Harry Harrison: Captive Universe

“I am no longer young and it is time for prayers and rest. I ask you to leave me.”

“No. Not until you have given me an answer. You don’t want to answer, do you?”

The old man’s continued silence destroyed the last element of calmness that Chimal possessed. The Master Observer gave a hoarse cry as Chimal reached out to seize his deus and, with a quick snap, broke the chain that supported it. He looked at the numbers in the openings in the front.

“186,293… do you know what that means?”

“This is — close to blasphemy. Return that, at once.”

“I was told that this numbered the days of the voyage, days in old Earth time. As I remember it there are about 365 days in an Earth year.”

He threw the deus onto the table and the old man snatched it up at once, in both hands. Chimal took a writing tablet and a stylus from his belt. “Divide… this shouldn’t be hard… the answer is…” He scrawled a line under the figure and waved it under the Master Observer’s nose. “It’s been over 510 years since the voyage began. The estimate in all the books was five hundred years or less, and the Aztecs believe they will be freed in 500 years. This is just added evidence. With my own eyes I saw that we are no longer going toward Proxima Centauri, but are aimed instead almost at the constellation Leo.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because I was in the navigation chamber and used the telescope. The axis of rotation is no longer pointing at Proxima Centauri. We are going somewhere else.”

“These are all very complex questions,” the old man said, dabbing a kerchief at the corners of his red-rimmed eyes. “I remember no relationship between the axis of rotation and our direction…”

“Well I do — and I have checked already to make sure. To keep the navigational instruments functioning correctly, Proxima Centauri is fixed at the axis of rotation. Automatic course corrections are made if it drifts — so we move in the direction of the main axis. This cannot be changed.” Chimal chewed at a knuckle in sudden thought. “Though we might now be going to a different star! Now tell me the truth — what has happened?”

The old observer stayed rigid for a moment longer, then collapsed, sighing, inside the restraining support of his eskoskeleton.

“There is nothing that can be kept from you, First Arriver, I realize that now. But I did not want you to know until you had come to full knowledge. That must be now, or you would not have found out these things.” He threw a switch and the motors hummed as they lifted him to his feet and moved him across the room.

“The meeting is recorded here in the log. I was a young man at the time, then the youngest observer in fact, the others are long since dead. How many years ago was that? I am not sure, yet I still remember every detail of it. An act of faith, an act of understanding, an act of trust.” He seated himself again, holding a red bound book in both hands, looking at it, through it, to that well remembered day.

“We were weeks, months almost, weighing all of the facts and coming to a decision. It was a solemn, almost heart-stopping moment. The Chief Observer stood and read all of the observations. The instruments showed that we had slowed, that new data must be fed in to put us into an orbit about the star. Then he read about the planetary observations and we all felt distress at what had been discovered. The planets were not suitable, that was what was wrong. Just not suitable. We could have been the Observers of the Day of Arrival, yet we had the strength to turn away from the temptation. We had to fulfill the trust of the people in our charge. When the Master Observer explained this we all knew what had to be done. The Great Designer had planned even for this day, for the chance that no satisfactory planets could be found in orbit about Proxima Centauri, and a new course was set to Alpha Centauri. Or was it Wolf 359 in Leo? I forget now, it had been so many years. But it is all in here, the truth of the decision. Hard as it was to make — it was made. I shall carry the memory of that day with me to the recycler. Few are given such a chance to serve.”

“May I see the book? What day was this decided?”

“A day fixed in history, but look for yourself.” The old man smiled and opened the book, apparently at random, on the table before him. “See how it opens to the correct place? I have read in it so often.”

Chimal took the book and read the entry. It occupied less than a page. Surely a record of brevity for such a momentous occasion.

“There is nothing here about the observations and the reasons for the decisions,” he said, “No details on the planets that were so unsuitable.”

“Yes, there, beginning the second paragraph. If you will permit me I can quote from memory. ‘…therefore, it was the observations alone that could determine future action. The planets were unsuitable.’ ”

“But why? There are no details.”

“Details are not needed. This was a decision of faith. The Great Designer had made allowance for the fact that suitable planets might not be found, and He is the one who knew. If the planets were suitable he would have not given us a choice. This is a very important doctrinal point. We all looked through the telescope and agreed. The planets were not suitable. They were tiny, and had no light of their own like a sun, and were very far away. They obviously were not suitable…”

Chimal sprang to his feet, slamming the book onto the table.

“Are you telling me that you decided simply by looking through the telescope while still at astronomical distance? That you made no approaches, no landings, took no photographs… ?”

“I know nothing of those things. They must be things that Arrivers do. We could not open the valley until we were sure these planets were proper. Think — how terrible! What would it have been like if the Arrivers found these planets unsuitable! We would have betrayed our trust. No, far better to make this weighty decision ourselves. We knew what was involved. Every one of us searched his heart and faith before coming to a reluctant decision. The planets were unsuitable.”

“And this was decided by faith alone?”

“The faith of good men, true men. There was no other way, nor did we want one. How could we have possibly erred as long as we stood true to our beliefs?”

In silence, Chimal copied the date of the decision onto his writing tablet, then put the book back onto the table.

“Don’t you agree that it was the wisest decision?” the Master Observer asked, smiling.

“I think you were all mad,” Chimal said.

“Blasphemy! Why do you say that?”

“Because you knew nothing at all about those planets, and a decision made without facts or knowledge is no decision — just superstitious nonsense.”

“I will not hear these insults — even from the First Arriver. I ask you respectfully to leave my quarters.”

“Facts are facts, and guesswork is guesswork. Stripped of all the mumbo-jumbo and faith talk, your decision is just baseless. Worse than a guess since you make a guess from incomplete facts. You pietistical fools had no facts at all. What did the rest of your people say about the decision?”

“They did not know. It was not their decision. They serve, that is all they ask. That is all we observers asked.”

“Then I’m going to tell them all, and find the computer. We can still turn back.”

The eskoskeleton hummed to follow his body as the old man stood, straight and angry, pointing his finger at Chimal.

“You cannot. It is forbidden knowledge for them and I forbid you to mention it to them — or to go near the computers. The decision of the observers cannot be reversed.”

“Why not? You are just men. Damn fallible, stupid men at that. You were wrong and I’m going to right that wrong.”