“Wow!” Lowell exclaimed watching the drone work. “Some little guy!”
The drone straightened. Its manipulator arm retracted and it passed by on its unending search for damage. Finally it disappeared slowly over the curvature of the hull.
Lowell looked beyond the Valley Forge and saw in the distance a third sister ship riding parallel orbit. The ship seemed identical to Valley Forge and Berkshire and on its hull lay the same painted American flag and faded black lettering that read:
U.S.A.
NORTHWEST CONIFEROUS
(LOMAX)
SEQUOIA SECTION 244
In the foreground now two more drones appeared, then passed out of Lowell’s view, on their way to some programed job.
He looked off into space again, reassuring himself that on the opposite side of Valley Forge rode the third ship that Lowell had seen before.
“Three wonderful ships,” Lowell breathed, his hands tightening further on the window sill. “Loaded with healthy plants and trees, ready, waiting . . .”
Lowell walked from the kitchen to the corridor, then down to his room. He flung himself on his cot and lay gazing up at the ceiling.
Hours passed and finally he could stand the waiting no longer. Rising, he sought the recreation room, just across from Main Control.
Keenan, Barker, and Wolf were playing poker. Stacks of chips lay before each player. It was late evening, and though they were all keyed up, it was obvious they were all just killing time.
Lowell sank to a chair. “Deal me in,” he suggested quietly. Wolf looked at his face, tight with strain. “You too?” he asked, and laughed too loud.
Keenan shuffled the cards, passed them to Barker to cut, then dealt. Each player scanned his hand.
“Two cards,” Barker said.
“Two beauties coming up,” Keenan said and dealt him two cards.
“I’ll play these,” Lowell said.
Keenan grinned. “The Cantaloupe Kid is pat,” he said. “Him who’s got stars in his eyes, looking for the message.”
“Cut it out, Keenan,” Wolf said, then added, “I’ll take three.”
Lowell looked at his cards, but he was conscious of the radio close by. The message to return to Earth would come any time now. It must come! It must be what he’d been waiting for—for eight years.
Keenan said, “Deck’s still open . . . dealer takes one card . . . your bet, Barker.”
“Fifty,” Barker said and threw a chip into the pot.
“Raise a hundred,” Lowell said softly.
“Call,” came Wolf’s voice.
Keenan squeezed off his cards. “I’ll call the Kid.”
“I fold.” Barker threw in his cards.
Lowell spread his hand on the table, face up revealing a straight to the King.
“Beats me,” Wolf grunted.
“Me too,” Keenan added.
Lowell raked in the pot. His hands were not steady. His mind was on the radio message. He looked toward the radio, then back to the table.
“Me too, Cantaloupe Kid.” Barker jumped up. “I wish they’d hurry up with that transmission. I want to go to bed.”
“Go ahead,” Keenan snapped.
“You know I can’t sleep unless Lowell tucks me in,” Barker said.
Keenan and Wolf couldn’t help laughing.
“Drop dead, Barker,” Lowell said softly.
Barker swung around. “If I’d been up here eight years, I might consider it.”
Lowell smiled slightly. “Be that as it may, I suggest you stay awake a little longer. The transmission might rekindle your will to live.”
“You think it will be a recall?” Wolf faced Lowell.
Lowell’s face grew guarded. “Let’s just say I think my communications may finally bear some fruit.”
“Cantaloupes, by any chance?” Barker jibed.
Lowell nodded, his face serious. “They’re probably ready to reestablish the parks and forest system.”
“With you no doubt as director?” Barker put in.
Lowell’s face darkened. This remark struck home. “Who else is more qualified? I’ve given my life to this project.”
“Really,” Keenan said, “it’s more likely they’re going to announce cutbacks.”
“Cutbacks!” Lowell stood up, his face incredulous. “No—no way!”
“Lowell, you’re dreaming,” Barker cut in.
“Some one has to,” Lowell said, hotly. “Some one’s got to care, to make sure that these forests survive. What kind of world will it be if all this incredible life is permanently lost?”
Wolf reasoned, “It’s been too long, Lowell. People don’t care. There are more important things now.”
“Besides,” Keenan put in, “it’s just not possible to change the half-life on those poisons over night.”
