Arthur Clarke - The Fountains of Paradise

“But it's not midway! It's almost – ah – two-thirds of the distance up to stationary orbit.”

“True; the mid-point would be at eighteen thousand, not twenty-five. But there's another factor – safety. If the section above is severed, the Midway Station won't crash back to Earth.”

“Why not?”

“It will have enough momentum to maintain a stable orbit. Of course, it will fall earthward, but it will always remain clear of the atmosphere. So it will be perfectly safe – it will simply become a space station, moving in a ten-hour, elliptical orbit. Twice a day it will be right back where it started from, and eventually it could be reconnected. In theory, at least…”

“And in practice?”

“Oh, I'm sure it could be done. Certainly the people and equipment on the station could be saved. But we wouldn't have even that option if we established it at a lower altitude. Anything falling from below the twenty-five thousand kilometre limit hits the atmosphere and burns up in five hours, or less.”

“Would you propose advertising this fact to passengers on the Earth-Midway run?”

“We hope they would be too busy admiring the view to worry about it.”

“You make it sound like a scenic elevator.”

“Why not? Except that the tallest scenic ride on earth only goes up a mere three kilometres! We're talking about something ten thousand times higher.”

There was a considerable pause while Sheik Abdullah thought this over.

“We missed an opportunity,” he said at last. “We could have had five-kilometre scenic rides up the piers of the Bridge.”

“They were in the original design, but we dropped them for the usual reason – economy.”

“Perhaps we made a mistake; they could have paid for themselves. And I've just realised something else. If this – hyperfilament – had been available at the time I suppose the Bridge could have been built for half the cost.”

“I wouldn't lie to you, Mr. President. Less than a fifth. But construction would have been delayed more than twenty years, so you haven't lost by it.”

“I must talk that over with my accountants. Some of them still aren't convinced it was a good idea, even though the traffic growth rate is ahead of projection. But I keep telling them that money isn't everything – the Republic needed the Bridge psychologically and culturally, as well as economically. Did you know that 18 percent of the people who drive across it do so just because it's there, not for any other reason? And then they go straight back again, despite having to pay the toll both ways.”

“I seem to recall,” said Morgan dryly, “giving you similar arguments, a long time ago. You weren't easy to convince.”

“True. I remember that the Sydney Opera House was your favourite example. You liked to point out how many times that had paid for itself – even in hard cash, let alone prestige.”

“And don't forget the Pyramids.”

The Sheik laughed. “What did you call them? The best investment in the history of mankind?”

“Precisely. Still paying tourist dividends after four thousand years.”

“Hardly a fair comparison, though. Their running costs don't compare with those of the Bridge much less your proposed Tower's.”

“The Tower may last longer than the Pyramids. It's in a far more benign environment.”

“That's a very impressive thought. You really believe that it will operate for several thousand years?”

“Not in its original form, of course. But in principle, yes. Whatever technical developments the future brings, I don't believe there will ever be a more efficient, more economical way of reaching Space. Think of it as another bridge. But this time a bridge to the stars or at least to the planets.”

“And once again you'd like us to help finance it. We'll still be paying for the last bridge for another twenty years. It's not as if your space elevator was on our territory, or was of direct importance to us.”

“But I believe it is, Mr. President. Your republic is a part of the terran economy, and the cost of space transportation is now one of the factors limiting its growth. If you've looked at those estimates for the 50's and 60's…”

“I have – I have. Very interesting. But though we're not exactly poor, we couldn't raise a fraction of the funds needed. Why, it would absorb the entire Gross World Product for a couple of years!”

“And pay it back every fifteen, for ever afterwards.”

“If your projections are correct.”

“They were, for the Bridge. But you're right, of course, and I don't expect ANAR to do more than start the ball rolling. Once you've shown your interest, it will be that much easier to get other support.”

“Such as?”

“The World Bank. The Planetary banks. The Federal government.”

“And your own employers, the Terran Construction Corporation? What are you really up to, Van?”

Here it comes, thought Morgan, almost with a sigh of relief. Now at last he could talk frankly with someone he could trust, someone who was too big to be involved in petty bureaucratic intrigues – but who could thoroughly appreciate their finer points.

“I've been doing most of this work in my own time I'm on vacation right now. And incidentally, that's just how the Bridge started! I don't know if I ever told you that I was once officially ordered to forget it… I've learned a few lessons in the past fifteen years.”

“This report must have taken a good deal of computer time. Who paid for that?”

“Oh, I have considerable discretionary funds. And my staff is always doing studies that nobody else can understand. To tell the truth, I've had quite a little team playing with the idea for several months. They're so enthusiastic that they spend most of their free time on it as well. But now we have to commit ourselves or abandon the project.”

“Does your esteemed Chairman know about this?”

Morgan smiled, without much humour. “Of course not, and I don't want to tell him until I've worked out all the details.”

“I can appreciate some of the complications,” said the President shrewdly. “One of them, I imagine, is ensuring that Senator Collins doesn't invent it first.”

“He can't do that – the idea is two hundred years old. But he, and a lot of other people, could slow it down. I want to see it happen in my lifetime.”

“And, of course, you intend to be in charge… Well, what exactly would you like us to do?”

“This is merely one suggestion, Mr. President – you may have a better idea. Form a consortium – perhaps including the Gibraltar Bridge Authority, the Suez and Panama Corporations, the English Channel Company, the Bering Dam Corporation. Then, when it's all wrapped up, approach TCC with a request to do a feasibility study. At this stage, the investment will be negligible.”

“Meaning?”

“Less than a million. Especially as I've already done 80 percent of the work.”

“And then?”

“Thereafter, with your backing, Mr. President, I can play it by ear. I might stay with TCC. Or I might resign and join the consortium – call it Astroengineering. It would all depend on circumstances. I would do whatever seemed best for the project.”

“That seems a reasonable approach. I think we can work something out.”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Morgan answered with heartfelt sincerity. “But there's one annoying roadblock we have to tackle at once – perhaps even before we set up the consortium. We have to go to the World Court, and establish jurisdiction over the most valuable piece of real estate on Earth.”

Even in this age of instantaneous communications and swift global transport, it was convenient to have a place that one could call one's office. Not everything could be stored in patterns of electronic charges; there were still such items as good old-fashioned books, professional certificates, awards and honours, engineering models, samples of material, artists' rendering of projects (not as accurate as a computer's, but very ornamental), and of course the wall-to-wall carpet which every senior bureaucrat needed to soften the impact of external reality.