Imperial Earth

He knew that he was facing a mystery, of the sort that was anathema to the repeatedly hard-headed Makenzies. Here was something that he could never explain to Malcolm and Colin; they would not laugh at him — or so he hoped — but they would never take him seriously.

Besides, it was so utterly trivial. He had not been vouchsafed some blinding revelation, like an ancient prophet receiving the word of God. All that had happened was that he had come across the same very unusual shape in two quite independent contexts; it might have been mere coincidence, and the sense of dйjа vupure self delusion. That was the simple, logical answer, which would certainly satisfy everyone else.

It would never satisfy Duncan. He had experienced that indescribable shock a man may know only once in a lifetime, when he is in the presence of the transcendental and feels the sure foundations of his world and his philosophy trembling beneath his feet.

When he saw that careful drawing in Karl's sketchbook, Duncan had recognized it at once. But now it seemed to him that the recognition came not only from the past, but also from the future. It was as if he had caught a momentary glimpse in the Mirror of Time, reflecting something that had not yet occurred — and something that must be awesomely important for it to have succeeded in reversing the flow of causality.

Project Argus was part of the destiny of mankind; of this, Duncan was now sure beyond any need for rational proof. But whether it would be beneficial was another question. All knowledge was a two-edged sword, and it might well be that any messages from the stars would not be to the liking of the human race. Duncan remembered the dying cries of the sea urchin he had killed, out there on Golden Reef. Were those faint but sinister crepitations wholly meaningless — an accidental by-product? Or did they have some more profound significance? His instincts gave him not the slightest clue, one way or the other.

But it was an act of faith to Duncan and to those he had worked with all his life, that it was cowardice not to face the truth, whatever it might be and wherever it might lead. If the time was coming for mankind to face the powers behind the stars, so be it. Hehad no doubts. All he felt now was a calm contentment — even if it was the calm at the center of the cyclone.

Duncan watched the light trembling and dancing on the lagoon, as the sun sank lower and lower toward the horizon and the hidden coast of Africa. Sometimes he thought he could see, in those flaring, coruscating patterns, the warning beacons of Argus, staking a claim to the billions of cubic kilometers of space they enclosed — fifty or a hundred years from now...

Changing shape even as Duncan watched, the Sun kissed the horizon and spread out a crimson, bell-shaped skirt across the sea. Now it looked like the film of an atomic blast — but run backward, so that the fires of hell sank harmlessly into the ocean. The last golden arc of the departing disc lingered on the edge of the world for an instant, and at the very second it disappeared there was a momentary flash of green.

As long as Duncan lived, he might never see such heartbreaking beauty again. It was a memory to take back to Titan, from the island on which he had made the great decision of his life and opened the next chapter in he story of the outer worlds.

Part Four

Titan

43

Homecoming

It was over. All the good-byes had been said to crew and passengers, all the formalities had been completed, everything he had brought from Earth was already moving along the conveyor belt. Everything, that is, except for the most important gift of all.

He could walk through that door marked TITAN CITIZENS, and he would be home. Already, he had forgotten the crippling gravity of Earth; that — and so much else — was fading into the past like a dissolving dream. This was where he belonged and where his life's work would be done. He would never again go sunward, though he knew there would be times when some remembered beauty of the mother world would drive a dagger into his heart.

The family must be waiting, there in the reception lounge, and now, with only seconds before the moment of reunion, Duncan felt a reluctance to face the whole Makenzie clan. He let the other travelers go hurrying past him, while he stood irresolutely, trying to pluck up his courage and clutching his precious bundle awkwardly to his chest. Then he moved forward, under the archway, and out on to the ramp.

There were so many of them! Malcolm and Colin, of course, Marissa, more beautiful and desirable than even in his most recent dreams, now free of Calindy forever; Clyde and Carline — could she really have grown so much, in so short a time? And at least twenty nephews and nieces whose names he knew as well as his own, but just couldn't recall at the moment.

No — it was impossible! But there she was, standing a little apart from the others, leaning heavily on her cane, yet otherwise completely unaltered since he had last seen her on the cliffs of Loch Hellbrew. Much else had changed indeed if Grandma Ellen had returned to Oasis for the first time in fifty years.

As she saw Duncan's astonished gaze, she gave a barely perceptible smile. It was more than a greeting; it was a signal of reassurance. She already knows, thought Duncan. She knows and approves. When the full fury of the Makenzies breaks upon my head, I can rely on her...

There flashed into his mind an old Terran phrase, whose origin he had long ago forgotten; the Moment of Truth. Well, here it was—

They had all crowded eagerly around him as he drew back the shawl. For an instant only he felt regret; perhaps he should have given some warning. No, it was better this way. Now they would learn that he was his own man at last, no longer a pawn of others — however much he might owe to them, however much he might be partof them.

The child was still sleeping, but normally now, not in the electronic trance that he protected it in the long voyage from Earth. Suddenly it threw out a chubby arm, and tiny fingers gripped Duncan's hand with surprising strength. They looked like the pale white tentacles of a sea anemone against the dark brown of Duncan's skin.

