I was more interested in the content of Edison's inaugural speech than in its setting, though my ears and face were painfully chilled. We had been invited to witness the ceremonies, and Oxford had taken us down to Washington—rather faster, I noted, than the trip had taken us seven months before, as the newly installed electric turbine locomotive cut considerable time from the run. As we had been bidden to a White House afternoon reception immediately afterwards, I had determined to put our proposition to the newly installed President then, so paid special attention to his references to us in his speech.
"We have this past year," he said, his voice carried to the extensive crowd—and, I realized, to many parts of the country—by the rapidly growing network of elec-trodiffusion devices, "been privileged to encounter the greatest opportunity and challenge mankind has yet had to face. Men from another planet—from another star, one we cannot see—are among us. What they bring to us, and how we deal with them and their gifts, will mark our future. That future is far more varied and exciting than it appeared to be before last summer. We have had our eyes opened to the fact that we are not alone in the Universe, and even, in some ways, may not count for very much. Well, it will be the main work of this Administration to see that the American people aren't counted out—that we use the presence of these visitors from unimaginably far away to secure a place in the future fitting to our glorious past."
Quite gracefully put, I thought, and neatly avoiding any awkward references to the nonexistent Galactic Empire. Perhaps if nobody mentioned it any more, it would be forgotten; the people of Earth did appear to manifest somewhat flighty intellects. The rest of the speech did not hold my attention, as it dealt with such parochial matters as the establishment of a national scientific academy, the regulation of electrodiffusion, and the granting of independence to some Pacific and Caribbean islands obtained in a war ten years before, on the grounds that they were more trouble than they were worth.
This last item appeared to agitate Oxford, however, for an abrupt movement he made in the chair next to me nearly caused the tall cylindrical hat he was wearing for the occasion, as all of us were, to fall off. "If he can do that, he's a wonder," he muttered. "The fire-eaters in Congress'll be after him in no time. But if anyone could bring off turning the Filipinos and the Porto Ricans loose, I guess he could—all he's got to do is tell 'em it makes scientific sense and dollars-and-cents sense, too, and who's to argue with the genius who's electrified the world and made a fortune at it? Imagine, we've finally got a President who means to do things because they're sensible—who ever heard of that?"
The reception at the White House was a crowded affair, and the new President was so much in demand that I did not get a chance for a word with him for nearly two hours. I drove off the effects of the cold with several glasses of a warming beverage that had the peculiar quality of bubbling in the glass, something like the Würzburger Oxford had recommended to us at the Hoffman House, except that it was paler and had a more delicate taste.
President Edison spent a good deal of time with a somewhat younger man, thinner and notably shrewd-looking. I later saw this man talking with Dark, to their apparent mutual interest; he then drifted over to Ari. I joined them in time to hear Ari say, "Mr. Ford, I cannot agree with you. The study of the past is the only key to the future and, indeed, to the present."
"I'll tell you again," the man said, "history is bunk."
"Your opinion as to the worth of the scholarship extant on your own planet," Ari said with determined politeness, "is, of course, your own business. However, looking at the principles expounded and tested by the discipline of Metahistory—"
"And Metahistory is metabunk, I guess," the man said. "This fellow here one of you? He know how any of your things work?"
"I am a Recorder—as well as being an ambassador, of course," I added hastily, still wishing to keep up our pretense. "Recorders Record and Communicate; they do not study mechanics."
"Huh," the man said. "How about the fourth one of you? Has he got any notion of mechanics?"
Ari explained to him the function and methods of an Integrator, and the man shook his head. "Four of you, and only that Dark fellow's got the know-how to talk about any of the things you use. What a way to run a railroad!"
"What did he mean about a railroad?" Ari asked after the man had left us. "We don't have anything to do with railroads. Nor does he, from what he told me; he makes those car things, not trains."
"These people, even the brightest of them, have a way of lapsing into inconsequence," I told him. "They start with one thing and finish with another. I expect their brains work differently from ours. Remember that, as it may work to our advantage."
I finally found the President alone, leaning against a wall and looking rather tired. I had acquainted myself with the name of the drink being served, and I gestured cordially with a glass of it as I approached him. "Nice champagne, this," I remarked.
Edison curtly said, "I s'pose it is. Would have liked to've had American stuff, but they tell me it isn't good enough yet. That's another thing we'll see to in time; no reason we can't put out wines as good as anything that comes from France."
"Ah, France," I said, pleased that a natural introduction to my proposal had presented itself. "That's in Europe, France is."
"I know that," Edison said.
"We ought to go to Europe, d'you see?" I went on. "A good idea, visiting Europe. See the kings and whatnot. Being ambassadors."
"But you darned well aren't ambassadors!"
"Ah, but they don't know that," I said, shaking an admonitory finger at him. "Wouldn't it be nice if we all went to see them, see, and . . . and, well, got them to see if they could help us get poor old Wanderer back together. I should think any king or emperor would want to do that, if he was the right sort of king. Or emperor," I added, wishing to be fair. I had not given Mr. Edison the closely reasoned presentation that Dark and I had worked out, but in the festive circumstances of the occasion, it seemed to me that something more informal was called for. Also, I found that I could not quite recall the full details of my intended argument.
