Larry Niven - Lucifer's Hammer

“…Rich Gollantz. We’re putting up the Avery Building over there.”

Harvey Randall’s voice and manner were intended to get the subjects talking; his questions could be filmed again if they were needed on camera. “Have you heard much about the Hamner-Brown Comet?”

Gollantz laughed. “I don’t spend as much time thinking about comets as you might expect.” Harvey smiled. “But I did see the ‘Tonight Show’ where they said it could hit the Earth.”

“And what did you think about that?” Harvey asked.

“Buncha… crap.” Gollantz eyed the camera. “Same kind of thing peopIe are always saying. Ozone’s gone, we’ll all die. And remember ’sixty-eight, when all the fortune-tellers said California was going to slide off into the sea, and the crazies took to the hills?”

“Yes, but the astronomers say that if the head of the comet hit. it would cause—”

“Ice age,” Gollantz interrupted. “I know about it. I saw that thing in Astronomy magazine.” He grinned and scratched under the yellow metal helmet. “Now that’d really be something. Think about all the new construction projects we’d need. And the Welfare boys could pass out polar bear furs instead of checks. Only, somebody’d have to shoot bears for them. Maybe I could get that job.” Gollantz grinned widely. “Yep, it might be fun. I wouldn’t mind trying life as a mighty hunter.”

Harvey dug for more. The interview wasn’t likely to produce usable film, but that wasn’t its purpose. Harvey was fishing, with the camera as bait. The network didn’t approve of this method of research. Too expensive, too crude, and unreliable, they said. They got that opinion straight from the motivational-research outfits that wanted NBS to hire them.

A few more questions. Science and technology. Gollantz was enjoying being on camera. Had he heard about the Apollo shot to study the comet, and what did he think of that?

“Love it. Be a good show. Lots of good pictures, and it’ll cost me less than I paid for Rose Bowl tickets, I guarantee you that. Hey, I hope they let Johnny Baker go up again.”

“Do you know Colonel Baker?”

“No. Wish I did. Love to meet him. But I saw the pictures of him fixing Skylab. Now that was construction work. And when he got back down, he sure gave those NASA bastards hell, didn’t he? Hey, I got to be moving. We got work to do.” He waved and moved off. Mark chased him with a release form.

“Sir? Moment of your time?”

The young man walked with his head down, lost in thought. He was not bad-looking, but his face was curiously wooden. He showed a flash of anger when Randall interrupted his thoughts. “Yes?”

“We’re talking with people about Hamner-Brown Comet. May I have your name?”

“Fred Lauren.”

“Have you any thoughts on the comet?”

“No.” Almost reluctantly he added, “I watched your program.” Muscles knotted at Fred Lauren’s jaws, in a manner that Harvey recognized. Some men go through life perpetually angry. The muscles that clamp their jaws and grind their teeth are very prominent.

Harvey wondered if he had found a mental patient. Still… “Have you heard there’s a chance the head of the comet might hit the Earth?”

“Hit the Earth?” The man seemed stunned. Abruptly he turned and walked away striding rapidly, much faster than he’d approached.

“What was that all about?” Tim Hamner asked.

“Don’t know,” Harvey said. Man on his way to do murder? The violently insane are constantly released back to the public. Not enough hospitals. Was Lauren one of those, or just a man who’d had a nonfight with his boss? “We’ll never know. If you can’t stand not knowing, you’re in the wrong game.”

Fred had not been watching Randall’s previous program. He had been watching Colleen watch a program about a comet… but some of what he had heard began to surface. The Earth was in the comet’s path. If the comet hit, civilization would end in fire.

The end of the world. I’ll be dead. We’ll all be dead. He gave up all thought of going back to work. There was a magazine stand down the street and he walked rapidly toward it.

There were other interviews. Housewives who’d never heard of the comet. A starlet who recognized Tim Hamner from the “Tonight Show” and wanted to be filmed kissing him. Housewives who knew as much about the comet as Harvey Randall did. A Boy Scout taking a merit badge in astronomy.

There were few trends that Harvey could spot. One wasn’t surprising: There was a lot of space industry in Burbank, and people there overwhelmingly approved of the coming Apollo shot. Still, the near unanimity was unusual, even for this area. People, Harvey suspected, wanted another manned shot and more looks at their heroes, the astronauts, and the comet was a good excuse. There were mutters about costs, but, like Rich Gollantz, most thought they paid more for worse entertainment every month.

They were about to pack it in when Harvey spotted a remarkably pretty girl. Never hurts to have a few feet of beauty, Harvey thought. She seemed preoccupied, and scurried along the sidewalk, her face abstracted with weighty matters and lean with efficiency.

Her smile was sudden and very nice. “I don’t watch much television,” she said. “And I’m afraid I never heard of your comet. Things have been hectic at the office—”

“It will be a very big comet,” Harvey said. “Look for it this summer. There’s also a space mission to study it. Would you approve?”

She didn’t answer immediately. “Will we learn a lot from it?” When Harvey nodded, she said, “Then I’m for it. If it doesn’t cost too much. And if the government can pay for it. Which seems doubtful.”

Harvey said something about the comet study costing less than football tickets.

“Sure. But the government doesn’t have the money. And they won’t cut back on anything. So they’ll have to print the money. Bigger deficit. More inflation. Of course we’ll get more inflation no matter what, so we might as well learn about comets for our money.”

Harvey made encouraging noises. The girl had turned very serious. Her smile faded into a pensive look that turned to anger. “What difference does it make what I think, anyway? Nobody in government listens. Nobody cares. Sure, I hope they do send up an Apollo. At least something happens. It’s not just pushing papers from one basket to another.”

Then that smile was back again, a sunburst on her face. “And why am I telling you about the political sorrows of the world? I’ve got to go.” She scurried off before Harvey could ask her name.

There was a conservatively dressed black man standing patiently, obviously waiting to get on camera. Muslim? Harvey wondered. They dressed that way. But he turned out to be a member of the Mayor’s staff who wanted to tell everyone that the Mayor did care, and if the voters would approve the Mayor’s new smog-control bond issue, people would be able to see the stars from the San Fernando Valley.

“You might be on for all of five seconds. A flash of that lovely smile,” Tim Hamner was saying. “And ‘HamnerBrown? What’s that?’ Then cut to someone who’s sure it’s going to blast Culver City to smithereens.”

She laughed. “All right. I’ll sign your form.”

“Good. Name?”

“Eileen Susan Hancock.”

Hamner wrote it carefully. “Address? Phone number?”

She frowned. She looked at the TravelAll, and all the camera gear. She looked at Hamner’s expensive leisure suit, and the thin Pulsar watch. “I don’t see—”

“We like to check with people before we use them on camera ” Tim said. “Blast. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m not really a professional at this. Just unpaid labor. Also the sponsor. And the man who discovered the comet.”