The Number of the Beast

XXXVIII

"-under his vine and under his fig tree;

and none shall make them afraid-"

Jacob:

Teh positive took longer to search than Teh -negative for the very reason that its analogs were so much like our native planet.

An uninhabited planet could be dismissed in ten minutes; one heavily populated took no longer. A planet at too low a level of culture took hardly longer- a culture with animal-drawn carts and sailing ships as major transport we assumed not to have advanced medicine. But most took longer to reject.

At the end of a week we had rejected ninety-seven... which left us only 40.000 + to inspect!

That evening, at "Picnic Island," our private atoll, my daughter said, "Cap'n Auntie, we're doing this wrong."

'How, Deetjkins?"

"Ninety-seven in a week, over forty thousand to go. At that rate we finish in eight years."

Her husband said, "Deety, we're getting faster."

My beloved said, "Astrogator, do you know more about calculating than does the Copilot?" Zeb shut up. We had learned that when Hilda addressed usby titles, she was speaking as captain. I flatter myself that I learned it quicke5~ whereas Zeb was a bit slow. "Go ahead, Deety."

"If we go on checking this way, it won't get better; it will get worse. Here's the first weeks' score"-she passed around her summary; it read:

Earth analogs checked 97

Average time per planet 34 mins 381/2 sec

Maximum time 2 days 3 hrs 52 mins

Minimum time 13 seconds

Median time 12 mins 07 sec

I studied it. "Deety, we can reduce that average time. Over two days was much too long to check analog twenty-six."

"No, Pop, we should have taken longer on twenty-six. It's that thirteen seconds that is bankrupting us."

"Daughter, that's preposter-"

"Chief Pilot."

"Yes, dear?"

"Please let the Copilot finish... without interruption." I retired from the field, annoyed, to wait until my advice was indispensable-soon, I felt sure.

"Aunt Hilda, if we gave each analog thirteen seconds, it would take us eighteen and a half days....nd we would learn nothing. I want to cut the minimum time way, way down-make it routine-and learn something. I wish Gay could talk, I do."

"But, dear, she can. We can be in Oz in two minutes. The dirty dishes can wait."

My daughter looked startled. "Pass me the Stupid Hat."

"But we won't go to Oz before tomorrow. We need to figure out what the problem is, first-and I need a night of cuddle with Jacob for the good of my soul." Hilda reached out and took my hand.

Hilda went on, "Deety, remember how fast we mapped Mars-Tau -ten-positive once we let Gay do it her way? Isn't there some way to define a locus- then turn her loose?"

We discussed it until bedtime. I set the locus myself by vetoing going past Earth-analog-Teh -positive-five-thousand until we were certain that no satisfactory analog existed in those first five thousand. "Family," I told them, "call me chicken, to use Zeb's favorite excuse. I know so little about this gadget I invented that lam always afraid of getting lost. All rotations have been exactly~ ninety degrees. In theory I can define a quantum of angle and each such quantum should render accessible another sheaf of universes. In practice I can't do machining of that quality. Even if I could, I would be afraid to risk ~ our necks on a gadget required to count angular quanta.

"But I have another objection-a gut feeling that worlds too far out Teh axis will be too strange. Language, culture, even dominant race-I confess to prejudice for human beings, with human odo~ and dandruff and faults. Supermen or angels would trouble me more than vermin. I know what to do with

a 'Black Hat'-kill it! But a superman would make me feel so inferior that I would not want to go on living."

Deety clapped. "That's my Pop! Don't worry, Pop; the superman who can give you an inferiority complex hasn't been hatched." I think she meant that as a compliment.

We worked the parameters down to three: climate warm enough to encourage nudity; population comfortably low; technology high. The first parameter was a defense against B.H. vermin: they require antinudity taboo to bolster their disguises. The last parameter would tend to indicate advanced obstetrics. As for population, every major shortcoming of our native planet could be traced to one cause: too many people, not enough planet.

