to start the training that will make you part of the next generation of real scientists—after you've had a few years of instruction at the Lunar Base and in the Libration Point colonies. We've watched you closely. You couldn't really disappear from the system when you ran away from Lukon."
"I didn't run anywhere except here—I just wanted to get some answers." He was thoughtful for a moment. "Was Sarah Henderson part of the plan to trap me here?"
"Don't say you were trapped. You'd have been coming here anyway, at the end of the year."
"But was Sarah part of the arrangement you made?"
"Not at all. We got the shock of our lives when we found you were heading over the Lukon Pass—you were lucky to make it. I'd never heard of Sarah Henderson until a few days ago. She's just a teacher in Lukon, nothing to do with us. You can forget about her—I doubt if she knows even the elements of science."
Carl persisted. "But you are sure she is all right?"
The priest-scientist showed his first sign of impatience. "Of course she is. I told you, we have a responsibility to serve as guardians. We take that very seriously. Sarah Henderson will be returned, safe and well, to her home in Lukon. We'll keep an eye on her for a while—we still don't know how she learned about the existence of the Center here."
As he was speaking, a siren outside began to wail. He looked at his wrist unit and snapped his fingers in annoyance. "I might have known that would happen. They always pick the most inconvenient times for the drills." He shrugged. "I have to go to it. It's top-priority. Thirty years ago, they lost attitude control and the beam swung wild for three weeks. You've seen the result. The center of the beam made the Scar. It fried the ground with microwave radiation. We're still estimating the long-term effects on the ecology."
He stood up, walked over to Carl and handed him a bound report. "Here, take a look at this while I'm away. The control drill will take an hour, maybe two. You'll find in here a few more answers to your questions. See you later."
There was a further moment of concern for Sarah, a momentary sense of loss. Then Carl opened the report and excitement and anticipation blotted out other emotions.
* * *
"A hundred years ago, mankind was in trouble," it began. "The population explosion, anticipated a century earlier as the main problem facing man, had disappeared. Instead, the population was dwindling rapidly. Waves of suicide, indifference, madness and despair swept the human race, and the trends were all downward.
"There was no shortage of supposed explanations, but solutions were lacking until Jahangir Redman, in 2010, began his study of the correlation between fundamental beliefs and human behavior. He found a series of correlation coefficients, that could propagate scientific and religious doctrines forward in time and allow a quantitative effect on behavior patterns to be calculated.
"The projections were grim indeed. The course seemed irreversible, down to oblivion and the collapse of society. A philosopher might have stopped at that point; but Jahangir Redman was an activist. . . ."
Carl read on. Twenty-two thousand miles above his head, the great array of solar panels trimmed its angles like a giant sail to face the full sun. The microwave transmission antenna in the satellite made a series of minute changes in pointing attitude as it responded to the control signals sent up from Power Central. The flow of power continued.
* * *
The worst of the winter was over in Lukon. Spring flowers were braving the March winds, and Sarah had picked a bunch of wild daffodils on her way home from the school, east of the town, where she was teaching. They would brighten the house, and that was badly needed. The months since Carl had been swept away by the Church of Redman had been grim indeed, but at last she was coming through. She walked up the drive, unlocked her front door, went through it—and dropped books and
"I didn't run anywhere except here—I just wanted to get some answers." He was thoughtful for a moment. "Was Sarah Henderson part of the plan to trap me here?"
"Don't say you were trapped. You'd have been coming here anyway, at the end of the year."
"But was Sarah part of the arrangement you made?"
"Not at all. We got the shock of our lives when we found you were heading over the Lukon Pass—you were lucky to make it. I'd never heard of Sarah Henderson until a few days ago. She's just a teacher in Lukon, nothing to do with us. You can forget about her—I doubt if she knows even the elements of science."
Carl persisted. "But you are sure she is all right?"
The priest-scientist showed his first sign of impatience. "Of course she is. I told you, we have a responsibility to serve as guardians. We take that very seriously. Sarah Henderson will be returned, safe and well, to her home in Lukon. We'll keep an eye on her for a while—we still don't know how she learned about the existence of the Center here."
As he was speaking, a siren outside began to wail. He looked at his wrist unit and snapped his fingers in annoyance. "I might have known that would happen. They always pick the most inconvenient times for the drills." He shrugged. "I have to go to it. It's top-priority. Thirty years ago, they lost attitude control and the beam swung wild for three weeks. You've seen the result. The center of the beam made the Scar. It fried the ground with microwave radiation. We're still estimating the long-term effects on the ecology."
He stood up, walked over to Carl and handed him a bound report. "Here, take a look at this while I'm away. The control drill will take an hour, maybe two. You'll find in here a few more answers to your questions. See you later."
There was a further moment of concern for Sarah, a momentary sense of loss. Then Carl opened the report and excitement and anticipation blotted out other emotions.
* * *
"A hundred years ago, mankind was in trouble," it began. "The population explosion, anticipated a century earlier as the main problem facing man, had disappeared. Instead, the population was dwindling rapidly. Waves of suicide, indifference, madness and despair swept the human race, and the trends were all downward.
"There was no shortage of supposed explanations, but solutions were lacking until Jahangir Redman, in 2010, began his study of the correlation between fundamental beliefs and human behavior. He found a series of correlation coefficients, that could propagate scientific and religious doctrines forward in time and allow a quantitative effect on behavior patterns to be calculated.
"The projections were grim indeed. The course seemed irreversible, down to oblivion and the collapse of society. A philosopher might have stopped at that point; but Jahangir Redman was an activist. . . ."
Carl read on. Twenty-two thousand miles above his head, the great array of solar panels trimmed its angles like a giant sail to face the full sun. The microwave transmission antenna in the satellite made a series of minute changes in pointing attitude as it responded to the control signals sent up from Power Central. The flow of power continued.
* * *
The worst of the winter was over in Lukon. Spring flowers were braving the March winds, and Sarah had picked a bunch of wild daffodils on her way home from the school, east of the town, where she was teaching. They would brighten the house, and that was badly needed. The months since Carl had been swept away by the Church of Redman had been grim indeed, but at last she was coming through. She walked up the drive, unlocked her front door, went through it—and dropped books and
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