Arthur Clarke: The Songs of Distant Earth

And now the analysis was taken one step further. What made the granularity of space so hard to envisage was not only its sub-submicroscopic scale — but its sheer violence.

No one could really imagine a millionth of a centimetre, but at least the number itself — a thousand thousands — was familiar in such human affairs as budgets and population statistics. To say that it would require a million viruses to span the distance of a centimetre did convey something to the mind.

But a million-millionth of a centimetre? That was comparable to the size of the electron, and already it was far beyond visualization. It could perhaps be grasped intellectually, but not emotionally.

And yet the scale of events in the structure of space was unbelievably smaller than this — so much so that, in comparison, an ant and an elephant were of virtually the same size. If one imagined it as a bubbling, foamlike mass (almost hopelessly misleading, yet a first approximation to the truth) then those bubbles were

… a thousandth of a millionth of a millionth of a millionth of a millionth of a millionth…

… of a centimetre across.

And now imagine them continually exploding with energies comparable to those of nuclear bombs — and then reabsorbing that energy, and spitting it out again, and so on forever and forever.

This, in a grossly simplified form, was the picture that some late twentieth-century physicists had developed of the fundamental structure of space. That its intrinsic energies might ever be tapped must, at the time, have seemed completely ridiculous.

So, a lifetime earlier, had been the idea of releasing the new-found forces of the atomic nucleus; yet that had happened in less than half a century. To harness the ‘quantum fluctuations’ that embodied the energies of space itself was a task orders of magnitude more difficult — and the prize correspondingly greater.

Among other things, it would give mankind the freedom of the universe. A spaceship could accelerate literally forever, since it would no longer need any fuel. The only practical limit to speed would, paradoxically, be that which the early aircraft had to contend with — the friction of the surrounding medium. The space between the stars contained appreciable quantities of hydrogen and other atoms, which could cause trouble long before one reached the ultimate limit set by the velocity of light.

The quantum drive might have been developed at any time after the year 2500, and the history of the human race would then have been very different. Unfortunately — as had happened many times before in the zig-zag progress of science — faulty observations and erroneous theories delayed the final breakthrough for almost a thousand years.

The feverish centuries of the Last Days produced much brilliant — though often decadent — art but little new fundamental knowledge. Moreover, by that time the long record of failure had convinced almost everyone that tapping the energies of space was like perpetual motion, impossible even in theory, let alone in practice. However — unlike perpetual motion — it had not yet been proved to be impossible, and until this was demonstrated beyond all doubt, some hope still remained.

Only a hundred and fifty years before the end, a group of physicists in the Lagrange 1 zero-gravity research satellite announced that they had at last found such a proof; there were fundamental reasons why the immense energies of superspace, though they were real enough, could never be tapped. No one was in the least interested in this tidying-up of an obscure corner of science.

A year later, there was an embarrassed cough from Lagrange 1. A slight mistake had been found in the proof. It was the sort of thing that had happened often enough in the past though never with such momentous consequences.

A minus sign had been accidentally converted into a plus.

Instantly, the whole world was changed. The road to the stars had been opened up — five minutes before midnight.

Perhaps I should have broken it more gently, Moses Kaldor told himself; they all seem in a state of shock. But that in itself is very instructive; even if these people are technologically backward (just look at that car!) they must realize that only a miracle of engineering could have brought us from Earth to Thalassa. First they will wonder how we did it, and then they will start to wonder why.

That, in fact, was the very first question that had occurred to Mayor Waldron. These two men in one small vehicle were obviously only the vanguard. Up there in orbit might be thousands — even millions. And the population of Thalassa, thanks to strict regulation, was already within ninety per cent of ecological optimum…

“My name is Moses Kaldor,” the older of the two visitors said. “And this is Lieutenant Commander Loren Lorenson, Assistant Chief Engineer, Starship Magellan. We apologize for these bubble suits — you’ll realize that they are for our mutual protection. Though we come in friendship, our bacteria may have different ideas.”

What a beautiful voice, Mayor Waldron told herself— as well she might. Once it had been the best-known in the world, consoling — and sometimes provoking — millions in the decades before the End.

The mayor’s notoriously roving eye did not, however remain long on Moses Kaldor; he was obviously well into his sixties, and a little too old for her. The younger man was much more to her liking, though she wondered if she could ever really grow accustomed to that ugly white pallor. Loren Lorenson (what a charming name!) was nearly two metres in height, and his hair was so blond as to be almost silver. He was not as husky as — well, Brant — but he was certainly more handsome.

Mayor Waldron was a good judge both of men and of women, and she classified Lorenson very quickly. Here were intelligence, determination, perhaps even ruthlessness — she would not like to have him as an enemy, but she was certainly interested in having him as a friend. Or better…

At the same time, she did not doubt that Kaldor was a much nicer person. In his face and voice she could already discern wisdom, compassion, and also a profound sadness. Little wonder, considering the shadow under which he must have spent the whole of his life.

All the other members of the reception committee had now approached and were introduced one by one. Brant, after the briefest of courtesies, headed straight for the aircraft and began to examine it from end to end.

Loren followed him; he recognized a fellow engineer when he saw one and would be able to learn a good deal from the Thalassan’s reactions. He guessed, correctly, what Brant’s first question would be about. Even so, he was taken off balance.

“What’s the propulsion system? Those jet orifices are ridiculously small — if that’s what they are.”

It was a very shrewd observation; these people were not the technological savages they had seemed at first sight. But it would never do to show that he was impressed. Better to counterattack and let him have it right between the eyes.

“It’s a derated quantum ramjet, adapted for atmospheric flight by using air as a working fluid. Taps the Planck fluctuations — you know, ten to the minus thirty-three centimetres. So of course it has infinite range, in air or in space.’ Loren felt rather pleased with that ‘of course’.

Once again he had to give Brant credit; the Lassan barely blinked and even managed to say, “Very interesting,” as if he really meant it.

“Can I go inside?”

Loren hesitated. It might seem discourteous to refuse, and after all, they were anxious to make friends as quickly as possible. Perhaps more important, this would show who really had the mastery here.