Hilda decided to standardize: one locale, one H-above-G. The locale was (in Earth-zero terminology) Long Beach, California, over its beach one klick Habove-G-dangerously low were it not that Gay would never be in any universe longer than one second. Any speed-of-light weapon can destroy in less than a second, but can its human-cum-machine operators identify a target, bear on it, and fire in one second? We thought not. We hoped not.

At analogs of Long Beach, it should be midsummer, hot, dry, and cloudless. If that beach was comfortably filled but not crowded, if the people were nude, if area adjacent to the beach showed high technology by appearance, then that analog should be checked further.

Forty minutes in Oz changed much of our planning.

Tik-Tok was waiting for his lady friend as usual but kept politely quiet while Deety talked with Gay-and so did Zeb and so did I, not because we have Tik-Tok's courtly manners but because Captain Hilda was blunt. Gay understood the Celsius scale, i.e., both freezing and boiling water temperatures lay in her experience and splitting the interval into one hundred parts was no trouble. She had enough parts that needed to be neither too hot nor too cold that awareness of her surroundings both ambient and radiant was as automatic as breathing is for me. As for radio and television (both gauges of technical level) she could sample all infrared flux (as she had done at Windsor City). Crowds on beach? Would it suffice to count bodies on a sample one hundred meters square?

But Gay had a quite un-human complaint: "Deety, why must I hang around a thousand milliseconds for a job I can do in ten? Don't you trust me?"

So instead of 57 years-or 8 years-or 181/2 days-or 11.4 hours-our preliminary survey was complete less than a minute after we left Oz-5000 universes in fifty seconds. Gay Deceiver displayed her results as three curves representing temperature, body count, density of communication-frequency radiation_abscissa for all running from Earth-zero to Earth-analog-5000Teh -plus.

Those curves told one thing at once: No need to search past analog 800; glaciation had returned.

In the lower right corner was displayed: 87. Zeb asked why. "Nulls," said Deety. "Gay couldn't get readings. Storm, earthquake, war, anything. Gay Deceiver."

"Hi, Deety! We whupped 'em!"

"You surely did, Smart Girl; Tik-Tok will be proud of you. Change scale. Display zero through eight hundred."

As scale expanded, figure 87 dropped to 23. Zeb said, "Deety, I'm curious about those twenty-three. Will you have S.G. display their designations?"

"Certainly, Zebadiah, but may I take it in planned order?"

"Sure but just let me find out first-"

"Astrogator," Sharpie said flatly, "isn't this your day as K.P.?"

We were at Picnic Island, examining results. I suppressed a smile; "slunk" describes the way Zeb left the cabin. Later I was unsurprised to see my tiny treasure giving Zeb an unusually warm hug and kiss. Our Captain has an efficient system of rewards and punishments-never so described.

Deety instructed Gay to eliminate all worlds with a body count higher than that of the Earth-zero beach, and all worlds chillier by five degrees (my daughter was bracketing to avoid false readings from unseasonable weather).

With elimination of high population, cold climate, and low technology as indicated by low or nil flux of communication frequencies, my daughter had us down to seventy-six worlds, plus twenty-three to reexamine-had eliminated over four thousand worlds-and it was still two hours till lunch time!

Deety had Gay display temperatures of the seventy-six. The curve was no longer continuous, but a string of beads, with clumps. I said, "Hilda my love, I'll wager ten back rubs that at least half of the nulls fit into that gap"-and indicated a break at the maximum of the temperature curve.

Hilda hesitated. "Why, Jacob?"

"My dear, figures mean little to me until expressed geometrically. Curves are bold print. I'll give you odds."

"What odds?"

"Don't be suckered, Auntie Cap'n! Pop, I'll take your end of the bet, give you two to one, and spot you a point."

A back rub from Deety is a treat; she has strong hands and knows how. But I answered, "Ladies, I must start lunch. Deety, when we make visual check, let's include Antarctica as well as Greenland, at that break."

"Two points, Pop?" I pretended not to hear.

That same day we trimmed it down to six worlds, all warm, all free of body taboos, all high technology, all acceptably low in population, all free of major war or overt preparations, all with some version of English as the major North American language. It was time to pick a world by inspection on the ground.

