The Year When Stardust Fell

by Raymond F. Jones

  Chapter 6. _The Scientist_

  Ken spent an almost sleepless night. He tossed for long hours and dozedfinally, but he awoke again before there was even a trace of dawn in thesky. Although the night was cool he was sweating as if it weremid-summer.

  There was a queasiness in his stomach, too, a slow undefinable pressureon some hidden nerve he had never known he possessed. The feeling pulsedand throbbed slowly and painfully. He sat up and looked out at the darklandscape, and he knew what was the matter.

  Scared, he thought, I'm scared sick.

  He'd never known anything like it before in his life, except maybe thetime when he was 6 years old and he had climbed to the top of a veryhigh tree when the wind was blowing, and he had been afraid to comedown.

  It was hitting him, he thought. He was just beginning to understand whatthis stoppage of machinery really meant, and he wondered if there wassomething wrong with him that he had not felt it earlier. Was he alone?Had everyone else understood it before he had? Or would it hit them,one by one, just as it was hitting him now, bringing him face to facewith what lay ahead.

  He knew what had done it. It was his father's expression and his wordsin the laboratory the night before.

  Ken recognized that he had never doubted for an instant that scientistsand their tools were wholly adequate to solve this problem in areasonable time. He had been aware there would be great hardships, buthe had never doubted there would be an end to that time. He had believedhis father, as a scientist, had the same faith.

  It was a staggering shock to learn that his father had no faith inscience; a shock to be told that science was not a thing that warranteda man's faith. Ken had planned his whole life around an avid faith inscience.

  He tried to imagine what the world would be like if no engine shouldever run again. The standards of civilized existence would be shattered.Only those areas of the world, where people had never learned to dependon motor transportation or electric power, would be unaffected; thoseareas of China, India and Africa, where men still scratched the groundwith a forked stick and asked only for a cup of rice or grain each day.

  This would become the level of the whole world. Until last night, Kenhad never believed it remotely possible. Now, his father's words hadshaken him out of the certainty that science would avert suchconsequences. It _could_ happen.

  He thought of his own plans and ambitions. There would be no need forscientists, nor the opportunity to become one, in a world of men whogrubbed the land with forked sticks. He felt a sudden blind and bitteranger. Even if the disaster were overcome in a matter of years, hisopportunity would be gone.

  He knew at once that such anger was selfish and futile. His own personalcalamities would be the least of the troubles ahead, but, for themoment, he could not help it. In a way, it felt good because itovershadowed the dark fear that still throbbed in his body.

  But something else was gone, too. The opportunity for him and hisscience club friends to investigate the properties of the altered metalwas over. His father and the other scientists had taken over thosestudies, and there would be no place for high-school boys who did notknow even enough to prepare a slide for an electron microscope.

  It had always been that way, as long as he could remember. He had alwaysbeen too young and too ignorant to be intrusted with work that mattered.

  He supposed they would turn the operation of the air filter over to oneof the teaching fellows, even though that was something the club couldhandle.

  The bitterness and the fear seemed more than he could endure. He dressedquietly and went downstairs. Without lighting a lamp, he found somethingto eat. The first light of dawn was showing when he left the house.

  For an hour he walked the silent streets without meeting anyone.Normally, there would have been the sound of milk trucks, and the carsof early-rising workers. Now there was nothing. The comet had risen justabove the eastern hills, and in its light the city was like somefabulous, golden ruin that belonged in an ancient fairytale.

  Ken didn't know where he was going or what he was going to do. Thereought to be something useful he could do, he thought fiercely.

  As he looked down the street, he saw a half-dozen wagons with two teamseach, stopped in front of Sims Hardware and Lumber. In the wagons wereseveral dozen men. Ken recognized Andrew Norton, of the Mayor's Council,and Henry Atkins, the Sheriff's chief deputy.

  Several of the men were emerging from the hardware store with new axesand saws. Then Ken understood. This was the first wood detail headedfor the mountains to begin gathering and stockpiling fuel for thewinter. He broke into a run.

  Deputy Atkins appeared to be in charge of the group. Ken hailed him. "Iwant to go along, Mr. Atkins. May I go?"

  The deputy glanced down at him and frowned. He consulted a sheet ofpaper he drew from his pocket. "Your name isn't on the list for thismorning, Ken. Were you assigned?"

  "I guess not, but I haven't got anything else to do today. Is there anyobjection to my going?"

  "I don't suppose so," said Atkins dubiously. "It's just that your namemay be on some other list. We don't want to get these things fouled upright off the bat. There's enough trouble as it is."

  "I'm sure my name's not on any other list. I'd have been told about it."

  "All right. Climb on."

