Mark Anniok, secretary of the interior, leaned forward. Anniok was of Inuit heritage. “You can’t just take it away from them,” he said. “It would be political suicide. My God, we’d be pictured as stealing from the Native-Americans again. I can see the editorials now.”
“We damned well can take it away from them,” said Eaton. “And we should immediately thereafter arrange an accident that blows the whole goddamn thing off the top of the ridge.”
“I agree,” said Bonner. “Put a lid on it now while we can.”
Elizabeth Schumacher, the science advisor, sat at the far end of the table. She was a gray-eyed, introspective woman who was rarely invited to strategy meetings. The Taylor administration, committed as it was to reducing the deficit, was not generally perceived as a friend of the scientific community. The president knew this, and he was sorry for it, but he was willing to take the heat to achieve his goal. “Mr. President,” she said, “finding the Roundhouse is an event of incalculable importance. If you destroy it, or allow it to be destroyed, be assured that future generations will never forgive you.”
That was all she said, and Peters saw that it had an effect.
They talked inconclusively for two more hours. Eaton was on the fence. Only Anniok and Schumacher argued to save the Roundhouse. Tony Peters was torn, and he gradually came around to the view that they should try to exploit the ridge and take their chances with the economy and whatever other effects the artifact might have. But he was cautious by nature, and far too loyal to the welfare of his chief executive to recommend that course of action. Everyone else in the room argued strenuously to find a way to get rid of the artifact.
When the meeting ended, the president took Peters aside. “Tony,” he said, “I wanted to thank you for your contribution tonight.”
He nodded. “What are we going to do?”
Taylor had never been indecisive. But tonight, for the first time that Peters could recall, the president hesitated. “You want the truth? I don’t know how to proceed. I think this thing will disrupt the economy, and nobody knows how it will look when we come out the other side. But I also think Elizabeth is right. If I allow the Roundhouse to be destroyed, history is going to eviscerate me.”
His eyes were deeply troubled.
“So what do we do?”
“I don’t know, Tony,” he said. “I really do not know.”
“Go ahead, Charlie from the reservation.”
“Hi, Snowhawk. I wanted to comment on the meeting.”
“Go ahead.”
“When I went down there last night, I thought the way you do. I thought we should take the money.”
“What do you think now, Charlie?”
“Have you seen the pictures?”
“From the other side? Yes.”
“I think Arky was right. I think we should pack up and move over there and then pull the plug on the system.”
“I don’t think that’s what Arky said.”
“Sure he did. And I’m with him. Listen, Snowhawk, all the money in the world isn’t going to get us off the reservation. They can keep their two hundred million. Give me the beach and the woods.”
“Okay, Charlie. Thank you for your opinion. You’re on, Madge from Devil’s Lake.”
“Hello, Snowhawk. Listen, I think that last caller is absolutely right. I’m ready to go.”
“To the wilderness?”
“You got it. Let’s move out.”
“Okay. Jack, from the reservation. You’re on.”
“Hey, Snowhawk. I was there, too.”
“At the meeting?”
“Yeah. And you’re dead wrong. This is a chance for a fresh start. We’d be damned fools not to take it. I say we pack up and go. And this time we keep out the Europeans. After we’re over there, do what what’s-his-name said. Bar the door.”
22
—George Santayana, “Sonnet III”
Arky was adamant: “Nobody else goes across into this wilderness world until we’re sure it’s safe.”
April was ready to explode. “Damn it, Arky. We’ll never be sure it’s safe. Not absolutely.”
“Then maybe we ought to write everything off. Take the best price we can get for the Roundhouse and let somebody else worry about the lawsuits.”
“What lawsuits?”
“The lawsuits that will be filed as soon as one of your pie-in-the-sky academics gets eaten.”
“Nobody’s going to get eaten.”
“How do you know that? Can you guarantee it?”
“Of course I can’t.”
“Then maybe we better think about it.” He took a deep breath. “We need to ask ourselves whether we really want all these people blundering around over there.”
“They aren’t blundering.” April took a moment to steady her voice. “These are trained people. Anyhow, we can’t keep all this to ourselves. We have to let as many people get a look at it as we can.”
“Then let me ask you again: What happens if one of them gets killed?”
“There are no large predators,” she said.
“You haven’t seen any large predators, April. There’s a world of difference. How about diseases? Any exotic bugs?”
“If there are, it’s too late. Max and I have been there and back.”
“I know.” Arky looked sternly at her. “I didn’t care much for that, either. Look, until now this has been a shoot-from-the-hip operation. It’s time we got a handle on things. Before we get burned. First off, I want you and Max to get full physicals. Complete workups. Meantime, we’re going to stop the tours until Adam certifies it’s safe. Okay? I don’t want anyone going over there until that happens. Not even you.”
“Arky,” she protested, “we can’t just lock the door and tell people it’s unsafe.”
“We just did,” he said.
Adam put together his team. They included Jack Swiftfoot, Andrea Hawk, John Little Ghost, and two more April did not know. He parceled out M—15’s, grenades, and pistols. “You look as if you expect to run into dinosaurs,” she said.
He shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.” He signaled his people onto the grid, pressed the arrow icon, and joined them. “See you tonight,” he told April. He was slipping an ammunition clip onto his belt when they began to fade.
Max walked in carrying a couple of yellow balloons and his minicam. “I wouldn’t mind,” April told him, “but this sets a bad precedent. What do we have to do now? Send a SWAT team in before we can look at any of these other places?”
“Assuming there are other places,” said Max. “I don’t know. But I’m not sure it’s a bad idea.”
She grumbled but said nothing.
“Do you think,” Max asked, “whoever built the system is still out there somewhere?”
Her eyes lost their focus. “It’s been ten thousand years,” she said. “That’s a long time.”
“Maybe not for these people.”
“Maybe not. But the Roundhouse was abandoned a long time ago. And there’s no evidence of recent usage in Eden, either. What does that tell you?”
Through the wraparound window, Max could see tourists taking pictures. “I wonder where the network ends,” he said.
Her eyes brightened. “I’m looking forward to finding out.”
The outside door opened. They heard footsteps in the passageway, and Arky Redfern appeared. He waved, peeled off his jacket, and laid it on the back of a chair. “There’s some talk,” he said, “of making you two honorary tribal members.”