very old—red dwarf star, one of those abstemious little suns that would still be shining peacefully billions of years after the galaxy’s splendid giants had burned themselves out. No radio telescope had ever examined it closely; now all those that could be spared from the approaching visitor were focused upon its suspected origin.
And there it was, beaming a sharply tuned signal in the one-centimeter band. The makers were still in contact with the vehicle they had launched, thousands of years ago; but the messages it must be receiving now were from only half a century in the past.
As it came within the orbit of Mars, the visitor showed its first awareness of mankind, in the most dramatic and unmistakable way that could be imagined. It started transmitting standard 3075-line television pictures, interleaved with video text in fluent though stilted English and Mandarin. The first cosmic conversation had begun—and not, as had always been imagined, with a delay of decades, but only minutes.
13. Shadow at Dawn
Morgan had left his hotel in Ranapura at 4:00 A.M. on a clear, moonless night. He was not too happy about the choice of time, but Professor Sarath, who had made all the arrangements, had promised him that it would be well worth while. “You won’t understand anything about Sri Kanda,” he had said, “unless you have watched the dawn from the summit. And Buddy—er, the Maha Thero—won’t receive visitors at any other time. He says it’s a splendid way of discouraging the merely curious.” So Morgan had acquiesced with as much good grace as possible.
To make matters worse, the Taprobanean driver had persisted in carrying on a brisk, though rather one-sided, conversation, apparently designed to establish a complete profile of his passenger’s personality. This was all done with such ingenuous good nature that it was impossible to take offense, but Morgan would have preferred silence.
He also wished, sometimes devoutly, that his driver would pay rather more attention to the countless hairpin bends around which they zipped in the near-darkness. Perhaps it was just as well that he could not see all the cliffs and chasms they were negotiating as the car climbed up through the foothills. This road was a triumph of nineteenth-century military engineering—the work of the last colonial power, built in the final campaign against the proud mountain folk of the interior. But it had never been converted to automatic operation, and there were times when Morgan wondered if he would survive the journey.
And then, suddenly, he forgot his fears and his annoyance at the loss of sleep.
“There it is!” said the driver proudly as the car rounded the flank of a hill.
Sri Kanda itself was completely invisible in a darkness that as yet bore no hint of the approaching dawn. Its presence was revealed by a thin ribbon of light, zigzagging back and forth under the stars, hanging as if by magic in the sky. Morgan knew that he was merely seeing the lamps set two hundred years ago to guide pilgrims as they ascended the longest stairway in the world, but in its defiance of logic and gravity it appeared almost a prevision of his own dream. Ages before he was born, inspired by philosophies he could barely imagine, men had begun the work he hoped to finish. They had, quite literally, built the first crude steps on a road to the stars.
No longer feeling drowsy, Morgan watched as the band of light drew closer and resolved itself into a necklace of innumerable twinkling beads. Now the mountain was becoming visible, as a black triangle eclipsing half the sky. There was something sinister about its silent, brooding presence. Morgan could almost imagine that it was indeed the abode of gods who knew of his mission, and were gathering their strength against him.
These ominous thoughts were entirely forgotten when they arrived at the cable-car terminus and Morgan discovered to his surprise—it was only 5:00 A.M.—that at least a hundred people were milling around in the little waiting room. He ordered welcome hot coffee for himself and his garrulous driver, who, rather to his relief, showed no interest in making the ascent. “I’ve done it at least twenty times,” he said with perhaps exaggerated boredom. “I’m going to sleep in the car until you come down.”
Morgan purchased his ticket, did a quick calculation, and estimated that he would be in the third or fourth load of passengers. He was glad that he had taken Sarath’s advice and slipped a thermocoat in his pocket.