Space Stations Part 26

"Thank you, Sandy." He reached to take my hand again. "It's n.o.ble of you to come. n.o.ble of yourmother to give you up." He shook his head, with a wistful smile. "But my work's not done."

"Father! Please!" I gripped his hand. "We can't leave you here."

"I can't go now." His seamed face set hard, he raised a shaking hand to stop my questions. "Sit down and let me tell you."

He lifted a carton of ration packs off a folding chair, motioned me to it, and sat deliberately back at his desk.

"If you can make it quick."

"Okay, quick it is." Yet he paused for a moment, staring at the chessmen, before he shrugged and went on. "I'll skip over my first years here. Pretty much what you might expect. We studied what there was to study. Measured NBH for ma.s.s, electric charge, spin. Studied the orbits of captured objects.

Looked for the Hawking radiation."

"So?" I had to humor him. "What did you find?"

"Nothing." He shrugged. "Nothing really new until after Three had come and gone. But I stayed and kept at it till I got what I call my eureka moment."

"What was that?"

"A revelation." He glanced away at the end of the room, where I saw an easel under a paint-splotched cover, and paused for a long sigh. "It happened during my search for the radiation. A quest I had almost given up. If I'd left on Nine-"He shook his head and stopped again to glance at his unfinished chess game, long enough to let me wonder about his opponent and to wonder how sane he was.

"Black holes decay," he went on abruptly.

Hawking did the math. I've found the evidence. And established a new principle of physics." He sat straighter as if to challenge me with it. "The conservation of information."

He scowled when I peered at my watch.

"The decay process is slow, the radiation feeble, with no distinctive spectral signature. It took me two years and a new antenna to pick it up. A faint hum, often drowned in thunder from the accretion zone.

Nothing exciting till I got the signals it carried."

"Signals?"

"Information!" He saw my disbelief. His old voice went shrill. "Clicks in my headphones. Three clicks.

A pause. Three more clicks. Another three, till there were twelve. A longer pause. Then they began the series again. I answered with echoes and got a reply.

A pattern of clicks and pauses that made pixels for simple graphics, twelve by twelve. A circle. A square.

An equilateral triangle. A diagram to show the hypotenuse as the sum of squares.

"Contact with intelligence!" His hollowed eyes lit.

"We've invented a common language, good for math and science, though so far we've found no Rosetta stone for the humanities-""We?" I had to interrupt. "Who?"

"A question." He seemed amused at my bewilderment. "I don't know who or where or even when. I'm still searching for the answers. The signals do come out of the Schwarzchild bubble, carried on the Hawking radiation. They may originate in the central singularity. They may come through it. They may come around it."

He sighed and let his thin body sag as if from long exhaustion.

"There's no way to know. I've found no common point of reference. The quantum nature of the singularity upends all our commonsense ideas of s.p.a.ce and time." He saw me start to rise. "Sandy, please! Give me a few more minutes."

"Can't we talk on the ship?"

"We're talking now." Impatiently, he beckoned me back to the chair and limped across the room to uncover the easel. "You've got to see this."

His painting held me for a moment. No scene from the asteroid or anywhere on Earth, it was a seascape.

Waves foamed in the foreground. Blue water stretched to a far horizon beyond, with no land in sight. Above them the frame was almost filled with something that took my breath.

I had to stare. It was an island, flying high above the sea. A forest of green plumes like giant bamboo grew along the sh.o.r.e. Inland, red-roofed buildings surrounded a spiral dome the color of gold. It floatedon an enormous platform streamlined like the hull of an ocean liner. Tiny mirror-bright globes swarmed around it.

"A glimpse of their world, as I've seen it from there." He pointed to a chalked circle on the floor in front of the easel. "I know nearly nothing of its history, but it was one that NBH swallowed. Its people had no way to save anything material, but a few of them were able to preserve their minds."

He reached to touch the chessboard.

"The individual who reached me has told me all he can. I call him Mr. Other. We've worked out a language for math and physics, but found no words for such complexities as gender-"

I was on my feet.

"One more minute!" He raised his hand to hold me. "Mr. Other has given me a warning you must hear. NBH may be quiescent now, but it's the ultimate bomb."

"Father, please!"

His voice sharpened, the way it did when he had to scold me long ago.

"Here's my news for Earth. As a black hole grows, it contracts. Pressure and temperature in the singularity rise toward infinity. In NBH, they are still contained in the magnetic web woven by increasing spin. The capture of another stray sun could rupture that web at the poles of rotation.

Superluminous plumes and bursts of beamedradiation could explode, strong enough to burn the nearer planets and even sear the Earth-"

He stopped at last, frowning at my face.

"I see you don't believe."

"I can't." At the door, I had to turn back. "You've put me in an impossible spot. The pilot will be taking off, with me or without me. I can't leave you here alone."

"You'd better go." He gulped and wiped at his hollow eyes. "I must stay to learn what I can, and hope to get that warning back to Earth." He limped around the easel to give me a quick embrace. "I always loved you, Sandy. It's great that I know enough to solve that problem for you."

