Бен Бова - Uranus

As Raven sat down, she glanced around the office. No bookshelves, no furniture at all except for a hip-tall cabinet lining the wall to the right of Waxman’s desk. The walls were crowded with images, though: photographs of streets, houses, park squares in a city that was built on hills by a big lake of some sort.

“Salt Lake City,” Waxman explained, noting Raven’s interest. “I was born there. So was Reverend Umber.”

“You were childhood friends?” Raven asked.

Waxman smiled thinly. “Not exactly. As a matter of fact, we met in the city jail.”

“Jail?” Gomez blurted.

“It’s a long story,” Waxman said, waving one hand as if to shoo it away. “Today I’d like to learn about what you intend to accomplish here, Dr. Gomez, and how we may help you to succeed.”

For the next hour and then some, Gomez expounded on the unsolved mysteries of Uranus’s lopsided configuration and its seemingly barren worldwide ocean.

Waxman nodded here and there, frowned with puzzlement, clasped his hands together on his desk. Raven tried to follow Gomez’s narration, but the words seemed to flow over her like a tidal wave. Soon she felt that she was drowning. But she made herself nod, too, whenever Waxman did.

At last the astronomer wound down. “I know this is a lot to aim for, but I have only this one chance to study the planet. The Astronomical Association back on Earth decided to fund this one expedition. Period. Either I find what has made Uranus so unique or I return home empty-handed.”

Straightening in his high-backed desk chair, Waxman gave the astronomer a piercing gaze. “We will, of course, assist you in every way we can. Manpower, computer time, communications back to Earth—whatever you want, simply ask me.”

Gomez dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “Thank you so much, Mr. Waxman, I—”

“Evan; please call me Evan.”

“Evan,” Gomez said. “And I am Tómas.”

Waxman smiled pleasantly as he turned his head toward Raven. “And you, Ms. Marchesi? May I call you Raven?”

Raven smiled back brightly. “Certainly… Evan.”

Without an official acknowledgement, without anyone telling her or even asking her, Raven became Gomez’s de facto assistant. She oversaw the unloading of his equipment in the docking area, and when his submersible arrived, several days after he had, she watched the crew that Waxman had assigned carefully installing the instruments into the spherical-shaped submarine.

She dined with Gomez almost every night, but except for that first meeting, she heard nothing from Evan Waxman. He didn’t notice me, Raven told herself disconsolately. I sat there across the desk from him and smiled my best but he paid me no notice.

How can I attract his attention? she asked herself.

And got no answer.

Her work with Gomez, though, absorbed more and more of her time. While the astronomer busied himself in checking the submersible’s instrumentation and plotting its course through the Uranian ocean, Raven took on all the “household” details of his existence.

Not once in all those days—and evenings—did Gomez give the slightest indication that he was sexually attracted to her. He might as well be my brother, she complained to herself. Or a priest.

It was at that moment that it struck her. He is a priest, of sorts, she realized. He’s married to his profession. His god is the universe, and he’s dedicated himself to uncovering its secrets. He has no time for romance or even sex.

Could I break through his shell? she wondered. And if I did, would it make Evan Waxman notice me?

To her surprise, Raven was summoned, not to Waxman’s office, but to the presence of the Reverend Kyle Umber.

She was preparing dinner for herself and Gomez one evening when she received an instruction on the wall screen of her living room to appear at the minister’s office the next morning. At precisely the specified time—1100 hours—Raven stood before the double doors that fronted Umber’s suite of offices. The doors slid open silently.

She stepped just inside the doorway. No one was there. This outer office space was filled with eight consoles, each displaying circular data screens blinking faster than the human eye could follow. No sounds. Raven could hear no hum or buzz. No noise at all. The screens flashed and flickered madly with no person in the room to monitor them.

Before she could think of anything to say or even blink her eyes, a flatly emotionless robotic voice said from a speaker in the ceiling:

“Welcome, Ms. Marchesi. Please proceed along the middle aisle to the door on the far wall.”

Feeling a little uncertain, Raven walked past the busily flashing computer consoles toward the door, which slid open as she approached it.

She stepped through, into a garden.

It had a high, dome-like ceiling, barely visible through the branches of the trees and shrubs that lined the walkway curving through the foliage. Flowers bloomed everywhere and the air was scented with their fragrance.

“That’s right,” a human voice spoke out of nowhere, “just walk along the path.”

The seamless golden path curved left, then right, then ended at a magnificent broad desk of teak and inlaid precious metals. Behind the desk stood the Reverend Kyle Umber, smiling beneficently.

“Welcome, Ms. Marchesi,” Umber said, spreading his arms in salutation. He was dressed in a spotless white suit that seemed almost to glow. Raven half expected a halo to be hovering above his thick shoulder-length reddish-brown hair.

She realized that Umber’s desk was subtly raised above floor level. Even though she was standing, she had to look slightly up at him. She approached the desk and saw that there was a single stiff-looking chair placed in front of it.

“Please sit,” said Umber, gesturing to the chair. “Make yourself comfortable.”

The chair didn’t look comfortable, but Raven sat slowly down on it. To her surprise, the chair seemed to shift, almost to flow, until it conformed to her body shape.

Umber sank into his own high-backed black plush chair. Leaning forward and resting his forearms on the desktop, he asked solicitously, “May I address you as Raven?”

Raven nodded wordlessly.

“Good. And you may call me Reverend Umber.”

Raven almost smiled. The power game, she said to herself. The Reverend Umber isn’t above playing the game. Well, I can play it too.

“I was very honored to receive your call,” she said, in what she hoped was a properly humble tone.

“We’ve been watching your work with Dr. Gomez,” said Umber, “and I must say that I, for one, am quite happily impressed with it.”

Raven looked up into Umber’s round, pink-cheeked face with its auburn hair sweeping down to his shoulders, and smiled.

She said, “I’m trying to help Dr. Gomez all I can.”

“That’s good. Very good. I’m sure God will reward your efforts.”

“I hope so.”

“We have noticed, however, that you have not attended any religious services of any kind since arriving here in Haven .”

Raven put on an expression of contrition. “I have no religion,” she said, softly, sadly.

Umber nodded sorrowfully. “In your former life, I suppose the word of God didn’t reach you.”

“Hardly.”

“But here in Haven you have begun to change your life. Don’t you think you might try to meet God halfway?”

“I don’t know how,” she replied, in a near whisper.

“I could help you.”

Despite herself, Raven’s eyes widened with surprise. He’s coming on to me! This man of God wants to lay me!

“I… I don’t know if I’m worthy of your help, sir.”