The Fountains of Paradise

"My men are already digging; I'll let you know if they find anything. Personally, I feel it's all his own work – I recognise the hallmarks of the genuine article. But you haven't answered my question."

"I haven't decided; I'm still trying to digest my breakfast. What do you think I should do?"

"Simple. Arrange a demonstration. When can you fix it?"

"In five years, if all goes well."

"That's ridiculous. You've got your first cable in position…"

"Not cable – tape."

"Don't quibble. What load can it carry?"

"Oh – at the Earth end, a mere five hundred tons."

"There you are. Offer Donald Duck a ride."

"I wouldn't guarantee his safety."

"Would you guarantee mine?"

"You're not serious!"

"I'm always serious, at this hour of the morning. It's time I did another story on the Tower anyway. That capsule mock-up is very pretty, but it doesn't do anything. My viewers like action, and so do I. The last time we met, you showed me drawings of those little cars the engineers will use to run up and down the cable – I mean tapes. What did you call them?"

"Spiders."

"Ugh – that's right. I was fascinated by the idea. Here's something that has never been possible before, by any technology. For the first time you could sit still in the sky, even above the atmosphere, and watch the earth beneath – something that no spacecraft can ever do. I'd like to be the first to describe the sensation. And clip Donald Duck's wings at the same time."

Morgan waited for a full five seconds, staring Maxine straight in the eyes, before he decided that she was perfectly serious.

"I can understand," he said rather wearily, "just how a poor struggling young media-girl, trying desperately to make a name for herself, would jump at such an opportunity. I don't want to blight a promising career, but the answer is definitely no."

The doyen of media-persons emitted several unladylike, and even ungentlemanly, words, not commonly transmitted over public circuits.

"Before I strangle you in your own hyperfilament, Van," she continued, "why not?"

"Well, if anything went wrong, I'd never forgive myself."

"Spare the crocodile tears. Of course, my untimely demise would be a major tragedy – for your project. But I wouldn't dream of going until you'd made all the tests necessary, and were sure it was one hundred percent safe."

"It would look too much like a stunt."

"As the Victorians (or was it the Elizabethans?) used to say – so what?"

"Look, Maxine – there's a flash that New Zealand has just sunk – they'll need you in the studio. But thanks for the generous offer."

"Dr. Vannevar Morgan – I know exactly why you're turning me down. You want to be the first."

"As the Victorians used to say – so what?"

"Touché. But I'm warning you, Van – just as soon as you have one of those spiders working, you'll be hearing from me again."

Morgan shook his head. "Sorry, Maxine," he answered. "Not a chance –"

35. Starglider Plus Eighty

Extract from God and Starholme. (Mandala Press, Moscow, 2149)

Exactly eighty years ago, the robot interstellar probe now known as Starglider entered the Solar System, and conducted its brief but historic dialogue with the human race. For the first time, we knew what we had always suspected; that ours was not the only intelligence in the universe, and that out among the stars were far older, and perhaps far wiser, civilisations.

After that encounter, nothing would ever be the same again. And yet, paradoxically, in many ways very little has changed. Mankind still goes about its business, much as it has always done. How often do we stop to think that the Starholmers, back on their own planet, have already known of our existence for twenty-eight years – or that, almost certainly, we shall be receiving their first direct messages only twenty-four years from now? And what if, as some have suggested, they themselves are already on the way?

Men have an extraordinary, and perhaps fortunate, ability to tune out of their consciousness the most awesome future possibilities. The Roman farmer, ploughing the slopes of Vesuvius, gave no thought to the mountain smoking overhead. Half the twentieth century lived with the Hydrogen Bomb – half the twenty-first with the Golgotha virus. We have learned to live with the threat – or the promise – of Starholme.

Starglider showed us many strange worlds and races, but it revealed almost no advanced technology, and so had minimal impact upon the technically-orientated aspects of our culture. Was this accidental, or the result of some deliberate policy? There are many questions one would like to ask Starglider, now that it is too late – or too early.

On the other hand, it did discuss many matters of philosophy and religion, and in these fields its influence was profound. Although the phrase nowhere occurs in the transcripts, Starglider is generally credited with the famous aphorism "Belief in God is apparently a psychological artefact of mammalian reproduction".