Rama: The Omnibus

by Arthur C. Clarke

  The Michaelites placed their traveling bags on the empty seats and then dispersed. Their leader began canvassing the other passengers in Johann’s car, holding a small, decorated tin can in her right hand.

  “Hello,” she said, when she finally reached Johann. “I’m Sister Vivien of the Order of St. Michael. As you know, this is a very difficult time on Mars. More people are facing a Christmas without proper food and clothing than ever before. Because of the long waiting lists to return to Earth, many destitute people have been forced to remain here, and do not have any money to pay for their housing. Members of our order work without pay to distribute resources to those…”

  Johann stared back at Sister Vivien’s beautiful brown eyes and did not interrupt her. The strong interplay between them caused Vivien to falter and blush slightly in the middle of her standard speech. Nevertheless, she recovered her composure and finished with a flourish.

  “And how do I know,” Johann asked playfully, “that you and your friends will not simply take the money I give you and spend it on a lavish Christmas dinner for yourselves?”

  “With turkey, dressing, gravy, and even cranberry sauce?” Vivien said with a big grin.

  Johann nodded. Vivien suddenly sat down in the empty seat next to him. “Look, whoever you are… what is your name, by the way?”

  “Johann. Johann Eberhardt.”

  “Look, Johann Eberhardt,” Vivien said. “I would absolutely love to have a turkey dinner with all the trimmings. And if you would like to come around to our church in Mutchville, and provide one for us, we would be more than happy to join you. But I have made a vow to the Big Man—that’s probably God to you—that each and every cent I collect will be used for those in need. And I myself don’t really qualify. Therefore—”

  Vivien suddenly stopped talking and looked up and down at Johann one more time. “Good grief,” she said, “you are one tall man… How tall are you?”

  “Two meters eleven.”

  “Hell,” she said. “You’re not a man, you’re a giant.” The door behind them opened and two Michaelites entered. “Hey,” Vivien shouted at Sister Nuba and Brother José, “come over here. I’m having a conversation with a giant… Now, you, Johann Eberhardt, why don’t you stand up so my friends and I can see how tall you really are?”

  Johann laughed and stood up, stooping slightly so that he didn’t bump his head on the luggage rack. “Whooeee,” said Vivien, putting a hand against the top of her forehead and gazing up at him, “I don’t believe I have ever seen a man that tall except on a basketball court. And now that you’re up,” she said without a pause, “why don’t you reach into your pocket, pull out some money, and make it a merrier Christmas for someone else?”

  Johann shook his head and laughed again. “You are … incredible,” he said, handing Vivien ten Martian dollars.

  “Just serving God and my fellowman,” Vivien said, laughing herself, “both of whom thank you, Giant Johann Eberhardt.”

  3

  Johann’s first two days in Mutchville were a disaster. First the manager of the travel office at the ISA informed him that the only way Narong could obtain a place on an earlier transport to Earth would be to buy a confirmed reservation from somebody else. “And that’s illegal for an ISA employee or contractor,” she said. “If it became known that your friend had purchased his return ticket on the black market, he could lose his service termination bonus.”

  Johann fared no better when he tried to file a protest with the ISA quality engineer about the quantity of parts that had been allocated to Valhalla. The bureaucrat in charge was decidedly unsympathetic, telling Johann that he should consider himself lucky, since many of the outposts were not receiving any of the parts they ordered.

  In the afternoon of the first day Johann attempted to find someone inside the ISA who could analyze the residue on his faceplate. He was shuffled from office to office until one uncharacteristically honest young man explained to him that the agency was currently in the process of dismantling its entire chemical analysis capability on Mars.

  Grumpy and discouraged, Johann visited the employment agency affiliated with Guntzel and Stern an hour after he left ISA headquarters. At the agency, after first reconfirming his intention to remain on Mars for another two years, Johann was told that there had been very few responses to his openings, despite the fact that unemployment was high and the positions had been aggressively advertised.

  “You must realize,” the agency manager said, “that we are in a state of quasi-panic here in Mutchville. Nobody is thinking about anything except returning to Earth. The idea of working for a minimum of six months in a distant outpost is simply out of the question, even for individuals who are unemployed and broke.”

  On the second day of his trip Johann interviewed the meager group of candidates who bad responded to the employment office’s call. One of the applicants was adequate for the semiskilled technician’s job in the communications group. Nobody else met his minimum qualifications. Johann then spent the afternoon phoning people in Mutchville who appeared qualified for his engineering openings, based upon the comprehensive database lists, and were presently unemployed. He was not able to convince a single person to come in for an interview. Unwilling to accept that the situation was hopeless, Johann talked one more time with the agency manager before returning to his hotel.

