arm enough for liquid water to exist -- and it reminded him of an old wood-cut he had seen of medieval London. Then he noticed that Chandler was looking at him with an expression of amusement... and the illusion vanished as he realized the scale of the 'city'. 'The Ganymedeans,' he said dryly, 'must have been rather large, to have made roads five or ten kilometres wide.' 'Twenty in some places. Impressive, isn't it? And all the result of ice stretching and contracting. Mother Nature is ingenious... I could show you some patterns that look even more artificial, though they're not as large as this one.' 'When I was a boy, there was a big fuss about a face on Mars. Of course, it turned out to be a hill that had been carved by sand-storms... lots of similar ones in Earth's deserts.' 'Didn't someone say that history always repeats itself? Same sort of nonsense happened with Ganymede City -- some nuts claimed it had been built by aliens. But I'm afraid it won't be around much longer.' 'Why?' asked Poole in surprise. 'It's already started to collapse, as Lucifer melts the permafrost. You won't recognize Ganymede in another hundred years... there's the edge of Lake Gilgamesh -- if you look carefully -- over on the right-' 'I see what you mean. What's happening -- surely the water's not boiling, even at this low pressure?' 'Electrolysis plant. Don't know how many skillions of kilograms of oxygen a day. Of course, the hydrogen goes up and gets lost -- we hope.' Chandler's voice trailed off into silence. Then he resumed, in an unusually diffident tone: 'All that beautiful water down there -- Ganymede doesn't need half of it! Don't tell anyone, but I've been working out ways of getting some to Venus.' 'Easier than nudging comets?' 'As far as energy is concerned, yes -- Ganymede's escape velocity is only three klicks per second. And much, much quicker -- years instead of decades. But there are a few practical difficulties.. 'I can appreciate that. Would you shoot it off by a mass-launcher?' 'Oh no -- I'd use towers reaching up through the atmosphere, like the ones on Earth, but much smaller. We'd pump the water up to the top, freeze it down to near absolute zero, and let Ganymede sling it off in the right direction as it rotated. There would be some evaporation loss in transit, but most of it would arrive -- what's so funny?' 'Sorry -- I'm not laughing at the idea -- it makes good sense. But you've brought back such a vivid memory. We used to have a garden sprinkler -- driven round and round by its water jets. What you're planning is the same thing -- on a slightly bigger scale... using a whole world...' Suddenly, another image from his past obliterated all else. Poole remembered how, in those hot Arizona days, he and Rikki had loved to chase each other through the clouds of moving mist, from the slowly revolving spray of the garden sprinkler. Captain Chandler was a much more sensitive man than he pretended to be: he knew when it was time to leave. 'Gotta get back to the bridge,' he said gruffly. 'See you when we land at Anubis.' 18 Grand Hotel The Grand Ganymede Hotel -- inevitably known throughout the Solar System as 'Hotel Grannymede' was certainly not grand, and would be lucky to get a rating of one-and-a-half stars on Earth. As the nearest competition was several hundred million kilometres away, the management felt little need to exert itself unduly. Yet Poole had no complaints, though he often wished that Danil was still around, to help him with the mechanics of life and to communicate more efficiently with the semi-intelligent devices with which he was surrounded. He had known a brief moment of panic when the door had closed behind the (human) bellboy, who had apparently been too awed by his guest to explain how any of the room's services functioned. After five minutes of fruitless talking to the unresponsive walls, Poole had finally made contact with a system that understood his accent and his commands. What an 'All Worlds' news item it would have made -- 'Historic astronaut starves to death, trapped in Ganymede hotel room'! And there would have been a double irony. Perhaps the naming of the Grannymede's only luxury suite was inevitable, but it had been a real shock to meet an ancient life-size holo of his old shipmate, in full-dress uniform, as he was led into -- the Bowman Suite. Poole even recognized the image: his own official portrait had been made at the same time, a few days before the mission began. He soon discovered that most of his Goliath crewmates had domestic arrangements in Anubis, and were anxious for him to meet their Significant Others during the ship's planned twenty-day stop. Almost immediately he was caught up in the social and professional life of this frontier settlement, and it was Africa Tower that now seemed a distant