Ling came back to the other three. He looked at Bey Wolf, and caught the reflection of his own excitement.
"Look on the positive side," he said. "We've dreamed for centuries about our first meeting with an alien race." He nodded towards the great tank. "The first representative will be in there, ready to meet with us, a day or two from now."
BOOK III
"Let the Great World spin forever, down the ringing grooves of change."
Chapter 15
The external lights had dimmed to their late-night glow. Wolf was sitting by the great tank, half-asleep, musing over the social indicators. His weariness showed in the stiff shoulders, the bowed head and slack posture. In front of him, the screen display of the global map revealed concentric circles of change, spreading out from the Link entry points. He could visualize the frantic activity in the General Coordinators' offices, as they sought to stabilize Earth's economic system. Even the long-term indicators—fertility, births, deaths and change-rates—would soon be affected unless the new controls produced better results.
"Sorry to be so 'ong, Bey." The sibilant words from the wall speakers broke suddenly into his drifting thoughts. "The BEC peop'e wanted to test more of my visua' responses. Apparent'y I can see everything from near u'tra-vio'et out through the therma' infra-red. Rough'y three-tenths of a micron out to fifteen microns. No wonder I've noticed the wor'd is 'ooking strange these days."
Wolf shook his head, took a deep breath, and sat up straighter in his chair. He turned to look into the tank through its transparent side panels. Inside, John Larsen raised a massive, triple-jointed arm and gestured in greeting. His torso was massive, wrinkled and umbonated, with a smooth, oval area immediately above the central boss that housed the secondary motor nerve center. The broad skull was dominated by the great, jewelled eyes and the wide fringed mouth beneath it. Larsen moved his head forward, in the movement that Bey had come to recognize as the Logian smile.
"We had a 'ong session," he said, "but at 'east the doctors seem to think I've kept my sanity through a' this—yesterday they didn't sound too sure of that."
As he spoke, forming the words slowly and carefully, the smooth oval area on his chest modulated in color, from a uniform pale pink, to brown, to soft green, following his words like a sound-sensitive visual display.
Wolf smiled wearily. "That's an improvement, then—you never showed much sign of sanity before the change. Ultra-violet through thermal infra-red, eh? More than five octaves on the electromagnetic spectrum, and we see less than one. Can you cover all that range on the chest display?"
"Sure I can. Watch this. Therma' first, then I wi' gradua'y shorten the wave'ength a' the way down. Here we go."
Larsen hooded the nictitating membrane over his prominent eyes, and pointed to the smooth area on his chest. Wolf watched in silence. For a while the oval remained grey, then it finally glowed a deep red. Almost imperceptibly, it moved gradually to yellow, then to green and on to a pale violet-blue before it faded.
Wolf shook his head. "I'll have to just take your word for it, John. I didn't get anything except the usual visual spectrum. You know, you're the ultimate chameleon. When you get through all the tests here, you and I ought to go on a tour. There's been nothing like this in the history of form-change—and we've seen some pretty strange stuff between the two of us."
"I wi' do it, Bey, if you can find a good way of moving me around. You'd have to dup'icate this who'e area." He indicated the inside of the great tank with a wave of a massive forearm. "How much did it cost to set this up so I cou'd 'ive in it? It's comfortab'e, but I'm g'ad it didn't have to come out of my sa'ary."
"I don't know what it cost," said Wolf. "Ling set up the credit, and made all the physical arrangements, before he disappeared again. I guess it all comes out of some USF budget. He certainly had enough credit to impress the proprietors of Pleasure Dome, and we know that's not easy. I still have no word on him, no idea how he got away from here, where he went—anything."
Larsen nodded his broad, wrinkled head, with its wreath of ropy hair. "You won't hear from him again unti' he wants you to, if you ask me. I found out a 'ot about him, in those few weeks that he was working with me, making sure I cou'd survive a' right in this form. I'm sure you were right in what you said, 'ing is Capman, no doubt of it. He seems to have found ways to move on and off Earth, and round the So'ar System, that we can't even track."
