Arthur Clarke - Richter 10

“Crazy for trying,” the man said. “Brilliant for succeeding.”

Lanie moved to the two men. “I’m still in shock.” She put her arm around him as Newcombe stiffened.

“You did it,” Crane said, hugging her close then moving away when it felt too good.

“We’re going to call your globe the King Projection.”

“You’re naming it after me?”

“You’re its mama,” Crane replied, then raised his voice for all of them to hear.

“We’ve done the impossible,” he said. “Now let’s try the unthinkable. Dr. King, would you be kind enough to program ahead on the Reelfoot and see what it gives us? Take us forward to a quake, a big quake.”

Lanie hurried to the keyboard. As if it were a monstrous crystal ball, they were using the globe to try and look into the future. It was heady and scary. This was different from the prediction they’d made on the stress readings. This was the Earth simply winding out the certitude of its own history. To the sound of a loud buzzer the globe stopped turning, the spotlight zeroing on the Mississippi Valley, the familiar red lines of a Valley quake jagged as a gash.

“Time,” Crane said, his mouth dry.

Lanie punched up the blood red numbers again. This time they read:

Twenty-three minutes sooner than their earlier calculations.

“We’ve done it,” Crane said. “We’ve conquered the future.”

He looked to Newcombe again. “This is our research source,” he said. “All our answers lie here.”

Newcombe looked hard at him. “All we need now is the guts to use it. Do we really want the responsibility of knowing the future?”

“It’s moot,” Lanie said from the console. “Want it or not, it’s here.”

Newcombe stood and walked to Crane. “Now that you’ve got it,” he whispered, “what are you really going to do with this goddamned thing?”

“Anything I want, doctor.”

The Masada brought rain that night, which meant radioactivity flushing down the streets and into the water supplies. Some sickness and death would result, the greatest toll taken on outdoor life. But it used to be worse, and would continue to be a decreasing threat until it would dissipate in the mid-2030s and be remembered ultimately as a scourge falling somewhere between the Black Plague and the Spanish Inquisition on the scale of suffering of humanity.

This particular night, it was a godsend for Crane. He had celebrated the globe with his people, then drifted to his office when the alarms had driven everyone to shelter. Now, as the rains fell outside, he would have the globe to himself for a while.

He sat at Lanie’s console, explaining exactly what it was he wanted to accomplish. As he finished inputting, Burt Hill came over his aural.

“Where the hell are you, Crane?”

“I’m staying in my office tonight,” Crane replied on the P fiber. “Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re only wantin’ to play with that globe.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Not at all. Got to tell you something, though. An announcement just came through all the teev stations—Vice President Gabler has resigned. Everybody thinks it’s because he’s got blamed for all the problems with the War Zone.”

“Interesting,” Crane said, not finding it interesting at all.

“That’s not the juicy part, boss,” Hill returned. “Gideon has appointed Sumi Chan to fill out the term.”

“Sumi?” Crane said, very interested now. “Wonder how they got around the citizenship requirements.”

“Never mind that,” Hill said. “This clinches it. Sumi’s nothing but a traitorous, slimy—”

“I want you to find a private fiber to Sumi,” Crane said. “I want to talk to him. And when you get to him, be sure to give your most hearty congratulations.”

“But he’s—”

“A powerful man who can help us,” Crane interrupted. “Call me back on this fiber.”

He blanked and looked at the console. Over the last year, he’d fed every morsel of info he’d ever learned on the effects of under- and aboveground nuclear testing on faults. By now the globe knew much more than he did.

He typed his question and hit enter.

The globe hesitated only slightly before revealing a series of flashing red lights all over the Earth, Crane running to it to check locations. All the lights were centered on or near rifts. His heart pounded as he counted them—fifty-three.

This was it, the reason for his existence.

He broke down and cried then, not stopping until he had Sumi on the line and more business to be done.

Lanie finished the last of her packing, then stepped out onto her porch to watch the final preparations for the pilgrimage to Tennessee. Their condor dropped momentarily into view, Lanie calling to it before it swept past and majestically retreated to higher ground. The sun was gone now, freeing everyone to get out of doors. There were as many as fifty helos, private donations, stacked up on the plain below, being filled with food, water, and medical supplies.

It had been Crane who’d solicited the helos, thinking they might come in handy for evacs and emergency medical. She’d been amazed at how many people still believed in him and were willing to contribute. Besides the supplies, he had a crack medical emergency team in each bird—people, good people, donating their time. Maybe there was hope for the planet after all, she thought.

She saw Dan come out of his chateau, four houses away, carrying his bags. Since the night of the wager, they’d been near strangers. It was amazing how someone who had once been so important to her could simply move into a different role in her mind and heart. She knew that he wanted her to let him back in, but, thankfully, he wasn’t pushing it. She did want to be his friend, though, so when he came over, she gave him an affectionate hug. He responded enthusiastically. “I’m sorry I’ve been so standoffish,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea,” he echoed.

She watched him compose himself. He leaned on the rail, looking down. Burt Hill was directing the loading-up operations, one of Stoney’s jumbo jets taking the bulk of the Foundation’s gear and personnel. Dan shook his head. “What would we do without Burt?”

“Starve,” she answered, leaning on the rail beside him. “Run out of materials. Chaos would ensue.”

He smiled at her. “Undoubtedly.” His lips tightened. “I’m not even sure what happened between us.”

“You want the truth?”

“I think so.”

“Okay,” she said calmly, although her heart pounded like crazy. “I found myself not trusting you. I found myself noticing jealousy between us. I found myself wanting you to be different. One time you said maybe we were finally growing up. I think that’s what happened. We grew up and apart. Besides, you have a whole different life now.”

“I’d give it up in a minute if—”

“No,” she said, putting her hand over his mouth. “You’d feel trapped and miserable. There’s no hope for it, Dan. We’ve just moved on.”

“I can’t stop loving you,” he said.

She nodded, swallowing hard. “We’ll always have that. Let’s remember it that way.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “I’ll be there for you if you change your mind. Crane can’t make you happy.”

“This has nothing to do with Crane.”

“You need to be needed,” he said. “Maybe Crane needs you more than I do, though I think that’s impossible.”

“I’m not relating to this discussion, Dan.”