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“No, Mr. President,” and they hung up.

Anna Brackney said, “Why didn’t you tell him we had just discovered the problem ourselves?”

Greenberg gave her a look, then said to the group, “All right, let’s go the way we planned. I guess we were dreaming a little to think we were going to solve this before anybody else caught on.”

As they turned and walked away, Greenberg heard Anna Brackney say to Hiromaka, “But I don’t understand why he didn’t tell him we had already found out there was a problem.”

Hiromaka said, “Aw, shut up.”

At breakfast the next morning Harriet Wilburn said to Jonathan, “I guess this will be a bad one. We’d better make it a good breakfast; lunch may be a little tense.” She poked the Diner for his coffee and then began making his onion-flavored eggs basted with pork sauce.

“Why is it,” he said, “every time something pops I wind up having the breakfast I used to have when I was a boy? You suppose there’s an element of regression there?”

“I certainly hope so. I’d hate to think it was some deep, undefined craving. Do you really think you ought to look at that now?” Wilburn had picked up a morning English-language newspaper.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “I know I’m going to get the most severe castigation of my career. I’m sort of looking forward to how imaginative the press will be.” He began to read.

When his eggs were ready he put down the paper and said, “Yes, they’re in full cry. The editors, the seers and columnists say they have been fully aware that things haven’t been going right with the Weather Congress for several months, but they were just waiting to see if I would get going and do my job.”

Harriet said, “Well, you know, and I know, and your friends know the truth. Eat your eggs, dear.”

He ate his eggs. He sipped coffee when he was done, read through another paper, then went out into the soft Sicilian air, stepped on a walk and rode awhile. He got off and walked for a mile as was his custom, but a slight numbness crept into his legs, so he finished the trip on the slidewalk. He entered the Great Hall and went straight to his office through the private door.

Before he closed the door, Tongareva was there. Wilburn said, “Just the man I wanted to see. Come in, Gardner.”

On his way to a seat, Tongareva started talking. “I have been reflecting on the events. I think we are caught up in some kind of world hysteria. I think the people have resented the Congress and the Council the way a small boy resents his authoritative father, and now they have found an excuse to let off steam. On top of that, elections are coming. I think we must be very careful.”

Wilburn sank into his chair, ignoring the flashing lights on his phones and visuals. “Did you hear about that rained-out picnic in Texas?”

Tongareva nodded, a shade of a smile on his face. “That must have been the granddaddy of all rained-out picnics. The Texan knew just what to do to make an international issue out of it.”

“The way he told it to me, it was an international issue. He led me to believe that everyone of any international importance was at that picnic, except you and me. Well, let me call Greenberg to see if he’s found out what’s gone haywire here. Please stay with me, Gardner.”

Greenberg took the call in his office, with Upton and Hiromaka. “The information I have for you is incomplete, Mr. President. In fact, I hope it is so incomplete as to be incorrect. But you see, twelve hours is not really enough—”

“What are you trying to say, Dr. Greenberg?”

Greenberg glanced at Upton, took a deep breath and said, “A detailed check of all the procedures, all the mathematical models, all the parameters used here, shows that no error has been made and that our mathematical fit matches the prediction. This would indicate that the error was elsewhere. So we got in touch with Base Lieutenant Commander Markov; Hechmer and Eden are on vacation. We told Markov what we were doing and asked him to check out his results, too. We have his results now, and at least preliminarily, neither he nor we can find any fault with his operations. In short, the Weather Bureau on the Sun accomplished each of its missions within tolerance. There’s no error there either.” Greenberg stopped and rubbed his face.

Wilburn asked gently, “What is your conclusion?”

Greenberg said, “Well, since the data were used and applied as correctly as we know how, and since the theory checks out as well as ever—”

He fell silent. After a moment Wilburn said, “Well?”

Greenberg looked straight at him and said, “The trouble might be in the Sun itself. The Sun is changing, and our theories are no longer as valid as they used to be.”

Wilburn’s breath caught, and he felt his body grow cold. He understood what Greenberg had said, but he did not immediately allow the full thought to enter his mind. He held it in front of him where it could not really frighten him, where it hung like a rotted piece of meat that would have to be eaten eventually, but not now. No one spoke or moved in either office. Greenberg and Tongareva did not want to force the swallowing, and so they waited. Finally, Wilburn took it in.

He sat back and groaned, and then stood up and paced out of range of the viewer. Greenberg sat and waited. Then he heard Wilburn’s voice asking, “If what you say is true, our whole system of weather control is faulty. Is that right?”

“Yes, if it proves out,” said Greenberg.

“Our entire culture, our entire civilization, the world over, is built on weather control. It is the primary fact of life for every living being. If our ability to control weather is destroyed, our world will be destroyed. We go back to sectionalism, predatory individualism. The one factor that ties all men everywhere together would disappear. The only thing left—chaos.”

No one answered him, and for another full minute they were all silent.

Wilburn came back and sat down at his desk. He said to Greenberg, “I have to think. How much time will you need to verify your findings so far?”

“Another twelve hours. The European computer net is on it now, and we are in the process of bringing in the United States net and the Asian net simultaneously. Both of them will be on line in an hour. I might say this is the most intensive effort the Advisors have ever made, and it is causing talk already. There will be no secrets about our findings when we finally get them.”

“I understand. I have twelve hours to think of something, and I am going to assume you will confirm what you’ve already found; that’s the worst result I can think of, so I’ll get ready to face it.” The snap was coming back to Wilburn’s voice. “If anything comes up along the way that makes you change your mind, let me know immediately. And thanks for the effort, Dr. Greenberg.”

Wilburn looked around his office. The men gathered there did not look happy, and several of them, his political enemies, were frowning. Yet Wilburn needed them all. This was the group that served as a kind of unofficial executive for the entire Council. But it was a difficult group to work with, primarily because they represented such diverse interests.

Councilman Maitland said, “I am afraid, President Wilburn, that you have brought the Council to its lowest point of public esteem that I can remember.”

Barstow reared up. “Now just a minute here. How do you—”

Wilburn waved a hand. “It’s all right, Arthur. We all agree we have an enormous problem. I called this meeting to ask this group to think about what we do now.”

Barstow sat back and nodded. The others were quiet, and then Tongareva said, “You give the impression that you have a plan to solve our present crisis, Jonathan. Are you ready to discuss it?”