Arthur Clarke - Against the Fall of Night

The President chose at first to ignore the challenge. Perhaps he could not bring himself to believe that it was more than an innocent question, however violently it had been expressed.

“That is a matter of high policy which we cannot discuss here,” he said pompously, “but Diaspar cannot risk contamination with other cultures.” He gave Alvin a benevolent but slightly worried smile.

“It’s rather strange,” said Alvin coldly, “that in Lys I was told exactly the same thing about Diaspar.” He was glad to see the start of annoyance, but gave his audience no time to reply.

“Lys,” he continued, “is much larger than Diaspar and its culture is certainly not inferior. It’s always known about us but has chosen not to reveal itself-as you put it, to avoid contamination. Isn’t it obvious that we are both wrong?”

He looked expectantly along the lines of faces, but nowhere was there any understanding of his words. Suddenly his anger against these leaden-eyed old men rose to a crescendo. The blood was throbbing in his cheeks, and though his voice was steadier now it held a note of icy contempt which even the most pacific of the councillors could no longer overlook.

“Our ancestors,” began Alvin, “built an empire which reached to the stars. Men came and went at will among all those worlds-and now their descendants are afraid to stir beyond the walls of their city. Shall I tell you why?” He paused: there was no movement at all in the great bare room.

“It is because we are afraid-afraid of something that happened at the beginning of history. I was told the truth in Lys, though I had guessed it long ago. Must we always hide like cowards in Diaspar, pretending that nothing else exists-because half a billion years ago the Invaders drove us back to Earth?”

He had put his finger on their secret fear, the fear that he had never shared and whose power he could therefore never understand. Let them do what they pleased: he had spoken the truth.

His anger drained away and he was himself again, as yet only a little alarmed at what he had done. He turned to the President in a last gesture of independence.

“Have I your permission to leave?”

Still no words were spoken, but the slight inclination of the head gave him his release. The great doors expanded before him and not until long after they had closed again did the storm break upon the Council Chamber.

The President waited until the inevitable lull. Then he turned to Jeserac.

“It seems to me,” he said, “that we should hear your views first.”

Jeserac examined the remark for possible traps. Then he replied:

“I think that Diaspar is now losing its most outstanding brain.”

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious? By now young Alvin will be halfway to the Tomb of Yarlan Zey. No, we shouldn’t interfere. I shall be very sorry to lose him, though he never cared very much for me.” He sighed a little. “For that matter, he never cared a great deal for anyone save Alvin of Loronei.”

Not until an hour later was Rorden able to escape from the Council Chamber. The delay was maddening, and when he reached his rooms he knew it was too late. He paused at the entrance, wondering if Alvin had left any message, and realizing for the first time how empty the years ahead would be.

The message was there, but its contents were totally unexpected. Even when Rorden had read it several times, he was still completely baffled:

“Meet me at once in the Tower of Loranne.”

Only once before had he been to the Tower of Loranne, when Alvin had dragged him there to watch the sunset. That was years ago: the experience had been unforgettable but the shadow of night sweeping across the desert had terrified him so much that he had fled, pursued by Alvin’s entreaties. He had sworn that he would never go there again…

Yet here he was, in that bleak chamber pierced with the horizontal ventilating shafts. There was no sign of Alvin, but when he called, the boy’s voice answered at once.

“I’m on the parapet-come through the center shaft.”

Rorden hesitated: there were many things he would much rather do. But a moment later he was standing beside Alvin with his back to the city and the desert stretching endlessly before him.

They looked at each other in silence for a little while. Then Alvin said, rather contritely: “I hope I didn’t get you into trouble.”

Rorden was touched, and many truths he was about to utter died abruptly on his lips. Instead he replied:

“The Council was too busy arguing with itself to bother about me.” He chuckled. “Jeserac was putting up quite a spirited defense when I left. I’m afraid I misjudged him.”

“I’m sorry about Jeserac.”

“Perhaps it was an unkind trick to play on the old man, but I think he’s rather enjoying himself. After all, there was some truth in your remark. He was the first man to show you the ancient world, and he has rather a guilty conscience.”

For the first time, Alvin smiled.

“It’s strange,” he said, “but until I lost my temper I never really understood what I wanted to do. Whether they like it or not, I’m going to break down the wall between Diaspar and Lys. But that can wait: it’s no longer so important now.”

Rorden felt a little alarmed.

“What do you mean?” he asked anxiously. For the first time he noticed that only one of the robots was with them on the parapet. “Where’s the second machine?”

Slowly Alvin raised his arm and pointed out across the desert, towards the broken hills and the long line of sand dunes, crisscrossed like frozen waves. Far away, Rorden could see the unmistakable gleam of sunlight upon metal.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” said Alvin quietly. “As soon as I left the Council, I went straight to the robots. Whatever happened, I was going to make sure that no one took them away before I’d learnt all they could teach me. It didn’t take long, for they’re not very intelligent and knew less than I’d hoped. But I have found the secret of the Master.” He paused for a moment, then pointed again at the almost invisible robot. “Watch!”

The glistening speck soared away from the desert and came to rest perhaps a thousand feet above the ground. At first, not knowing what to expect, Rorden could see no other change. Then, scarcely believing his eyes, he saw that a cloud of dust was slowly rising from the desert.

Nothing is more terrible than movement where no movement should ever be again, but Rorden was beyond surprise or fear when the great sand dunes began to slide apart. Beneath the desert something was stirring like a giant awaking from its sleep, and presently there came to Rorden’s ears the rumble of falling earth and the shriek of rock split asunder by irresistible force. Then, suddenly, a great geyser of sand erupted hundreds of feet into the air and the ground was hidden from sight.

Slowly the dust began to settle back into the jagged wound torn across the face of the desert. But Rorden and Alvin still kept their eyes fixed steadfastly upon the open sky, which a little while ago had held only the waiting robot. What Alvin was thinking, Rorden could scarcely imagine. At last he knew what the boy had meant when he had said that nothing else was very important now. The great city behind them and the greater desert before, the timidity of the Council and the pride of Lys-all these seemed trivial matters now.

The covering of earth and rock could blur but could not conceal the proud lines of the ship still ascending from the riven desert. As Rorden watched, it slowly turned towards them until it had foreshortened to a circle. Then, very leisurely, the circle started to expand.