"I know." Wolf rubbed at his chest, his habitual gesture of frustration. "Losing him once was something that I learned to live with. Losing him the second time is unforgivable—especially when I knew he was Capman, knew it in my bones, long before he took off again. He once said he and I would recognize each other anywhere, regardless of disguise, and I believe him. As soon as you're ready for a reverse change, we'll go and have another look for him. I'm more convinced than ever now that we didn't really understand most of what was going on at Central Hospital."
"I don't know what he did there, Bey, but there's no doubt that he saved my skin."
"How long before you can go back to your old form, John? BEC should be getting close to plotting out all the steps. I'm keen to find out the details, but I know they want to find out how to go both ways before they start the reversal."
Larsen laughed, and it came as a harsh, glassy noise over the speakers. "Don't rush me, Bey. First of a', now that I fee' sure I can reverse when I want to, I am in 'ess of a hurry; According to BEC, it wi' need a fu' four weeks in a form-change tank, and you know what a bore that wi' be. Anyway, I am not sure that I even want to change back."
Wolf looked at him in surprise.
"I mean it, Bey," Larsen went on. "You know, when I 'ook back on it I know I was not too smart in the human form of John 'arsen. I can remember what a strugg'e I used to have to try and fo'ow your thought processes—and often I cou'd not do it. Now it is easy for me. I used to forget things, now everything I hear or see is waiting to be reca'ed."
He leaned back in the sturdy supporting chair, resting his three hundred kilograms of body mass.
"And there is something e'se. We on'y found out about it during the tests today. I suspected I had it, but I had no idea how we' deve'oped it is. Do you remember the troub'e I had with math? Even with ordinary arithmetic, even with an imp'ant?"
Bey sighed. "It would be hard to forget it, even without total recall. You were practically famous for it. 'Doughhead Larsen,' Smith used to call you in the theory courses."
"You don't know how often I wished he would form-change to a toad—it was his natura' shape. Anyway, ask me something that ought to be hard for me, something beyond John 'arsen's grasp."
Wolf frowned. He scratched his dark head thoughtfully. "John, almost everything was. How about special functions? I seem to recall that they were your big hate, whenever they came up in the form-change theories. Do you remember anything at all about the Gamma function?"
"How many figures would you 'ike? Suppose I give you six digits, and step the argument in interva's of a hundredth? 'ike this. Gamma of 1.01 is 0.994326, Gamma of 1.02 is 0.988844, Gamma of 1.03 is 0.983550, Gamma—"
"Hold it, John." Bey held up his hand in protest. "I don't want the whole table—even if you know it. What happened, did Capman fix you up with a calculator implant when he was working with you in that first couple of weeks?"
"No imp'ant." Larsen laughed again, and Wolf winced at the noise like shattering glass. "It is bui't in, comes free with the form if you are a 'ogian. I don't even now if it is ca'cu'ation or memory—a' I know is, when I want them the numbers and the formu'ae are there waiting. Do you see now why I am in no hurry to change back?"
The glass panel that separated them was thin, but it had to withstand a pressure difference of almost three atmospheres. Wolf was reluctant to lean against it, even though he was sure it would take the extra load with no trouble. He came close to it, and peered through at the alien form.
"Bottom, thou are translated. Much more of this, and I'll feel like a moron.
I'm not sure my ego will be able to stand it unless you get started on that reverse-change."
" 'et me give it one more b'ow, then." Larsen leaned forward, scratching at his side, where the great, grey torso framed the oval central display in his chest. "You have been trying to trace Robert Capman for four years, and you have not succeeded. Now he has disappeared again and you do not know where you might find him—but do you rea'ize that you have more information now than you ever had before?"
He scratched the other side of his chest. "I think I wi' comp'ain about this skin, it does not fit right."
"More information?" Wolf had lost the last trace of sleepiness. "I don't see how I have more. We know that Ling is Capman, and I've tried to pursue that. I get no cooperation at all from the USF people. Either they don't want Capman extradited to Earth, or they don't care either way. I put a call through to Park Green this morning in Tycho City, and he has been told to get back to his other work and not waste time looking for Capman. So where's the new information supposed to come from?"
