Part 31 (1/2)
”They've discovered a lot of new stuff.”
Arno's certainty was granite-hard, so Kingsley tried a mood-altering diversion. ”Well, the cla.s.sic joke about scientists and women is true of me, I'm afraid.”
Arno frowned. ”Haven't heard it.”
”For scientists, it is better for a woman to wear a lot of clothes that take time to take off, you see, because they are always more excited by the search than by the discovery.”
This got a hearty laugh that did not appear to be put on. Pressures of the job escaping Pressures of the job escaping, Kingsley surmised. From Arno's lined face he could see that it would be good to keep things going on the good-fellow front. Always a wise idea, but essential in a crisis of any size; and there had never been one larger.
”Timing is crucial, of course,” he said quickly-to pry forth some information before Arno's mood s.h.i.+fted.
”We've put down that U.N. negotiation position, too,” Arno said. ”They wanted to give it everything.”
”All the people?”
”And more. You've seen the new list?”
”It wants more?”
”You bet. Raising the ante to over half a million names.”
”Extracted from the news media, I imagine.”
”No wonder it got so hot about our turning the TV and radio off.”
”The moral landscape has turned into a minefield, admittedly. Some voices are arguing that we are likely to incur more than half a million dead if it decides to skate along the atmosphere and give us the jet again.”
Something in Arno's smile gave him warning. ”Maybe you should be reading the list instead of listening to those 'voices,' my Royal Astronomer.”
”I'm on the list?”
”The monster watches a lot of TV.”
”And you?”
”Yeah. d.a.m.ned if I know how it got me.”
”Benjamin?”
”Sure. Half the people working on this, easy.”
”My G.o.d.”
”Apparently that's what it thinks it is.”
This sobering talk made the alcohol all the more necessary, in Kingsley's opinion. Still, quite enough had been done along the lines of intimidate-the-out-of-it-scientist. Before he left the bar, he decided a gesture of indifference was required. ”I'd go like a shot if it would settle this matter,” he said.
”You haven't been keeping up on the gusher of transmissions it sends,” Arno said comfortably. ”It doesn't like the 'harvests' we routed to it, of people recorded using the electromagnetic-induction technique.”
”The technique Channing received?”
”Yes, only she got more detailed attention. Lots more. We're having to do all this in a rush, people knocking themselves out, around the clock-”
”Why does the b.a.s.t.a.r.d not like the results?”
”Low definition of some areas of the brain, I hear.”
”We knew that. The regions that regulate body function, digestion and motor skills and the like.”
”Yeah, it says it wants more of them.”
”I gather we impose some body simulation to make up the difference?”
”Not good enough, it says. It prefers the skull-shaving technique some other countries used.”
”Ah. Have to rethink my position, then.” He kept his tone light and collected the drinks before beating a retreat.
He was on firm ground with Arno when discussing astrophysics, but the man had an uncanny way of getting the stiletto in when the subject s.h.i.+fted. The matter-of-fact horror of it all weighed heavily now. And Arno had a sly relish in unveiling the latest faces of the thing that hung in their sky like a great, glowering eye.
”New drink?” Amy asked, peering at his.
”Pernod and tequila with a dash of lemon. I believe it's called a 'macho.'” This joke went unrecognized, perhaps justifiably, and Benjamin began discussing the Eater's dynamics.
”You've learned a lot from her,” Amy said.
”That's the idea, right?” Despite his earlier eyebrow raising, Benjamin slurped down his beer. ”Give her a 'friendly interface,' the Operations term was.”
”I'm sure you're the crucial element,” Kingsley said, believing every word. Certainly fellows like Arno would have driven Channing to suicide by now if they'd been in the loop.
”I wonder why it doesn't like the EM reader method?” Amy mused.
Kingsley said, ”I expect it is a connoisseur in such matters.”
”How?” Benjamin looked both puzzled and distracted, a difficult combination to fathom.
”It has enforced such orders and used the results perhaps thousands of times before,” Kingsley said.
”I wonder what it does with them?” Amy asked, taking a strong pull at her gin and tonic.
”I rather suspect we do not wish to know.”
Benjamin looked soberly into Kingsley's eyes. ”That bad, huh?”
”Morality is a species-specific concept. The Eater transcends species themselves, since it is an artificial construction left to evolve now for a time longer than the Earth has existed. Outside our experience in a way that does not reward considerations of right and wrong.”
Benjamin gave a grim smile. ”Sounds like a cla.s.sy way of saying it can do what it d.a.m.n well pleases, so don't think about it.”
”Well put,” Kingsley said as an aide tugged at his elbow. The man whispered, ”You're needed immediately in Conference B.”