The Long Sunset

by Jack McDevitt

  “If Unterkoefler and his crowd keep talking about the hazards of this flight, if guys like MacAllister keep going on about it, they’ll have everybody in a panic by the time we get home. Hell, they’ve already won over Wally.”

  “Maybe he’s right.”

  “You too, Hutch?”

  “No. All I’m saying—” She sighed. “You know, the living conditions on this kind of flight tend to encourage arguments.”

  “I know. If Plato were around today, I think he’d look at this whole fiasco about whether we should or shouldn’t go to Calliope as a demonstration of our inability to think for ourselves, rather than to react to external forces, like nitwits on TV and the Internet. The ironic part of all this is that there are some serious advantages we could get from visiting an advanced alien species, and we haven’t even considered them.”

  “You’re talking about technology?”

  “Oh, come on, Hutch,” said Ken. “More technology’s the last thing we need. No. I’d be more interested in getting a handle on finding out how an advanced species looks at the universe. Do they believe it has a purpose? Are we just monkeys who got lucky? Do they have intelligence beyond our level? What would it be like to talk with someone who has a three hundred IQ? What is consciousness?”

  “If you had a chance to sit down with a guy who has a three hundred IQ, what would be your first question?”

  He pushed his notebook out of the way, put both elbows on the table, clasped his hands, and rested his jaw on them. “I guess I’d go for the old classic.”

  “Which is?”

  “Does life really have a meaning? Does it have significance beyond what we can see? Or is it just a ride through Darwinian sunlight and ultimately good-bye baby?”

  “So the major practical advantage we might get from this kind of mission is purely making a social connection?”

  He grinned. “Yes. I think it would be. Make new friends. Sit down and talk with them, if we can find a way to do that. And I don’t mean talking with their physicists. I mean ordinary people. These guys at Calliope: If they really had television seven thousand years ago, I’d love to get a few history books from them. Find out what matters to them. Whether they’ve been able to put together a peaceful existence.”

  Hutch smiled. “It all comes down to hanging out with them in a bar.”

  “I think you could say that, Hutch.”

  “I think Jack Crispee should get you on his show.”

  • • •

  They left the mess area and strolled back into the passenger cabin, where the conversation had shifted to politics. Wally supported Proctor; Beth and Derek thought any of the candidates on the other side would be a distinct improvement. They were all nursing drinks. Hutch’s intention was to cruise straight through and go onto the bridge. Not that there was any point in sitting up there, but she didn’t want to listen to another debate. “Wait, Hutch,” said Wally. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  “Oh?” The remark caught everyone’s attention. Surprises were generally not something you wanted to encounter on a starship.

  “What’s the surprise?” asked Hutch.

  He glanced around at the others. “We’ve all been on long-range runs before, right? Well, that means everybody can remember sitting in here for weeks, wishing you could get out of this damned room and go somewhere? Just get some fresh air? Well, I’m happy to announce there’s been an upgrade in the technology. Barry, you listening?”

  “I’m right here, Wally.”

  “Good. Make it happen.”

  “Wally, you know I can’t do that. The only person here who can give me instructions is the captain.”

  “All right. Hutch, I guess you’ll have to tell him to proceed.”

  “Proceed with what, Wally?”

  “Just tell him to go ahead. Trust me.”

  Hutch knew Wally well enough that trusting him was not a problem. Still, she didn’t want the others to get the impression she was weak. She glanced over at Derek, who was seated beside him, signaling that she should go ahead. She was about to do it when her instincts cut in. “What’s going to happen?”

  “Hutch,” he said, “where would you like to be at this moment?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe in New York, headed for one of the shows.”

  “Good. I don’t think we can quite manage that, but we can get close. Tell Barry to run the program.”

  She didn’t see how that could go wrong. “Okay, Barry. Do what Wally set up.”

  The overhead light and two of the lamps were on. But they faded and the room grew dark. Then a panorama of lights blinked on outside a virtual window that was longer and wider than the two windows that looked out into the unending dark. The blackness had been replaced by a night sky. Among the lights she could see trees and bushes and a stream. It was a park. People were walking, some relaxed on benches, some standing on a small bridge looking down at the water. A couple of kids were running with balloons trailing.

  “Beautiful,” she said. They rearranged their chairs so they were sitting in a straight line. “Where are we?”

  “We’re in the second-floor gallery of the Grady Hotel.”

  “That’s Central Park,” said Derek.

  “That’s correct.” Wally wore a wide grin. “Over on your left is the American Museum of Natural History. And if you’d like to go to a show, we can’t actually walk to the theater, but we can put ourselves into a box seat and watch the performance. We have some of the stuff that’s now running on Broadway. Anything anybody would like to see?”

  “Maybe later,” said Derek. “What else is there?”

  “Barry, would you run whatever’s next on the program?”

  The AI beeped. “Wally, I need Captain Hutchins to give the directive.”

  “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting that when we’re actually in flight, I can’t control anything. Hutch?”

  “Do it, Barry,” she said.

  The virtual windows disappeared and they were seated behind a handrail under a roof. The park vanished, the star-swept night shifted to midafternoon, and a loud roar filled the room as the park morphed into a massive waterfall.

