Solaris

1 °CONVERSATION

The following morning, I received another note from Snow: Sartorius had left off working on the disruptor and was getting ready for a final experiment with high-power X-rays.

“Rheya, darling, I have to pay a visit to Snow.”

The red dawn blazing through the window divided the room in two. We were in an area of blue shadow. Everything outside this shadow-zone was burnished copper: if a book had fallen from a shelf, my ear would have listened instinctively for a metallic clang.

“It’s to do with the experiment. Only I don’t know what to do about it. Please understand, I’d rather…”

“You needn’t justify yourself, Kris. If only it doesn’t go on too long.”

“It’s bound to take a while. Look, do you think you could wait in the corridor?”

“I can try. But what if I lose control?”

“What does it feel like? I’m not asking just out of curiosity, believe me, but if we can discuss how it works you might find some way of keeping it in check.”

Rheya had turned pale, but she tried to explain:

“I feel afraid, not of some thing or some person — there’s no focus, only a sense of being lost. And I am terribly ashamed of myself. Then, when you come back, it stops. That’s what made me think I might have been ill.”

“Perhaps it’s only inside this damned Station that it works. I’ll make arrangements for us to get out as soon as possible.”

“Do you think you can?”

“Why not? I’m not a prisoner here. I’ll have to talk it over with Snow. Have you any idea how long you could manage to remain by yourself?”

“That depends… If I could hear your voice, I think might be able to hold out.”

“I’d rather you weren’t listening. Not that I have anything to hide, but there’s no telling what Snow might say.”

“You needn’t go on. I understand. I’ll just stand close enough to hear the sound of your voice.”

“I’m going to the operating room to phone him. The doors will be open.”

Rheya nodded agreement.

I crossed the red zone. The corridor seemed dark by contrast, in spite of the lighting. Inside the open door of the operating room, fragments of the Dewar bottle, the last traces of the previous night’s events, gleamed from under a row of liquid oxygen containers. When I took the phone off the hook, the little screen lit up, and I tapped out the number of the radio-cabin. Behind the dull glass, a spot of bluish light grew, burst, and Snow was looking at me perched on the edge of his chair.

“I got your note and I want to talk to you. Can I come over?”

“Yes. Right away?”

“Yes.”

“Excuse me, but are you coming alone or accompanied?”

“Alone.”

His creased forehead and thin, tanned face filled the screen as he leant forward to scrutinize me through the convex glass. Then he appeared to reach an abrupt decision:

“Fine, fine, I’ll be expecting you.”

I went back to the cabin, where I could barely make the shape of Rheya behind the curtain of red sunlight. She was sitting in an armchair, with her hands clutching the armrests. She must have failed to hear my footsteps, and I saw her for a moment fighting the inexplicable compulsion that possessed her and wrestling with the fierce contractions of her entire body which stopped immediately she saw me. I choked back a feeling of blind rage and pity.

We walked in silence down the long corridor with its polychromed walls; the designers had intended the variations in color to make life more tolerable inside the armored shell of the Station. A shaft of red light ahead of us meant that the door of the radio-cabin was ajar, and I looked at Rheya. She made no attempt to return my smile, totally absorbed in her preparations for the coming battle with herself. Now that the ordeal was about to begin, her face was pinched and white. Fifteen paces from the door, she stopped, pushing me forward gently with her fingertips as I started to turn around. Suddenly I felt that Snow, the experiment, even the Station itself were not worth the agonizing price that Rheya was ready to pay, with myself as assistant torturer. I would have retraced my steps, but a shadow fell across the cabin doorway, and I hurried inside.

Snow stood facing me with the red sun behind him making a halo of purple light out of his grey hair. We confronted one another without speaking, and he was able to examine me at his leisure in the sunlight that dazzled me so that I could hardly see him.

I walked past him and leaned against a tall desk bristling with microphones on their flexible stalks. Snow pivoted slowly and went on staring at me with his habitual cheerless smile, in which there was no amusement, only overpowering fatigue. Still with his eyes on mine, he picked his way through the piles of objects littered about the cabin — thermic cells, instruments, spare parts for the electronic equipment — pulled a stool up against the door of a steel cabinet, and sat down.