Wolf nodded. “You can’t filter the whole Earth, Lowell. It’s amazing they converted these freighters and saved as many samples as they did.”
Barker touched Lowell’s quivering shoulder. “Wake up, buddy . . . You’re caretaking an empty dream.”
Lowell shot back, “Oh, really?”
Wolf tried to stop it. “Let’s relax,” he soothed. “For all we know, it’s probably just a routine checkout.”
Keenan nodded toward Lowell. “Well, he’s not getting this week’s mental health award, Wolfie.”
Barker reached for the cards. “C’mon let’s play poker . . . Your deal, Star Eyes.” Lowell took up the deck and the game went on.
A drone entered, unnoticed by all but Lowell, and began straightening up and collecting empty glasses.
But finally it was too much for them all. They threw down their cards and formed a semicircle before the main console, tense, waiting . . .
A clock/calendar on the wall read:
21:00 Wednesday 14 November
All at once the radio filled the room with whistling, howling static which finally gave way to a very distant-sounding voice . . . Lowell tried to tune it in, but Barker took over.
Then came a radio voice:
“ ‘VALLEY FORGE,’ ‘BERKSHIRE,’ ‘SEQUOIA’ . . . ‘VALLEY FORGE,’ ‘BERKSHIRE,’ ‘SEQUOIA’ . . . THIS IS COM CENTRAL . . . CHANNEL OPEN FOR EXECUTIVE ORDER A.U.C. 3423 . . .
There followed a long pause, then more static, then:
“ ‘VALLEY FORGE,’ ‘BERKSHIRE,’ ‘SEQUOIA’ . . . ‘VALLEY FORGE,’ ‘BERKSHIRE,’ ‘SEQUOIA’ . . . THIS IS COM CENTRAL . . . CHANNEL OPEN FOR EXECUTIVE ORDER A.U.C. 3423 . . .
There followed a long pause with whistling and static, then:
“IMMEDIATE ALL PERSONNEL SOUTHEAST SUB-TROPICAL (BAHIA-HONDA) ‘VALLEY FORGE’ SECTION 414 IMPLEMENT ABANDON AND DESTRUCT DIRECTIVE A.U.C. RED . . . COMMENCING 0900 HOURS, ARM AND LOAD EXPLOSIVE SQUIBS ON ALL FOREST UNITS . . . COMMENCING 1000 HOURS ‘BERKSHIRE’ AND ‘SEQUOIA’ ESTABLISH SAFE DISTANCING . . . COMMENCING 1100 HOURS AFFECT JETTISON AND AUTO-DESTRUCT OF ALL FOREST UNITS . . . REPEAT, COMMENCING 1100 HOURS AFFECT JETTISON AND AUTO-DESTRUCT OF ALL FOREST UNITS . . .”
THREE
For a moment there was flat silence in Main Control. Lowell stared fixedly at the now dead radio, a look of utter disbelief frozen on his face. Then pandemonium broke loose.
Keenan and Barker jumped to their feet to do a war dance around the room. “Whoopee!” yelled Keenan. “This is it! We’re going home!”
“Yeah!” Barker pounded Keenan on the back. “Aah, I can’t believe it. What’d they say? What’d they say?”
“I told you, I told you: ‘Pack up your domes and go home.’ ”
In the background static of the radio came the indistinct words, “. . . effect jettison and auto-destruct of all forest units. Kiss ’em all good-bye, boys.”
Wolf leaned across the table to put out a consoling hand. “Lowell, I’m sorry,” he said, then added, after a moment’s thought: “Makes sense, though.”
Lowell stared straight ahead of him, still unable to believe what had just come over. Blow up his fo
rests that he’d tended for eight years? Destroy ponderosa pines that could reforest the Sierra dying from smog around San Bernardino? Obliterate his roses and ferns and all of his beautiful shrubs that would someday make Earth unfold and sparkle with new life?
“It’s insane,” Lowell finally managed and rose to his feet. For a second an embarrassed silence fell over the other men.
Lowell moved woodenly out of the room and descended the steps with unseeing eyes. He walked down the stairway and through the main cargo area, then to the tunnel and out into his forest. Through the trees and delicate latticework of the dome his eyes made out Saturn, winking stars, and the distant sun.
