by Fred Hoyle
“How many men were employed to erect it?”
“Perhaps a couple of dozen.”
“We would use a thousand, ten thousand if need be. We would guarantee to move and re-erect any instruments you think necessary within some reasonable stated period, say within a fortnight. Are there any other large instruments?”
“We should need a good optical telescope, although not necessarily a very large one. The new Schmidt here in Cambridge would be the most suitable, although how you’d persuade Adams to give it up I can’t think. It’s taken him years to get.”
“I don’t think there would be any real difficulty. He won’t mind waiting six months for a bigger and better telescope.”
Kingsley put more logs on the fire, and settled back in his chair.
“Let’s stop fencing around this proposition,” he said. “You want me to allow myself to be fastened up in a cage, albeit a gilded cage. That’s the compromise you want from me, a pretty big compromise too. Now we ought to give some thought to the compromise that I shall want from you.”
“But I thought that’s just what we’ve been doing.”
“It was, but only in a vague sort of way. I want everything quite clear-cut. First, that I be empowered to recruit the staff to this Nortonstowe place, that I be empowered to offer what salaries seem reasonable, and to use any argument that may seem appropriate other than divulging the real state of things. Second, that there shall be no, I repeat no, civil servants at Nortonstowe, and that there shall be no political liaison except through yourself.”
“To what do I owe this exceptional distinction?”
“To the fact that, although we think differently and serve different masters, we do have sufficient common ground to be able to talk together. This is a rarity not likely to be repeated.”
“I am indeed flattered.”
“You mistake me then. I am being as serious as I know how to be. I tell you most solemnly that if I and my gang find any gentlemen of the proscribed variety at Nortonstowe we shall quite literally throw them out of the place. If this be prevented by police action or if the proscribed variety are so dense on the ground that we cannot throw them out, then I warn you with equal solemnity that you will not get one single groat of co-operation from us. If you think I am overstressing this point, then I would say that I am only doing so because I know how extremely foolish politicians can be.”
“Thank you.”
“Not at all. Perhaps we can now come to the third stage. We need pencil and paper for this. I want you to note in detail, so that there can be no possibility of any mistake, every item of equipment that must be in place before I move in to Nortonstowe. Again I repeat that the equipment must reach Nortonstowe before I do. I shall not accept the excuse that there has been an unavoidable delay and that something or other will be coming along in a few days’ time. Here, take this paper and start writing.”
Parkinson took long lists back to London with him. The following morning he had an important discussion with the Prime Minister.
“Well?’ said the Prime Minister.
“Yes, and no,” was Parkinson’s answer. “I’ve had to promise to fit the place up as a regular scientific establishment.”
“That’s no disadvantage. Kingsley was quite right in saying that we need more facts, and the sooner we get them the better.”
“I don’t doubt that, sir. But I would have preferred it if Kingsley were not likely to be quite so important a figure in the new establishment.”
“Isn’t he a good man? Could we have got someone better?”
“Oh, as a scientist he’s good enough. It’s not that which worries me.”
“I know it would have been far better if we had had to work with a more amenable type of person. But his interests seem to be pretty much the same as ours. So long as he doesn’t sulk when he finds he can’t get out of Nortonstowe.”
“Oh, he’s quite realistic about that. He used the point as a strong bargaining counter.”
“What were the conditions?”
“For one thing that there are to be no civil servants, and no political liaison except through me.”
The Prime Minister laughed.
“Poor Francis. Now I see what the trouble is. Ah well, as for the civil servants that’s not so serious, and as for the liaison, well we shall see what we shall see. Any tendency to make salaries — er — astronomical in magnitude?”
“None at all, except that Kingsley wants to use salaries as a bargaining counter to get people to Nortonstowe, until he can explain the real reason.”
“Then what is the trouble?”
“Nothing explicit that I can put my finger on, but I’ve got a sort of general sense of uneasiness. There are lots of small points, insignificant severally, but worrying when put together.”
“Come on, Francis, out with it!”
“Put in its most general terms, I’ve a feeling that it’s we who are being manoeuvred, not we who are doing the manoeuvring.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I really. On the face of it everything looks all right, but is it? Considering the level of Kingsley’s intelligence, wasn’t it just a bit too convenient that he took the trouble to register those letters?”
“It might have been a college porter who posted them for him.”
“It might have been, but if it was, Kingsley ought to have realized that the porter would register them. Then the letter to Leicester. It almost looked to me as if Kingsley expected us to intercept it, as if he wanted to force our hand. And didn’t he rough-house poor old Harry [the Home Secretary] just a bit too much? Then look at these lists. They’re incredibly detailed, as if everything had been thought out in advance. The food and fuel requirements I can understand, but why this enormous quantity of earth-moving equipment?”
“I haven’t the least idea.”
“But Kingsley has, because he’s already given a great deal of thought to it.”
“My dear Francis, what does it matter how much thought he has given to it? What we want to do is to get a highly competent team of scientists together, to isolate them, and to keep them happy. If Kingsley can be kept happy with these lists, then let him have the stuff. Why should we worry?”