  “There is one other option,” the man told Johann, “although it is decidedly risky. A new government policy allows outpost facilities to recruit employees from the penal colony at Alcatraz. Your counterpart from the Utopia Mine Facility had threatened to close down production altogether because of inadequate staffing. He found half a dozen recruits at Alcatraz who were willing to be indentured servants for six months in exchange for a gubernatorial pardon… I don’t know if you can match any of your skilled needs in the prison population, but you can probably fill all the other Positions…”

  As Johann’s train passed through the bubbles surrounding Mutchville, beginning the seventy-kilometer journey to Alcatraz, Johann was thinking about his videophone conversation the previous day with one of the deputy wardens at the prison. The deputy, a dark Swiss woman named Anna Kasper, had been extremely helpful. She had promised to make available the penal colony’s complete computer files on all of the job applicants and also volunteered to assist Johann personally during his visit.

  Ms. Kasper was waiting for him in the reception area just inside the Alcatraz bubble. She introduced herself before Johann had even finished removing his spacesuit. Ms. Kasper was in her midthirties, with striking brown eyes and a surprisingly attractive face that was much softer than it had appeared on the videophone. After a few minutes of conversation, Johann could tell that Anna Kasper was one of those rare people who actually listens carefully.

  Johann spent the rest of the morning screening applications on the computer monitor in Anna’s office. Almost half the prison population had applied for one of his positions. It was easy to understand why. Although a free man might not want to live in the isolation of Valhalla for six months, a long-term prisoner was thrilled by the idea of a paying job for half a year plus a full pardon upon completion.

  At Anna’s suggestion, they narrowed the field by dividing the applicants into four groups, classifying each prisoner as either “qualified” or not, and “dangerous” or not. Anna classified a high percentage of the candidates as dangerous. Johann allowed her to remove from consideration all the dangerous applicants for the nonengineering positions; however, since there were only five qualified candidates for the two engineering openings in the entire prison population, all but one of whom were declared to be dangerous by Anna, Johann decided to interview them all.

  “Well, how did it go?” Anna asked an exhausted Johann after the final interview of the first day was completed six hours later. She entered the small conference room and handed him a beer.

  “All right, I think,” he answered after thanking her for the beer. “Basically, I’ve already see
n good candidates for all the nontechnical positions, except maybe the site supervisor, and that funny American Barry Watson is an excellent software engineer… By the way, why is he here anyway? I haven’t checked his prison files yet.”

  “He embezzled money, both here and on Earth, by breaking into bank computer systems. I should point out that Barry has shown no remorse. He may be difficult for you to manage.”

  “We’ll talk about that tomorrow,” Johann said, standing up and stretching. He took a long drink from his beer. “Or maybe later tonight, after I’ve had some food.”

  “Our normal dinner hour here was over long ago,” Anna said, “but I’ve had a full meal prepared for you. It’s sitting on the conference table in my office.”

  Anna sat opposite Johann while he ate. They talked about the applicants at first, but later the topic of conversation turned to the increasingly tense political and economic situation on Mars.

  “I hate to be a pessimist,” Anna said, “but I believe the conditions here are going to get much worse before they improve.”

  “So do I,” Johann said between bites.

  “They’ve cut our staff here again,” Anna said, “effective two weeks from now. Neither the warden nor I think the number of guards that has been allocated will be enough to preserve order here. It’s a frightening idea … the prisoners may take over Alcatraz.”

  “Did the warden explain this to the governor?”

  “Yes,” Anna said. “But it made no difference. From the government’s point of view, Alcatraz is the least of their problems. After all, as one member of the governor’s cabinet said, ‘So what if the convicts revolt? What are they going to do out there in that isolated bubble all by themselves?’

  “Look, I don’t want to beat around the bush… I’m worried about my safety and, quite frankly, I have had enough of this kind of work for a while. It seems to me that I am well suited for that site supervisor’s position you have open at Valhalla. My experience here will be an added benefit if you decide to hire any of the prisoners. I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward, but I have prepared a résumé for you to read tonight.”

  Johann stopped chewing and smiled. “So now the real reason for all your personal attention becomes clear. When you invited me to have dinner in your office I thought perhaps…”

  “It did cross my mind,” Anna said with a small laugh, “especially this morning. But my first interest is the job. And I assure you that I am a complete professional.”

  “I never doubted it for a minute,” Johann said.

  Johann stared across the table at the attractive, hard-looking woman with the bleached hair and sexy eyes. “Excuse me,” be said, shaking his head slowly, “I don’t think I understand.”

  “Yes, you do,” Ludmila Krasovec replied. She began unbuttoning her blouse, exposing her ample cleavage. Johann felt an instantaneous surge of lust.

  “I am not really a very good programmer, Herr Eberhardt,” she said, leaning forward in her chair, “but I have superb talents in other areas… if you know what I mean.”

  She inhaled again on her cigarette. A slight smile played around her lips as she blew the smoke out slowly. Her eyes never left Johann’s.

  “I’m certain that your talents are considerable, Ms. Krasovec,” Johann said, awkwardly forcing a smile. “But we are looking for someone with strong programming experience.”

  The Czech woman stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. “I bet the winters in Valhalla are dark and dreadfully boring,” she said. “Imagine what it would be like to have a body like this next to you in bed every night.”

  “Thank you for your application, Ms. Krasovec,” Johann said abruptly. He stood up on the other side of the table and motioned toward the door to the room.

