New Writings in SF 19 - [Anthology]

by Edited By John Carnell

  It was the kind of social experiment which in absolute terms would not be worthwhile unless other circumstances suited it. In the case of the Joliot-Curie observatory, it was decided they would. Provided that such a scheme did not interfere with the normal work of the scientists, there could be no possible objection.

  How the details were worked out is not fully known to me, as I was brought in as a collaborator only towards the end. However, what was done was as follows.

  During the selection of the observatory personnel, detailed dossiers on each potential member were raised. At the end of the selections, those of the people not joining the staff were destroyed. The others were analysed by computer, and Tolneuve ratings established for each person.

  During training for the mission, dummy runs were carried out, but the scheme was not properly initiated until the laboratory was in full operation. Then, when we began our observations, the system of personalised news-sheets was introduced and the experiment began.

  The news-sheet of each person carried only that news which had an AQ of 85 per cent or higher, for that person. All other news with a lower percentage was printed out on to what I came to call the 84 file, and stored in my office.

  Thus, each person received information on external events only to a level of high personal concern. Family news came through, and local news; word of social changes in their country of origin, or where they had made their home. And news from Earth, of course, of the reactions to the work of the observatory.

  But more general information—national or international events, sporting results, disasters, political changes, criminal news—passed into the 84 file.

  Of all the people on the observatory only I had access to that information. My function was to record what happened, if anything, and pass the information back to Earth. Because Tolneuve’s theory was that people raised in a high-stimulus environment became a product of their society and could not keep their orientation without some knowledge of what was outside their sphere.

  * * * *

  I often sought, and found, companionship with Mike Querrel. Although he held a Master’s degree in bacteriology and was a part of the micro-organism survey team, he spent much of his time working on the central power generators. This gave him something of the manner of a non-specialist, and in fact he and I managed to get along surprisingly well.

  On this day, though, Querrel was in one of his moods of deliberate reticence. When I had passed him his accumulated pile of news-sheets, he took them from me and turned away without comment.

  ‘Is anything wrong, Mike?’ I said.

  ‘No. But this place gets me down.’

  ‘It affects all of us.’

  ‘You too?’

  I nodded.

  ‘That’s odd. I didn’t think you were the type.’

  I said: ‘That’s a matter of viewpoint. I live with the same prospect of metal walls as anybody. I eat the same food, hear the same stories, see the same faces.’

  ‘Would it help if you had something more constructive to do? If you wanted, I could fit you in on some of the research.’

  His manner of fellowship as a non-specialist was only superficial. He saw the social difference between me and the others exactly the same as any of them.

  Back in my office, I pulled one of the reports across and skimmed through it. Then I found some clean paper, put it in the typewriter and began to rewrite the report into lay English.

  * * * *

  I wondered how the present situation with Clare had arisen. A variety of possibilities presented themselves.

  We had grown over-familiar with each other in the claustrophobic environment of the observatory;

  We were not and never had been ‘suited’ for one another —I disliked the word, distrusted the concept—and the environment had merely brought things to a head earlier than would have been normal;

  It was merely a phase, ending either naturally or when we left the observatory;

  I had unwittingly behaved in such a manner as to initiate a vicious circle ... or Clare had unwittingly done so;

  Clare had taken a lover ... or she suspected me of doing so;

  There was some other factor I had not anticipated.

  Such were the possibilities. The awkward thing with such a situation is that only those two people involved are aware of the true state of affairs. And through no fault of their own, they are incapable of assessing it objectively or reliably. Much as I could recognise the breach between Clare and myself, I was helpless to do anything about it. While there was no overt love between us, paradoxically there remained a surface level of interaction where we could behave acceptably with one another in company. And on the observatory there was always company.

  * * * *

  One of the reports I rewrote was from Mike Querrel, on the current state of the main generators.

  As I have said, the generators were not Querrel’s main interest, but he had by and large done all the research work in his own particular line that he had intended to do. As our tour of duty on the observatory had been extended indefinitely, he had been left with time to spare and had involved himself with the servicing of the engines.

  These were intended to be fully automatic, requiring no attention. It was fortunate, therefore, that Querrel had taken the interest he did as he discovered a fault that might, had it been left unattended, have created a great deal of danger to all of us.

  After this, he had received formal authority from mission headquarters on Earth and had been submitting regular reports ever since.

  The generators were crucial to the existence of the observatory, for in addition to providing all electrical power— and thus all heat, motor-power, light and life-supports—they also provided the field which produced the elocation effect which kept us alive and operating on this planet.

  Elocation had about as much relation to time-travel as a flight of stairs has to space-travel. That should give you some idea of the relative scale. All the elocation-field can do is to push the observatory back in time by about one nanosecond—but that was enough, and more would be equally unnecessary and inconvenient.