dream. Like many Americans, in their secret hearts, Poole had a nostalgic affection for small communities where everyone knew everyone else -- in the real world, and not the virtual one of cyberspace. Anubis, with a resident population less than that of his remembered Flagstaff, was not a bad approximation to this ideal. The three main pressure domes, each two kilometres in diameter, stood on a plateau overlooking an ice-field which stretched unbroken to the horizon. Ganymede's second sun -- once known as Jupiter -- would never give sufficient heat to melt the polar caps. This was the principal reason for establishing Anubis in such an inhospitable spot: the city's foundations were not likely to collapse for at least several centuries. And inside the domes, it was easy to be completely indifferent to the outside world. Poole, when he had mastered the mechanisms of the Bowman Suite, discovered that he had a limited but impressive choice of environments. He could sit beneath palm trees on a Pacific beach, listening to the gentle murmur of the waves -- or, if he preferred, the roar of a tropical hurricane. He could fly slowly along the peaks of the Himalayas, or down the immense canyons of Mariner Valley. He could walk through the gardens of Versailles or down the streets of half a dozen great cities, at several widely spaced times in their history. Even if the Hotel Grannymede was not one of the Solar System's most highly acclaimed resorts, it boasted facilities which would have astounded all its more famous predecessors on Earth. But it was ridiculous to indulge in terrestrial nostalgia, when he had come half-way across the Solar System to visit a strange new world. After some experimenting, Poole arranged a compromise, for enjoyment -- and inspiration --during his steadily fewer moments of leisure. To his great regret, he had never been to Egypt, so it was delightful to relax beneath the gaze of the Sphinx -- as it was before its controversial 'restoration' -- and to watch tourists scrambling up the massive blocks of the Great Pyramid. The illusion was perfect, apart from the no-man's-land where the desert clashed with the (slightly worn) carpet of the Bowman Suite. The sky, however, was one that no human eyes had seen until five thousand years after the last stone was laid at Giza. But it was not an illusion; it was the complex and ever-changing reality of Ganymede. Because this world -- like its companions -- had been robbed of its spin aeons ago by the tidal drag of Jupiter, the new sun born from the giant planet hung motionless in its sky. One side of Ganymede was in perpetual Lucifer-light -- and although the other hemisphere was often referred to as the 'Night Land', that designation was as misleading as the much earlier phrase 'The dark side of the Moon'. Like the lunar Farside, Ganymede's 'Night Land' had the brilliant light of old Sol for half of its long day. By a coincidence more confusing than useful, Ganymede took almost exactly one week -- seven days, three hours --to orbit its primary. Attempts to create a 'One Mede day = one Earth week' calendar had generated so much chaos that they had been abandoned centuries ago. Like all the other residents of the Solar System, the locals employed Universal Time, identifying their twenty-four-hour standard days by numbers rather than names. Since Ganymede's newborn atmosphere was still extremely thin and almost cloudless, the parade of heavenly bodies provided a never-ending spectacle. At their closest, Io and Callisto each appeared about half the size of the Moon as seen from Earth -- but that was the only thing they had in common. Io was so close to Lucifer that it took less than two days to race around its orbit, and showed visible movement even in a matter of minutes. Callisto, at over four times Io's distance, required two Mede days -- or sixteen Earth ones -- to complete its leisurely circuit. The physical contrast between the two worlds was even more remarkable. Deep-frozen Callisto had been almost unchanged by Jupiter's conversion into a mini-sun: it was still a wasteland of shallow ice craters, so closely packed that there was not a single spot on the entire satellite that had escaped from multiple impacts, in the days when Jupiter's enormous gravity field was competing with Saturn's to gather up the debris of the outer Solar System. Since then, apart from a few stray shots, nothing had happened for several billion years. On Io, something was happening every week. As a local wit had remarked, before the creation of Lucifer it had been Hell -- now it was Hell warmed up. Often, Poole would zoom into that burning landscape and look into the sulphurous throats of volcanoes that were continually reshaping an area larger than Africa. Sometimes incandescent fountains would soar briefly