  “You’ll think about me after I’m gone,” Ludmila said cockily several seconds later. She turned around after she reached the door. “If you change your mind, my offer’s still good…”

  Johann stared in disbelief as the door closed behind her. He rubbed his eyes. Dammit, he thought, I am really losing my balance. For a few moments I actually found that woman enticing.

  He sat down again at the table and checked his interview schedule on the computer screen. He was already tired. Johann phoned Anna in the adjoining room and told her that he was going to take a fifteen-minute recess.

  “Worn-out already?” Anna teased him with a laugh. “Did Ludmila use up all your energy?”

  “Why didn’t you warn me about her?” Johann asked.

  “I suggested last night that you should read the prison files carefully before you begin each interview. Then you can avoid surprises. That’s why we prepared all the information for you.”

  “There’s not enough time, Anna,” Johann replied. “I barely have time to catch my breath from one interview to the next.”

  “Well, make certain you study the files before you talk to this next applicant,” Anna said. “Yasin al-Kharif is one of the most fascinating individuals I have ever met… You would have seen him yesterday, except he was observing the Islamic sabbath and refused to meet with you until today.”

  During the recess Johann drank a Coke and read both the application and the prison files for Mr. al-Kharif. The application was sensational. The man had a master’s degree in mechanical engineering from the University of Damascus. Yasin al-Kharif bad also been a test engineer on several high-technology projects, including, just before his most recent conviction, a yearlong stint at Daewoo’s Martian facility. Daewoo was the Korean firm that had manufactured the ice harvesters used at Valhalla.

  Although Mr. al-Kharif had not worked directly on the ice harvesters, from his résumé Johann knew that he would definitely be familiar with Daewoo’s certification procedures, their testing methods, and most importantly, their component lists. The man’s experience was perfect! Johann chastised himself for not having read the man’s application more carefully earlier.

  When Johann read the first page of the prison files, however, he began having second thoughts:

  YASIN AL-KHARIF Sex:

  Male

  Birth Date:

  May 11, 2110

  Height:

  1.55 meters

  Intelligence:

  4.04(!!)

  Identification No:

  283-482-11-1145

  Birthplace:

  Alexandria, Egypt

  Weight:

  65 kilograms

  Socialization:

  0.29

  CONVICTIONS:

  (1) Sexual Assault, Mutchville, Mars, September 14, 2140

  (2) Attempted Rape, Mutchville, Mars, August 22, 2138

  (3) Sodomy of a Minor, Lahore, Pakistan, March 18, 2136

  (4) Second-Degree Rape, Canterbury, England, July 4, 2134

  (5) Sexual Assault, Damascus, Syria, February 11, 2133

  Summary Psychological Profile: Genius intelligence; enormously arrogant, disdainful of “inferiors” and all females; resents and resists authority; self-sufficient extraordinarily capable; loves challenges and arguments; broad basic knowledge, especially in engineering, science, and history; violent temper; practicing Muslim but not overly devout.

  Johann was rereading the file when Mr. Yasin al-Kharif walked into the interview room. The applicant screwed up his nose and sniffed the air. “Cigarette smoke,” he said with a sneer. “I hate it… I hope you’re not going to smoke.”

  “No,” said Johann, extending his hand across the table. “I am not a smoker.”

  “Probably some bitch,” Mr. al-Kharif said, sitting down in the chair and ignoring Johann’s hand. “They love to smoke. Did you know that twice as many women are addicted to nicotine as men? It’s another of their many weaknesses.”

  “I am Johann Eberhardt, director of the Valhalla Outpost Facility,” Johann began. “Valhalla’s function is to mine the polar ice and produce water—”

  “I know all about Valhalla,” Mr. al-Kharif interrupted, “or I wouldn’t be here for this in
terview… I’m not like all the other idiots you’ve been talking to. Let’s cut through the crap, Eberhardt. The sheet that was circulating through the prison said you need a test-and-repair engineer. Exactly what kind of a job do you have available?”

  Johann had the distinct impression, as the conversation progressed, that it was Yasin al-Kharif who was doing the interviewing. He certainly asked most of the questions. The little Arab was definitely intelligent, and he had firsthand knowledge of most of the components and subsystems contained in the complicated machines at Valhalla.

  “You have to change the logic on those HY442s,” he said at one point, “or you’ll never obtain any reasonable lifetimes. There’s one particular circuit that is notoriously weak. We added a K93 hyperchip to the HY442s on the bulldozer robots and doubled the mean time between failures… Better still, don’t those harvesters have QC14s in their navigation computers? You can take a pair of those, adjust five of the circuits, and perform all the HY442 functions.”

  Johann was staggered by the man’s competence. And although he found Mr. al-Kharif’s manner abrasive, he did not think it would be impossible to work with him. In his brief career he had already encountered more than one irascible genius.

  “So,” Johann said near the end of the interview, “do you have any other questions about the job?”

  “Yeah,” Mr. al-Kharif answered. “Tell me about the people I’ll be working with, other than you… I can tell you that I don’t work well with cunts, especially outspoken ones.”