I listened anxiously, but no sound came from the corridor. Why did Snow not speak? The prolonged silence was becoming exasperating.

I cleared my throat:

“When will you and Sartorius be ready?”

“We can start today, but the recording will take some time.”

“Recording? You mean the encephalogram?”

“Yes, you agreed. Is anything wrong?”

“No, nothing.”

Another lengthening silence. Snow broke it: “Did you have something to tell me?”

“She knows,” I whispered.

He frowned, but I had the impression that he was not really surprised. Then why pretend? I lost all desire to confide in him. All the same, I had to be honest:

“She started to suspect after our meeting in the library. My behavior, various other indications. Then she found Gibarian’s tape-recorder and played back the tape.”

Snow sat intent and unmoving. Standing by the desk, my view of the corridor was blocked by the half-open door. I lowered my voice again:

“Last night, while I was asleep, she tried to kill herself, She drank liquid oxygen…” There was a sound of rustling, like papers stirred by the wind. I stopped and listened for something in the corridor, but the noise did not come from there. A mouse in the cabin? Out of the question, this was Solaris. I stole a glance at Snow. “Go on,” he said calmly.

“It didn’t work, of course. Anyway, she knows who she is.”

“Why tell me?”

I was taken aback for an Instant, then I stammered out: “So as to inform you, to keep you up to date on the situation…”

“I warned you.”

“You mean you knew?” My voice rose involuntarily.

“What you have just told me? Of course not. But 1 explained the position. When it arrives, the visitor is almost blank — only a ghost made up of memories and vague images dredged out of its… source. The longer it stays with you, the more human it becomes. It also becomes more independent, up to a certain point. And the longer that goes on, the more difficult it gets…” Snow broke off, looked me up and down, and went on reluctantly: “Does she know everything?”

“Yes, I’ve just told you.”

“Everything? Does she know that she came once before, and that you…”

“No!”

“Listen Kelvin,” he smiled ruefully, “if that’s how it is, what do you want to do — leave the Station?”

“Yes.”

“With her?”

The silence while he considered his reply also revealed something else. Again, from somewhere close, and without being able to pin it down, I heard the same faint rustling in the cabin, as if through a thin partition.

Snow shifted on his stool.

“All right. Why look at me like that? Do you think I would stand in your way? You can do as you like, Kelvin. We’re in enough trouble already without putting pressure on each other. I know it will be a hopeless job to convince you, but there’s something I have to say: you are doing all you can to stay human in an inhuman situation. Noble it may be, but it isn’t going to get you anywhere. And I’m not so sure about it being noble — not if it’s idiotic at the same time. But that’s your affair. Let’s get back to the point. You renege on the experiment and take her away with you. Has it struck you that you’ll only be embarking on a different kind of experiment?”

“What do you mean? If you want to know whether she can manage it, as long as I’m with her, I don’t see…” I trailed to a halt.

Snow sighed:

“All of us have our heads in the sand, Kelvin, and we know it. There’s no need to put on airs.”

“I’m not putting anything on.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to offend you. I take back the airs, but I still think that you are playing the ostrich game — and a particularly dangerous version. You deceive yourself, you deceive her, and you chase your own tail. Do you know the necessary conditions for stabilizing a neutrino field?”

“No, nor do you. Nor does anyone.”

“Exactly. All we know is that the structure is inherently unstable, and can only be maintained by means of a continuous energy input. Sartorius told me that. This energy creates a rotating stabilization field. Now, does that energy come from outside the ‘visitor,’ or is it generated internally? You see the difference?”

“Yes. If it is external, she…”

Snow finished the sentence for me:

“Away from Solaris, the structure disintegrates. It’s only a theory, of course, but one that you can verify, since you have already set up an experiment. The vehicle you launched is still in orbit. In my spare moments, I’ve even calculated its trajectory. You can take off, intercept, and find out what happened to the passenger…”

“You’re out of your mind,” I yelled.

“You think so? And what if we brought the shuttle down again? No problem — it’s on remote control. We’ll bring it out of orbit, and…”

“Shut up!”

