by Robin Cook
“It’s to play with,” Richard said. “You spin it like you said and then someone else catches it. Let me show you.” Richard picked up the Frisbee and gently flipped it up into the air on an angle. The toy reached an apogee then returned. He caught it in his palm between his thumb and fingers. “That’s all there is to it,” he said. “It’s easy, don’t you think?”
“I suppose,” Sufa said.
“Let me throw it to you and you catch it just like I did,” Richard said. He trotted down the gallery about fifty feet. He turned and tossed the Frisbee toward Sufa. She went through the motions as if she were going to catch it, but she was too clumsy. Although it grazed her hand, she failed to grab it; it clattered to the floor. After rolling his eyes at her ineptness, Richard trotted back and showed her again how to do it. But his efforts were in vain. On the next toss she was even more awkward than on the first.
“You people aren’t into physical activity, are you?” Richard said scornfully. “I’ve never met anyone who couldn’t catch a Frisbee.”
“What’s the purpose?”
“There’s no purpose,” Richard snapped. “It’s just fun. It’s a sport. Tossing this thing back and forth gives you a chance to run around.”
“It seems pointless to me,” Sufa said.
“Don’t you people get any exercise down here in Interterra?”
“Certainly,” Sufa said. “We enjoy swimming particularly but also walking and playing with our homids. Of course there’s always sex, as I’m sure Meeta, Palenque, and Karena have shown you.”
“I’m talking about a sport!” Richard complained. “Sex is not a sport.”
“It is for us,” Sufa said. “And it’s certainly a lot of exercise.”
“What about a sport in which you try to win?” Richard asked.
“Win?” Sufa questioned.
“You know, competition!” Richard said with annoyance. “Don’t you have any competitive games?”
“Heavens, no!” Sufa said. “We stopped that kind of nonsense eons ago when we eliminated wars and violence.”
“Oh, for chrissake,” Richard blurted. “No sports! That means no ice hockey, no football, not even golf! Jeez! And to think Suzanne thinks this place is heaven!”
“Please calm down,” Sufa urged. “Why are you so agitated?”
“Do I seem agitated?” Richard questioned innocently.
“Indeed you do,” Sufa said.
“I guess I need some exercise,” Richard offered. With the Frisbee under his arm, he nervously cracked his knuckles. He knew he was strung out, and he knew why: in his mind’s eye he kept picturing a worker clone stumbling onto Mura’s corpse scrunched up inside his refrigerator.
“Why don’t you take the Frisbee?” Sufa suggested. “Perhaps Michael or one of the others will participate with you.”
“Why not,” Richard said, but without much enthusiasm.
“All right, everybody!” Arak called out. The group had reunited out on the terrace in front of the museum after spending more than an hour inside. They were all discussing what they had seen during the visit, except for Richard, who remained on the periphery, repeatedly tossing the Frisbee into the air and catching it. At the base of the steps three air taxis were waiting.
“Let’s talk about the arrangements for the rest of the morning,” Arak said. “Sufa will accompany Perry to the air taxi construction and repair facility. Perry, I believe that is what you had wanted to see.”
“Very much so,” Perry agreed.
“Ismael and Mary will accompany Donald and Michael to Central Information,” Arak continued.
Donald nodded.
“What about you, Richard?” Arak asked. “Which of those two destinations appeals to you?”
“I don’t really care,” Richard said, continuing to flip the Frisbee into the air.
“You have to choose one or the other,” Arak said.
“Okay, then, the air taxi factory,” Richard said impassively.
“What about Suzanne?” Perry questioned.
“Dr. Newell will go with me for a meeting with the Council of Elders,” Arak said.
“By herself?” Feeling protective, Perry glanced at Suzanne.
“It’s okay,” Suzanne said reassuringly. “While you climbed into the U-boat in the World War Two hall, Arak explained the elders wanted to talk with me professionally, as an oceanographer.”
“But why alone?” Perry asked. “And why not me? After all, I run an oceanographic company.”