He gestured me away from the easel. When I looked back, he was standing on that white-chalked circle. He waved a quick farewell. I caught a glimpse of some object in his hand. I heard a click, and he was gone.

I searched and failed to find him anywhere. I ran back to the ship and got there gasping for breath, with nine minutes to spare. We took off at once. The first long skip brought us in sight of the sun. The second let us pick out Jupiter and Saturn. The third revealed the tiny point of Earth. The last brought it close enough to let us see the whole blue globe, the bright lace of clouds, the familiar continents.

"It looks too green." McKane made a sour face. "I see no cities. I think we've been gone too long."My own eagerness to see the fruit of change was edged with pain as I recalled all I'd known and loved that the centuries must have erased. He called Earth from low orbit. Watching as he listened, I saw him frown and shake his head, frown and listen again. At last he pa.s.sed the headphones to me.

"We're expected," he said. "A Director Ivor Cheung wants to talk to you."

I heard a s.n.a.t.c.h of strange music and then a woman's voice.

"Sir, will you hold for just a moment?"

In only a moment I heard a hearty boom.

"Sandor Fenway! I speak for the Arkwood-Fenway Foundation." Accents had changed, and I begged him to slow his speech. "Your father told us to expect you."

"My father? How? When?"

"After his return from NBH, two hundred years ago."

I felt dazed. "With no ship?"

"With Arkwood science, he required no ship." I heard a genial chuckle at my confusion. "We're here to welcome you home. A briefing has been prepared.

It will cover Dr. Fenway's return and its historic aftermath. A pilot craft is now on the way to guide you in."

The pilot craft was a little silver globe that spoke in a crisp robotic voice. It guided us down, but not to the shabby old brick-and-mortar building my fatherhad leased for it on the outskirts of Atlantica. We landed on a flying island like the one my father had shown me on his easel. It floated over the Gulf Stream, a hundred miles off Sandy Hook. A final skip brought us low above it.

McKane held us there, staring. Its sleek white hull was a full mile long. Green parkways edged its decks.

It had no funnels, but a gold-hued spiral dome towered out of its superstructure. Tiny silver globes whirled like birds around it. Our pilot craft brought us through them, down to an open platform.

McKane opened the lock. Rousing music greeted us, tantalizingly half familiar. A little group of men and women stood waiting. All wore neat white jackets with red-black patches on the b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Smiling, a tall, dark man advanced to greet us.

"Mr. Sandor Fenway? Captain McKane?" He paused to see which was which. "I am Director Cheung." He turned to gesture at those behind him.

"These are fellow foundation officials, all members of the Black Light Society."

McKane muttered a question.

"You'll be learning," he said. "The society is devoted to the study and teaching of what Dr.

Fenway knew of Ark-wood science and culture.

Their mastery of s.p.a.ce and time may surprise you.

They were even conquering gravity, but too late to save themselves."

He turned to me."We'll be briefing you on the historic consequences of his return. Before we go in, however, we have a gift left for you."

He stepped aside. A slender young woman came forward, holding a white plastic box. She lifted it toward me, checked herself, and stepped back, flushing pink.

"Mr. Sandor-" She stopped to take a breath, and I had time to note how well the white jacket became her. "Your father left this message with his gift."

She read it from a strip of yellow plastic.

" 'Dear Sandy, " 'I understood your doubts. Don't brood about them. You'll learn to like Mr. Other. You'll find him a great science teacher and a master at the game.' "

She held the box for me to open. The lid snapped back at my touch, and I saw the jade-and-jet chessmen I had last seen on my father's desk at Black Hole Station.

"Shall we take care of them for you?" she asked.

"The update is ready for you now."

Director Cheung took us through a little park where he showed me a statue of my mother, and on to the Lily Arkwood Hall. He spoke to us there, from a stage where the whole wall behind him became an enormous window that could look out on another city, a ship in s.p.a.ce, another planet, even Black Hole Station.

Through the first centuries since we left, theskipships had carried colonists out to terraform new planets while Earth itself was in decline. With resources depleted and opportunities rare, it had been almost abandoned. Back from NBH, my father had been its savior.

"The Arkwood legacy." Cheung turned to gesture at a strange-shaped s.p.a.cecraft dropping out of an orange-red sky. "Arkwood science has reshaped human history. The science of truly instant flight has bypa.s.sed the relativity limit and unified the scattered and isolated planets into our great galactic civilization."

He paused to let us watch the s.p.a.cecraft landing in a city of golden spiral towers.

"The richest gift, however, has been the Arkwood philosophy. Our own evolution had left us driven by herd instincts, forever fighting for survival. We strove to be leaders, but most of us had to follow the winners. Chiefs and priests and prophets.

Patriarchs, pharaohs, presidents. Captains of industry and heads of the house. When men were not enough; we invented autocratic G.o.ds."

He bowed toward me.

"We honor your father, Mr. Fenway, most of all because he declined to become a G.o.d. Instead he helped us grow up. We had aspired to conquer nature and rule the universe. With NBH, he showed us the folly of such infantile illusions.