  As Ken climbed into the nearest wagon he was startled to find himselfstaring into the face of Frank Meggs. The storekeeper grinnedunpleasantly as he nodded his head in Ken's direction and spoke to hisneighbor. "Now what do you know about that? Old Man Maddox, letting hisown little boy out alone this early in the morning. I'll bet he didn'tlet you, did he? I'll bet you had to run away to try to prove you're abig boy now."

  "Cut it out, Meggs," said Atkins sharply. "We heard all about what wenton in your store yesterday."

  The man next to Meggs drew away, but it didn't seem to bother him. Hecontinued to grin crookedly at Ken. "Aren't you afraid you might gethurt trying to do a man's work?"

  Ken ignored the jibes and faced away from the storekeeper. The slow,rhythmic jogging of the wagon, and the frosty air as they came into themountains took some of the bitterness out of Ken. It made him feelfreshly alive. He had come often to hunt here and felt a familiaritywith every tree and rock around him.

  The wagon train came to a halt in a grove of 10-year-old saplings thatneeded thinning.

  "No use taking our best timber until we have to," said Atkins. "We'llstart here. I'll take a crew and go on ahead and mark the ones to becut. You drivers unhitch your teams and drag the logs out to the wagonsafter they're cut."

  There was none of the kidding and horseplay that would have been normalin such a group. Each man seemed intent on the purpose for which he hadcome, and was absorbed with his own thoughts. Ken took a double-bittedax and followed Atkins along the trail. He moved away from the othersand began cutting one of the young trees Atkins had marked.

  By noon he was bathed in sweat, and his arms and back ached. He hadthought he was in good condition from his football and track work, buthe seemed to have found new muscles that had never come into playbefore.

  Atkins noticed the amount he had cut and complimented him. "Better takeit easy. You're way ahead of everybody else, and we don't have to get itall out today."

  Ken grinned, enjoying the aches of his muscles. "If it has to be done wemight as well do it."

  He was not surprised to find that Frank Meggs had cut almost nothing buthad spent his time complaining to his companions about the unnecessarywork they were doing.

  After lunch, which Ken had reluctantly accepted from the others, therewas a stir at the arrival of a newcomer on horseback. Ken recognized himas Mike Travis, one of the carpenters and caretakers at the college.

  Mike tied his horse to the tailboard of a wagon and approached thewoodcutters. "There you are, Ken Maddox," he said accusingly. "Whydidn't you let somebody know where you were going? Your father's beenchewing up everyone in sight, trying to find out where you'd gone. Hefinally decided you might be up
here, and sent me after you. Take thehorse on back. I'll finish up the day on the wood detail."

  Ken felt suddenly awkward and uncomfortable. "I didn't mean to worryhim, but I guess I did forget to say where I was going. Don't you thinkit would be okay if I stayed and you told Dad you had found me?"

  "Not on your life! He'd chew me down to the ankles if I went backwithout you!"

  "Okay, I'll go," Ken said. Although he knew he should have left word itstill seemed strange that his father should be so concerned as to send aman up here looking for him. It seemed like more of the unfamiliarfacets of his father's personality that Ken had glimpsed last night.

  Frank Meggs was watching from across the clearing. "I guess Papa Maddoxcouldn't stand the thought of his little boy doing a man's work for awhole day," he said loudly and maliciously. No one paid any attention tohim.

  * * * * *

  Ken tied the mare to a tree on the campus where she could graze. Heglanced over the valley below. Not a single car was in sight on theroads. Somehow, it was beginning to seem that this was the way it hadalways been. His own car seemed like something he had possessed athousand years ago.

  He found his father in the laboratory working with the electronmicroscope. Professor Maddox looked up and gestured toward the office.As Ken sat down, he shut the door behind them and took a seat behind hisold oak desk that was still cluttered with unmarked examination papers.

  "You didn't say anything about where you were going this morning," hesaid.

  "I'm sorry about that," Ken answered. "I got up early and took a walkthrough town. All of a sudden--well, I guess I got panicky when itfinally hit me as to what all this really means. I saw the wood detailgoing out and joined them. It felt good out there, with nothing to thinkabout except getting a tree to fall right."

  "You ran away. You were needed here."

  Ken stammered. "I didn't think you wanted any of us kids around sinceyou and the other men had taken over what we had started to do."

  "You were angry that it wasn't your own show any longer, weren't you?"

  "I guess that's part of it," Ken admitted, his face reddening. He didn'tknow what was happening. His father had never spoken to him like thisbefore. He seemed suddenly critical and disapproving of everything aboutKen.

  After a long time his father spoke again, more gently this time. "It'sbeen your ambition for a long time to be a scientist, hasn't it?"