hundreds of kilometres into space, like gigantic trees of fire growing on a lifeless world. As the floods of molten sulphur spread out from volcanoes and vents, the versatile element changed through a narrow spectrum of reds and oranges and yellows when, chameleon-like, it was transformed into its vari-coloured allotropes. Before the dawn of the Space Age, no one had ever imagined that such a world existed. Fascinating though it was to observe it from his comfortable vantage point, Poole found it hard to believe that men had ever risked landing there, where even robots feared to tread... His main interest, however, was Europa, which at its closest appeared almost exactly the same size as Earth's solitary Moon, but raced through its phases in only four days. Though Poole had been quite unconscious of the symbolism when he chose his private landscape, it now seemed wholly appropriate that Europa should hang in the sky above another great enigma -- the Sphinx. Even with no magnification, when he requested the naked-eye view, Poole could see how greatly Europa had changed in the thousand years since Discovery had set out for Jupiter. The spider's web of narrow bands and lines that had once completely enveloped the smallest of the four Galilean satellites had vanished, except around the poles. Here the global crust of kilometre-thick ice remained unmelted by the warmth of Europa's new sun: elsewhere, virgin oceans seethed and boiled in the thin atmosphere, at what would have been comfortable room temperature on Earth. It was also a comfortable temperature to the creatures who had emerged, after the melting of the unbroken ice shield that had both trapped and protected them. Orbiting spysats, showing details only centimetres across, had watched one Europan species starting to evolve into an amphibious stage: though they still spent much of their time underwater, the 'Europs' had even begun the construction of simple buildings. That this could happen in a mere thousand years was astonishing, but no one doubted that the explanation lay in the last and greatest of the Monoliths -- the many-kilometre-long 'Great Wall' standing on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. And no one doubted that, in its own mysterious way, it was watching over the experiment it had started on this world -- as it had done on Earth four million years before. 19 The Madness of Mankind MISS PRINGLE FILE INDRA My dear Indra -- sorry I've not even voice-mailed you before -- usual excuse, of course, so I won't bother to give it. To answer your question -- yes, I'm now feeling quite at home at the Grannymede, but am spending less and less time there, though I've been enjoying the sky display I've had piped into my suite. Last night the Io flux-tube put on a fine performance -- that's a kind of lightning discharge between Io and Jupiter -- I mean Lucifer. Rather like Earth's aurora, but much more spectacular. Discovered by the radio astronomers even before I was born. And talking about ancient times -- did you know that Anubis has a Sheriff? I think that's overdoing the frontier spirit. Reminds me of the stories my grandfather used to tell me about Arizona... Must try some of them on the Medes... This may sound silly -- I'm still not used to being in the Bowman Suite. I keep looking over my shoulder... How do I spend my time? Much the same as in Africa Tower. I'm meeting the local intelligentsia, though as you might expect they're rather thin on the ground (hope no one is bugging this). And I've interacted -- real and virtual -- with the educational system -- very good, it seems, though more technically oriented than you'd approve. That's inevitable, of course, in this hostile environment... But it's helped me to understand why people live here. There's a challenge -- a sense of purpose, if you like -- that I seldom found on Earth. It's true that most of the Medes were born here, so don't know any other home. Though they're -- usually -- too polite to say so, they think that the Home Planet is becoming decadent. Are you? And if so, what are you Terries -- as the locals call you -- going to do about it? One of the teenage classes I've met hopes to wake you up. They're drawing up elaborate Top Secret plans for the Invasion of Earth. Don't say I didn't warn you... I've made one trip outside Anubis, into the so-called Night Land, where they never see Lucifer. Ten of us --Chandler, two of Goliath's crew, six Medes -- went into Farside, and chased the Sun down to the horizon so it really was night. Awesome -- much like polar winters on Earth, but with the sky completely black... almost felt I was in space. We could see all the Galileans beautifully, and watched Europa eclipse -- sorry, occult -- Io. Of course, the trip had been timed so we could observe this... Several of