"You fellows want the U.S. government to stake you to the Grand Tour? Go call on royalty and chat with 'em about your problems, the things you know, and so on? That what you've got in mind?"
"In a nut-husk," I said, pleased that he had understood so quickly.
"That's about the size of it, I'd guess," he said, with a glance at me. "Well, I'll tell you. Let's see, you're all going back tonight to that Glenwood place?"
I assured him that we were. "Fine. Well, you'll have my answer in the morning, you can be sure of that."
Our late afternoon journey back to New York was enlivened by the presence of Mr. Roosevelt, who for a while abandoned his family, traveling a car or so ahead, and joined us.
"By George, I was pretty sore at you fellows for a while," he told us. "But I'll tell you, just as Edison was taking the oath today, and I was telling myself how sorry I was for myself, I saw in a flash how I'd be feeling if I was taking it—and that was pretty darned glum. I could've taken another four years of it in my stride, in the ordinary way of things—there's the Canal to see through, and the trusts could do with a little stampeding still, politics and all that—it would have been lots of good fights of the kind I'm used to, and maybe some good coming of it, which is all you can ask. But this business with you people—I have to say that's 'way off my range. I expect I know more than most men about this Earth and what goes on on it, but I'm not geared to look outside it, and I guess Edison's the right man to see to it, after all. . . ." He looked at the landscape speeding by outside the window for a moment, then turned to us, shedding his pensive mood.
"Well, I'll be busy enough, anyhow," he continued.
"My son and I are packing and sorting things for the African trip, and I don't suppose I'll have an unoccupied minute for the next three weeks. Oxford, why don't you bring 'em to Hoboken to see me off?"
Oxford said that mi
ght be a good idea, as we had travel plans of our own and might wish to acquaint ourselves with the general aspect of a ship before embarking. Mr. Roosevelt questioned us about these plans and gave us much information about King Edward, the Kaiser, the Czar, and Francis Joseph, who was also called a Kaiser. He explained this by informing us that "kaiser"—and, indeed, "czar"—were derived from the family name of a native chieftain who flourished two millennia previously. He then discoursed on language, giving me some most valuable insights into the mental workings of the natives; on political and social experiences he had had, which quite fascinated Ari; on naval gunnery and the construction of battleships, to Dark's great interest; and even drew Valmis out of his customary Integrator's state of withdrawal—which in persons of other crafts would be known as torpor—and into an animated discussion of the relationship of philosophy and the workings of nature as exemplified in the behavior and construction of animals.
"By Godfrey," Roosevelt said, standing and rubbing his hands together, "I feel the better for our little chat. Be interesting to see how Edison handles you fellows for the next four years. Always good to match wits, isn't it? If he's not up to snuff . . . well, 1912 isn't all that far off. I'll be seeing you."
Tired after our journey to and from Washington, we slept late the next morning. I, in fact, did so to a lesser extent than I should have preferred, as I was awakened from a comfortable, sound slumber by Oxford's hand shaking my shoulder.
"If a fellow's been on the trains for hours and frozen his ears and nose in some primitive ceremony, and hung about a reception and all that," I said, "it seems to me that that fellow ought to be able to sleep a bit and not have a fellow shaking a fellow's shoulder."
"I believe," Oxford said, "that you told me the President said you'd have his answer about the trip this morning?"
"Oh," I said, sitting up. "It's come, then? What is it?"
Oxford strode to the window of my room, raised the shade and then the window itself, admitting a gust of chilly air. "Take a look."
I got out of bed and went to where he stood. When I leaned out the window, I could see the front entrance to the house. I could also see the two uniformed men who stood in front of it, each resting on his shoulder a firearm equipped with a sort of knife on the front part.
The two others at each visible corner of the house were similarly equipped.
"That's the answer," Oxford said grimly. "A detachment of Marines—to keep us under house arrest!"
14
Oxford showed me the letter the officer in charge of the party of intruders had presented to him upon their arrival about a quarter of an hour before.
Lt. Col. Oxford:
You and the so-called astronauts in your charge are hereby ordered confined to your present quarters until further notice, said orders to be enforced by the detachment of Marines who will bring you this letter. I am using Marines as I don't think there will be any question of your trying to pull anything funny about your rank with any of them. Marines don't pay much mind to the Army, and I am told that holds true for Capt. Thatcher especially.
I have got nothing against you, but you are needed there to keep an eye on them and for other purposes I will explain, and remember that you are in the Army, which means I am your Commander in Chief, so it is not just a matter of a pink slip in your pay envelope if something goes wrong. You know what I mean, I am sure.
Now, these astronauts have had more than half a year's board and room and travel and per diem and so on, at U.S. expense, and most of it under false pretenses. It is time they started earning their keep. I suspect some of them are not playing with a full deck
"What does that bit mean?" I asked Oxford. "It's one of our terms dealing with, ah, cultural differences; don't worry about it, just go on reading."
but there is knowledge there that is bound to be useful to the U.S.A. I certainly do not propose to have them gadding around the Old World, telling anything they might know to a crowd of foreigners. We have got to get what we know from them and develop it, and then we can decide how much of it we can sell—not give away—to other countries.