  “Welcome to Niagara,” said Barry. “We’re on the Canadian side, on the front porch of the Brookwell Hotel.”

  “Brilliant,” said Beth.

  “If you prefer it at night, Beth,” said Barry, “I can take care of it. And I can also put a full moon in the sky if you wish.”

  “The times, they are a-changing,” said Hutch. “I have a question.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “How come you didn’t mention this until now? We’ve been sitting in here watching TV shows for three days.”

  “It took me a while to set it up. And anyhow, I think it has a better effect now after all that other stuff.”

  “What else do you have?” asked Ken.

  The waterfall faded, blinked out, and was replaced by a towering snow-capped mountain. It was pure rock and snow. “The Matterhorn,” Barry said. Near the top they saw a campfire.

  The porch did not change. “We can move the porch around wherever we want,” said Wally. “Barry and I both liked the Brookwell. We also have access to Fujiyama, the Eiffel Tower, the Great Wall, the Thames, the Moscow Memorial. We can go to Cuba and sit on a front porch across from where Manuel Octiva used to live.” Octiva, of course, was the classical novelist from the previous century.

  Hutch was never going to forget the compressed passenger cabin that they’d lived in for the first three days. They’d had a VR tank that provided TV shows and converted the place into a kind of living room. But the black envelope that surrounded the Eiferman had never really gone away. They were sitting someplace, watching a high-tech TV. This was different. They were out on a front porch, feeling a soft breeze, watching the moon rise, and listening to birds sing. Wally was beaming.

  Barry took them to a beach but put them on a deck with windows this time. Rain was pouring down, and the tide was rolling in. A skylark
fluttered toward them, crashed into the glass, and went down. “Oh,” said Beth. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “It’s okay,” said Barry. “No animals were injured during the creation of these images.”

  “Why didn’t we have this last year?” Hutch asked. “I can’t believe the technology wasn’t there.”

  “Sure, it was there,” said Wally. “You just didn’t have the right people on board.”

  “Wally, were you responsible for this?”

  “I was part of the team.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “And, Barry?”

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “You don’t need my approval to adjust the scenery.”

  Priscilla’s Journal

  Most days are alike. The sun rises, you do whatever the schedule calls for, talk to a few friends and colleagues, make some progress on whatever project has taken over your life, come home and have dinner, watch a movie, and go to bed. That’s where I was this morning. Where the day blends in with thousands of other days, and ultimately vanishes. But with this day, that’s not going to happen.

  —Sunday, March 2, 2256

  9.

  Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of Heaven,

  Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.

  —Henry W. Longfellow, “Evangeline, I,” 1847

  The front porch became a permanent fixture in their lives. They spent most of their time on it, talking, playing cards, watching Broadway shows or TV comedians or simply looking out at mountain ranges. During the first week, Derek and Ken retired to their cabins to pursue projects. Derek was doing cosmological research of some sort, and Ken was working on his FTL history. But they periodically came out and rejoined their colleagues. “It’s too depressing in there,” Ken said.

  Beth made it clear she thought of the mission as a vacation. “Now that we’ve replaced the passenger cabin with a virtual tour, it would be ridiculous to waste the opportunity.” At home she had a private practice, worked on call for the WSA, and also had a hospital connection. “It’s at least sixty hours a week,” she said. “I hope none of you guys get sick while we’re out here, at least nothing we can’t fix with a few pills.” She especially enjoyed looking out across rivers, lakes, and oceans, and when it was her turn to choose, Hutch knew they were going to someplace wet.

  Derek preferred forest scenes filled with deer, squirrels, moose, and ravens. Ken enjoyed historical sites, battlefields, museums, locations where famous events had occurred, especially anything connected with World War II and the American Revolution.

  Hutch was all over the map. She enjoyed tourist sites, mountaintops, and places where she could watch skiers gliding past. To provide some variation, Wally arranged to convert the front porch into a virtual vehicle that moved along country roads in New Hampshire. It didn’t quite work, though, because he couldn’t insert the wind and the bounces of an actual ride.

  But they all missed the news reports. They were cut off from the world. They wondered how the country was reacting to the WSA’s failure to stop the mission. There was no question in Hutch’s mind that MacAllister was raising hell. He was not a guy you wanted on the other side of an argument.

  Derek insisted he wasn’t losing any sleep over the matter. “By the time we get back,” he told her, “it will have cooled off. Nothing lasts more than five days in the headlines unless more issues show up. That’s obviously not happening with us.”

  “What we did,” said Hutch, “is going to be perceived as pretty heavy-handed, Derek. Will you be able to salvage your career?”

  “The WSA’s not my career, Priscilla. I’m an astronomer. I’ve had a good run, and if they terminate me, I’ll have no problem landing somewhere else. And I think you’ll be okay too. You’re the face of the program these days. And even if they did decide they weren’t going to use you anymore, any of the interstellar corporations would love to have you. Or you might talk to Ken about writing an autobiography. You’re bulletproof, kid.”

  Hutch wasn’t so sure.