the smaller satellites were just also visible, but the double star Earth-Moon was much more conspicuous. Did I feel homesick? Frankly, no -- though I miss my new friends back there... And I'm sorry -- I still haven't met Dr Khan, though he's left several messages for me. I promise to do it in the next few days -- Earth days, not Mede ones! Best wishes to Joe -- regards to Danil, if you know what's happened to him -- is he a real person again? -- and my love to yourself. STORE TRANSMIT Back in Poole's century, a person's name often gave a clue to his/her appearance, but that was no longer true thirty generations later. Dr Theodore Khan turned out to be a Nordic blond who might have looked more at home in a Viking longboat than ravaging the steppes of Central Asia: however, he would not have been too impressive in either role, being less than a hundred and fifty centimetres tall. Poole could not resist a little amateur psychoanalysis: small people were often aggressive over-achievers -- which, from Indra Wallace's hints, appeared to be a good description of Ganymede's sole resident philosopher. Khan probably needed these qualifications, to survive in such a practically-minded society. Anubis City was far too small to boast a university campus -- a luxury which still existed on the other worlds, though many believed that the telecommunications revolution had made it obsolete. Instead, it had something much more appropriate, as well as centuries older -- an Academy, complete with a grove of olive trees that would have fooled Plato himself, until he had attempted to walk through it. Indra's joke about departments of philosophy requiring no more equipment than blackboards clearly did not apply in this sophisticated environment. 'It's built to hold seven people,' said Dr Khan proudly, when they had settled down on chairs obviously designed to be not-too-comfortable, 'because that's the maximum one can efficiently interact with. And, if you count the ghost of Socrates, it was the number present when Phaedo delivered his famous address...' 'The one on the immortality of the soul?' Khan was so obviously surprised that Poole could not help laughing. 'I took a crash course in philosophy just before I graduated -- when the syllabus was planned, someone decided that we hairy-knuckled engineers should be exposed to a little culture.' 'I'm delighted to hear it. That makes things so much easier. You know -- I still can't credit my luck. Your arrival here almost tempts me to believe in miracles! I'd even thought of going to Earth to meet you -- has dear Indra told you about my -- ah -- obsession?' 'No,' Poole answered, not altogether truthfully. Dr Khan looked very pleased; he was clearly delighted to find a new audience. 'You may have heard me called an atheist, but that's not quite true. Atheism is unprovable, so uninteresting. Equally, however unlikely it is, we can never be certain that God once existed -- and has now shot off to infinity, where no one can ever find him... Like Gautama Buddha, I take no position on this subject. My field of interest is the psychopathology known as Religion.' 'Psychopathology? That's a harsh judgement.' 'Amply justified by history. Imagine that you're an intelligent extraterrestrial, concerned only with verifiable truths. You discover a species which has divided itself into thousands -- no by now millions -- of tribal groups holding an incredible variety of beliefs about the origin of the universe and the way to behave in it. Although many of them have ideas in common, even when there's a ninety-nine per cent overlap, the remaining one per cent is enough to set them killing and torturing each other, over trivial points of doctrine, utterly meaningless to outsiders.' 'How to account for such irrational behaviour? Lucretius hit it on the nail when he said that religion was the by-product of fear -- a reaction to a mysterious and often hostile universe. For much of human prehistory, it may have been a necessary evil -- but why was it so much more evil than necessary -- and why did it survive when it was no longer necessary? 'I said evil -- and I mean it, because fear leads to cruelty. The slightest knowledge of the Inquisition makes one ashamed to belong to the human species... One of the most revolting books ever published was the Hammer of Witches, written by a couple of sadistic perverts and describing the tortures the Church authorized -- encouraged! -- to extract "confessions" from thousands of harmless old women, before it burned them alive... The Pope himself wrote an approving foreword!' 'But most of the other religions, with a few honourable exceptions, were just as bad as Christianity... Even in your century, little boys were kept chained and whipped until they'd memorized whole volumes of pious gibberish, and robbed of their childhood and manhood to become monks...' 