You have a great opportunity to be of service to your country, and I am sure you see that you had better take it. Set these fellows to work writing down what they know about their machinery, power sources, weapons, and so on. Get any stuff they have away from them on some pretext so that our technicians can work on it, but be sure to find out if there's anything dangerous about any of it first, as I do not want Menlo Park to burn down again. The engineer one and the simp I know have some interesting things, but do not overlook the other two, as even what they might use as a toothbrush might turn out to be something we haven't even thought about here yet.
I emphasize that these people are a vital resource in the possession of the U.S.A., and with them in your charge, I expect that you will get good results. You had better.
I am sure I do not need to tell you that disclosing the contents of this letter to any person, and especially to the astronauts, is a court-martial offense. I have not asked anybody to look me up the military law on that point, for I don't doubt that the President can find a way to make sure that an officer who disobeys a direct order is not just in hot water but in superheated steam.
Yours in confidence
Edison
There were a number of points about this missive which seemed to call urgently for my attention, but one stood out above the others.
"Why did you show this to me?" I asked. "Now he'll boil you or whatever he meant."
"I don't expect," Oxford said, "that you'll put a call through to the White House to tell him about it. I have to admit that some of the things you do and say make me less sure of that than I'd like to be, but I'm banking on it all the same. The thing is, I didn't like that letter. I don't like being pushed around, and I don't like having you fellows pushed around and milked like cows. And I damned well don't like the President—a man I've been brought up to revere since I was a kid, and that I voted for—pulling a stunt like this. No President should do that, and Tom Edison especially shouldn't—it's not worthy of the office or the man—it's a cheap business, and I don't mean to go along with it."
"Well," I said uneasily, "that's very square of you." It was certainly useful that Oxford had chosen to side with us, but once again I felt a momentary oppression at the thought of the necessity we labored under to change his world around him without his consent.
"I can see his point, of course," Oxford went on. "He's under an awful lot of pressure—it'll be the devil's own job to pull the fuse out of that business about your nonexistent Empire, now that folks have got hotted up about it, and there's no denying that you've got some pretty sharp items in your luggage—Lord, I don't like to think what Edison'd do if he got wind of that jim-dandy little tool Dark uses to take notes with! And that agate-type-sized ear trumpet you gave him, why, he's used that to build those electrodiffusion gadgets that're all over the place now. But all the same, it seems to me he's got to stand the pressure and find a way to do things that's fitting for him and for the country. And holing you up here and making you produce information he thinks he needs to know isn't that. And I'm feeling just enough of a patriot to see that he doesn't get away with it. If this be treason, he can make the most of it, and I imagine he will, but what the hell?"
There seemed to be a considerable number of contradictions and logical flaws in this statement, such as the notion of patriotic treason, but, in spite of his erratic mental capabilities, it was clear that Oxford was prepared to be of help to us, which was nice to know. It would be even nicer, it seemed to me, to gain some idea of how he proposed to do that.
His next words bore on this point. "All right. We want to figure out what to do next. It seems to me that this dodge about you going to Europe is the thing to look at. I mean, once you're off there, I see Edison as being pretty well stymied, and that's what we want. It might even give him time to come to his senses, which I'd like. I still think the old boy's basi
cally a great man, even a good man, and he's just got some unexpected pushes that have turned him the wrong way for a while. Now, how do we work that?"
"I don't imagine Edison would let us off to see Mr. Roosevelt start his trip," I said. "If he did, I suppose we could find some way to get on a boat that would take us to Europe."
"No, I don't see him doing that . . . but hold on a minute! You've given me a notion, Raf!" He dashed from the room, returning perhaps ten minutes later.
"I didn't think they'd have bothered to do anything about the 'phone," he said, seating himself on the edge of my bed. "And so they haven't; it's working fine. If they've put wiretappers onto it, we're in trouble, but I didn't hear any clicks. You'd better get yourself and the others looking presentable; we're going to have a pretty considerable visitor in an hour or so."
"From the tone of Mr. Edison's letter," I ventured, "it seems unlikely that our guards would wish us to have visitors."
"I don't think they'll make any trouble about this one," Oxford said with a tight smile.
And indeed Mr. Roosevelt was greeted most deferentially by Captain Thatcher, the Marine officer who commanded the small detachment. "Since these fellows are in the neighborhood, thought I'd look them up and have a good gab with 'em," the ex-President boomed. "With your permission, of course, Captain."
"Certainly, Mr.—that is, Colonel," the officer said. "They're restricted, but I don't see that that applies to you, sir."
"Quite right, so it doesn't, by George," Mr. Roosevelt agreed, and was ushered inside the house.
Oxford quickly apprised him of the situation and handed him Edison's letter. "Now that's a bad business, a bad business," Roosevelt muttered, scanning it. "Edison's gone off the rails about this; he's going about it all the wrong way. You people may have been pretty sharp with us, but that doesn't mean he's got any call to mew you up and pick your brains."
And Having Writ . . . Page 11