How to make contact was much discussed. Hilda chopped it by saying: "One way is to land on the White House lawn and say, 'Take me to your leader!' The other is to be as sneaky as a 'Black Hat.' Let me know when you reach consensus." She went through the bulkhead and dogged the door.

An hour later I rapped on the bulkhead; she rejoined us. "Captain," I reported formally, "we have reached consensus. Each is afraid of the open approach; authorities might confiscate our car, we might wind up as prisoners."

"Yes," she agreed. "Twice we just missed it."

"Precisely. The expression 'sneaky as a "Black Hat" is distasteful-"

"I so intended."

I went doggedly on: "-but sneakiness is not immoral per se. A mouse at a cat show is justified in being inconspicuous; so are we. We merely seek information. I am expendable; therefore I will scout on the ground."

"Hold it. This is unanimous? Deety? Zebbie?"

"No," my daughter answered. "I didn't get a vote. You and I are barred from taking risks. Pregnant, you know."

"I certainly do know! Jacob, I asked for consensus on method. I did not ask for volunteers. I've picked the scout I consider best qualified."

I said, "My dear, I hope you have picked me."

"No, Jacob."

"Then I'm your boy," said Zebbie.

"No, Zebbie. This is spying, not fighting. I'm doing this job myself."

I interrupted, "Hilda, where you go, I go! That's final."

Our captain said gently, "Beloved, I hope you don't stick to that. If you do, we'll elect another skipper. You are my candidate."

"Dear, I was trying to-"

"-take care of me. Nevertheless you are my candidate. Deety is too reckless; Zebbie too cautious. I'll carry out whatever duties you assign, including using the magic spectacles. Are you sticking to that ultimatum?"

"Uh, yes."

"Even though your stubbornness could result in my death? I love you, dear, but I won't take you with me on a spying mission. What happened to that 'All for one and one for all' spirit?"

~Uh..."

"Captain!"

"Yes, Zebbie?"

"You proved that you can be tough with your husband. Can you be tough with yourself? Look me in the eye and tell me that you know more about intelligence than I do. Or that you can fight your way out of a rumpus better than I can."

"Zebbie, this isn't military intelligence. You look me in the eye and tell me that you know more about obstetrics than I do. How do you prepare for leapfrog transfusion and when is it likely to be needed? Define eclampsia. What do you do about placenta previa? I am less likely to get into a rumpus than you are....nd if I do, I'll throw my arms around his neck and cry. However... convince me that you know as much about obstetrics as I do and I'll consider letting You make contacts. In the meantime pick a midwestern town big enough for a fair-sized hospital and public library, and select a point for grounding and rendezvous; you will be in command while I'm gone."

I interrupted. "Hilda, I absolutely forbid-"

"Chief Pilot! Pipe down!" My wife turned her face away from me. "Chief Master at Arms, restore discipline."

"Aye aye, Ma'am! Jake, she means you."

"But-"

"Shut up! Crewmen don't give orders to the CO, and I've had a bellyful of your attempts."

Two hours later I was in Zeb's seat, biting my nails and sweating, while Zeb had my seat. I had given unconditional parole-the alternative having been to go (or be stuffed) through the bulkhead, then wait, locked in. I am not a total fool; I gave my word.

Zeb held us in cloud cover while my daughter, wearing earphones, stayed in contact with Hilda. Gay's cabin speaker was paralleled with the phones so that we could follow in part what went on below. Deety reported, "That fade is from entering a building; I could hear her footsteps. Zebadiah, if I fiddle with the gain, I might miss her as she comes out."

"Don't shift. Wait."

Eternities later we heard Hilda's sweet voice: "I'm heading for rendezvous. I no longer have to pretend that this is a hearing aid-but everybody accepted ~ it as such. You needn't be cautious picking me up; we're leaving."

Five minutes later we bounced and translated at once, then Zeb held her in cruise while Hilda reported:

"No trouble. Ze bewildair' French ladee she zink les Americain' verree gentils. Mais les arts medicals-poof! Infant mortality high, childbirth mortality gruesome. I could have left sooner but I got fascinated."