“I don’t think it’s the business side they’re interested in,” Suzanne said. “Don’t worry.”
“Are you sure?” Perry persisted.
“Quite sure,” Suzanne said. She patted Perry’s shoulder.
“Then let us go,” Arak called out. “We’ll all meet back at the visitors’ palace later in the day.” Beckoning for the others to follow, he skirted the old Corvette’s dais and started down the wide steps toward the hovering air taxis.
It did seem strange to Suzanne to be alone with Arak as the air taxi swept them off to their destination. It was the first time Suzanne had been away from the others except to sleep in her cottage. She looked over at Arak, and he smiled back at her. Being in such quiet proximity made her again aware of how handsome he was.
“Are you enjoying your orientation?” Arak questioned. “Or are you finding it frustratingly fast or slow?”
“Overwhelming is the best way to describe how I’m finding it,” Suzanne said. “Speed is not the issue, and I certainly don’t feel frustrated in the slightest.”
“Your group is quite a challenge for designing and tailoring the best orientation protocol. You are all so different, a fact that we Interterrans find fascinating but also daunting. You see, because of selection and adaptation, we are all very much alike, which I’m sure is something you’ve recognized.”
“You are all very nice,” Suzanne said with a nod, wincing at voicing such a platitude. She realized that until Arak’s comment, she hadn’t given the issue much thought. Now that she had, she realized it was true. Not only were they all similarly attractive in a classical sense, but they all were equally gracious, intelligent, and easy-going. There was little if any variation in their temperaments.
“Nice is a rather sanitized word to choose,” Arak said. “I hope you are not bored with us.”
Suzanne gave a little, self-conscious laugh. “It’s hard to be bored when you are overwhelmed,” she said. “I can assure you, I am not bored.” Her eyes wandered to the incredible vista out over the city with the swarms of air taxis whizzing by. Being bored was the furthest thing from her mind, yet she suddenly understood what Arak was alluding to. After a while, Interterra might become tiresome because of its homogeneity. Some of the very aspects that made it such a paradise also rendered it bland.
Suzanne focused on a striking structure that loomed out of the tapestry of the city and pulled her from her musing as the air taxi quickly approached. It was an enormous black pyramid with a bright gold top. As the air taxi stopped and then descended to a causeway that led up to the pyramid’s entrance, she was struck by its resemblance to the Great Pyramid of Egypt at Giza. Having been to Giza, she could tell that the Interterran version was even approximately the same size. When she mentioned this similarity to Arak, he smiled patronizingly.
“The design was one of our gifts to that culture,” Arak said. “We had great hopes for them since they were, initially, a rather peaceful civilization. We sent a delegation to live among them early in their history with the idea of promoting them over the other extremely warlike peoples who had evolved. The experiment was not as big an undertaking as the Atlantean movement, and we did try, but it all came to naught.”
“Did you show them how to build it as well as provide the design?” Suzanne asked. For her the riddle of the Great Pyramid was one of the most fascinating of the ancient world.
“Of course,” Arak said. “We had to. We also showed them the concept of the arch, but they s
teadfastly refused to believe it would work and never tried it on a single structure.”
The air taxi came to a stop and the side opened.
“After you,” Arak said graciously.
Once they gained entry, Suzanne realized that any similarity between the two structures vanished. The Interterran pyramid interior was gleaming white marble, and the interior spaces were grand instead of claustrophobic.
As Suzanne and Arak walked down a corridor heading toward the center of the building, Suzanne was met by another surprise. Garona stepped out of a side passageway directly in front of her and enveloped her in a warm embrace.
“Garona!” Suzanne murmured with obvious delight. She hugged him back. “What a nice surprise! I didn’t expect to see you until tonight. Or at least I was hoping I’d see you tonight.”
“Of course you would have seen me tonight,” Garona said. “But I could not wait.” He looked into her eyes. “I knew you were coming to the Council of Elders today so I came over to wait for you.”
