To Life! To Life indeed, here and throughout the universe. It was great to be alive. Her very being glowed with the joy of it. McGee looked at her in wonder.
The party went on for hours. The professor entertained them with folk songs accompanied by his own guitar, Townsend and Luke told stories, and Gwen even performed a Celtic fling. One by one, everyone except McGee and Rebecca drifted off to their bunks. By midnight they were sitting alone by the window.
McGee strummed softly on his guitar. "The Streams of Mars" was a turn-of-the century Mars Society reworking of the ancient Irish ballad "The Minstrel Boy." Of all his repertoire, McGee knew this was the song that moved Rebecca most. He had saved it for this moment, and his tenor carried it well.
The streams of Mars are dry and cold, No current runs, no water fills them. Frozen still now since times long old, They wait for those who can revive them. Land now parched, but with hopeful art, Another world may someday be. One force with Reason thy life shall start. One spark of mind shall make alive thee.
Rebecca smiled as she listened to the serenade. Outside the Hab window shone Phobos and Deimos, the two small bright Martian moons. Her luminous eyes reflected the faint globes. "Look at them, Kevin. How beautiful they shine tonight." Her voice was husky with transcendent thought.
McGee had never seen her look more lovely. "Not as beautiful as the light that is shining in your eyes, my princess."
" ‘My princess'? Isn't that the term of endearment John Carter used for his darling Dejah Thoris?"
He was surprised she recognized the Burroughs reference so easily. "Yes, it's what a Martian man says to the woman he adores. The proper reply is ‘my chieftain.'"
Rebecca laughed. "Well, you'll have to wait a long time if you expect me to call you that. Still... it's a sweet custom. Perhaps we should make it the law for our future Martian civilization."
"Yes, my princess, I think we should."
Rebecca drew back a little. "Oh, really. Stop being silly."
McGee felt a sinking feeling. "Who's being silly?"
"You are. You know the two of us can't get involved." Now she smiled at him in a sisterly way.
"Because I'm not a scientist? I share your passion for discovery, you know."
Rebecca shook her head, her tresses glinting in the soft double moonlight. "I know," she said sympathetically. "It's not that. It would just be wrong for the crew."
"Oh, I see. Bad for morale. Can't have that."
Rebecca put her hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes. "Please don't take it hard." She regarded him affectionately. "When we get back to Earth, things will be different."
McGee felt a surge of hope. "Really?"
"No promises—but, yes." Rebecca tousled his hair. "I really do think you're sweet, Kevin. It's just that now, with everything at stake, the mission has to come first. Just don't give up hope."
McGee sighed. "You sure have me where you want me."
She chuckled mischievously. "I suppose so, but that's the breaks. You know I'll always owe you for letting me get the live sample from under that boulder. And the idea of driving back at night using celestial navigation—what can I say? You broke all the rules, and that's what made the difference. If anyone else but you had been there, it never would've happened."
McGee felt a glow of pride. He took Rebecca's hand and gazed out the window. "So, the stars. They've always spoken to explorers. The other night they showed us the way home. What do they say to you tonight, my beautiful Columbus?"
Rebecca looked out the window with him. Once again the moonlight glowed in her eyes. She was silent for a while, but when she finally spoke, her voice was moved with vision. "They're telling us that they're alive. That the universe is filled with life and civilizations. Those science fiction stories you like so much may be fiction, but they're not fantasy. There are star sailors out in all that vastness right now living such tales."
McGee gazed at the star-studded sky, then at Rebecca Sherman, deep in contemplation. His thoughts soared to poetry.
O brave new world, that has such creatures in it.
CHAPTER 10
NEW YORK CITY
DEC. 22, 2011 21:00 CST
GARY STETSON ACKNOWLEDGED the warm applause of the studio audience with a smile and a feigned gracious nod. Keeping his smile in place as the clapping faded, he turned to face his interviewer, a sleek and fashionable TV talk-show host.
"This is Leslie Nelson," she began, "with Good Evening America. Here in the studio to talk with us about the latest and most profound discoveries of science on Earth and throughout the universe is noted author, lecturer, and scientist, Dr. Gary Stetson. Welcome, Gary."
More applause. This time Stetson added a little wave of his hand to his nod and gracious smile. He let the host wait while he absorbed the cheers, then favored her with his most sincere smile. He had practiced it in the mirror. "Hi, Leslie. Glad to be here."
Nelson seemed gratified. "So, Gary, your new book Enthalpy is a bestseller of pop science. How does it feel to be the author of two in a row?
"Leslie, it feels great—not because of the money but because it proves that there's such a large intelligent reading public out there, who are willing to investigate important new ideas."
Again his fans applauded. This time Nelson joined them. Stetson glowed.
"Let's see. Your previous book was The Illusion of Time, in which you demonstrated the need for nonsequential thinking. You showed how important it is to view the world not just in the instinctive way that's been hard-wired by biology into the human psyche, but also to use the more holistic forms of apprehension practiced by insects and trees."
And which outsold its one-million-dollar advance to boot, thought Stetson. "Yes, Leslie. Not only was that book widely popular at its time of publication, but it has since become the basis for retraining programs for upper management of most of corporate America. It has introduced a paradigm shift in intelligent thinking."
"And now, you've published Enthalpy. What's that about?"
It's about a two-million-dollar advance, you dummy. "Well, ‘enthalpy' itself is a fundamental concept in physics. Basically, it's the measure of the ability of a physical system to do useful work. You cannot create enthalpy, it can only be destroyed, and when it's all gone, then no more work can be done. The system and everything in it is dead. The Earth started out with a certain allocation of enthalpy, which we humans are using up today at an astounding rate. If we are going to prolong the life of this planet, we are going to have to drastically cut the rate at which we are consuming enthalpy."
Nelson responded with a smile that looked even more sincere than Stetson's best. This caused him a momentary pang of jealousy, but he managed to let it go. After all, the interviewer was a professional. Like himself.
"You certainly have done a lot of profound thinking about some of the most important issues facing humanity today. Tell me, Gary, how do you feel about this new discovery of life on Mars?"
The question took Stetson off guard. He had been expecting and hoping to keep plugging his book... but Mars? Who gave a damn about Mars? He looked at the audience. They clearly did, and awaited his judgment on the recent discovery. His mind racing, Stetson spoke slowly, giving himself time to develop his thoughts as he went along. "An interesting question, Leslie. I have to say that I agree entirely with all the leading medical experts. This is a very, uh, dangerous situation."