Barrington Bayley - The Star Virus

“Sir,” the boy said respectfully, “my father is in his study. He would like to talk to you, if you are ready.”

Rodrone nodded and rose, trying not to notice that Foyle’s eyes were steadfastly closed. He often walked around like that. Apparently the camera gave sharper vision, and in addition the images from his organic eyes interfered with its full effectiveness. Rodrone wondered if his father would go so far as to remove the real eyes altogether.

In the study, Sinnt greeted him heartily. He was seated at his huge table, which was scattered with piles of books, manuscripts and other papers. As elsewhere in the house there was visible lighting for Rodrone’s benefit: dim but adequate.

“Well, old fellow,” Sinnt began with his usual directness, “I think the time has come to recapitulate our finds and, er, talk about the future.”

He tilted back his head and his camera lenses died as he withdrew into himself to gather his thoughts. “Item: we know that the seeding of light-emitting atoms towards the center of the lens corresponds to the formation of Thiswhirl, our galaxy, at a date some trillion years in the past. However, the dating may not be significant: we have detected movement of the atoms, of such a speed and nature that this ‘galactic orrery,’ if we may call it that, will have caught up with us and be up to date in something like a hundred years from now. From that we may infer that the lens is not a representation static in time, but that it is meant to cover a whole span of galactic history. Perhaps, given enough centuries, it repeats the birth and death cycle of the galaxy endlessly.

“Item: it has been known for centuries that the scale of electromagnetic radiation—radio waves, X-rays, light waves, gamma rays and so—is only the heaviest and coarsest type of radiation emitted on the atomic level. Below that is a subtler radiation, the so-called Fermann range. These radiations are concerned with ‘keying in’ each individual atom into the matrix of four-dimensional space, a matter for which electromagnetic radiation is too coarse and without which the atom would vanish from existence. I can say with some pride that I am the first human being to see directly by the light of Fermann radiation.” He tapped his shoulder camera meaningfully. “However, our investigation has yielded an unprecedented result: there is present in the lens a third, subsidiary range of an even more subtle order. This radiation is responsible for the projection of the picture dramas in the outer parts of the lens.

“Item: the rim of the lens is lined with an extremely powerful force-field of unknown nature, which in some way acts as a screen for the picture dramas. These dramas are derived from the ‘dope’ atoms themselves, again in a manner we have not been able to deduce.”

“That force-field is a funny coincidence,” Rodrone interrupted, “in view of what happened to the Andromeda expeditions.” He was referring to the failure of any spaceship to travel for more than one galactic diameter outside the galaxy. Although technically, with the space drives available, intergalactic travel should have been feasible, every mission and probe ever dispatched had come up against some kind of space-time barrier preventing further progress. The other galaxies, it appeared, were forever beyond reach.

“Probably not a coincidence,” Sinnt said. “But to continue. The line of research that automatically presents itself to us is to investigate further the third order of radiations, with special reference to how they generate the picture sequences.”

“And what’s your opinion of the pictures themselves?”

“I believe they represent real events taking place in various parts of the galaxy, either in the present or both in the present and in the past.”

“And in the future, father?” put in Foyle, who sat across from his father on the other side of the table.

Briefly Sinnt’s lenses glowed, as if taking a quick glance. “That,” he said, “is the operative question. Somehow or other these very subtle, almost indetectable radiations accomplish the feat of communicating with all parts of the galaxy and of drawing visible observations from them. How they stand in relation to the time dimension is… at present a matter for speculation.”

“Good grief,” Rodrone muttered. “We might have a method here of observing through time—perhaps of traveling through time!”

“Perhaps, though I doubt it. The Streall do not appear to possess that ability. I incline more to the view that the lens’s communication is with the present moment—with reference to the time dilation effect that exists over vast distances, of course—but that it can also store sequences from the past and display those too. I imagine the lens is of great antiquity. It might even predate the human species.”

Another question was bothering Rodrone. “And what of the meaning , the selection of the picture-stories?” he asked hesitantly. “Surely there must be something there?”

“Probably the selection is entirely random.”

But this did not satisfy Rodrone. “There must be something to it,” he insisted, “some meaning or significance. Otherwise what is the lens for ?”

“Your attitude is unscientific,” Sinnt told him shortly. “The point is, the significance of the lens lies precisely in the use that is made of it. It must be possible to control the selection. If we find those controls, we have in our hands an observing instrument of unparalleled excellence. No corner of the galaxy will be denied to us!”

“And do you think we can find those controls?”

“The determined intellect overcomes all,” Sinnt stated dogmatically. “However, I confess that for the moment I am at the end of my resources. That is why I have decided upon another strategy…”

He shifted position, and the glowing camera swung around to focus on Rodrone. Because of his facial blindness, it was always hard to guess what Sinnt was thinking from his expression.

“If there is anyone who could finally answer our questions, it is the Streall.”

Rodrone snorted. “Ridiculous! Do you propose we should go to them and politely ask? As a matter of fact, I’ve already been through that scene, at my base on Brüde. Believe me, the Streall are not helpful.”

Sinnt did not answer for a moment. Rodrone became aware that he was nerving himself to something, or trying to weigh up something.

“There is a Streall on this planet,” he said at last. “In this very city, in fact.”

The news astounded and alarmed Rodrone. “ Here ? For God’s sake, man, it’s the lens they’re after and they must know it’s here!”

“No, no, you don’t understand at all.” Sinnt shook his head vigorously. “Please let me explain. Some years ago a Streall individual came secretly to Kell. He came here because he had somehow heard that for a long time—over a generation, in fact—there had existed here a secret society devoted to the study of Streall philosophy. Seffatt, to give him his name, rightly guessed that the society would give him refuge, and they have sheltered him ever since.”

Had the story not been so amazing, Rodrone would have laughed out loud. It was typical that Kell should harbor, among its assorted zaniness, a clique with a bent towards the enemy of mankind.

“The society calls itself the Society of the Orderly Plan, a name whose meaning may become clearer to you later on. Normally what I have told you is a closely guarded secret, but because I believe our interests are identical, and because of the present situation, I feel it is only right that you should be brought into the know. I have already contacted the society and suggested that they collaborate with us.”