“I’m pleased,” Suzanne said.
“We’d better move,” Arak said. “The council is waiting.”
“Certainly,” Garona said. He took his arms from Suzanne and grasped her hand instead. The three began walking.
“How was your morning?” Garona inquired.
“Enlightening,” Suzanne said. “Your technology is astounding.”
“We had a scientific session,” Arak explained.
“Any site visits?” Garona asked.
“We went to the Earth Surface Museum,” Suzanne said.
“Really?” Garona seemed surprised.
“It was a specific request of Mr. Donald Fuller,” Arak explained.
“Did you find it instructive?” Garona asked.
“It was interesting,” Suzanne said. “But it wouldn’t have been my choice, not with what we had learned during the didactic session.”
They approached an impressive set of bronze doors. Within each panel was an embossed figure Suzanne recognized as an ankh, or ancient Egyptian symbol of life. It was another reminder for her of the apparent exchange of information from the Interterrans to ancient secondary human civilization. It made her wonder what else had come from this advanced culture.
The moment they arrived at them, the doors swung inward on silent hinges. Beyond was a circular room with a domed ceiling supported by a colonnade. Like the rest of the pyramid’s interior it was constructed of white marble, although the capitals of the columns were gold.
At Arak’s urging, Suzanne stepped over the marble threshold. She took a few hesitant steps before stopping. She scanned the stately chamber. Twelve imperial-looking chairs ringed the periphery. Each was situated between a pair of columns. All the chairs were occupied—presumably by council members—who ranged in age from about five to twenty-five. The unexpectedness of such a mixed age group had Suzanne mildly flustered. Some of the people were so young, their feet didn’t reach the ground when they sat.
“Come in, Dr. Suzanne Newell,” one of the elders said in a clear preadolescent voice. To Suzanne she looked like a ten-year-old girl. “My name is Ala, and it is my rotation as speaker of the council. So, please, don’t be afraid! I know these surroundings are imposing and intimidating, but we only desire to speak with you, and if you will come to the center of the room we will all be able to hear you clearly.”
“I’m more surprised than fearful,” Suzanne said as she advanced to a point directly beneath the high point of the dome. “I was told I was coming to the Council of Elders.”
“And indeed you have,” Ala said. “The determining factor for sitting on the council is the number of body lives you’ve passed, not the age of the current body.”
“I see,” Suzanne said, although she still found it unsettling to be standing before a governmental body partially composed of children.
“The Council of Elders formally welcomes you,” Ala said.
“Thank you,” Suzanne replied, not knowing what else to say.
“You were brought to Interterra with the hope that you could provide us with information we have not been able to glean from monitoring your earth surface communications.”
“What kind of information?” Suzanne asked. She felt her guard go up. In the back of her mind she heard Donald’s voice saying that the Interterrans wanted something from them, and once they got it, they might treat them very differently.
“Don’t be alarmed,” Ala said soothingly.
“It is hard not to be,” Suzanne said. “Especially when you help remind me that I and my colleagues have been abducted into your world which, I have to say, was a terrifying experience.”
“For that we extend our apologies,” Ala said. “And you should understand that we intend to reward your sacrifice. But it is we who are alarmed. You see, the integrity and safety of Interterra are our responsibility. We know that you are a learned oceanographer in your world.”
“That’s being overly generous,” Suzanne said. “The reality is that I am a relative newcomer to the field.”
“Excuse me,” one of the other elders said. He was a teenager at the very beginning of his growth spurt. “My name is Ponu, and I am currently the vice-speaker. Dr. Newell, we are aware of the esteem in which you are held by your professional colleagues. It is our belief that such respect is a reliable testament to an individual’s abilities.”
“As you will,” Suzanne said. It wasn’t a point she wanted to argue under the circumstances. “What is it you want to ask me?”
“First,” Ala said, “I’d like to make sure you have been informed that our environment is devoid of your common bacteria and viruses.”