Slowly, deliberately, he walked to a switch and flooded the area with a dim suffusing light. “Aah!” He looked around him and walked on to touch a leaf here, a flower there.
A falcon flew from the woods to land lightly on his outstretched arm. He stroked the soft brown feathers, while a bird’s song trilled out its joy from nearby.
For a moment there was silence . . .
Suddenly from the spaceship Berkshire, riding orbit with Valley Forge, came the sound of a song. It was a song of children playing in the woods—in the sun:
“Fields of children running wild
In the sun.
Like a forest is your child growing
wild
In the sun.”
Lowell paused. His face softened with the music from the radio filling the dome. The song went on:
“Doomed in his innocence
In the sun.
Gather your children to your side
In the sun.
Tell them all they love will die
Tell them why
In the sun.
Tell them it’s not too late
Cultivate
One by one.”
Lowell nodded. It was true. It wasn’t too late. The song concluded:
“Tell them to harvest and rejoice
In the sun.”
For a long moment, Lowell’s face softened and he looked around him. His beloved forest was real. It was there and waiting. But then, reality flooded out his joy. With his rising anger came the sound of a waterfall and a soft breeze sifting through the trees. Lowell moved on, his footsteps echoing against the faceted roof.
“All to be destroyed!” he murmured. “All gone when they should reforest the Earth and make it come alive again.” He dropped to a log. A squirrel came from the underbrush to sit up on his haunches and stare quizzically at Lowell. Lowell gently held out his hand. He sat there for a long time.
Suddenly it was morning. Lowell rose stiffly and walked back through the tunnel to the control room, then up to the mess hall. He glanced around him, painfully aware of the conversation.
Wolf sat at a table. Barker thumbed through a manual, while Keenan and Wolf ate breakfast.
“It looks as though there are two ways to go here,” Barker said, looking up. “Once we set the squibs, we can either blow them with the manual detonators or use the remote detonator in the cargo hold.”
Lowell sank silently to a chair, his mind on the domes.
“How far out do they go before they explode?” Wolf queried.
“About six miles.” Barker smiled. “We should feel quite a hefty jolt.”
Lowell rose mechanically and brought a cantaloupe to the table, still aware of Wolf’s beaming and Keenan’s delighted grin.
“I want a front-row seat when these babies go,” Keenan said, his grin widening.
“I’ll bet you do,” Barker said, then turned to Lowell. “Hey, c’mon, Flowerface, cheer up.”
“You’re cheerful enough for all of us,” Lowell managed.
“Orders are orders,” Keenan shrugged. “Can’t disobey a central directive.”
Lowell slowly began to slice his cantaloupe.
Suddenly Keenan faced Barker. “Hey, how about blowing the domes all at once—all six of ’em?”
“Aah, wait a minute.” Barker leafed through the manual, then stopped with “Sorry.” He read aloud, “No more than two forest units may be severed from the spaceship simultaneously. They must be a pair of one odd and one even number in a single tandem cluster.”
Keenan asked, “How far out do they go before they bomb?”
“About six miles,” Barker answered. “Wolf asked that before.”
Keenan turned to Lowell and pointed to his plate.
“Lowell, you have to eat that stuff in here? It stinks.”
“You never let up, do you?”
“Aw, now you’ve hurt his feelings,” Barker jibed.
“I’d like to know what any of you know about real food.” Lowell faced them all.
“Lowell, what do you mean, ‘real food’?” Keenan demanded. “Grows out of the dirt. That’s real food, isn’t it?”
“That’s right,” Lowell agreed heartily. “This happens to be nature’s greatest gift.”
“To a celibate, maybe,” Barker jibed.
Keenan laughed. “Maybe he knows something we don’t know.”
“Lowell, give me a slice of that cantaloupe, hunh?” Barker swung to him. “Thanks, Lowell, a slice.”
“I’d be delighted to give you a slice of cantaloupe,” Keenan mimicked.
Lowell reared to his feet. His face was livid with frustration and rage. “Just sit down and shut up.” He glared at Keenan. “Sit d-o-w-n!!! Sit d-o-w-n!!! Shut up! Shut up! Leave me alone all of you and let me eat!”
