They grew quiet. Regan cleared his throat solemnly.
He said, “First of all, I’d like to express my gratitude to all the people who helped make this 1992 Columbian Exposition the success it has turned out to be. To Hal Martinelli and Lyle Henderson of my staff, to Tim Field of Global Factors, who helped me in many ways, to President Thomas Hammond of the United States, to the fine craftsmen of Aero do Brasil who built this magnificent satellite for us-to those people, and to hundreds of others, my heartfelt thanks.
‘As you know, it’s a little over two years since I took over the task of promoting the 1992 Columbian Exposition. It’s been a hectic two years, and not always a cheerful two years-but it’s never been dull, and I’m glad to say that the work has been worth-while. We have had a remarkable advance sale for the Fair, and we will be placing more tickets on sale just as soon as we can build the ships to get people here. The people of Earth are eager to come and see what we have here, and, believe me, we’re eager to welcome them.
‘There’s little doubt in my mind that the high point of this World’s Fair is the Martian Pavilion. It’s encouraging to see the interest that these visitors from our neighbor world have generated. Their presence here is terribly exciting to me. Having the Martians here has a wonderful symbolic value -for, just as Christopher Columbus gave Europe a New World populated by strange and unusual beings, so too does this World’s Fair, commemorating Columbus’ great achievement, bring close to Earth the inhabitants of a modern-day New World.
‘Which brings me to an important point: this is the last World’s Fair that can ever be held. We have to move that apostrophe, from now on. They’ll be Worlds’ Fairs-Fairs of the Worlds. A wonderful new world is rising on Mars, a world of colonies, and we must never forget the Old Martians. I’m privileged to announce that Global Factors, Inc., has decided to sponsor a long-range, multibillion dollar project to contact intelligent life in every part of the universe, so that future Worlds’ Fairs can be truly intergalactic in scope.“
Regan paused. He toyed with the microphone, listened to the hum of the tiny recorders taking down his words. No doubt Global Factors would be a little startled by this new project to which he had just committed the company. Regan had discussed it, after all, only with Tim Field, on an unofficial basis. But Global Factors was in for bigger surprises, Regan thought.
He moistened his lips.
‘Now for a personal announcement,“ he said, and the assembled reporters snapped to attention. ”I regard the successful launching of this World’s Fair as the culmination of my career. Yes, that’s right. Even though I’m only thirty-six, I feel that I’ve achieved all I can achieve on Earth. Power, wealth, and now great creative satisfaction-what more can a man want?
‘Therefore, effective November 1,“ Regan went on, ”I’m resigning my post as Chief Executive Officer of Global Factors, Inc.-“
He heard the gasp, rising like a booming hiss from the audience. He simply smiled.
‘Resigning my post,“ he repeated. ”I’ve designated as my successor the Factor Tim Field, who I’m sure will guide the destinies of this great corporation capably and well. I am at the same time severing all of my connections with the financial world. I am emigrating to Marsport, where I’ll live the humble life of a colonist.“
Eyebrows were rising en masse.
‘The first of next month will see me there. I expect to serve any need the colony may have for me. As for my personal wealth, I am making it over to the Claude Regan Foundation, a nonprofit organization whose function will be the protection and preservation of the way of life of the Old Martians. It’s my hope that this money will guarantee peace and safety to these people throughout the rest of their days.“
There was uproar in the hall.
‘Factor Regan! Factor Regan!“ they were shouting. ”We’d like to know-“
Regan silenced them. “As I said, there will be no questions answered at this press conference, nor will I hold any further press conferences. My reasons for taking this step are strictly private, and I do not intend to amplify them. Thank you.”
He strode from the hall, leaving them shouting and arguing among themselves. Outside, in the anteroom, Nola rushed up to him. She had heard the whole conference.
‘Are you crazy?“ she cried. ”Giving all your money away?
Resigning!“
‘You wanted me to resign, Nola. For my health. You said I was working too hard.“
‘But setting up a foundation for Martians? Claude, it’s insane! You couldn’t really have meant it, about becoming a colonist on Mars.“
‘I did mean it,“ he said. ”It’s true.“
Her eyes were wide. “What about me, then?”
Regan shrugged. “You’re my wife. Will you come with me to Mars?”
‘And live in that horrid little slum? Don’t be foolish!“
‘That’s about what I expected. All right, Nola. You stay here, and I’ll go to Mars. You won’t starve. Your personal funds are still your own. And after seven years the law will allow you to divorce me for desertion. You can marry my Uncle Bruce, if you like. He’ll only be seventy, then. Or your friend Rex Bennett. Excuse me.“
He turned away from her, and made his way out of the building. The sounds of confusion echoed behind him. He wondered how Global Factors would react to the news. He hadn’t told anyone, not even Tim Field. Better that they find out about it all at once, with the rest of the world.
It was just a short walk from the Global Pavilion to the Martians. Regan cut his way through the mob outside the cave. “Excuse me,” he said, savagely shouldering them to the side.
‘Who the hell does he think he is?“ someone demanded hotly.
‘It’s Regan!“ somebody else answered. ”It’s the Factor!“
He entered the pavilion. Two Fair employees were on guard-Regan kept a round-the-clock watch on the Martians, so that a medic could be summoned if any of the captives looked sickly. Regan gestured at the men.
‘Open the lock,“ he said. ”I’m going in.“
‘Factor Regan!“ they gasped. ”The air in there-’
‘I can breathe it for a little while,“ Regan said. ”It won’t kill me. Open it up!“
Numbed, dazed, they let Regan enter the Martian cave through the airlock. It closed behind him, and the atmosphere went whistling out, and a moment later the thin, acrid Martian atmosphere filtered in. The inner door opened. Regan entered. His head started to pound. He could feel his heart throbbing at an accelerated rate. It was cold in here, and the air was deficient in oxygen. But he could survive. It was like breathing mountain air. He stood there, confronting the six Martians. They regarded him without interest.
He said, “I just wanted to tell you something. I wanted to offer my apologies for bringing you people here. I had to do that. It was necessary. It was cruel and brutal, but I had no choice, and I want you to forgive me. Will you forgive me?”
They didn’t answer. Perhaps they hadn’t even understood. He thought he had spoken clearly, but maybe in the low pressure, the thin atmosphere…
He swayed. He felt dizzy. This was Martian environment, all but the gravity. Unable to duplicate Mars’ low gravity in the pavilion, Regan had simply had the whole Fair satellite adjusted to about seventy percent of Earth gravity-making things a little odd for everybody, but sparing the Martians from hardship.
He said, into the teeth of their silence, “I want to tell you what I’ve done for you. I’ve turned all my money over to your people. I’ve set up a foundation to protect you. Nobody will ever exploit you. Nobody will ever do to you what I did to you, not again. It’s my atonement. Will you accept it? Will you forgive me?”
No answer. They took his announcement coolly, passively. They were not impressed. They were beyond reacting to anything, these survivors of a long-dead race.
‘I’m going to Mars!“ he shouted at them. ”I’m going to live there, to work there. I’m going to dedicate myself to the Martian people-the Old Martians and the New. Can you follow that? In another two years, you’ll be brought back to Mars. You’ll have done a great thing for your world, by consenting to come here. But I want you not to think badly of me. I want you to pardon me for-for…“