"This is Saul, Mother. I'm very busy. Too busy to think much about meeting girls."
"Why haven't you been calling me? I don't think you've called for a long time. I don't know when you last called me."
"I'm sorry, Mother. They've had a lot of trouble with the telephones. I'll try to call more often."
"You ought to take a break, you work too hard. Make them fix the food better here. They'll listen to you,
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