'Perhaps the most baffling aspect of the whole affair is how obvious madmen, century after century, would proclaim that they -- and they alone! -- had received messages from God. If all the messages had agreed, that would have settled the matter. But of course they were wildly discordant -- which never prevented self-styled messiahs from gathering hundreds -- sometimes millions -- of adherents, who would fight to the death against equally deluded believers of a microscopically differing faith.' Poole thought it was about time he got a word in edgeways. 'You've reminded me of something that happened in my home-town when I was a kid. A holy man -- quote, unquote -- set up shop, claimed he could work miracles -- and collected a crowd of devotees in next to no time. And they weren't ignorant or illiterate; often they came from the best families. Every Sunday I used to see expensive cars parked round his -- ah -- temple.' 'The "Rasputin Syndrome", it's been called: there are millions of such cases, all through history, in every country. And about one time in a thousand the cult survives for a couple of generations. What happened in this case?' 'Well, the competition was very unhappy, and did its best to discredit him. Wish I could remember his name -- he used a long Indian one -- Swami something-or-other -- but it turned out he came from Alabama. One of his tricks was to produce holy objects out of thin air, and hand them to his worshippers. As it happened, our local rabbi was an amateur conjuror, and gave public demonstrations showing exactly how it was done. Didn't make the slightest difference -- the faithful said that their man's magic was real, and the rabbi was just jealous.' 'At one time, I'm sorry to say, Mother took the rascal seriously -- it was soon after Dad had run off, which may have had something to do with it -- and dragged me to one of his sessions. I was only about ten, but I thought I'd never seen anyone so unpleasant-looking. He had a beard that could have held several birds' nests, and probably did.' 'He sounds like the standard model. How long did he flourish?' 'Three or four years. And then he had to leave town in a hurry: he was caught running teenage orgies. Of course, he claimed he was using mystical soul-saving techniques. And you won't believe this --, 'Try me.' 'Even then, lots of his dupes still had faith in him. Their god could do no wrong, so he must have been framed.' 'Framed?' 'Sorry -- convicted by faked evidence -- sometimes used by the police to catch criminals, when all else fails.' 'Hmm. Well, your swami was perfectly typical: I'm rather disappointed. But he does help to prove my case --that most of humanity has always been insane, at least some of the time.' 'Rather an unrepresentative sample -- one small Flagstaff suburb.' 'True, but I could multiply it by thousands -- not only in your century, but all down the ages. There's never been anything, however absurd, that countless people weren't prepared to believe, often so passionately that they'd fight to the death rather than abandon their illusions. To me, that's a good operational definition of insanity.' 'Would you argue that anyone with strong religious beliefs was insane?' 'In a strictly technical sense, yes -- if they really were sincere, and not hypocrites. As I suspect ninety per cent were.' 'I'm certain that Rabbi Berenstein was sincere -- and he was one of the sanest men I ever knew, as well as one of the finest. And how do you account for this? The only real genius I ever met was Dr Chandra, who led the HAL project. I once had to go into his office -- there was no reply when I knocked, and I thought it was unoccupied.' 'He was praying to a group of fantastic little bronze statues, draped with flowers. One of them looked like an elephant... another had more than the regular number of arms... I was quite embarrassed, but luckily he didn't hear me and I tiptoed out. Would you say he was insane?' 'You've chosen a bad example: genius often is! So let's say: not insane, but mentally impaired, owing to childhood conditioning. The Jesuits claimed: "Give me a boy for six years, and he is mine for life." If they'd got hold of little Chandra in time, he'd have been a devout Catholic -- not a Hindu.' 