  One nanosecond of elocated time allows the observatory to move about the surface of this planet in what amounts to complete invisibility to the inhabitants, in a state of recurring non-existence. Practically, it is ideal for the work of ecological surveys, as it allows complete freedom of movement without any pollution of or interference with the external environment. By use of localised field-abrogators it is possible to view chosen pieces of the outside—such as a plant or animal, or a piece of soil or rock—and thus conduct the scientific work of the observatory.

  That is the official version, the one the staff know ... and for the moment that will do.

  Querrel’s report was not much more than a listing of various readings taken from the equipment. These would be used on Earth to update the real-time simulators, and allow the controllers to keep accurate note of our progress. Most of the automatic readings would be transored back by the computers, but Querrel’s figures covered the parts of the equipment which had had manual over-ride.

  Bored with thinking about the observatory, bored with being confined inescapably in the observatory, bored through and through with the observatory, I left my office and wandered around one or two of the viewing ports.

  Here, although I could see what was being observed of the outside, I came into closer contact with the scientists. It is not paranoia which causes me to say that I am not liked. I know it for a fact. I would be liked even less if the true nature of my duties were known.

  The problem about Clare was still nagging at me, as it always did. It was not made easier by the awareness— growing by the day—that our protracted stay in the laboratory was futile. Whatever purpose may have been served within the originally intended tour of duty certainly could not justify this extension. Though many of the scientists— including Clare—claimed that their work could not be finished in the forseeable future, I knew t
hat everything on the observatory would be ultimately unavailing.

  I passed through five of the observation-bays. Conversations stopped, resumed behind me as I passed. I exist in a world of silence: forcing another silence on those around me.

  * * * *

  The results of the Tolneuve experiment are known, but the final inferences have yet to be drawn. Through my confusions the simple beauty of what has happened shines through. What is to come is not so clear. I can show you the results (without the conclusions) in the form of a chart.

  I like that chart—it is of my own devising. But it is not complete, for things are going wrong.

  The reality line represents what is true, what is real. It symbolises sanity and reason, what we hope we may ultimately return to. The fantasy line we have reached and moved away from. That was where the observatory-society passed into an insane state.

  The result of the Tolneuve experiment was now apparent : deprive a community of news of the outside world, and the community finds a replacement. In short, it develops a network of rumours based on speculation, imagination and wish-fulfilment

  This is reflected in my chart.

  For the first six months or so, everyone was reacting to the fresh stimulus of the observatory. Their interests were oriented around themselves and their work. Interest in the outside world was at a minimum. What conversations I overheard in that time, or participated in, were based broadly on what was known or remembered.

  By the end of the first year—four-week cycle No. 13— the situation had changed.

  The environment and society of the observatory were not enough to sustain the imaginations of these highly intelligent people. Curiosity about what was happening back on Earth led to direct conversations about it. Speculation ... guesses ... gossip ... I detected exaggerated stories of past exploits. The system of fact-orientation was being broken down.

  In the following months, up until approximately the end of the 20th cycle, this became extreme.

  The network of rumours became the main obsession of the staff and by and large their formal work suffered. During this period, the controllers on Earth became alarmed and it was thought for a time that the experiment would have to be curtailed.

  The rumours lost any basis in reality, became fantastic, wild, demented. And the staff—cool, logical scientists—believed in them profoundly. It was asserted as fact that black became white, that the impossible became the possible ... that governments fell, that wars had been fought and won, that cities had burned, that life went on after death ... that God was alive, God was dead, that continents had sunk. It wasn’t the assumptions in themselves that were so incredible as the way in which they were accepted.

  During this time, life went on as normal on the observatory and on Earth, and the regular daily sheets were handed out to the staff. And the work proceeded—erratically, but still there was progress.

  And then ... Then the fantastic aspects of the rumours diminished. Traces of fact crept back into what was being said. By the end of the 23rd cycle, eight weeks ago, it was clear that the speculation was returning, spontaneously, to reality.

  And incredibly, the rumours began to anticipate fact.

  Word would go round, stemming unprompted from God knew where, about some clearly-defined event: a natural disaster, a sporting result, the death of a statesman. And when I checked through the 84 file, I would find that it had a collateral in reality.

  A rumoured landslide in Greece would be an earth-tremor in Yugoslavia; a rumoured change of government in South-East Asia would correspond with a coup somewhere else; a rumoured policy-change in the attitude of the public towards this very mission would be nearly accurate. And then there were other stories that I could not check. Things like unexpected famines, or increasing crime-rates, or social dissent—events which would not normally get into the news anyway.

  With this change, a conclusion came into sight: that in due course the rootless network of rumour would return of its own accord to reality. Reflecting it accurately, anticipating it accurately. If this happened, the social consequences —in the broadest sense—would be unprecedented.