  The problem with the corporations was that they didn’t really go anywhere. If she got hired by TransGalactic, all she’d do would be take tourists around the solar system, and occasionally the more adventurous ones to 61 Cygni to look at the Blue Cone left by the Monument Makers. Or possibly haul supplies and passengers to Quraqua and Pinnacle. Her life would become nothing more than riding back and forth to the same places. She’d prefer making her living as a speaker. She enjoyed having an audience, and she was well known because of her encounter with the omega cloud last year. People were prepared to make substantial payments to bring her into various civic, religious, and educational events. Though Hutch made it a practice not to charge schools or nonprofits. She lost nothing through her generosity. The events served to expand her position as a celebrity.

  “I’m in a fairly good spot,” she said. “But I’d just as soon pass on the bullets.”

  Derek tried to reply, but whatever he said was overwhelmed by a sudden rush of laughs and shrieks from the front porch.

  • • •

  They had thirteen Broadway shows on file, and decided to watch one every third evening to make them last. “Do we have Farewell to London?” asked Ken. It was the biggest hit show of the past two years.

  Wally posted the titles. And yes, they had it. Along with Lost in Paradise, another major hit. And some comedies: Time and Tide; It’s a Long Way to Albuquerque; Lights Out, Louie; and Love at Zero Gee. Ken suggested they start by watching Farewell to London.

  “Why don’t we hold it aside for a while?” said Beth.

  “Why’s that?”

  “That’s probably the best show we have.”

  “So, what’s your point?” asked Wally.

  “It might be a good idea to save Farewell to London and a couple of the comedies so we have them on the way back. If this mission doesn’t have a good outcome, we might need the lighter stuff.”

  “Okay by me,” said Ken.

  It sounded good to everybody. They started with Riot Act, a light comedy that had been running for three years. Ken and Beth had seen it before and were happy to watch it again. Then they switched to some game-playing in which different teams were trying to rescue stranded sailors from an oncoming tidal wave. They watched some recorded TV programs over the next few days. And they played bridge and poker, traded stories, and just hung out.

  Time was passing quickly, the way it does when life is a pleasure. On the morning of March 10th, when they were not quite halfway to their destination, Hutch arrived in the passenger cabin still half asleep. Beth and Ken were on the porch, gazing placidly out from Moonbase at the Earth. They said hello and she sat down with them. They exchanged trivialities. “You sleep okay?” “How was breakfast?” “I really enjoyed that movie last night.”

  At home, this was her favorite time of year. Spring was in sight and the birds were getting loud.

  Derek Blanchard’s Notebooks

  We all settled in on the front porch after dinner, and Wally had another surprise for us. It was his turn to pick the landscape. He moved the hotel to the top of a hill overlooking a large lake rimmed by forest. It was midafternoon and the sun was still high in the western sky. We were sitting there enjoying the view, talking about nothing in particular, when Ken called our attention to a dinosaur. It was a brontosaurus down at the edge of the lake, drinking. I sat there thinking how much I’d give to see a real one. I mean, traveling around the Milky Way, there should be a few places that have them. Though after I thought about it some more, I realized maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea at that. Still, I was struck by the image of that thing guzzling water and raising its head to swallow, and looking around to see if it had any company. I know it’s only VR, but I suspect this is one of those moments I’ll remember.

  —Monday, March 10, 2256

  10.

  The stars are out, obscured

  Only in places

  By wispy
clouds.

  From the niche I’ve found

  Among the rocks

  (Shaped like a chair with stone pillows) I

  Gaze at the stars

  Tiny light bulbs in a black ceiling,

  Ceaseless wonders.

  —Steven Croft, “The Beach at Night,” 2001

  They were due to arrive at their destination on March 23. Barry maintained a calendar on the bridge, and as they got within a few days of their destination, they changed their minds about saving Farewell to London for the return flight. They agreed that they needed some laughs, so they settled in to watch the acclaimed comedy. Hutch was seated beside Beth. Beth had been its leading proponent, but she changed her mind within the first ten minutes when Julia’s boyfriend, Hank, the love of her life, turned out to be a guy who just didn’t really care as much as he’d let her think. It wasn’t that he was simply playing her for sex but rather that he was lonely, had gotten his heart broken recently, and was trying to replace the other woman. But the chemistry wasn’t working, and that became obvious early.

  Hutch didn’t care for it either. It was hard to see why it was proclaimed as a comedy. In another setting, she might have been more open to Farewell to London, but this was just the wrong time. It was all about people reacting to loss in foolish ways. And Wally had done an effective job of building in the sounds, the rain and wind and music, which made it even more depressing. When Hank told her it was over and walked away, leaving her with tears running down her cheeks, the small audience sat frozen. Hutch’s eyes grew damp even though she understood that no permanent arrangement between the pair would have been anything other than a disaster. That in the long term Julia was fortunate. But this wasn’t the kind of show you wanted to watch if you were looking for something to brighten your mood. It might have worked in New York, where you could have headed out to a bar after the performance and laughed at the blunders of the major characters. But the audience on the Eiferman had lost the stars almost two weeks earlier. And now their collective hearts. And it wasn’t just Beth and Hutch who were affected. Wally and Ken both needed a couple of minutes before they trusted their voices. Derek seemed the only one able to shrug it off.