Selene said, “I don’t think Barron would refuse to believe something for which valid evidence existed. Do you really have the evidence?”
“I think I do. It’s most amazing really, Selene. The whole thing depends on certain subtle factors of quark-quark interactions. Do you know what that means?”
“You don’t have to explain. I’ve talked so much to Barron about all sorts of things that I might be able to follow.”
“Well, I thought I would need the Lunar proton synchrotron for the purpose. It’s twenty-five miles across, has superconducting magnets, and can dispose of energies of 20,000 Bev and more. It turns out, though, that you people have something you call a Pionizer, which fits into a moderately sized room and does all the work of the synchrotron. The Moon is to be congratulated on a most amazing advance.”
“Thank you,” said Selene, complacently. “I mean on behalf of the Moon.”
“Well, then, my Pionizer results can show the rate of increase of intensity of strong nuclear interaction; and the increase is what Lament says it is and not what the orthodox theory would have it be.”
“And have you shown it to Barron?”
“No, I haven’t. And if I do, I expect Neville to reject it. He’ll say the results are marginal. He’ll say I’ve made an error. He’ll say that I haven’t taken all factors into account. He’ll say I’ve used inadequate controls.... What he’ll really be saying is that he wants the Electron Pump and won’t give it up.”
“You mean there’s no way out.”
“Of course there is, but not the direct way. Not Lamont’s way.”
“What’s that?”
“Lament’s solution is to force abandonment of the Pump, but you can’t just move backward. You can’t push the chicken back into the egg, wine back into the grape, the boy back into the womb. If you want the baby to let go of your watch, you don’t just try to explain that he ought to do it—you offer him something he would rather have.”
“And what’s that?”
“Ah, that’s where I’m not so sure. I do have an idea, a simple idea—perhaps too simple to work—based on the quite obvious fact that the number two is ridiculous and can’t exist.”
There was a silence that lasted for a minute or so and then Selene, her voice as absorbed as his, said, “Let me guess your meaning.”
“I don’t know that I have any,” said Denison.
“Let me guess, anyway. It could make sense to suppose that our own Universe is the only one that can exist or does exist, because it is the only one we live in and directly experience. Once, however, evidence arises that there is a second Universe as well, the one we call the para-Universe, then it becomes absolutely ridiculous to suppose that there are two and only two Universes. If a second Universe can exist, then an infinite number can. Between one and the infinite in cases such as these, there are no sensible numbers. Not only two, but any finite number, is ridiculous and can’t exist.”
Denison said, “That’s exactly my reas—” And silence fell again.
Denison heaved himself into a sitting position and looked down on the suit-encased girl. He said, “I think we had better go back to town.”
She said, “I was just guessing.”
He said, “No, you weren’t. Whatever it was, it wasn’t just guessing.”
11
Barron Neville stared at her, quite speechless for a while. She looked calmly back at him. Her window panorama had been changed again. One of them now showed the Earth, a little more than half full.
Finally, he said, “Why?”
She said, “It was an accident, really, I saw the point and I was too enthusiastic not to speak. I should have told you days ago but I was afraid your reaction would be exactly what it is.”
“So he knows. You fool!”
She frowned. “What does he know? Only what he would have guessed sooner or later—that I’m not really a tourist guide—that I’m your Intuitionist. An Intuitionist who knows no mathematics, for heaven’s sake. So what if he knows that? What does it matter if I have intuition? How many times have you told me that my intuition has no value till it is backed by mathematical rigor and experimental observation? How many times have you told me that the most compelling intuition could be wrong? Well, then, what value will he place on mere Intuitionism?”
Neville grew white, but Selene couldn’t tell whether that was out of anger or apprehension. He said, “You’re different. Hasn’t your intuition always proved right? When you were sure of it?”
“Ah, but he doesn’t know that, does he?”
“He’ll guess it. He’ll see Gottstein.”
“What will he tell Gottstein? He still has no idea of what we’re really after.”
“Doesn’t he?”
“No.” She had stood up, walked away. Now she turned to him and shouted, “No! It’s cheap of you to imply that I would betray you and the rest. If you don’t accept my integrity then accept my common sense. There’s no point in telling them. What’s the use of it to them, or to us, if we’re all going to be destroyed?”
“Oh, please, Selene!” Neville waved his hand in disgust. “Not that.”
“No. You listen. He talked to me and described his work. You hide me like a secret weapon. You tell me that I’m more valuable than any instrument or any ordinary scientist. You play your games of conspiracy, insisting that everyone must continue to think me a tourist guide and nothing more so that my great talents will always be available to the Lunarites. To you. And what do you accomplish?”
“We have you, haven’t we? How long do you suppose you would have remained free, if they—”
“You keep saying things like that. But who’s been imprisoned? Who’s been stopped? Where is the evidence of the great conspiracy you see all around you? The Earth-men keep you and your team from their large instruments much more because you goad them into it than out of any malice on their part. And that’s done us good, rather than harm, since it’s forced us to invent other instruments that are more subtle.”
“Based on your theoretical insight, Selene.”
Selene smiled. “I know. Ben was very complimentary about them.”
“You and your Ben. What the hell do you want with that miserable Earthie?”
“He’s an Immigrant. And what I want is information. Do you give me any? You’re so damned afraid I’ll be caught, you don’t dare let me be seen talking to any physicist; only you, and you’re my— For that reason only, probably.”
“Now, Selene.” He tried to manage a soothing tone, but there was far too much impatience to it.
“No, I don’t care about that really. You’ve told me I have this one task and I’ve tried to concentrate on it and sometimes I think I have it, mathematics or not. I can visualize it; the kind of thing that must be done—and then it slips away. But what’s the use of it, when the Pump will destroy us all anyway.... Haven’t I told you I distrusted the exchange of field intensities?”
Neville said, “I’ll ask you again. Are you ready to tell me that the Pump will destroy us? Never mind might, never mind ‘could’; never mind anything but ‘will.’ ”
Selene shook her head angrily. “I can’t. It’s so marginal. I can’t say it will. But isn’t a simple ‘might’ sufficient in such a case?”
“Oh, Lord.”
“Don’t turn up your eyes. Don’t sneer! You’ve never tested the matter. I told you how it might be tested.”
“You were never this worried about it till you started listening to this Earthie of yours.”