In the main hall of the Administration Building, Duncan paused for a moment before the giant, slowly rotating DNA helix which dominated the entrance.
As his gaze roamed along the spokes of the twisted ladder, contemplating its all-but-infinite possibilities, he could not help thinking again of the pentominoes that Grandma Ellen had set out before him years ago. There were only twelve of those shapes-yet it would take the lifetime of the universe to exhaust their possibilities. And here was no mere dozen, but billions upon billions of locations to be filled by the letters of the genetic code.
The total number of combinations was not one to stagger the mind-because there was no way whatsoever in which the mind could grasp even the faintest conception of it. The number of electrons required to pack the entire cosmos solid from end to end was virtually zero in comparison.
Duncan stepped out into the blazing sunlight, waited for his dark glasses to adjust themselves, and set off in search of Dr. Todd, guide and friend of his previous visit. He would not be leaving for another four hours, and there was one major item of business still to be settled.
Luckily, as Sweeney Todd explained, there was no need to go out to the
Reef.
“I can’t imagine why you’re interested in those ugly beasts. But
you’ll find some on a patch of dead coral at the end of that groin; not much else will live there. The water’s only a meter deep-you won’t even need flippers, just a strong pair of shoes. If you do step on a stonefish, your screams will bring us in time to save your life-though you may wish we hadn’t.”
That was not very encouraging, but ten minutes later Duncan was cautiously walking out into the shallows, bent double as he peered through his borrowed face mask.
There was none of the beauty here that he had seen on the approach to
Golden Reef. The water was crystal clear, but the sea bed was a submarine desert. It was mostly white sand, mingled with broken pieces of coral, like the bleached bones of tiny animals. A few small, drably colored fish were swimming around, and others stared at him with anxious, unfriendly eyes from little burrows in the sand. Once, a brilliantly blue creature like a flattened eel came darting at him and, to his great surprise, gave him a painful nip before he chased it away. It was every bit of three centimeters long, and Duncan, who had never heard of cleaning symbiosis, worried about poison for a few minutes. However, he felt no pangs of imminent dissolution, so pushed his way onward through the tepid water.
The concrete groin-part of the island’s defense against the ceaseless erosion of the waves -stretched out for a hundred meters from the shore and then disappeared beneath the surface. Near its seaward end,
Duncan came across a pile of jumbled rocks, perhaps hurled up by some storm. They must have been here for many years, for they were cemented together with barnacles and small, jagged oysters. Among their caves and crevices, Duncan found what he was seeking.
Each sea urchin appeared to have hollowed out its own cavity in the hard rock; Duncan could not imagine how the creatures had performed this remarkable feat of burrowing. Anchored securely in place, with only a bristling frieze of black spines exposed to the outer world, they were invulnerable to all enemies except Man. But Duncan wished them no harm, and this time had not even brought a knife. He had seen
294 enough of death, and his sole purpose now was to confirm-or refute-the impression that had haunted him ever since he had set eyes on that drawing in Karl’s notebook.
Once again, the long black spines started to swing slowly toward his shadow. These primitive creatures, despite their apparent lack of sense organs, knew that he was there, and reacted to his presence. They were scanning their little universe, as Argus would search the stars…. Of course, there would be no actual physical movement of the Argus antennas-that was unnecessary, and would be impossible with such fragile, thousand kilometer-long structures. Yet their electronic sweeping of the skies would have an uncanny parallel with Diadema’s protective reaction. If some planet-sized monster, which used ultra long radio waves for vision, could observe the Argus system at work, what it “save’ would be not unlike this humble reef dweller.
For a moment, Duncan had a curious fantasy. He imagined that he was such a monster, observing Argus in silhouette against the background radio glow of the Galaxy. There would be hundreds of thin black lines, radiating out from a central point-most of them stationary, but some of them waving slowly back and forth, as if responding to a shadow from the stars.
Yet it was hard to realize that even if Argus was built, no human eye could ever see it in its entirety, The structure would be so huge that its slender rods and wires would be totally invisible from any distance.
Perhaps, as Karl had suggested in his notes, there would be warning lights dotted all over the millions of square kilometers of the spherical surface and strung along the six principle axes. To an approaching spaceship, it would look like some glittering Star Day ornament.
Or-and this was more appropriate-a discarded toy from the nursery of the
Gods… Toward evening, while he was waiting for the shuttle back to the mainland,
Duncan found a secluded corner of the coffee shop-cum-bar which
overlooked the lagoon. He sat there thoughtfully, sipping from time to time at a Terran drink he had discovered something called a Tom Collins. It was a bad idea, acquiring vices which could not be exported to Titan; on the other hand, it could equally well be argued that it was foolish not to enjoy the unique pleasures of Earth, even if one had to relinquish them all too soon.
There was also endless enjoyment in watching the play of wind over the water protected by the barrier of the inner reef. Some stretches were absolutely flat, reflecting the blue of the unclouded sky as if in a flawless mirror. Yet other areas, apparently no different, were continually quivering so that not for a moment was the surface still; it was crossed and crisscrossed by innumerable tiny wavelets, no more than a centimeter in height. Presumably some relationship between the varying depth of the lagoon and the velocity of the wind was responsible for the phenomenon, quite unlike anything that Duncan had ever before seen. No matter what the explanation, it was enchantingly beautiful, for the countless reflections of the sun in the dancing water created sparkling patterns that seemed to move forever down the wind, yet remained always in the same spot.
Duncan had never been hypnotized, nor had he experienced more than a few of the nine states of consciousness between full awareness and profound sleep.
he alcohol might have helped, but the scintillating sea was undoubtedly the main factor in producing his present mood. He was completely alert indeed his mind seemed to be working with unusual clarity-but he no longer felt bound by the laws of logic that had controlled all his life. It was almost as if he was in one of those dreams where the most fantastic things can happen, and are accepted as matter of-fact, everyday occurrences.
He knew that he was facing a mystery, of the sort that was anathema to the reputedly hard-headed Makenzies. Here was something that he could
never explain to Malcolm and Colin; they would not laugh 296 at him–or so he hoped-but they would never take him seriously.
Besides, it was so utterly trivial. He had not been vouchsafed some blinding revelation, like an ancient prophet receiving the word of God. All that had happened was that he had come across the same very unusual shape in two quite independent contexts; it might have been a mere coincidence, and the sense of deja vu pure self-delusion. That was the simple, logical answer, which would certainly satisfy everyone else.
It would never satisfy Duncan. He had experienced that indescribable shock a man may know only once in a lifetime, when he is in the presence of the transcendental and feels the sure foundations of his world and his philosophy trembling beneath his feet.