  "You know it has."

  "I've been very pleased, too. I've watched you and encouraged yourinterests and, as far as I can see, you've been developing in the rightdirection."

  "I'm glad you think so," Ken said.

  "But you've wanted to be a _great_ scientist. You've had an ambition toemulate men like Newton, Faraday, Davy, and the modern giants such asEinstein, Planck, de Broglie, Oppenheimer."

  "Maybe I haven't got the brains, but I can try."

  His father snorted impatiently. "Do you think any one of them trieddeliberately to be great, or to copy anyone else?"

  Ken understood his meaning now. "I guess they didn't. You can't reallydo a thing like that."

  "No, you can't. You take the brains God has given you and apply them tothe universe as you see it. The results take care of themselves.

  "Some of us have enough insight to achieve greatness. Most of us lackthe cleverness to cope effectively with such a wily opponent as thenatural universe. Greatness and mediocrity have no meaning to a man whois absorbed in his study. You do what you have to do. You do what thebest and highest impulses of your brain tell you to do. Expect nothingmore than this of yourself. Nothing more is possible."

  "I think I see what you mean," Ken said.

  "I doubt it. Most of the men I know have never learned it. They struggleto write more papers, to get their names in more journals than theircolleagues. They go out of their way to be patted on the back.

  "They are the failures as scientists. For an example of success Irecommend that you observe Dr. Larsen closely. He is a man who has donea great deal to advance our knowledge of physical chemistry."

  Professor Maddox paused. Then he said finally, "There is just one otherthing."

  "What's that?" Ken asked.

  "Up to now, you and all your friends have only played at science."

  "Played!" Ken cried. "We've built our observatory, a 1000-watt radiotransmitter--"

  "Play; these things are toys. Educational toys, it is true, but toys,nevertheless."

  "I don't understand."

  "Toys are fine for children. You and your friends, however, are nolonger children. You haven't got a chance now to grow up and gain aneducation in a normal manner. You can't finish your childhood, playingwith your toys. You can't take all the time you need to find out whatyour capacities and aptitudes are. You will never know a world that willallow you that luxury.

  "Every available brain is needed on this problem. You've got to make adecision today, this very minute, whether you want to give a hand to itssolution."

  "You know I want to be in on it!"

  "Do you? Then you've got to decide that you are no longer concernedabout being a scientist. Forget the word. What you are does not matter.You are simply a man with a problem to solve.

  "You have to decide whether or not you can abandon your compassion forthe millions who are going to die; whether you can reject all pressurefrom personal danger, and from the threat to everything and everyonethat is of any importance to you.

  "You've got to decide whether or not this problem of the destruction ofsurface tension of metals is the most absorbing thing in the wholeworld. It needs solving, not because the fate of the world hinges on it,but because it's a problem that consumes you utterly. This is whatdrives you, not fear, not danger, not the opinion of anyone else.

  "When he can function this way, the scientist is capable of solvingimportant problems. By outward heartlessness he can achieve works ofcompassion greater than any of his critics. He knows that the greatestpleasure a man can know lies in taking a stand against those forces thatbend ordinary men."

  For the first time in his life Ken suddenly felt that he knew hisfather. "I wish you had talked to me like this a long time ago," hesaid.

  Professor Maddox shook his head. "It would have been far better for youto find out these things for yourself. My telling you does not convinceyou they are true. That conviction must still come from within."

  "Do you want me to become a scientist?" Ken asked.

  "It doesn't make any difference what I want," his father answered almostroughly. He was looking away from Ken and then his eyes found his son'sand his glance softened. He reached across the desk and grasped Ken'shand.

  "Yes, I want it more than anything else in the world," he saidearnestly. "But it's got to be what you want, too, or it's no good atall. Don't try to be anything for my sake. Determine your own goalsclearly, and take as straight a path as you can to reach them. Justremember, if you do choose science the standards are severe."

  "It's what I want," said Ken evenly. "You said you needed me here. Whatdo you want me to do?"

  "Empty trash cans if we ask it," Professor Maddox said. "Forget aboutwhose show it is. Professor Larsen and I will be directing the research,and we'll need every pair of hands and every brain that's got an ounceof intelligence in this field. You do whatever you are asked to do andthink of every possible answer to the questions that come before you. Isthat good enough?"

  "More than enough." Ken felt a sudden stinging sensation behind his eyesand turned to rub their corners roughly. "What about the other fellowsin the club? Can you use them, too?"

  "As many as have the ounce of intelligence I spoke of. The rest of themdon't need to know the things I have told you, but with you it wasdifferent. I had to know you understood just a little of what it meansto be a scientist."

  "I'll be one. I'll show you I can be one!"