Arthur Clarke - The Deep Range

The whales dropped back into the water, apparently satisfied with their scrutiny. It was then that Franklin made out Lundquist, working about thirty feet down with a small torpedo loaded with instruments. Probably the commotion had disturbed him, because he came quickly to the surface and lay treading water, with his face mask pushed back, as he recognized his visitor.

“Good morning, Mr. Franklin. I wasn’t expecting you today. What do you think of my pupils?”

“Very impressive. How well are they learning their lessons?”

“There’s no doubt about it — they’re brilliant. Even cleverer than porpoises, and surprisingly affectionate when they get to know you. I can teach them to do anything now. If I wanted to commit the perfect murder, I could tell them that you were a seal on an ice floe, and they’d have the boat over in two seconds.”

“In that case, I’d prefer to continue our conversation back on land. Have you finished whatever you’re doing?”

“It’s never finished, but that doesn’t matter. I’ll ride the torp back — no need to lift all this gear into the boat.”

The scientist swung his tiny metal fish around toward the island, and promptly set off at a speed which the dinghy could not hope to match. At once the two killers streaked after him, their huge dorsal fins leaving a creamy wake in the water. It seemed a dangerous game of tag to play, but before Franklin could discover what would happen when the killers caught the torpedo, Lundquist had crossed the shallow but clearly marked mesh around the enclosure, and the two whales broke their rush in a flurry of spray.

Franklin was very thoughtful on the way back to land. He had known Lundquist for years, but now he felt that this was the first time he had ever really seen him. There had never been any doubt concerning his originality — indeed, his brilliance — but he also appeared to possess unsuspected courage and initiative. None of which, Franklin determined grimly, would help him unless he had a satisfactory answer to certain questions.

Dressed in his everyday clothes, and back in the familiar laboratory surroundings, Lundquist was the man Franklin had always known. “Now, John,” he began, “I suppose you’ve seen this television propaganda against the bureau?”

“Of course. But is it against us?”

“It’s certainly against our main activity, but we won’t argue that point. What I want to know is this: Have you been in touch with the Maha Thero?”

“Oh yes. He contacted me immediately after that article appeared in Earth Magazine.”

“And you passed on confidential information to him?”

Lundquist looked sincerely hurt.

“I resent that, Mr. Franklin. The only information I gave him was an advance proof of my paper on whalemilk production, which comes out in the Cetological Review next month. You approved it for publication yourself.”

The accusations that Franklin was going to make collapsed around his ears, and he felt suddenly rather ashamed of himself.

“I’m sorry, John,” he said. “I take that back. All this has made me a bit jumpy, and I just want to sort out the facts before HQ starts chasing me. But don’t you think you should have told me about this inquiry?”

“Frankly, I don’t see why. We get all sorts of queries every day, and I saw no reason to suppose that this was not just another routine one. Of course, I was pleased that somebody was taking a particular interest in my special project, and I gave them all the help I could.”

“Very well,” said Franklin resignedly. “Let’s forget the post-mortem. But answer for me this question: As a scientist, do you really believe that we can afford to stop whale slaughtering and switch over to milk and synthetics?”

“Given ten years, we can do it if we have to. There’s no technical objection that I can see. Of course I can’t guarantee the figures on the plankton-farming side, but you can bet your life that the Thero had accurate sources of information there as well.”

“But you realize what this will mean! If it starts with whales, sooner or later it will go right down the line through all the domestic animals.”

“And why not? The prospect rather appeals to me. If science and religion can combine to take some of the cruelty out of Nature, isn’t that a good thing?”

“You sound like a crypto-Buddhist — and I’m tired of pointing out that there’s no cruelty in what we are doing. Meanwhile, if the Thero asks any more questions, kindly refer him to me.”

“Very good, Mr. Franklin,” Lundquist replied rather stiffly. There was an awkward pause, providentially broken by the arrival of a messenger.

“Headquarters wants to speak to you, Mr. Franklin. It’s urgent.”

“I bet it is,” muttered Franklin. Then he caught sight of Lundquists’s still somewhat hostile expression, and could not suppress a smile.

“If you can train orcas to be wardens, John,” he said, “you’d better start looking around for a suitable mammal — preferably amphibious — to be the next director.”

On a planet of instantaneous and universal communications, ideas spread from pole to pole more rapidly than they could once have done by word of mouth in a single village. The skillfully edited and presented program which had spoiled the appetites of a mere twenty million people on its first appearance had a far larger audience on its second. Soon there were few other topics of conversation; one of the disadvantages of life in a peaceful and well-organized world state was that with the disappearance of wars and crises very little was left of what was once called “news.” Indeed, the complaint had often been made that since the ending of national sovereignty, history had also been abolished. So the argument raged in club and kitchen, in World Assembly and lonely space freighter, with no competition from any other quarter.

The World Food Organization maintained a dignified silence, but behind the scenes there was furious activity. Matters were not helped by the brisk lobbying of the farm group, which it had taken no great foresight on Indra’s part to predict. Franklin was particularly annoyed by the efforts of the rival department to profit from his difficulties, and made several protests to the Director of Plankton Farms when the infighting became a little too rough. “Damn it all, Ted,” he had snarled over the viewphone on one occasion, “you’re just as big a butcher as I am. Every ton of raw plankton you process contains half a billion shrimps with as much right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness as my whales. So don’t try to stand in a white sheet. Sooner or later the Thero will work down to you — this is only the thin edge of the wedge.”

“Maybe you’re right, Walter,” the culprit had admitted cheerfully enough, “but I think the farms will last out my time. It’s not easy to make people sentimental over shrimps — they don’t have cute little ten-ton babies to nurse.”

That was perfectly true; it was very hard to draw the line between maudlin sentimentality and rational humanitarianism. Franklin remembered a recent cartoon showing the Thero raising his arms in protest while a shrieking cabbage was brutally dragged from the ground. The artist had taken no sides; he had merely summed up the viewpoint of those who considered that a great deal of fuss was being made about nothing. Perhaps this whole affair would blow over in a few weeks when people became bored and started arguing about something else — but he doubted it. That first television program had shown that the Thero was an expert in molding public opinion; he could be relied upon not to let his campaign lose momentum.

It took less than a month for the Thero to obtain the ten per cent vote needed under the constitution to set up a commission of inquiry. The fact that one tenth of the human race was sufficiently interested in the matter to request that all the facts be laid before it did not mean that they agreed with the Thero; mere curiosity and the pleasure of seeing a department of the state fighting a defensive rearguard action was quite enough to account for the vote. In itself, a commission of inquiry meant very little. What would matter would be the final referendum on the commission’s report, and it would be months before that could be arranged.