"Hilda," I protested, "you had me worried to death."

"Jacob, I had to be certain; it's such a nice world otherwise. Other contacts,Y should not take as long as I've solved the money problem."

"How?" Zebadiah asked. "I've been noodling that. There's an even chance that private ownership of gold will be illegal. A standard trick used whenever a government is in trouble."

"Yes, Zebbie-it's illegal there, too. I still have the bullion you had me carry. Instead I sold that heavy gold chain I was wearing. Sorry, Deety; I had to."

"Forget it, Hillbilly. That chain was a way to horde gold. Pop bought it for~ Mama Jane before they clipped the zeroes and remonetized."

"Well... I found a public phone-didn't try to use it; Edison would neve have recognized it. But it had a phone book, so I looked up 'gold'-and foun 'licensed gold dealers' and sold your chain-"

"And now you're stuck with a lot of local money."

"Zebbie! See why I didn't let you go down by yourself? The dealer was 0 course a coin dealer, too-and I bought foreign silver coins, worn, small, oldis, dates without being old enough to be collectors' items. French coins, but h didn't have enough, so I filled out with Belgian, Swiss, and German."

I said, "My dear, the coins you bought there will not be good here. Or at the next analog. Or the next."

"Jacob, who-other than a professional-is certain of designs on foreign cojns?-especially if they are a few years old and a bit worn. I got real silver, none of those alloys that don't have the right ring to them. At most a shopkeeper will phone his bank and ask for the rate. That's how I bought this," my beloved said proudly, pulling out of Deety's biggest purse a World Almanac.

I was not impressed. If she was going to buy a book, why not a technical manual that might contain new art, data Zeb and I could use?

My darling was saying, "We must buy one in each analog we ground in. It's the nearest thing to an encyclopedia less than a kilo mass you'll find. History, law, vital statistics, maps, new inventions, new medicine-I could have skipped the library and learned all I needed from this book. Zebbie! Turn to the list of U.S. Presidents."

"Who cares?" Zeb answered, but did so. Shortly he said, "Who is Eisenhower? This shows him serving one of Harriman's terms and one of Patton's."

"Keep going, Zebbie."

"Okay- No! I refuse to believe it. Us Carters are taught to shoot straight, bathe every month even in the winter, and never run for office."

Two days later Hilda and Zeb, as a French-tourist couple, found the world where we settled.

We slid in quietly, both through the histrionics of our "bewildered French lady" and Zeb's unmalicious chicanery. Sometimes he was our French lady's husband; other times he spoke English slowly with a strong Bavarian accent.

In this analog, the United States (called that, although boundaries differ) is not as smothered in laws, regulations, licensing, and taxes as is our native country. In consequence "illegally entered aliens" do not find it difficult to hide, once they "sling the lingo" and understand local customs.

Hilda and Zeb learned rapidly in a dozen towns, Deety and me "riding shotgun" in the sky. Deety and I learned from them and from radio. Then we moved to the Northwest, "natives" from back east, and coped with our only problem: how to keep Gay Deceiver out of sight.

Hilda and Deety hid her in the Cascades for three days while Zeb and I found and bought a farmhouse outside Tacoma-analog. That night we moved Gay into the barn, slapped white paint on the building's windows, and slept in Gay, with a feeling of being home!

We own six hectares and live in the farmhouse in front of Gay's hideaway. Gay will eventually go underground, protected by reinforced concrete; the barn will become a machine shop. We will build a new house over her bunker. Meanwhile, our old farmhouse is comfortable.

This United States, population under a hundred million, accepts immigrants freely. Zeb considered buying phony papers to let us enter "legally"-but Hilda decided that it was simpler to use Gay to smuggle us while we smuggled Gay. The outcome is the same; we will never be a burden to the state-once we get

our machine shop and electronics lab set up, Zeb and I will "invent" hundreds of gadgets this country lacks.

We seem to be near the warmest part of an interglaciation. Wheat grows where our native world has frozen tundra; the Greenland icecap has vanished; lowlands are under water, coastlines much changed.