  But for some reason this conclusion was not in sight. The network had stagnated. The return to reality had been postponed. My beautiful chart ended in a query.

  * * * *

  The transor-conjunction was scheduled for 23.30 hours and I had the whole evening to kill. We followed real-time days for the sake of convenience. Had we adapted to the day-cycles of the planet, the simulators on Earth would have had to be continually modified.

  I stayed in my office until 20.00 hours, working on a few more of the reports. I sent out for food and this was brought to me by Caroline Newison, botanist wife of one of the bacteriological team.

  She told me the rumour about the Bolivian riot, fleshing it out with the detail that just over a thousand people had died. This was nearer the actual figure and it pleased me. In turn, I passed on the word about the New York fire, but she had already heard this.

  It always struck me as curious that individual members of the staff were friendlier to me than they were as a whole. It was consistent, though, with the overall behaviour of the staff: this difference between individual and collective behaviour or attitudes.

  Later, I locked my filing-cabinets, closed my desk and went in search of Clare. I had ready all the necessary work for the time of the conjunction.

  * * * *

  What I could not understand about the postponement of what I had reasoned would be a return to reality-based conjecture was that most of the other factors in Tolneuve’s theory held good.

  But the rumouring had not progressed. The staff were still passing word about events of the same kind as they had been doing eight weeks ago. And there was less speculative activity.

  Could it be that the lethargy which affected us all was similarly causing a renewed lack of interest in the outside world ?

  If the flow of my chart had gone as I had extrapolated, by now—the end of the 25th cycle—we would be again aware of what was happening on Earth. The sensation ability to anticipate what could not otherwise be known would be established.

  * * * *

  Thorensen was holding forth when I went into the bar. He was slightly drunk.

  ‘... and I think we shouldn’t. He’s the only one who can talk with them. I don’t trust it.’

  He turned as I walked towards him.

  ‘Will you have a drink, Dan?’ he said.

  ‘No, thanks. I’m looking for Clare. Has she been here?’

  ‘She was in a little earlier. We thought she was with you.’

  The group of four or five men with Thorensen listened to the exchange without expression.

  ‘I’ve only just left my office,’ I said. ‘I haven’t seen her since this morning.’

  O’Brien, standing next to Thorensen, said: ‘I think she was going back to your room. She said she had a headache.’

  I thanked him and moved out of the bar. I knew Clare’s headaches. She often used some minor physical symptom as a cover for a deeper emotion and though she had been genuinely upset earlier, I didn’t think the rumoured death of the children in New Zealand would be still affecting her. The reaction of all members of the staff to the stories they generated, however disastrous or seemingly important, was superficial.

  When I reached our room, she was not there. As far as I could recall, the room looked much as it had done when we had left it in the morning. There was no sign that Clare had been back.

  I walked around the observatory, growing increasingly puzzled at her absence. There were not all that many places in which she could be, unless she was deliberately avoiding me. I tried all the observation-ports, all the social and communal rooms and even, in the end, the generators. She was there with Mike Querrel, and they were kissing.

  * * * *

  The truth of it was that by all accounts the situation on Earth was in a very delicate state. In a political sense the division between the Ea
st and the West had widened and in the uncommitted territories in which the different ideologies met there was continuous tension. In a social sense, the environment had exhausted itself. Here it was the developed and under-developed countries which had grown apart.

  When we had left Earth two years before, the situation had been very bad and in the intervening period things had worsened. Crop-failures were widespread—soil-exhaustion and unbalanced atmospheric ecology being the main factors. Consequently, any country not attuned to a high level of technology suffered famine and disease. Large areas of land which had been irrigated and cultivated fell into disuse. There was an increasing blind dependence on technology. In the developed countries, pollution was the main social problem, with inter-racial conflict running a close second. These internal factors aggravated the international political situation; each side blamed the other for its contribution, but neither could afford practical help either for itself or for its economic dependencies. There were too many complexities involved: too many vested interests in uncommitted nations from too many sides. All this was reflected in the news-sheets which came up to the observatory; none of it directly affected the members of the staff and none of it got into their personalised daily sheets. If I scanned through my 84 file, from any one of the two dozen transors we had had since being here, I would see the facts reflected there: strikes, famines, riots, civil uprisings, territorial demands by one state on another, conventions of environmental pundits who could see what was coming but were powerless to do anything about it, disasters in the cities caused by the fine tuning of technology, and fighting in the streets, and murder of security forces, and bomb outrages, and sabotage, and political assassinations, and break-down of diplomatic relationships, and the ending of trade agreements, and the stockpiling of weapons ... and over it all a growing awareness of and a clamouring for the war which was now inevitable...