'Possibly. But I'm puzzled -- why were you so anxious to meet me? I'm afraid I've never been a devout anything. What have I got to do with all this?' Slowly, and with the obvious enjoyment of a man unburdening himself of a heavy, long-hoarded secret, Dr Khan told him. 20 Apostate RECORD POOLE Hello, Frank... So you've finally met Ted. Yes, you could call him a crank -- if you define that as an enthusiast with no sense of humour. But cranks often get that way because they know a Big Truth -- can, you hear my capitals? -- and no one will listen... I'm glad you did -- and I suggest you take him quite seriously. You said you were surprised to see a Pope's portrait prominently displayed in Ted's apartment. That would have been his hero, Pius XX -- I'm sure I mentioned him to you. Look him up -- he's usually called the Impius! It's a fascinating story, and exactly parallels something that happened just before you were born. You must know how Mikhail Gorbachev, the President of the Soviet Empire, brought about its dissolution at the end of the twentieth century, by exposing its crimes and excesses. He didn't intend to go that far -- he'd hoped to reform it, but that was no longer possible. We'll never know if Pius XX had the same idea, because he was assassinated by a demented cardinal soon after he'd horrified the world by releasing the secret files of the Inquisition... The religious were still shaken by the discovery of TMA ZERO only a few decades earlier -- that had a great impact on Pius XX, and certainly influenced his actions... But you still haven't told me how Ted, that old cryptoDeist, thinks you can help him in his search for God. I believe he's still mad at him for hiding so successfully. Better not say I told you that. On second thoughts, why not? Love -- Indra. STORE TRANSMIT MISS PRINGLE RECORD Hello -- Indra -- I've had another session with Dr Ted, though I've still not told him just why you think he's angry with God! But I've had some very interesting arguments -- no, dialogues -- with him, though he does most of the talking. Never thought I'd get into philosophy again after all these years of engineering. Perhaps I had to go through them first, to appreciate it. Wonder how he'd grade me as a student? Yesterday I tried this line of approach, to see his reaction. Perhaps it's original, though I doubt it. Thought you'd like to hear it -- will be interested in your comments. Here's our discussion --MISS PRINGLE COPY AUDIO 94. 'Surely, Ted, you can't deny that most of the greatest works of human art have been inspired by religious devotion. Doesn't that prove something?' 'Yes -- but not in a way that will give much comfort to any believers! From time to time, people amuse themselves making lists of the Biggests and Greatests and Bests -- I'm sure that was a popular entertainment in your day.' 'It certainly was.' 'Well, there have been some famous attempts to do this with the arts. Of course such lists can't establish absolute -- eternal -- values, but they're interesting and show how tastes change from age to age.' 'The last list I saw -- it was on the Earth Artnet only a few years ago -- was divided into Architecture, Music, Visual Arts... I remember a few of the examples... the Parthenon, the Taj Mahal... Bach's Toccata and Fugue was first in music, followed by Verdi's Requiem Mass. In art -- the Mona Lisa, of course. Then -- not sure of the order -- a group of Buddha statues somewhere in Ceylon, and the golden death-mask of young King Tut. 'Even if I could remember all the others -- which of course I can't -- it doesn't matter: the important thing is their cultural and religious backgrounds. Overall, no single religion dominated -- except in music. And that could be due to a purely technological accident: the organ and the other pre-electronic musical instruments were perfected in the Christianized West. It could have worked out quite differently... if, for example, the Greeks or the Chinese had regarded machines as something more than toys. 'But what really settles the argument, as far as I'm concerned, is the general consensus about the single greatest work of human art. Over and over again, in almost every listing -- it's Angkor Wat. Yet the religion that inspired that has been extinct for centuries -- no one even knows precisely what it was, except that it involved hundreds of gods, not merely one!' 'Wish I could have thrown that at dear old Rabbi Berenstein -- I'm sure he'd have had a good answer.' 'I don't doubt it. I wish I could have met him myself. And I'm glad he never lived to see what happened to Israel.' END AUDIO. There you have it, Indra. Wish the Grannymede had Angkor Wat on its menu -- I've never seen it -- but you can't have everything... Now, the question you really wanted answered... why is Dr Ted so delighted that I'm here? As you know, he's convinced that the key to many mysteries lies on Europa -- where no one has been allowed to land for a thousand years. He thinks I may be an exception. He believes I have a friend there. Yes -- Dave Bowman, or whatever he's now become... We know that he survived being drawn into the Big Brother Monolith -- and somehow revisited Earth afterwards. But there's more, that I didn't know. Very few people do, because the Medes are embarrassed to talk about it... Ted Khan has spent years