Harry Harrison: Captive Universe

“I can’t go in there,” she said.

“You can if I tell you to. In the observer’s breviary it states that watchmen or anyone else may be ordered by observers into any area to do what is needed.” He had never read anything of the sort, but she did not have to know that

“Of course, then I can go with you. Do you know the combination of this lock?” She pointed at the complex dial lock that was fastened to the edge of the door on a hasp.

“No, there was nothing about there being a lock on this door.”

This was the first sealed door that he had seen. Rule and order were enough to keep the Watchers from entering where they were not wanted. He looked closely at the lock, and at the hasp.

“This has been added after the original construction,” he said, pointing to the screw heads. “Someone has drilled into the metal frame and door and attached this.” He took out a screwdriver and twisted a screw loose. “And not a very good job either. They did not fix it very securely.”

It took only a few moments to remove the retaining screws and put the lock, still sealed to the hasp, onto the tunnel floor. The door opened easily then, into a small, metal-walled room.

“What can this mean?” Steel asked, following him in.

“I’m not sure I know. There were no details on the charts. But — we can follow the instructions and see what happens.” He pointed to the lettered card on one wall. “One, close door, that’s simple enough. Two, hold fast to handgrips.”

There were metal loops fixed to the walls at waist height, and they both took hold of them.

“Three, turn pointer in proper direction.”

A metal arrow beneath the sign had its tip touching the word DOWN. It was pivoted on its base and Chimal released one hand to push the point of the arrow to UP. When he did so a distant humming began and the car began to move slowly upward.

“Very good,” he said. “Saves us a long climb. This car must be fixed in a vertical shaft and is pulled up and down by a device of some kind. What’s the matter?”

“I… I don’t know,” Steel gasped, clutching to the ring with both hands. “I feel so strange, different.”

“Yes, you’re right. Lighter perhaps!” He laughed and jumped up from the floor, and it seemed to take longer than usual before he dropped back. “The centrifugal force is decreasing. Soon it will be gone completely.” Steel, not as enthused by the idea as he was, clasped tight and pressed her head to the wall with her eyes closed.

The trip was relatively brief, and, when the car stopped, Chimal pushed up on his toes and floated free of the floor.

“It’s true — there is no force acting. We are at the axis of rotation.” Steel curled over, gasping and retching, trying to control the spasms in her stomach. The door opened automatically and they looked along a circular corridor with rods, like raised rails, running the length of it. There was no up or down and even Chimal felt a little queasy when he tried to imagine in what direction they were facing.

“Come on. We just float, then pull ourselves along those rods to wherever the tunnel goes. It should be easy.” When the girl showed no intention of moving he pried her hands loose and gently pushed her into the end of the tube, knocking himself back against the wall at the same time. She screamed faintly and thrashed about, trying to clutch onto something. He launched himself after her and discovered it was not easy at all.

In the end he found that the surest way to progress was to pull forward lightly, then guide himself by sliding his hands along the bar as he went. Watchman Steel, after emptying her stomach felt somewhat better and managed to follow his instructions. Bit by bit they progressed the length of the tube to the doorway at the end, then let themselves through into a spherical room that looked out onto the stars.

“I recognize that long instrument,” Chimal said excitedly. “It’s a telescope, for making far away things look bigger. It can be used for looking at the stars. I wonder what the other instruments do.”

He had forgotten Steel, which she did not mind at all. There was a couch attached to one portion of the wall and she found that she could fix herself in it by tightening straps across her body. She did this and closed her eyes.

Chimal was almost unaware of the lack of any force pulling him down as he read the operating instructions on the machine. They were simple and clear and promised wonders. The stars outside of the bulging, hemispherical window, were rotating in slow circles about a point in the middle. Not as fast as the stars in the observation room, and they weren’t rising or setting, but they were still moving. When he actuated a control, as instructed, he felt a sudden force pulling on him, the girl moaned, and the sensation quickly stopped. When he turned to look out of the doorway it looked as though the tunnel was now turning — and the stars were now still. The room must now be rotating in the opposite direction from the rest of the world, so they were motionless in relation to the stars. What wonders the Great Designer had created!

Once the computer was actuated it needed two points of reference. After it knew these it was self orientating. Following the instructions, Chimal pointed the pilot scope at a bright, glowing red star, fixed it in the crosshairs of the telescope, then pressed the spectrum analysis button. The identification was instantly projected on a small screen: Aldebaran. Not far away from it was another bright star that appeared to be in the constellation he knew as The Hunter. Its name was Rigel. Perhaps it was in The Hunter, it was so hard to tell even well-known constellations with the infinitude of lights that filled the sky.

“Look at it,” he called to the girl, in pride and wonder.

“That is the real sky, the real stars.” She looked quickly and nodded, and closed her eyes again. “Outside this window is space, vacuum, no air to breathe. Just nothing at all, an empty immensity. How can the distance be measured to a star — how can we imagine it? And this, this world of ours, is going from one star to another, will reach it some day. Do you know the name of the star that is our destination?”

“We were taught — but I’m afraid I have forgotten.”

“Proxima Centauri. In an old language that means the closest star in the constellation of the centaur. Don’t you want to see it? What a moment this is. It is one of those out there, right in front of us. The machine will find it.”

Carefully, he set the dials for the correct combination, checking them twice to be sure he had entered the right numbers from the printed 1ist. It was correct. He pressed the actuate button and moved back.

Like the snout of a great, questing animal the telescope shivered and swung slowly into motion. Chimal stayed clear as it turned with ponderous precision, slowed and stopped. It was pointing far to one side, almost 90 degrees from the center of the window.

Chimal laughed. “That can’t be,” he said. “There has been a mistake. If Proxima Centauri were way over there, out to the side, it would mean that we were going past it…”

His fingers shook as he returned to the list and checked his figures over and over again.

“Just look at these figures and tell me if they are true or not — that’s all I ask.” Chimal dropped the papers onto the table before the Master Observer.

“I have told you, I am not very practiced at the mathematics. There are machines for this sort of thing.” The old man stared straight ahead, looking neither at the papers nor at Chimal, unmoving except for his fingers that plucked, unnoticed, at his clothing.

“These are from a machine, a readout. Look at them and tell me if they are correct or not.”