“Hey, what’s the big deal?” Keenan demanded. “I can’t see the difference between that and this anyway.”
“You don’t see the difference! The difference is that I grew it! That’s what the difference is! That I picked it and I fixed it. And it has taste, and it has color, and it has a smell. And it calls back a time when there were flowers all over the Earth, and there were valleys.” Lowell’s face became transfigured. “There were plains of tall green grass that you could lie down in, that you could go to sleep in. There were blue skies and there was fresh air, and there were things growing all over the place, not just in some domed enclosure blasted millions of miles out into space.”
In a flash of memory, Lowell was sixteen again and riding across a wide prairie dotted with clear lakes. Cattle and wild antelopes grazed there, and when they raised their heads, they could see for a hundred miles. It was like the ocean, with the west wind making waves of the tall grass.
Buffalo skulls lay in shallow pits and around rocks where the brutes had come to rub their shaggy bodies free of ticks.
Lowell drew in his breath, remembering.
They had stopped to camp for the night by a river. His father dismounted to build a fire, while Lowell unsaddled the horses and hobbled them for the night.
Supper was a thing of beauty, with the clear river slipping by, singing across rocks.
Afterward they lay around their small fire, stretched out on blankets—staring up at the incredibly close stars, listening to the rattle of the hobbled horses as they grazed, and to the coyotes yipping from hill to hill.
They stretched out to sleep, with the fire nothing but coals . . . And they slept, with the wind sighing through the cottonwoods—the wind that suddenly became a wild, twisting thing that lifted the live coals into the air and scattered them over the parched grass. Oh God!! The wind wasn’t their fault; it was just a freak twister. It took them hours to beat the flames out with their saddle blankets, but they did it.
The next morning they rode on under blue skies in the sunshine with the earth sparkling around them. It was wonderful, clean and wholesome, and filled with nature’s good air above them and lush grass under their horses’ beating feet.
Lowell leaned forward to jab a finger into Keenan’s plate. “Look at that stuff!” he exclaimed in disgust. “How can you guys sit there and really say anything to me about this, this glop?”
Embarrassed laughter went round the table.
He lifted some of the food from Keenan’s plate. “Look at that. Fried synthetic gl
op! And you’ve become so dependent on it that I’ll bet you can’t even live without it.”
“I don’t even want to, Lowell,” Barker muttered.
Lowell stared incredulously. “Do you realize how pitiful that is, what you just answered? On Earth everywhere you go the temperature is seventy-five degrees. Everything’s the same. All the people are exactly the same.”
He paused and asked in a hushed voice, “And what kind of life is that?”
“Lowell, if it’s so rotten, why do you want to go back?” Barker demanded.
“Because it’s not too late to change it.”
Keenan with a half laugh leaned forward.
“What do you want, Lowell? There’s hardly any more disease. There’s no more poverty. Nobody’s out of a job.”
“That’s right,” Lowell conceded bitterly. “Every time we have the argument, you say the same thing to me. You give me the same three answers all the time. ‘Everybody has a job.’ That’s always the last one. But you know what there is no more of? My friend, there’s no more beauty, and there’s no more imagination. There are no frontiers left to conquer.”
He paused to see the effect. By now, he might have been talking to two hundred million Americans. “You know why . . . only one reason why: the same attitude you guys are giving me right in this room today. And that is . . . nobody cares. Nobody cares!”
Lowell’s voice dropped. “Take any little girl in America. Look at her young face, her laughing blue eyes. Do you know what she’s never going to be able to see?” Lowell’s voice choked up. “She’s never going to be able to see the simple wonder of a leaf in her hand. Because there aren’t going to be any trees.” His voice hushed. “You think about that.” He paused and gave a big sigh. There was a long silence.
Finally, Barker said, “The fact is, Lowell, if people were interested something would have been done a long time ago.” He swung in his seat to Keenan and there was only one thing in his mind now: the bombing of the domes. “Ready?”
“Yeah . . . I’m ready.”
They rose and moved toward the door.
But Lowell threw his body to block them. He put out his hands, reaching to halt them. “Wait! Wait a minute,” he pleaded. “I don’t think you guys understand what this means. Please don’t blow up the domes. They’re not replaceable.” His voice was choked with emotion.
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