collecting the evidence, and is now quite certain of the facts -- even though he can't explain them. On at least six occasions, about a century apart, reliable observers here in Anubis have reported seeing an -- apparition -- just like the one that Heywood Floyd met aboard Discovery. Though not one of them knew about that incident, they were all able to identify Dave when they were shown his hologram. And there was another sighting aboard a survey ship that made a close approach to Europa, six hundred years ago... Individually, no one would take these cases seriously -- but altogether they make a pattern. Ted's quite sure that Dave Bowman survives in some form, presumably associated with the Monolith we call the Great Wall. And he still has some interest in our affairs. Though he's made no attempt at communication, Ted hopes we can make contact. He believes that I'm the only human who can do it... I'm still trying to make up my mind. Tomorrow, I'll talk it over with Captain Chandler. Will let you know what we decide. Love, Frank. STORE TRANSMIT INDRA 21 Quarantine 'Do you believe in ghosts, Dim?' 'Certainly not: but like every sensible man, I'm afraid of them. Why do you ask?' 'If it wasn't a ghost, it was the most vivid dream I've ever had. Last night I had a conversation with Dave Bowman.' Poole knew that Captain Chandler would take him seriously, when the occasion required; nor was he disappointed. 'Interesting -- but there's an obvious explanation. You've been living here in the Bowman Suite, for Deus's sake! You told me yourself it feels haunted.' 'I'm sure -- well, ninety-nine per cent sure -- that you're right, and the whole thing was prompted by the discussions I've been having with Prof. Ted. Have you heard the reports that Dave Bowman occasionally appears in Anubis? About once every hundred years? Just as he did to Dr Floyd aboard Discovery, after she'd been reactivated.' 'What happened there? I've heard vague stories, but never taken them seriously.' 'Dr Khan does -- and so do I -- I've seen the original recordings. Floyd's sitting in my old chair when a kind of dust-cloud forms behind him, and shapes itself into Dave -- though only the head has detail. Then it gives that famous message, warning him to leave.' 'Who wouldn't have? But that was a thousand years ago. Plenty of time to fake it.' 'What would be the point? Khan and I were looking at it yesterday. I'd bet my life it's authentic.' 'As a matter of fact, I agree with you. And I have heard those reports...' Chandler's voice trailed away, and he looked slightly embarrassed. 'Long time ago, I had a girl-friend here in Anubis. She told me that her grandfather had seen Bowman. I laughed.' 'I wonder if Ted has that sighting on his list. Could you put him in touch with your friend?' 'Er -- rather not. We haven't spoken for years. For all I know, she may be on the Moon, or Mars... Anyway, why is Professor Ted interested?' 'That's what I really wanted to discuss with you.' 'Sounds ominous. Go ahead,' 'Ted thinks that Dave Bowman -- or whatever he's become -- may still exist -- up there on Europa.' 'After a thousand years?' 'Well -- look at me.' 'One sample is poor statistics, my maths prof. used to say. But go on.' 'It's a complicated story -- or maybe a jigsaw, with most of the pieces missing. But it's generally agreed that something crucial happened to our ancestors when that Monolith appeared in Africa, four million years ago. It marks a turning point in prehistory -- the first appearance of tools -- and weapons -- and religion... That can't be pure coincidence. The Monolith must have done something to us -- surely it couldn't have just stood there, passively accepting worship...' 'Ted's fond of quoting a famous palaeontologist who said "TMA ZERO gave us an evolutionary kick in the pants". He argues that the kick wasn't in a wholly desirable direction. Did we have to become so mean and nasty to survive? Maybe we did... As I understand him, Ted believes that there's something fundamentally wrong with the wiring of our brains, which makes us incapable of consistent logical thinking. To make matters worse, though all creatures need a certain amount of aggressiveness to survive, we seem to have far more than is absolutely necessary. And no other animal tortures its fellows as we do. Is this an evolutionary accident -- a piece of genetic bad luck? 'It's also widely agreed that TMA ONE was planted on the Moon to keep track of the project -- experiment -- whatever it was -- and to report to Jupiter -- the obvious place for Solar System Mission Control. That's why another Monolith -- Big Brother -- was waiting there. Had been waiting four million years, when Discovery arrived. Agreed so far?' 'Yes; I've always thought that was the most plausible theory.' 