“We stood in a line a hundred yards long to look through the telescope, which shows a score of stars where we can see but one with our bare eyes. It shows the mountains and valleys of the moons. It is too bad the sky is now overcast, but perhaps Dama Chimei will let you see his microscope. The sight of a drop of stagnant water under that thing will give you nightmares. This is the biggest development since the steam engine. But then this morning, the Prem threw his guards around the hall and announced this idiotic debate.”
Toskano pushed open a massive stupa-wood door and led them into the vestibule. Through the doors of the main auditorium, Marko glimpsed the backs of an audience listening to arguments among a small group of men seated on a stage.
Marko said: “What’s going on in there, sir?” Toskano explained: “A panel discussion on that same old subject: Can steam power be applied to land transportation? I proved long ago it’s impossible. You can build a little brass model that will pull a couple of wagons across a table top, but the minute you try to go into larger sizes, the weight factors defeat you.” Toskano led them up a flight of stairs and into a large room. There were armchairs and tables, on which books and periodicals were piled. Philosophers sat about smoking, reading, talking in low voices, playing vrizh or chess, or just sitting. Halran wailed:
“But what is this fatal debate?”
“Calm down, Boert. If you’re going to die, it might as well be like a man. You know there has been a tremendous to-do in Eropia about the Descensionist theory. The archaeologists and historians claim they now have almost conclusive evidence for it, while the Eclectic Church denounces it and demands that the old heresy laws be applied against us.
“The common people are all excited too, some for and some against, although not one in a hundred really knows what it’s about. It’s got so we dare not wear our academic robes abroad for fear of having stones thrown at us. Maybe the Philosophers’ Guild should have bent with the wind, but instead of that we defied the Evolutionists and petitioned Mirabo to disestablish the Church.”
“Well?” said Halran.
“This morning the Prem announced that, tomorrow afternoon, there should be a grand debate between the Descensionists and the Evolutionists, to settle the question once and for all. If he decides the Descensionists are right, he will disestablish the church and execute all the priests, whereas if the Evolutionists win he will cut off all our heads.”
“Good gods!” said Halran and Marko together. Halran added: “Is the man insane?”
“No; that’s just the emphatic way our little Prem does things. Whichever side is rightor whichever he thinks is rightcan have anything it asks, while the side that is wrong has been misleading the masses and must die as a crowd of dangerous liars and subversive demagogues.”
Halran wailed: “Oh, curses! curses! Why was I born? I shall appeal to the Prez of Anglonia! Can we smuggle out a message?”
“Perhaps, but I doubt if you could get any action from your government before all was over. Besides, from what I hear, your Prez thinks a massacre of philosophers would be good riddance. He’s the great peasant leader, and to him nothing that doesn’t smell of manure is worth that.” Toskano snapped his fingers.
Halran pulled himself together. “Then obviously we must win this debate. My friend Master Prokopiu might be of some assistance. He has just been chased out of Vizantia as an incorrigible Descensionist.”
“So?” said Toskano. “How is this, Master Prokopiu?”
“I should be glad to help,” said Marko. “I have a fair command of the Descensionist arguments as a result of my trial.”
Toskano said: “I don’t think you would do as a speaker, because your Eropian is not good enough. But I shall appoint you to the committee that is to prepare the debating panel tonight, in case you can contribute a useful suggestion. This will be an all-night task, you know.”
Marko said: “Sir, I had rather lose a night’s sleep than my head.”
“Good. Now tell me about your journey hither. What delayed you?”
Halran summarized the story of their landings on Afka and Mnaenn and their escape from those places.
Ulf Toskano said: “Have you those boxes of cards you took from the Great Fetish?”
Marko brought the boxes out of his pockets and handed them to Toskano, who opened the flap on the end of one box and drew out a card. It was made of a smooth, yellow-white substance. It had the appearance of an ordinary playing card but the feel of being much stronger, as if it were made of metal. On both sides, it was covered with little gray spots arranged in a rectangular pattern, with yellow-white lines between the rows. Toskano handed it back.
“I can make no sense of this,” he said. “Let’s walk around and look at the exhibits before supper. We shall have enough to do afterwards. It’s too bad. Moogan, one of our most effective speakers, was going to deliver a paper on heredity tonight but has begged off because he is too upset about his impending doom.”
Toskano led them out of the parlor and down a hall. A series of small chambers had been fitted up as exhibition rooms. One, for instance, contained diagrams showing the theory of one school of naturalists about the proper classification of Kforrian life-forms, with preserved samples of small plants and animals to illustrate.
The next room contained a table on which stood Dama Chimei’s microscope, with an assortment of small objectsleaves, fragments of animal tissue, paper, cloth, and so forthto be seen through it. The Chimei brothers stood at the table answering questions about their device and showing visitors how to operate it. Ryoske Chimei explained, for it seemed that Dama Chimei spoke neither Eropian nor Anglonian. Like other Mingkworen, the Chimei brothers were short men with yellowish skins, straight black hair, and flat faces with wide cheekbones.
“Ha, Dr. Chimei!” said Toskano. “Here are some new visitors to see your marvels. This is Dr. Halran, who has solved the secret of flight, and his assistant Master Prokopiu.”
Ryoske Chimei bowed stiffly. “We are honored that persons of such importance trouble themselves to view our poor trifles,” he said in a singsong voice. “If you will wait until this gentleman has finished …”
Ryoske Chimei spoke to his brother in Ming-kwohwa. Toskano murmured to his companions:
“Don’t let that pretense of humility fool you. That’s just Mingkwoan manners. They are the most self-conceited fellows I ever met; everything outside of Mingkwo, to them, is barbarous squalor.”
“If you please, sirs,” said Ryoske Chimei, and Halran bent over the microscope, ohing and ahing as he witnessed the wonders of the microcosmos. While Hal-ran was looking, Ulf Toskano said:
“Master Prokopiu, get out those boxes of cards you brought from Mnaenn. Thank you.” He took out a card and handed it to Ryoske Chimei, saying: “Try this under your magnifier.”
Ryoske handed the card to Dama Chimei, who slid it under the objective of the microscope.
“Hey!” cried Boert Halran. “Those little gray dis-colorations are writing!”
“What?” said Toskano. “Don’t be ridiculous! Who could write so small that not even the letters could be seen?”
“This is printing.”
“But how could it be? For printing, somebody has to cut a type mold; somebody else has to cast a type slug; somebody else has to set the slug in the press”
“Look yourself.” Halran made room for Toskano.
“By Napoleon, it is at that,” said the chairman. “But in no language I know. I thought I had a smattering of all the tongues of Kforri.”
Halran said: “Many of the letters are like those of our alphabet, but the combinations are strange.”