“I don't see it that way,” she said calmly. “America's a civilized country and given the skills a woman can do as well as a man. And skin color doesn't enter into it.”
“Really?” Redditch said, his eyebrows lifting. “That'll be good news in the ghettos.” He made a note on his pad. “Can I be frank, Coretta? I've been a newsman for a number of years and I know the facts. And I can't stand bullshit.”
Her face was calm but her voice was icy. “I'm giving you the facts and they're not bullshit.”
Redditch threw his hand up in mock surrender. “Okay! No fights. You call them as you see them and I'll write it down.” He flipped through a wad of NASA releases. “No, in this copy about you, it doesn't seem to mention anything about either your marriage or your divorce.”
“You've been doing your homework,” she said calmly, then sipped at her drink. “The marriage lasted less than a year. An old school friend. It was a mistake on both our parts. There were no children. We're divorced but still see each other once in awhile. Would you like names and dates?”
“No thank you, I have all that. Just your personal point of view. Another question if you don't mind. Do you think there was anything political in the fact that you, a newcomer to the space program, were chosen to go on this flight?”
This was the cruncher, the big one, the question that Red-ditch had been setting up. The early stuff was just teasing. Patrick sat unmoving and saw the sudden reddening of Flax's neck. Neither of them said anything. Redditch made an adjustment on the recorder while Coretta sipped her drink, then put it down.
“I don't think so,” she said in a calm, unhurried voice. “I'm no newcomer to NASA, in fact I have been connected with space research for five years. I have always wanted to practice my specialty in its proper setting, in space. I'm sure my age helped me. Some of my colleagues are senior to me but they may not have the physical resiliency for a long space flight. I was just lucky that my number came up now, for a flight as important as this one. I am very happy to be a member of the crew.”
Well done, Patrick thought, then went to pour himself another drink. Cool delivery, no fluster — and every word smacking of the NASA speech writers. She had learned her lines very well. Redditch was going to have a hard time flustering this baby.
Redditch never did. He asked the same question from a couple of angles then appeared to lose interest. Was Coretta's smile a bit wider as he turned his back? Flax was at the bar and pouring himself a large glass of ice water, then a second. Red-ditch flipped the cassette over and turned to Patrick.
“Now the sixty-four thousand dollar question. I know you have been asked it about three hundred times already but I hope you won't mind if I ask again now. What is Prometheus for? Over to you.”
“Before I say what the project is for, or designed to do, can I fill in with a bit of history?”
“Say it any way you like, I have all day. But keep it non-technical. I'm the guy who failed first-grade arithmetic in the eighth grade. Take it from there.”
“Right. First, think of the energy shortage. No politics now, greedy Arabs, profiteering oil companies, all that stuff. Just the physical reality that, at the present rate of consumption, we're going to burn up all the Earth's oil in a couple more years. So we've got to do something drastic about it. Prometheus is that drastic thing. Oil is really two things. Not only the stuff we burn in our cars and planes, but a basic raw material for most industries, chemicals, fertilizer, the lot. So every drop we burn is a drop wasted for this other vital need. Therefore if we get our energy needs from something other than petroleum we have all the oil for its other uses. Okay so far?”
“Perfect. Clear as a bell. More.”
“Right. Alternative sources of energy. Primarily all our energy comes from the sun.”
“I don't get that. Coal? Oil? Wind? What do they have to do with the sun?”
“Everything. Coal and oil contain solar energy stored away by plants millions of years ago. The sun heats our atmosphere and it moves and we get winds. The wind blows and makes ocean waves, so even wave power is direct solar power. The time has come to utilize the non-polluting, eternally available energy of the sun directly. The Prometheus Project.”
“Slow down. It's going to take billions of dollars to even begin this project. Wouldn't that money be better spent on Earth, say tapping the solar energy in the desert?”
“Negative. The atmosphere interferes, the sun doesn't shine at night so the supply isn't continuous, construction is expensive, a number of things make it difficult. It should be done, yes, but it can never equal the size and sheer efficiency of Prometheus. Eventually Prometheus will supply all the world's power needs, supply free power forever. That's what we plan.”
“How?”
“Look outside the window. The largest spaceship ever to be launched. The first of fifty. This is a big and overpopulated world we live on and it needs a lot of power. Fifty shiploads for this project, then who knows how many after that.”
“That sounds expensive.”
“It is,” Patrick said. “But once launched the project will be self-sustaining. The electricity will be sold at a rate of two and a half cents a kilowatt hour — which will be enough to finance more launchings and generators. Once the payload is in orbit the generation of electricity is simplicity itself. The biggest part of our payload is the same kind of plastic you wrap around leftovers when you put them in the refrigerator. Since there's no gravity in orbit, no friction from the atmosphere either, this very thin plastic can be spread out to cover square miles of space. It's coated with aluminum so it acts like a big mirror to reflect sunlight to a focus where it will heat a fluid that will, in turn, drive a turbine that will generate electricity. Simple.”
“Very simple. But you haven't told me how the electricity gets back to Earth. Isn't this where the death ray bit comes in?”
Patrick smiled. “The old rumors are the hardest to kill. Any kind of radiation can be called a death ray — but only if it's strong enough and concentrated enough. A light bulb will warm your hand, but stand in front of a military searchlight and you'll be fried. If you've a small boat you can get a radar set that will help you find your way. Yet if you could manage to get at the focus of a big search radar you would find yourself cooked, coagulated like a hard-boiled egg. Degree and concentration. Once the electricity has been generated in space it will be converted to radio waves, low density microwaves, and beamed back to Earth. The double directional aerial will beam to a receiver in Siberia and another in the State of Washington. The amount Russia receives will supply most of her Siberian needs. What we get will supply the five western states. Free power from space.”
“Sounds okay but I hate to leave the death ray so quickly. It seems to me that the amount of power to do all that, even in the form of radio waves, might be a little strong when it hits the Earth?”
“Absolutely correct. Firstly, the radio beam is locked onto the receiver and is self-correcting. Secondly, if despite this the beam should waver too far it will be automatically shut off. The theory suggests that the beam of radio waves will not be strong enough to cause damage on Earth, but as a further protection the receiver will be situated in the mountains, miles from the nearest habitation.”
Redditch reached out and snapped off the tape recorder.
“That makes sense — and it seems to wrap it up. Thank you for your time. I'm going to run, there's a plane I can make.”
There were polite good-byes and the door closed behind the reporter.
“Now I can have that drink,” Flax said, heaving himself up to the bar. “I was afraid to even look at booze with that son-of-a-bitch reporter here. You want a refill, Coretta?”