“That won’t do either? There’s another method, a very simple one. It doesn’t involve bringing the shuttle down, only establishing radio contact. If she’s alive, she’ll reply, and…”

“The oxygen would have run out days ago.”

“She may not need it. Shall we try?”

“Snow… Snow…”

He mimicked my intonation angrily:

“Kelvin… Kelvin… Think, just a little. Are you a man or not? Who are you trying to please? Who do you want to save? Yourself? Her? And which version of her? This one or that one? Haven’t you got the guts to face them both? Surely you realize that you haven’t thought it through. Let me tell you one last time, we are in a situation that is beyond morality.”

The rustling noise returned, and this time it sounded like nails scraping on a wall. All at once I was filled with a dull indifference. I saw myself, I saw both of us, from a long way off, as if through the wrong end of a telescope, and everything looked meaningless, trivial, and slightly ridiculous.

“So what do you suggest? Send up another shuttle? She would be back tomorrow. And the day after, and the day after that. How long do you want it to go on? What’s the good of disposing of her if she keeps returning? How would it help me, or you, or Sartorius, or the Station?”

“No, here’s my suggestion: leave with her. You’ll witness the transformation. After a few minutes, you’ll see…”

“What? A monster, a demon?”

“No, you’ll see her die, that’s all. Don’t think that they are immortal — I promise you that they die. And then what will you do? Come back… for a fresh sample?” He stared at me with bantering condescension.

“That’s enough!” I burst out, clenching my fists.

“Oh, I’m the one who has to be quiet? Look, I didn’t start this conversation, and as far as I’m concerned it has gone on long enough. Let me just suggest some ways for you to amuse yourself. You could scourge the ocean with rods, for instance. You’ve got it into your head that you’re a traitor if you…” He waved his hand in farewell, and raised his head as if to watch an imaginary ship in flight. “… and a good man if you keep her. Smiling when you feel like screaming, and shamming cheerful when you want to beat your head against a wall, isn’t that being a traitor? What if it is not possible, here, to be anything but a traitor? What will you do? Take it out on that bastard Snow, who is the cause of it all? In that case, Kelvin, you just put the lid on the rest of your troubles by acting like a complete idiot!”

“You are talking from your own point of view. I love this girl.”

“Her memory, you mean?”

“No, herself. I told you what she tried to do. How many ‘real’ human beings could have that much courage?”

“So you admit…”

“Don’t quibble.”

“Right. So she loves you. And you want to love her. It isn’t the same thing.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m sorry, Kelvin, but it was your idea to spill all this. You don’t love her. You do love her. She is willing to give her life. So are you. It’s touching, it’s magnificent, anything you like, but it’s out of place here — it’s the wrong setting. Don’t you see? No, you don’t want to. You are going around in circles to satisfy the curiosity of a power we don’t understand and can’t control, and she is an aspect, a periodic manifestation of that power. If she was… if you were being pestered by some infatuated hag, you wouldn’t think twice about packing her off, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“Well then, that probably explains why she is not a hag! You feel as if your hands are tied? That’s just it, they are!”

“All you are doing is adding one more theory to the millions of theories in the library. Leave me alone Snow, she is… No, I won’t say any more.”

“It’s up to you. But remember that she is a mirror that reflects a part of your mind. If she is beautiful, it’s because your memories are. You provide the formula. You can only finish where you started, don’t forget that.”

“What do you expect me to do? Send her away? I’ve already asked you why, and you don’t answer.”

“I’ll give you an answer. It was you who wanted this conversation, not me. I haven’t meddled with your affairs, and I’m not telling you what to do or what not to do. Even if I had the right, I would not. You come here of your own free will, and you dump it all on me. You know why? To take the weight off your own back. Well I’ve experienced that weight — don’t try to shut me up — and I leave you free to find your own solution. But you want opposition. If I got in your way, you could fight me, something tangible, a man just like you, with the same flesh and blood. Fight me, and you could feel that you too were a man. When I don’t give you the excuse to fight, you quarrel with me, or rather with yourself. The one thing you’ve left out is telling me you’d die of grief if she suddenly disappeared… No, please, I’ve heard enough!”

