“And Liu from Tokyo,” Sutherland added.
“Look … Rosenzweig… and there’s Yossarian!”
“My God, all the top people in the field are here.”
Lou recognized some of them, the best-known geneticists and biochemists in the world. He saw no other computer engineers, though.
“Adrian!” called a frail, little man with wispy white hair. “I knew they would bring you here, too.”
Kaufman turned and recognized the old man. Both shocked and delighted, he went to him, hands outstretched.
Max… they brought you in on this.”
Then Lou realized who he was: Professor DeVreis, the elder statesmen of the world’s geneticists, the man who had taught the leaders of the field, like Kaufman, in their university days.
Dr. Sutherland joined them, and soon the three of them formed the nucleus of a growing, grave-faced, head-shaking crowd. Lou stood by the entrance, alone now.
“Do you know any of these people?”
Lou looked up to see a tall, gangly, lantern-jawed fellow his own age standing beside him. He was wearing a baggy suit with full trousers and the kind of shoes that you only found in northern hemisphere cities. At second glance, Lou could see that he was trying hard to look calm and unfrightened.
“I don’t know many of them personally,” Lou answered. Then he pointed out several of the scientists.
His new companion shook his head worriedly. “Geneticists? Biochemists? Why am I here? I’m a nuclear physicist!”
He spoke with a trace of an accent that Lou couldn’t pin down.
, Now Lou felt equally puzzled. “If it’s any consolation, I’m a computer engineer. Um… my name’s Lou Christopher.”
With a toothy grin, he took Lou’s offered hand. “I am Anton Kori. I’m from the University of Prague.”
“And I’m with the Watson Institute of Genetics… or was, that is.”
“American?”
Lou nodded. Then he saw that many of the people in the crowd had drinks and sandwiches in their hands. “Looks like lunch is being served someplace around here. Hungry?”
Kori shrugged. “Now that you mention it…”
They exchanged stories as they searched through the crowded rooms and finally found the luncheon buffet table.
“Nothing like this has happened in Czechoslovakia in thirty years,” Kori said, reaching for a sandwich. “Arrested in the middle of the night and carried off by the police… it’s like stories my grandfather used to tell us.”
Suddenly, his face brightened. “Ah! There are two men I know!”
Lou followed him as he rushed over to a pair of older men standing by the French doors, eating and talking quietly. One of the men was chunky, bald, very fair-skinned, dressed in shorts and pullover. The other looked Indian: dark, slim, and intense, slightly Oriental-looking. The plain-gray business suit he wore simply accentuated his exotic looks.
“Clark! Janda!” Kori called out as he rushed up to them.
“Anton,” said the chunky man. “What on earth are you doing here. Or for that matter, what are any of us doing here? Do you know?” His accent was unmistakably English.
Kori introduced Lou to Clark Frederick and Ramash Jandawarlu, rocket engineers.
“Rocket engineers?” Lou echoed.
They nodded.
“We were working together—by fax and phone, mostly,” said Frederick, “on an improved fusion rocket.”
“For interstellar ships,” Kori said.
“Interstellar… oh, like the probes that were sent out around the turn of the century?” In the back of his mind he was trying to remember whether it was Clark Frederick or Frederick Clark.
“Yes, like the probes, only much better,” said Jandawarlu in his reedy voice. “Rocket engines that could propel manned vessels, not merely small instrument probes.”
“Manned ships, to the stars?”
“Yes. It would have been something magnificent.”
Clark huffed at his co-worker, “You speak as if it’s all over for us.”
The Indian spread his hands. “We are here. We are not working. I don’t think they will allow us to work.”
“But who are they?” Kori demanded.
Lou said, “The world government. For some reason they’ve rounded up the world’s top geneticists and biochemists… and apparently a few rocket people, too,”
“But why?”
As if in answer, a voice came from a hidden loud speaker:
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you will kindly assemble in the main salon, we can begin the meeting.”
For a second or two the big room was completely silent, everyone stood frozen. There were no sounds from anywhere in the house, no sounds at all except the low grumble of far-off thunder. Then, everybody started talking and moving at once. The hubbub was terrific as more than a hundred men and women poured back into the hall and headed for the villa’s largest room.
It wasn’t difficult to find the main salon. It was at the end of the front hall, a huge room hung with blue and gold draperies. There were three ornate chandeliers and a half-dozen floor-to-ceiling mirrors set into the walls. The floor was polished wood, for dancing. But there were rows of folding chairs arranged across it now. The far end of the room was bare except for a blank viewscreen on the wall, big enough for a public theater.
Once everyone was inside the room, the doors swung shut and clicked softly. Nobody in sight, but they’re watching us just the same, Lou thought. And a shiver went through him.
Lou sat with Kori, Frederick, and Janda in one of the rear rows of folding chairs. He saw Kaufman and Sutherland up in the front row, next to Professor DeVreis.
The big viewscreen began to brighten and glow softly. A voice said:
“Gentlemen, you will be addressed by the Honorable Vassily Kobryn, Minister of Security.”
The image of Kobryn’s heavy, serious face took shape on the screen.
“Russian,” muttered Kori.
“Gentlemen,” Kobryn said slowly, “it is my unhappy duty to explain to you why you have been taken away from your work and your homes to this place. Believe me, the Council of Ministers has thought long and hard before going ahead with this drastic action.”
It’s going to be bad, Lou realized. He’s preparing us for something even worse than what’s happened so far.
“As you know,” Kobryn continued, his face utterly grave, “the government has worked for more than thirty years to make this planet a peaceful, habitable environment. Our efforts have been made extremely difficult by two factors: nationalism and population growth. We believe that we have been successful on both fronts. There are no more national armies and no possibility of a major war between nations. And world population growth has leveled off in the past ten years. Admittedly, twenty-some billions is a much higher figure than anyone would call optimum, but we are managing to provide a livable environment for this population.”
“What about the cities?” someone called out.
“Quiet!”
“Let him get to the point.”
Kobryn seemed almost glad of the interruption. He answered, “Yes, the cities. I admit that most of the larger cities of the world are completely savage… unlivable, by civilized standards. In plain terms, we lost the fight in the giant cities; actually, we started too late. But we have not given up. A considerable portion of our work is being devoted to long-range programs to gradually win the cities back to civilization.”
“Why are we here?” a strong voice demanded.
Nodding, Kobryn said, “I am coming to that. You see, we live in a world that is dangerously crowded. There are many who feel that we have passed the point of no return, that our population is too large. They feel that the barbarians of the cities will engulf us all, sooner or later. Even the optimists among us agree that our present population is too large, and we are constantly on the verge of a disaster. If the crops fail anywhere in the world, if a major earthquake or storm escapes our control… the repercussions could be tragic for the whole world.