“Well, there’s a lot of electronic equipment down here, an awful lot of it. It could be used for radio transmission purposes.”
“Then you strike that out here and now. That he can’t have!”
“Just a moment, sir, that isn’t the whole story. I was suspicious about this stuff, so I got some advice on it, good advice, I think. The position is this. Every radio transmission takes place in some form of code, which has to be unscrambled at the receiving end. In this country the normal form of coding goes by the technical name of amplitude modulation, although the B.B.C. has recently also been using a somewhat different form of coding known as frequency modulation.”
“Ah, that’s what frequency modulation is, is it? I’ve often heard people talking about it.”
“Yes, sir. Well, here’s the point. The type of transmission that this equipment here of Kingsley’s could give would be in a quite new form of code, a code that could not be unscrambled except by a specially designed receiving instrument. So although he might wish to send some message nobody could receive it.”
“Short of having this special receiver?”
“Exactly. Well now, do we allow Kingsley his electronic equipment or not?”
“What reason does he give for wanting it?”
“For radio astronomy. For observing this Cloud by radio.”
“Could it be used for that purpose?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Then what is the trouble, Francis?”
“It’s just that there’s an awful lot of it. Admittedly I’m not a scientist, but I can’t swallow that this mass of stuff is really necessary. Well, do we let him have it or not?”
The Prime Minister thought for a few minutes.
“Check this advice of y
ours carefully. If what you’ve said about the coding turns out to be right, let him have it. In fact this transmission business may turn out to be an advantage. Francis, so far you’ve been thinking of all this from a national point of view — national as opposed to international, I mean?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I’ve been giving some attention to the wider aspects. The Americans must be finding themselves in much the same boat as ourselves. Almost certainly they will be thinking of forming a similar establishment to Nortonstowe. I think I shall try to persuade them of the advantage of a single co-operative effort.”
“But won’t that mean that we shall go there, not them come here?’ said Parkinson, somewhat ungrammatically. “They will consider their men to be better than ours.”
“Perhaps not in this field of — er — radio astronomy, in which I gather that both we and the Australians rank very highly. Since radio astronomy seems to be of rather key importance in this business I shall use radio astronomy as a strong bargaining point.”
“Security,” groaned Parkinson. “Americans think we have no security, and sometimes I think they are not far wrong.”
“Overweighed by the consideration that our population is more phlegmatic than theirs. I suspect that the American Administration may see an advantage in having all working scientists in this matter as far away from them as possible. Otherwise they will be sitting on a powder keg the whole time. Communication was my difficulty until a few moments ago. But if we could provide a radio link direct from Nortonstowe to Washington, using this new code of yours, that might solve the problem. I shall urge all this most strenuously.”
“You referred to international aspects a few moments ago. Did you really mean international or Anglo-American?”
“I meant international, the Australian radio astronomers for one thing. And I can’t see things remaining between us and the Americans for very long. The heads of other Governments will have to be told, even the Soviets. Then I shall see that a few hints are dropped, to the effect that Dr this and Dr that have received letters from one Kingsley discussing details of the business and that we have since been obliged to confine Kingsley in a place called Nortonstowe. I shall also say that if Dr this and Dr that are sent to Nortonstowe we shall be glad to see that they cause no trouble to their respective Governments.”
“But the Soviets wouldn’t fall for that!”
“Why not? We’ve seen ourselves how acutely embarrassing knowledge outside the Government can be. What wouldn’t we have given yesterday to have been rid of Kingsley? Perhaps you’d still like to be rid of him. They’ll rush their people over here as fast as aeroplanes can travel.”
“Possibly so. But why go to all this trouble, sir?”
“Well, has it struck you that Kingsley may all along have been picking the team? That those registered letters were his way of doing it? I think it’s going to be important to us to have the strongest possible team. I have a hunch that in the days to come Nortonstowe may possibly become more important than the United Nations.”
Nortonstowe
The manor house of Nortonstowe is set in open parkland, high in the Cotswolds not far from the steep western scarp. The land around is fertile. When it was first proposed to turn the manor into ‘one of those Government places’ there was a considerable measure of opposition both locally and in newspapers throughout Gloucestershire. But the Government had its way, as it does in such matters. The ‘locals’ were somewhat mollified when they heard that the new ‘place’ was to be agricultural in orientation and that farmers could look to it for advice.
An extensive new estate was built in the grounds of Nortonstowe out of sight of the manor house about a mile and a half away. For the most part the new estate consisted of semi-detached dwellings to be used for the working staff, but there were also some separate houses for senior officials and supervisors.