Larsen had stopped scratching and picked up a green wedge of fibrous sponge. "I have to eat this stuff to keep me a'ive, but I fee' sure it was never the standard 'ogian diet. It tastes 'ike the outf'ow from the chemica' factory." He touched it to the delicate fringes on his mouth, that served as both taste and smell organs. The expression on his face changed. He closed his eyes briefly, then placed the spongy mass down again on the rack by his side. "Now I know how they must fee' in the famine areas when they get their rations of five-cyc'ed pap. Maybe I wi' reverse-change now. It is ages since I had any decent food, I think I am beginning to forget what it tastes 'ike."
"New information, John," prompted Wolf impatiently. "I know you're doing it to annoy, and I know you're sitting there luxuriating in the thought that now you're three times as smart as I am. You ought to realize that anything about Capman puts me onto full alert."
Larsen moved his head forward in a self-satisfied Logian smile, but did not speak.
"How do we have new information?" went on Wolf. "We haven't had anything useful from the USF, and if you learned something during the weeks you were working with him around the clock, getting adjusted to the Logian form, this is the first time you've mentioned it. So, what's new?"
"A' right, Bey, no more sta'ing. 'et us app'y simp'e 'ogic, and see what we can deduce. First, think back to your origina' idea that Capman was somehow responsib'e for the 'ogian forms that were found in the Mariana Trench. That turned out to be wrong. So, it wou'd be natura' to assume that Capman shou'd have had no interest in 'oge before the arriva' of the unknown forms. On the other hand, Capman—as Karl 'ing—was a 'eading expert on 'oge, and everything to do with it, years ago. 'ong before the forms appeared on the scene. Where does that idea take you?"
Wolf peered into the poisonous atmosphere inside the tank. "Tokhmir, John, I hate these conversations in separate rooms. It's worse than a video link."
"Now who is sta'ing? You can come in if you want to, Bey, the air is fine—once you get used to it. Now, answer my question."
Wolf nodded. "It's a good question, and it's an obvious one. I must have been a lot more tired than I realized in the past few weeks. It's been hectic out here since you began to change. All right, let me think."
He sat down and leaned his head forward on his hands. "Capman became Ling. So, either he knew about the Logian forms before we called him in to help, or he had some other reason for being interested in Loge. I find I can't believe he knew about the forms before we went to Pleasure Dome—he really was working it all out for the first time there. That leaves only the other alternative: an interest in Loge, but one that was nothing to do with the Logian forms. That sounds improbable to me."
"Improbab'e or not, it is the on'y reasonab'e conc'usion. So now"—Larsen's voice rose in pitch, and the color of his oval breastplate glowed more intensely—"carry the thought to its end point. What is the next step for you to take?"
Bey was nodding, his head still bowed. "All right. You've got something. The added piece is one simple fact: Capman's prior interest in Loge. Now I guess I have to trace the background on that. I think I know the best way to do it. Park Green has access to all the USF data, and he should be able to trace Ling's movements and background." He looked up. "Maybe I should get into one of the tanks myself and switch to a Logian form. I could use the boost in brains."
Larsen nodded seriously, head and trunk moving together. "You may think you are joking, Bey, but it is an idea that you ought to be taking more serious'y. I can't describe how it fee's to be smarter than I was, but I 'ike the sensation. When we get a' the reverse-change p'otted out, there wi' be a 'ot of peop'e who wi' want to try this form."
Larsen opened his mouth wide, revealing the bony processes inside and the rolled, mottled tongue. "Excuse me, Bey. The 'ogian yawn is a 'itt'e disgusting, if I can be'ieve the mirror. If you are going to ca' Park Green, I think I wi' go back to the s'eeping quarters and try and get some rest. We sti' haven't pinned it yet, but the BEC peop'e now think I am on a seventeen hour cyc'e. A' these tests are wearing me out. Ten hours so far, just on my eyes! At 'east I know what the first reverse-change step wi' be—I want to be ab'e to say my own name." He stood up. "Say hi to Park from me—you know I cannot say he'o to him."