I countered clumsily:

“I came to tell you, because I thought you ought to know, that I intend leaving the Station with her.”

“Still on the same tack,” Snow shrugged. “I only offered my opinion because I realized that you were losing touch with reality. And the further you go, the harder you fall. Can you come and see Sartorius around nine tomorrow morning?”

“Sartorius? I thought he wasn’t letting anybody in. You told me you couldn’t even phone him.”

“He seems to have reached some land of settlement. We never discuss our domestic troubles. With you, it’s another matter. Will you come tomorrow morning?”

“All right,” I grunted.

I noticed that Snow had slipped his left hand inside the cabinet. How long had the door been ajar? Probably for some time, but in the heat of the encounter I had not registered that the position of his hand was not natural. It was as if he was concealing something — or holding somebody’s hand.

I licked my lips:

“Snow, what have you…”

“You’d better leave now,” he said evenly.

I closed the door in the final glow of the red twilight. Rheya was huddled against the wall a few paces down the corridor. She sprang to her feet at once:

“You see? I did it, Kris. I feel so much better… Perhaps it will be easier and easier…”

“Yes, of course…” I answered absently.

We went back to my quarters. I was still speculating about that cabinet, and what had been hiding there, perhaps overhearing our entire conversation. My cheeks started to burn so hard that I involuntarily passed the back of my hand over them. What an idiotic meeting! And where did it get us? Nowhere. But there was tomorrow morning

An abrupt thrill of fear ran through me. My encephalogram, a complete record of the workings of my brain, was to be beamed into the ocean in the form of radiation. What was it Snow had said — would I suffer terribly if Rheya departed? An encephalogram records every mental process, conscious and unconscious. If I want her to disappear, will it happen? But if I wanted to get rid of her would I also be appalled at the thought of her imminent destruction? Am I responsible for my unconscious? No one else is, if not myself. How stupid to agree to let them do it. Obviously I can examine the recording before it is used, but I won’t be able to decode it. Nobody could. The experts can only identify general mental tendencies. For instance, they will say that the subject is thinking about some mathematical problem, but they are unable to specify its precise terms. They claim that they have to stick to generalizations because the encephalogram cannot discriminate among the stream of simultaneous impulses, only some of which have any psychological “counterpart,” and they refuse point-blank to hazard any comment on the unconscious processes. So how could they be expected to decipher memories which have been more or less repressed?

Then why was I so afraid? I had told Rheya only that morning that the experiment could not work. If Terran neurophysiologists were incapable of decoding the recording, what chance was there for that great alien creature…?

Yet it had infiltrated my mind without my knowledge, surveyed my memory, and laid bare my most vulnerable point. That was undeniable. Without any assistance or radiation transmissions, it had found its way through the armored shell of the Station, located me, and come away with its spoils…

“Kris?” Rheya whispered.

Standing at the window with unseeing eyes, I had not noticed the coming of darkness. A thin veiling of high cloud glowed a dim silver in the light of the vanished sun, and obscured the stars.

If she disappears after the experiment, that will mean that I wanted her to disappear — that I killed her. No, I will not see Sartorius. They can’t force me to cooperate. But I can’t tell them the truth, I’ll have to dissemble and lie, and keep on doing it… Because there may be thoughts, intentions and cruel hopes in my mind of which I know nothing, because I am a murderer unawares. Man has gone out to explore other worlds and other civilizations without having explored his own labyrinth of dark passages and secret chambers, and without finding what lies behind doorways that he himself has sealed. Was I to abandon Rheya there out of false shame, or because I lacked the courage?

“Kris,” said Rheya, more softly still.

She was standing quite close to me now. I pretended not to hear. At that moment, I wanted to isolate myself. I had not yet resolved anything, or reached any decision. I stood motionless, looking at the dark sky and the cold stars, pale ghosts of the stars that shone on Earth. My mind was a blank. All I had was the grim certainty of having crossed some point of no return. I refused to admit that I was travelling towards what I could not reach. Apathy robbed me of the strength even to despise myself.