Climate and custom encourage light clothing; the preposterous "body modesty" taboo does not exist. Clothing is worn for adornment and for protection- never through "shame." Nakedness is symbolic of innocence-these people derive that symbology from the Bible used in our native culture to justify the exact opposite. The same Bible-I checked. (The Bible is such a gargantuan collection of conflicting values that anyone can "prove" anything from it.)

So this is not a world where alien vermin can hide. A "man" who at all times kept arms and legs covered by long sleeves and long trousers would be as conspicuous as one in armor.

The sects here are mostly Christian-on a Saturday morning one sees families headed for church in their finest Sabbath-go-to-meeting clothes. But, since nakedness is symbolic of innocence, they undress in an anteroom to enter their temple unadorned. One need not attend services to see this; the climate favors light, airy structures that are mostly roof and slender columns.

The Bible affects their penal system, again by selective quotation: "Eye for eye, tooth for tooth-"

This results in a fluid code, with no intent to rehabilitate but to make the punishment fit the crime. I saw an example four days after we settled. I was driving our steam wagon and encountered a road block. A policeman told me that I could take a detour or wait twenty minutes; the highway was being used to balance a reckless driver.

I elected to pull over and wait. A man was staked with one leg stretched out at a right angle. A police wagon drove down that cleared highway, ran over his leg, turned and drove back over it.

An ambulance was waiting-but nothing was done for a timed seventeen minutes. Then surgeons amputated on the spot; the ambulance took him away and the block was removed.

I went back to my wagon and shook for many minutes, then returned home, driving cautiously. I didn't tell our family. But it was reported on radio and the evening paper had pictures-so I admitted that I had seen it. The paper noted that the criminal's insurance had been insufficient to cover the court's award to the victim, so the reckless driver had not only lost his left leg (as had his victim) but also had had most of his worldly goods confiscated.

There is no speed limit and traffic regulations are merely advisory-but there are extremely few accidents. I have never encountered such polite and careful drivers.

A poisoner is killed by poison; an arsonist is burned to death. I won't describe what is done to a rapist. But poisoning, arson, and rape are almost unknown.

My encounter with this brutal system of "balancing" almost caused me to think that my dear wife had been mistaken in picking this world-we should move! I am no longer certain. This place has no prisons, almost no crime, and

it is the safest place to raise children I've ever heard of.

We are having to relearn history. "The Years of Rising Waters" explain themselves. The change came before 1600; by 1620 new shorelines had stabilized. That had endless consequences-mass migrations, political disorder, a return of the Black Death, and much immigration from Great Britain and the lowlands of Europe while the waters rose.

Slavery never established here. Indentures, yes-many a man indentured himself to get his family away from doomed land. But the circumstances that could have created "King Cotton" were destroyed by rising waters. There are citizens here of African descent but their ancestors were not slaves. Some have indentured ancestors, no doubt-but everyone claims indentured ancestors even if they have to invent them.

Some aspects of history seem to be taboo. I've given up trying to find out what happened in 1965: "The Year They Hanged the Lawyers." When I asked a librarian for a book on that year and decade, he wanted to know why I needed access to records in locked vaults. I left without giving my name. There is free speech-but some subjects are not discussed. Since they are never defined, we try to be careful.

But there is no category "Lawyers" in the telephone book.

Taxation is low, simple-and contains a surprise. The Federal government is supported by a head tax paid by the States, and is mostly for military and foreign affairs. This state derives most of its revenue from real estate taxes. It is a uniform rate set annually, with no property exempted, not even churches, hospitals, or schools-or roads; the best roads are toll roads. The surprise lies in this: The owner appraises his own property.

There is a sting in the tail: Anyone can buy property against the owner's wishes at the appraisal the owner placed on it. The owner can hang on only by raising his appraisal at once to a figure so high that no buyer wants it- and pay three years back taxes at his new appraisal.

This strikes me as loaded with inequity. What if it's a family homestead with great sentimental value? Zeb laughs at me. "Jake, if anybody wants six hectares of hilly land and second-growth timber, we take the profit, climb into Gay-and buy more worthless land elsewhere. In a poker game, you figure what's in the pot."