When Wolf had left for the comlink center, Larsen turned and walked heavily through to the inner room that contained the sleep area. His movement was silent but ponderous, gliding along on the round padded feet that ended the bulky lower limbs. In the screened inner area, he went at once to the communications panel that had been built into one of the walls. The thick rubbery pads on his digits were awkward for the comlink's small keys, but he managed to dial a scrambled connection for an off-Earth link. When the circuit was established, Larsen at once began transmission.
Expressions on a Logian face were not easily read by any human, but perhaps some of the BEC specialists who had been working with Larsen for the past few weeks would have seen the satisfaction on his countenance as he began his message. The comlink coded it and hurled it on its way as a tightly focussed beam, up to the relay by the Moon, then far on beyond to its remote destination.
Chapter 16
The social parameters were tabulated on color displays all around the offices of the General Coordinators. Eighteen key indicators, in a stylized map format, dominated the central office, and summaries in cued form were given by each chart. Next to the ninety day history was the current ninety day forecast, showing trends and rate of change of trends.
In the center of the room the six chief planners had gathered, grim-faced, around the circular table. The picture was clear. The perturbations to the usual stable pattern were unmistakable, and they were growing steadily in spite of all attempts to stabilize them. A certain level of statistical variation was tolerable—indeed, was inevitable—but perturbations beyond a certain size, according to Dolmetsch doctrine, would force a major change. The new steady state of the system was difficult to calculate, and there was not a general agreement on it. One school of theorists predicted a partial social collapse, with new homeostasis establishing itself for a reduced Earth population of about four billion. That was the optimist view. Others, including Dolmetsch himself, thought there could be no new steady state solution derived continuously from the old one. Civilization must collapse completely before any new order could arise from the ruins.
None of the planners was a theoretician. For practical people, it was hard to distinguish between theoretical alternatives, where one meant the death of ten billion and the other the death of fourteen billion. Both were unimaginable, but the indicator profile was not encouraging.
The group leader finally picked up his pointer again, and shook his head in disgust.
"I can't tell if we're even touching it. There are improvements here"—he gestured at the area centered on the Link entry point in Western North America—"but everything is going to hell again in the China region. Look at that violence index. I have
n't looked at the computer output, but I'll bet the death rate from unnatural causes has tripled."
The woman next to him looked at the area indicated. "That's my home town, right at the trouble center," she said quietly. "Even if we don't know the best course, we have to keep on trying."
"I know that—but remember the rules when you leave today. No public comments unless they're optimistic ones, and no release of anything longer than the sixty-day forecast. God knows, though, that's bad enough all by itself."
They stood up.
"How long do we have, Jed, before we're past a point of no return?" she asked.
"I don't know. Three months? Six months? It could go very fast once it starts, we've all seen the snowball effect—on paper." He shrugged. "We can't say we haven't worried about something like this before. Half the papers on social stability in the past twenty years have predicted trouble at better than the fifty percent level. Well, there are a few positive things we can do in the next day or two."
He turned to the woman next to him. "Greta, I'll need a summary of the whole situation to send to the USF headquarters. Dolmetsch is up there now, and he can do the briefing. Sammy, I want you to see how the USF react to the idea of lending us an energy kernel for a few months, and orbiting it above Quito in synchronous station. If we beam the power down, it will help the local energy problem in South America for the next month or two. Ewig, I need the latest data from Europe. I have to brief the Council in an hour, and Pastore is sure to ask what's happening in Northern Italy. I'll be back to pick up the material in twenty minutes—I need time to study it before I go in there."
He hurried out. The noise level in the big room rose rapidly, as the planners redoubled their efforts to stabilize the world economy. One hope sustained them all: it was not the first crisis of the past half century. They had always managed to find the right combination of restorative measures to arrest the oscillations in the social indicators. But this one looked bad. Like a shore community bracing for the arrival of a hurricane, the planners prepared for a long, hard struggle.
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