'Now for the more speculative stuff. Bowman was apparently swallowed up by Big Brother, yet something of his personality seems to have survived. Twenty years after that encounter with Heywood Floyd in the second Jupiter expedition, they had another contact aboard Universe, when Floyd joined it for the 2061 rendezvous with Halley's Comet. At least, so he tells us in his memoirs -- though he was well over a hundred when he dictated them.' 'Could have been senile.' 'Not according to all the contemporary accounts! Also -- perhaps even more significant -- his grandson Chris had some equally weird experiences when Galaxy made its forced landing on Europa. And, of course, that's where the Monolith -- or a Monolith -- is, right now! Surrounded by Europans...' 'I'm beginning to see what Dr Ted's driving at. This is where we came in -- the whole cycle's starting over again. The Europs are being groomed for stardom.' 'Exactly -- everything fits. Jupiter ignited to give them a sun, to thaw out their frozen world. The warning to us to keep our distance -- presumably so that we wouldn't interfere with their development...' 'Where have I heard that idea before? Of course, Frank -- it goes back a thousand years -- to your own time! "The Prime Directive"! We still get lots of laughs from those old Star Trek programmes.' 'Did I ever tell you I once met some of the actors? They would have been surprised to see me now... And I've always had two thoughts about that non-interference policy. The Monolith certainly violated it with us, back there in Africa. One might argue that did have disastrous results...' 'So better luck next time -- on Europa!' Poole laughed, without much humour. 'Khan used those exact words.' 'And what does he think we should do about it? Above all -- where do you come into the picture?' 'First of all, we must find what's really happening on Europa -- and why. Merely observing it from space is not enough.' 'What else can we do? All the probes the Medes have sent there were blown up, just before landing.' 'And ever since the mission to rescue Galaxy, crew-carrying ships have been diverted by some field of force, which no one can figure out. Very interesting: it proves that whatever is down there is protective, but not malevolent. And -- this is the important point -- it must have some way of scanning what's on the way. It can distinguish between robots and humans.' 'More than I can do, sometimes. Go on.' 'Well, Ted thinks there's one human being who might make it down to the surface of Europa -- because his old friend is there, and may have some influence with the 'powers-that-be.' Captain Dimitri Chandler gave a long, low whistle. 'And you're willing to risk it?' 'Yes: what have I got to lose?' 'One valuable shuttle craft, if I know what you have in mind. Is that why you've been learning to fly Falcon?' 'Well, now that you mention it... the idea had occurred to me.' 'I'll have to think it over -- I'll admit I'm intrigued, but there are lots of problems.' 'Knowing you, I'm sure they won't stand in the way -- once you've decided to help me.' 22 Venture MISS PRINGLE LIST PRIORITY MESSAGES FROM EARTH RECORD Dear Indra -- I'm not trying to be dramatic, but this may be my last message from Ganymede. By the time you receive it, I will be on my way to Europa. Though it's a sudden decision -- and no one is more surprised than I am -- I've thought it over very carefully. As you'll have guessed, Ted Khan is largely responsible... let him do the explaining, if I don't come back. Please don't misunderstand me -- in no way do I regard this as a suicide mission! But I'm ninety per cent convinced by Ted's arguments, and he's aroused my curiosity so much that I'd never forgive myself if I turned down this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Maybe I should say once in two lifetimes... I'm flying Goliath's little one-person shuttle Falcon -- how I'd have loved to demonstrate her to my old colleagues back at the Space Administration! Judging by past records, the most likely outcome is that I'll be diverted away from Europa before I can land. Even this will teach me something... And if it -- presumably the local Monolith, the Great Wall -- decides to treat me like the robot probes it's zapped in the past, I'll never know. That's a risk I'm prepared to take. Thank you for everything, and my very best to Joe. Love from Ganymede -- and soon, I hope, from Europa. STORE TRANSMIT IV THE KINGDOM OF SULPHUR 23 Falcon 'Europa's about four hundred thousand kay from Ganymede at the moment,' Captain Chandler informed Poole. 'If you stepped on the gas -- thanks for teaching me that phrase! -- Falcon could get you there in an hour. But I wouldn't recommend it: our mysterious friend might be alarmed by anyone coming in that fast.' 'Agreed and I want time to think. I'm going to take several hours,