“Arak has made that clear,” Suzanne said.
“And I assume you understand that detection of our civilization by a civilization like yours would be disastrous.”
“I can understand the worry about contamination,” Suzanne said. “But I’m not convinced it would necessarily be disastrous, especially if the proper safeguards were put in place.”
“Dr. Newell, this is not meant to be a debate,” Ala said. “But surely you must be cognizant of the fact that your civilization is still in a very early stage of social development. Naked self-interest is the prime motivational force, and violence is an everyday occurrence. In fact your particular country is so primitive that it allows anyone and everyone to own a gun.”
“Let me paraphrase,” Ponu offered. “What my esteemed fellow elder is saying is that your world’s hunger and greed for our technology would be so great that our special needs would be forgotten.”
“Exactly,” Ala said. “And we cannot accept such a risk. Not for at least another fifty thousand years or so, to give secondary humans a chance to become more civilized. Provided, of course, they don’t destroy themselves in the process.”
“Okay,” Suzanne said. “As you say, this is not a debate, and you have convinced me that you believe my culture is a risk to yours. Assuming that as a given, what do you want from me?”
There was a pause. Suzanne looked from Ala to Ponu. When neither responded she glanced at the other faces. No one spoke. No one moved. Suzanne looked back at Arak and Garona. Garona smiled reassuringly. Suzanne turned back to Ala. “Well . . . ?” she asked.
Ala sighed. “I would like to ask you a direct question,” she said. “A question whose answer we are afraid to hear. You see, your world has started several deep-ocean drilling operations over the last few years, on a seemingly random basis. We have watched these episodes with growing concern since we are uncertain what the goals are. We know the drilling is not for petroleum or natural gas since there is none in the areas where this drilling is being undertaken. We’ve been monitoring communications as we have always done, but without success of learning why this drilling is occurring.”
“Are you interested in knowing why the Benthic Explorer has been drilling into the seamount?” Suzanne asked.
“I am very interested,” Ala said. “You were drilling directly
over one of our old-style exit ports. The probability of that occurring purely by chance is extremely small.”
“It wasn’t by chance,” Suzanne admitted. As soon as she spoke these words a general murmur erupted among the elders. “Let me finish,” Suzanne called out. “We were drilling into the seamount to see if we could tap directly into the asthenosphere. Our echo sounder suggested the seamount was a quiescent volcano with a magma chamber filled with low-density lava.”
“Was any part of the decision to drill at that particular site motivated by a suspicion of the existence of Interterra?” Ala asked.
“No!” Suzanne said. “Absolutely not!”
“There was no thought of an undersea civilization in the decision-making process?” Ala questioned.
“As I said, we were drilling purely for geological reasons,” Suzanne said.
The elders again conferred loudly with one another. Suzanne turned and glanced back at Arak and Garona. Both smiled encouragement.
“Dr. Newell,” Ala said to redirect Suzanne’s attention to herself, “have you, in your professional capacity, ever heard of anything from any source that would suggest someone suspected the existence of Interterra?”
“No, not in any scientific circles,” Suzanne said. “But there have been a few novels written about a world within the earth.”
“We are aware of the work of Mr. Verne and Mr. Doyle,” Ala said. “But that was purely entertainment fiction.”
“That’s correct,” Suzanne said. “It was pure fantasy. No one thought their story lines were based in any way on fact, although they probably got the theme from a man by the name of John Cleves Symmes, who did believe the center of the earth was hollow.”
The elders erupted in another loud, anxious murmuring.
“Did Mr. Symmes’s beliefs influence scientific opinion?” Ala asked.
“To some degree,” Suzanne said. “But I wouldn’t give it much concern since we’re talking about the early part of the nineteenth century. In eighteen thirty-eight his theory did launch one of the first United States scientific expeditions. It was under the command of Lt. Charles Wilkes, and its initial purpose was to find the entrance to the earth’s hollow interior, which Symmes believed to be beneath the South Pole.”