The little head was still empty even of dreams, and the face was as void and formless as that of any month-old baby. But already the smooth, pink scalp bore an unmistakable trace of hair — the golden hair that would soon bring back to Titan the lost glories of the distant Sun.

Acknowledgements And Notes

My first thanks should go to Truman Talley, who in the early ‘50’s made what was then (and for that matter still is) a most generous offer for this book, on the strength of the title and one conversation. I have often wished that I could remember what I said then; it might have saved me much trouble, twenty years later. I now have no idea if this book bears the slightest resemblance to that early concept, but "Mac's" initial encouragement kept me from abandoning it.

Like many other addicts, I was introduced to polyominoes by Martin Gardner's Scientific American Book of Mathematical Puzzles and Diversions, which, however, fiendishly refrains from giving the solution to the 20 x 3 rectangle. In his definitive book Polyominoes, Solomon W. Golomb takes mercy on his readers. In the hope of preventing a few nervous breakdowns, I reproduce his answer herewith:

U X P I L N F T W Y Z V

Anyone who wishes to construct this rectangle from the twelve pentominoes should have no difficulty in matching them with the letters they (sometimes approximately) resemble. It is easy to see that the second of the (only) two solutions is obtained by rotating a seven-element central portion.

Dr. Golomb, who is now professor of Electrical Engineering and Mathematics at the University of Southern California, has also invented an ingenious game called Pentominoes® (distributed in North America by Hallmark Cards and in Europe by Zimpfer Puzzles). It has more openings than chess. In an earlier version of 2001: A Space Odyssey, Stanley Kubrick shot Hal playing this game against the astronauts.

I am indebted to Dr. Robert Forward of the Hughes Research Laboratory, Malibu, for introducing me to the fascinating concept of mini black holes, and for making such encouraging noises about the somewhat outrageous propulsion system of S.S. Siriusthat I am almost inclined to patent it...

Dr. Grote Reber, the father of radio astronomy and builder of the world's first radio telescope, started me thinking about the extent of the heliosphere and its possible consequences. I am grateful for his comments on cutoff frequencies, but he is in no way responsible for my wilder extrapolations on his ideas. Dr. Adrian Webster, of Cavendish Laboratory's Mullard Radio Astronomy Observatory, also gave much vital information, and he too is not to be blamed for my use of it.

I am especially indebted to Dr. Bernard Oliver, vice-president and director of research of Hewlett-Packard, not only for hospitality at Palo Alto but also for an advance copy of the Project CYCLOPS Design Study (NASA. Ames CR 114445), which he directed. And I hope Barney will forgive me for the assumption — which in fact I regard as highly improbable — that CYCLOPS would nothave detected intelligent signals, even after two hundred years of operation.

Indignant antenna designers who feel that Argus would not work as specified are invited to contemplate ABM search radars, and to Think Big. All I will say in self-defense is that the Argus elements would be superconducting, active, and divided into many switchable subsections, perhaps with cross-connections between the "spines." I leave minor practical details (as in the case of the Asymptotic Drive) as an exercise for the student.

The "exasperated" remark in Chapter 21 was made to me at a NASA conference by Professor Neil Armstrong in July 1970. I hope it is the last word on some famous first words.

I am deeply grateful to my old friend William MacQuitty, producer of A Night To Remember, for much material concerning the Titanic— including the menu in Chapter 27. Collectors of unlikely coincidences may be interested to know that just three hoursafter I had decided to incorporate it into the text, I read in the May 1974 Skin Diverthat the Titanic Enthusiasts of America had served this menu at their Annual Dinner...

Some readers may feel that the coincidence —or "correspondences" — that play a key part in this story are too unlikely to be plausible. But they were, in fact, suggested by far more preposterous events in my own life; and anyone who doubts that this sort of thing can happen is referred to Arthur Koestler's The Roots of Coincidence. I read this fascinating book only after completing Imperial Earth, thought that fact itself now seems somewhat improbable to me.

Even more improbable is the fact that when, on July 24, 1975, I appeared as a witness before the House of Representatives Subcommittee on Space Science (in the very building libeled and demolished in Chapter 33!), I was able to quote extensively from Duncan's address to Congress in Chapter 41. This the House of Representatives' hearings now contain extracts from the Congressional Recordfor July 4, 2276, which should cause confusion among future historians.

The curious acoustic behavior of the spiny sea urchin, Diadem a setosum, was observed by me on Unawatuna Reef, off the south coast of Sri Lanka. I have never seen this recorded elsewhere, so it may be my one original contribution to marine biology.

Finally, my speculations about conditions on Titan were triggered by a series of papers that Dr. Carl Sagan was good enough to send me. Needless to say, I am also indebted to Carl for many other stimulating ideas, which any properly designed universe would be very foolish to ignore. "For if not true, they ware well imagined..."

ARTHUR C. CLARKE

Cinnamon Gardens, Colombo

January 1974 – January 1975