The Gods Themselves - Isaac Asimov Page 0,17

other’s sleeve. “With the para-symbols? Tell me, Mike!”

“It was while you were with Hallam. While you were actually with Hallam. I haven’t known exactly what to do about it, because I wasn’t sure what was going on. And now—”

“And now?”

“I’m still not sure. One of their foils came through, with four symbols …”

“Oh?”

“… in the Latin alphabet. And it can be pronounced.”

“What?”

“Here it is.”

Bronowski produced the foil with the air of a conjurer. Incised on it, quite different from the delicate and intricate spirals and differential glistenings of the para-symbols, were four broad, childlike letters: F-E-E-R.

“What do you suppose that means?” asked Lamont, blankly.

“So far all I’ve been able to think of is that it’s F-E-A-R misspelled.”

“Is that why you were cross-examining me? You thought someone on the other side was experiencing fear?”

“And I thought it might have some connection with your own obviously increasing excitement over the last month. Frankly, Pete, I didn’t like being kept in the dark.”

“Okay. Now let’s not jump to conclusions. You’re the one with experience with fragmentary messages. Wouldn’t you say that the para-men were beginning to experience fear concerning the Electron Pump.”

“Not necessarily at all,” said Bronowski. “I don’t know how much they can sense of this Universe. If they can sense the tungsten we lay out for them; if they can sense our presence; perhaps they are sensing our state of mind. Perhaps they are trying to reassure us; telling us there is no reason to fear.”

“Then why don’t they say N-O F-E-E-R.”

“Because they don’t know our language that well yet.”

“Hmm. Then I can’t take it to Burt.”

“I wouldn’t. It’s ambiguous. In fact, I wouldn’t go to Burt till we get something more from the other side. Who knows what they’re trying to say.”

“No, I can’t wait, Mike. I know I’m right, and we have no time.”

“All right, but if you see Burt you’ll be burning your bridges. Your colleagues will never forgive you. Have you thought of talking to the physicists here. You can’t put pressure on Hallam on your own, but a whole group of you—”

Lamont shook his head vigorously, “Not at all. The men at this station survive by virtue of their jellyfish quality. There isn’t one who would stand against him. Trying to rally the others to put pressure on Hallam would be like asking strands of cooked spaghetti to come to attention.”

Bronowski’s soft face looked unwontedly grim. “You may be right.”

“I know I’m right,” said Lamont, just as grimly.

7

It had taken time to pin the senator down; time that Lamont had resented losing; the more so since nothing further in Latin letters had come from the para-men. No message of any kind, though Bronowski had sent across half a dozen, each with a carefully selected combination of para-symbols and each incorporating both F-E-E-R and F-E-A-R.

Lamont wasn’t sure of the significance of the half-dozen variations but Bronowski had seemed hopeful.

Yet nothing had happened and now Lamont was at last in to see Burt.

The senator was thin-faced, sharp-eyed, and elderly. He had been the head of the Committee on Technology and the Environment for a generation. He took his job seriously and had proved that a dozen times.

He fiddled, now, with the old-fashioned necktie that he affected (and that had become his trademark) and said, “I can only give you half an hour, son.” He looked at his wristwatch.

Lamont was not worried. He expected to interest Senator Burt enough to make him forget about time limits. Nor did he attempt to begin at the beginning; his intentions here were quite different from those in connection with Hallam.

He said, “I won’t bother with the mathematics, Senator, but I will assume you realize that through Pumping, the natural laws of the two Universes are being mixed.”

“Stirred together,” said the senator, calmly, “with equilibrium coming in about 1030 years. Is that the figure?” His eyebrows in repose arched up and then down, giving his lined face a permanent air of surprise.

“It is,” said Lamont, “but it is arrived at by assuming that the alien laws seeping into our Universe and theirs spread outward from the point of entry at the speed of light. That is just an assumption and I believe it to be wrong?”

“Why?”

“The only measured rate of mixing is within the plutonium-186 sent into this Universe. That rate of mixing is extremely slow at first, presumably because matter is dense, and increases with time. If the plutonium is mixed with less dense matter, the rate of mixing increases more rapidly.

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