“Too bad we hadn’t the selections ready for the other two Impressions,” Sheledon said, for he invariably saw disadvantages everywhere. “Are there any more upcoming?”
“Well, there’re Year’s End celebration” Bethany replied.
“We tend to stay here for them,” said Sheledon, not wanting to miss the feasts that Chrislee generally provided for those holidays. The senior teachers at the College invariably were included on the Fort guest list and never missed such opportunities, even if they had the option of returning to their native hearths for the three-day celebration.
“Maybe this once,” Sydra began, looking at Sheledon, “we should go home and spread the word.”
Bethany frowned. The full chorus and accompaniment is what makes the songs so effective.
Sheledon frowned. “We can certainly organize substantial groups for the main Holds. The dragon riders always come as guests anyway, so they’d all get a chance to hear…” Then he smiled down at his wife, settling an affectionate arm across her shoulders. “You sure did the boy soprano bit well. But I think we’d best get the juvenile voice for Year’s End. You’re hoarse today.”
“Halllooo down there,” and they all looked up to see Clisser, bending far out from an upper window and waving at them.
“Did the Ballads work?” he yelled, hands to his mouth.
The musicians looked at each other, Sheledon counted the beat and they roared back. “THEY LOVED US!” Clisser made a broad OK gesture with both hands and then waved them to go to his office in the original section of the facility.
They reached it first, still elated with the success of their performance, an elation which began to disperse when they saw Clisser’s expression.
“What’s the matter?” asked Bethany, half rising from her chair.
The computers went down and Jemmy thinks they’re totally banjaxed now” Clisser said glumly, flopping into the chair at his desk, his body slack in despair.
“What happened? They were working perfectly,” Sheledon said, scowling. What was Jemmy…
Clisser held up one hand. “Not Jemmy. One of those students hacking around.” Sheledon’s expression suggested dire punishments.
Clisser shook his head. “Lightning.”
“Lightning? But we had no storm warnings.”
“Fried all the solar panels, too, although at least we can replace those. Corey lost her system, what was left of it, including the diagnostics she’s been trying so desperately to transcribe.”
Made speechless by such a catastrophe, Sheledon sat down heavily on the corner of the desk while Sydra leaned disconsolately against the wall.
“How much is gone?” Bethany asked, trying to absorb the disaster.
“All of it,” and Clisser flicked his fingers before he clasped them together across his chest, chin down.
“But… but, surely, it’s only a matter - -“ Sheledon began.
“The motherboards are charcoal and glue,” Clisser said dully. Jemmy’s gone through every box of chips we had left, and there aren’t enough to rebuild even a few meg - and that wouldn’t operate the system. Even part of the system. It’s gone,” and he waved his hand helplessly again.
There was silence for long moments as those in the room struggled to cope with such a massive loss.
How much did the students… Bethany began, cutting her sentence off as Clisser waved, almost irritably, to silence her.
“Surely they saved something.”
“Something, but nowhere near what we need, what was waiting to be copied, a mere fraction of what we need to know.”
“Look, Clisser,” Bethany said gently, “what have we really lost?”
He jerked his head up, glaring at her. “What have we really lost?”
“Why, everything!” Sheledon and Sydra were regarding Bethany as if she had run mad.
“The history we are already seeing as irrelevant to our lives now?” she asked softly. “Descriptions of archaic devices and procedures which have no relevance on Pern since we no longer operate an advanced technological society? Isn’t that what you were doing anyway, Clisser? Changing the direction of teaching in line to what is needed in this time, on this planet, and disregarding I don’t know how many gigabytes of stored information that is irrelevant! Now that we don’t have to worry about all that,” and her hand airily dismissed the loss, “we can forge ahead and not have to concern ourselves with translating useless trivia for posterity. So I ask you, what have we really lost?”
Silence extended until Sheledon uttered a sharp laugh.
“You know, she may be right. We’ve been knocking ourselves out copying down stuff that won’t work here on Pern anyhow. Especially,” and his voice hardened, since no-one back on Earth cares enough to find out what’s happened to us.”
Sydra regarded her husband with a blink. “Not that old Tubberman homing tube business again?” Sheledon went defensive.
“Well, we know from…”
“the Records” Sydra said with a malicious grin, and Sheledon flushed, “that the message tube was sent without Admiral Benden’s authority. Without the name of a colony leader on it, no-one on Earth would have paid it any heed if it even got to Earth in the first place.”
“Someone could have come and had a look-see,” Sheledon said.
“Oh, come now, Shel,” said Bethany, as amused by his sudden switch for he had always derided the Tubberman Tube Theory. “Pern isn’t rich enough for anyone to bother about.”
“So the precious records said, but I think that was to save face.”
“They should have checked on us to see how we were faring. They got awfully proprietary about the Shavian colonies that were the basic reason for the Nathi Space War.”
“That was over three hundred years ago, Shel,” Bethany said in her patient teacher-tone.
“And it is totally irrelevant to now,” Sydra added. “Look, the loss of the computers is undeniably a blow to us, but not something we cannot overcome.”
“But all that information…” cried Clisser, tears coming to his eyes.
“Clisser, dear,” and Bethany leaned across to him, patting his hand gently, “we still have the best computers ever invented…” and she tapped her forehead, “and they’re crammed full of information: more than we really need to operate - -“
“But… but, now we’ll never find out how to preserve vital information-like early warning of the return of the Red Star.”
“We’ll think of something,” she said in such a confident tone that it penetrated Clisser’s distress. And briefly he looked a trifle brighter.
Then he slumped down in even deeper despair. “But we’ve failed the trust placed in us to keep the data available.”
“Nonsense!” Sheledon said vehemently, crashing one fist down on the desk-top. “We’ve kept them going past their design optimum. I’ve read enough in the old manuals to appreciate that. Every year for the past fifty has been a miracle. And we haven’t, as Bethany says, lost all. A gimmick from the past has failed, like so many of them have. And we’re now going to have to bypass the easy access to data they provided and sweat through books! Books! Books that we have in quantity.
Clisser blinked. He shook his head as if mentally rejecting a thought.
“We have been planning to ignore much of the old data,” Bethany said gently. “What was most important to us…” and her hand indicated the Pern of the present, has been copied well, most of it,” she amended when Clisser opened his mouth. “If we haven’t needed it up to now, we never will.”
“But we’ve lost the sum total of human…” Clisser began…
“Ha!” Sydra said. “Ancient history, man. We’ve survived on Pern and it is PERN that’s important. As Bethany said, if we haven’t needed it up to now, we never will. So calm down.”