Helen and Joe Stoddard lived in one of the semi-detached rows of whitewashed houses. Joe had got himself a job as one of the gardeners. Literally and metaphorically it suited him down to the ground. At the age of thirty-one it was work in which he had had almost thirty years’ experience, for he had learned from his father, a gardener before him, almost as soon as he could walk. It suited Joe because it kept him out of doors the year round. It suited him because in an era of form-filling and letter-writing there was no paperwork to be done, for, let it be said, Joe had difficulty both in reading and writing. His appreciation of seed catalogues was confined to a study of the pictures. But this was no disadvantage since all seeds were ordered by the head gardener.
In spite of a somewhat remarkable slowness of mind Joe was popular with his mates. No one ever found him out of countenance, he was never known to be ‘down in the dumps’. When he was puzzled, as he often was, a smile would spread slowly across an amiable face.
Joe’s control over the muscles of his powerful frame was as good as his control over his brain was poor. He played an excellent game of darts, although he left the business of scoring to others. At skittles he was the terror of the neighbourhood.
Helen Stoddard contrasted oddly with her husband: a slight pretty girl of twenty-eight, highly intelligent but uneducated. It was something of a mystery how Joe and Helen got on so well. Perhaps it was because Joe was so easy to manage. Or perhaps because their two small children seemed to have inherited the best of two worlds, the mother’s intelligence and the father’s toughness of physique.
But now Helen was angry with her Joe. Queer things were happening up at the big house. During the last fortnight hundreds of men had descended on the place. Old installations had been torn out to make way for new. A great tract of land had been cleared and strange wires were being erected all over it. It should have been easy for Joe to have discovered what it all meant, but Joe was so easily fobbed off with ridiculous explanations; that the wires were for training trees being the latest piece of nonsense.
Joe for his part couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. If it was very strange, as his wife said, well, most things were pretty odd anyway. “They’ must know all about it, and that was good enough for him.
Helen was angry because she had become dependent for information on her rival, Mrs Alsop. Peggy, Agnes Alsop’s daughter, was employed as a secretary at the manor, and Peggy was endowed with a curiosity not even surpassed by Helen or by her mother. In consequence a steady stream of information flowed into the Alsop household. Thanks in part to this bounty and in part to the skilful way in which she dispensed it, Agnes Alsop’s prestige ranked high among her neighbours.
To this must be added a gift for speculation. On the day that Peggy solved the mystery of the contents of the vast number of crates marked ‘Fragile: with the Greatest Care’ Mrs Alsop’s stock attained a new high.
“Full of wireless valves, that’s what they are,” she told her assembled court, “millions of ’em.”
“But what would they want millions of valves for?’ asked Helen.
“You might well ask,” answered Mrs Alsop. “And what would they want all those towers and wires in the five-hundred-acre field for? If you ask me, it’s a death-ray that they’re building.”
Subsequent events never shook her faith in this opinion.
Excitement in ‘Highlands Estate’ knew no bounds on the day ‘they’ arrived. Peggy became well nigh incoherent when she told her mother how a tall man with blue eyes had talked to important people from the Government ‘as if they were office boys, Mum’. “It’s a death-ray all right,” breathed Mrs Alsop in ecstasy.
One of the tit-bits fell to Helen Stoddard after all, perhaps the most important tit-bit from a practical point of view. The day after ‘they’ moved in, she started off early in the morning to cycle to the neighbouring village of Far Striding only to discover that a barrier had been thrown across the road. The barrier was guarded by a sergeant of police. Yes, she would be allowed this once to go on to the village, but in future no one could come into or out of Nortonstowe unless
a pass was shown. Passes were going to be issued later that day. Everyone was to be photographed and the photos would be added to the passes later in the week. What about the children going to school? Well, he believed that a teacher was being sent up from Stroud so that it wouldn’t be necessary for the children to go into the village at all. He was sorry that he knew no more about it.
The death-ray theory gained further ground.
It was an odd commission. It came through Ann Halsey’s agent. Would she accept an engagement on 25 February to play two sonatas, one by Mozart, the other by Beethoven, at some place in Gloucestershire? The fee named was high, very high even for an able young pianist. There would also be a quartet. No other details were given, except that a car would be waiting at Bristol for the 2 p.m. Paddington train.
It wasn’t until Ann went along to the restaurant car for tea that she discovered the identity of the quartet, which turned out to be none other than Harry Hargreaves and his crowd.
“We’re doing some Schönberg,” said Harry. “Just to file their ear-drums down a bit. Who are they, by the way?”
“A country-house party, as far as I can gather.”
“Must be pretty wealthy, judging by the fees they’re willing to pay.”
The drive from Bristol to Nortonstowe passed very pleasantly. There was already a hint of an early spring. The chauffeur took them into the manor house, along corridors, opened a door. “The visitors from Bristol, sir!”
Kingsley had not been expecting anyone, but he recovered quickly. “Hello, Ann! Hello, Harry! How nice!”
“Nice to see you, Chris. But what is all this? How did you come to turn yourself into a country squire? Lord, more like, considering the magnificence of this place — rolling acres and that sort of thing.”
“Well, we’re on a special job for the Government. They apparently think we’re in need of some cultural uplift. Hence your presence,” explained Kingsley.