"The omnipotent destroyer! Itself a dark G.o.d, ithas taught us our true place in the universal process.

The cosmos has neither master nor slaves. It is simply a river of energy where we are droplets of life, or better the climbers of an infinite stair that can take us up forever."

He touched the black circle on his jacket.

"That's the Arkwood way, the gospel of the Black Light Society. We are not a religion, though our message may reflect ancient faiths. We follow no doctrine and enforce no commandments. All we preach is understanding as your father gave it to us, truth instead of illusion, altruism instead of aggression, love instead of hate, peace instead of terror."

The Arkwood way has made sense to me. Though this altered Earth often seems as alien to me as our old one must have been to my father four centuries ago, I've found contentment here. Loving friends have asked me to join the Black Light Society. At the foundation academy, I have begun to learn Arkwood science and Arkwood culture.

I want to discover more. The foundation has restored Black Hole Station. When my studies here on Earth are finished, I plan to go back there and try to reach my father's Mr. Other. NBH has no sun in its ravenous grasp, and that old dread of high places has left me. Looking down from the skyship's rail at the Atlantic whitecaps a mile below, I can hardly recall my terror of falling toward that baleful red star at the bottom of its dark pit.

Station s.p.a.ces

by Gregory Benford

Gregory Benford is a working scientist who has written some twenty-three Gregory Benford is a working scientist who has written some twenty-three Gregory Benford is a working scientist who has written some twenty-three Gregory Benford is a working scientist who has written some twenty-three critically-acclaimed novels. He has received two Nebula Awards, first in critically-acclaimed novels. He has received two Nebula Awards, first in critically-acclaimed novels. He has received two Nebula Awards, first in critically-acclaimed novels. He has received two Nebula Awards, first in 1981 for 1981 for 1981 for 1981 for Timescape, Timescape, Timescape, Timescape, a novel which sold over a million copies and won the a novel which sold over a million copies and won the a novel which sold over a million copies and won the a novel which sold over a million copies and won the John W. Campbell Memorial Award, the Australian Ditmar Award, and the John W. Campbell Memorial Award, the Australian Ditmar Award, and the John W. Campbell Memorial Award, the Australian Ditmar Award, and the John W. Campbell Memorial Award, the Australian Ditmar Award, and the British Science Fiction Award. In 1992, Dr. Benford received the United British Science Fiction Award. In 1992, Dr. Benford received the United British Science Fiction Award. In 1992, Dr. Benford received the United British Science Fiction Award. In 1992, Dr. Benford received the United Nations Medal in Literature. He is also a professor of physics at the Nations Medal in Literature. He is also a professor of physics at the Nations Medal in Literature. He is also a professor of physics at the Nations Medal in Literature. He is also a professor of physics at the University of California, Irvine since 1971. He specializes in astrophysics University of California, Irvine since 1971. He specializes in astrophysics University of California, Irvine since 1971. He specializes in astrophysics University of California, Irvine since 1971. He specializes in astrophysics and plasma physics theory and was presented with the Lord Prize in 1995 for and plasma physics theory and was presented with the Lord Prize in 1995 for and plasma physics theory and was presented with the Lord Prize in 1995 for and plasma physics theory and was presented with the Lord Prize in 1995 for achievements in the sciences. He is a Woodrow Wilson Fellow and Phi Beta achievements in the sciences. He is a Woodrow Wilson Fellow and Phi Beta achievements in the sciences. He is a Woodrow Wilson Fellow and Phi Beta achievements in the sciences. He is a Woodrow Wilson Fellow and Phi Beta Kappa. He has been an adviser to the National Aeronautics and s.p.a.ce Kappa. He has been an adviser to the National Aeronautics and s.p.a.ce Kappa. He has been an adviser to the National Aeronautics and s.p.a.ce Kappa. He has been an adviser to the National Aeronautics and s.p.a.ce Administration, the United States Department of Energy, and the White Administration, the United States Department of Energy, and the White Administration, the United States Department of Energy, and the White Administration, the United States Department of Energy, and the White House Council on s.p.a.ce Policy, and has served as a visiting fellow at House Council on s.p.a.ce Policy, and has served as a visiting fellow at House Council on s.p.a.ce Policy, and has served as a visiting fellow at House Council on s.p.a.ce Policy, and has served as a visiting fellow at Cambridge University. His first book-length work of non-fiction Cambridge University. His first book-length work of non-fiction Cambridge University. His first book-length work of non-fiction Cambridge University. His first book-length work of non-fiction, Deep Time , Deep Time , Deep Time , Deep Time (1999), examines his work in long duration messages from a broad humanistic (1999), examines his work in long duration messages from a broad humanistic (1999), examines his work in long duration messages from a broad humanistic (1999), examines his work in long duration messages from a broad humanistic and scientific perspective and scientific perspective and scientific perspective and scientific perspective . . . .

YOU KNOW many things, but what he knows is both less and more than what I tell to us.

Or especially, what we all tell to all those others-those simple humans, who are like him in their limits.

I cannot be what you are, you the larger.