Between the Strokes of Night

He stood up. “You have my word. If you come here, you will have access to me. But as you grow older you will learn that logic is a luxury we must sometimes forego. Most of the human race struggles along without it. You are undeniably a woman — let me destroy another rumor by saying that I find you to be an attractive woman. I am certainly meeting with you, face to face. So much for idle speculation. When you return to Earth, perhaps you will spread the word that many of the ‘known facts’ about me are simple invention. Though I know it will make no difference to the public’s perceptions.”

He had paused in front of her, his manner clearly indicating that the meeting was over. Judith remained seated.

“You asked me one last question,” she said. “Why did I insist on this meeting? I have given you an answer. Now I think I have the right to one more question, too.”

He nodded. “That is fair.”

“Why did you agree to see me? According to Hans Gibbs, you would certainly refuse. I believe that the narcolepsy problem is important to you — but is it that important? I think not.”

Salter Wherry stooped a little, so that the lined face was directly in front of Judith’s. He looked very old, and very tired. She could sense the sadness in his eyes, far down beneath the fire and iron. When he at last smiled, those eyes looked dreamy.

“You are an extraordinary person. Few people see a second level of purpose, except for themselves and their own objectives. I refuse to lie to you, and I feel sure that your own motives sit deeper than we have reached in this meeting. So you should believe me when I say this: Today, you and your staff would find my other motives difficult to accept. Therefore, I will not offer them. But someday you will know my reasons.”

He paused for a long moment, then added softly: “And now that I have met you, I think that you will approve of them.”

He turned and was heading for the doorway before Judith could frame a reply. The interview with Salter Wherry was over.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Earth has been regarded for centuries as a giant self-regulating machine, absorbing all changes, great and small, and diluting their effects until they become invisible on a global scale. Mankind has taken that stability for granted. Careless of consequences, we have watched as forests were cleared, lakes poisoned, rivers damned and diverted, mountains leveled, whole plains dug out for their mineral and fuel content. And nothing disastrous happened. Earth tolerated the insults, and always she restored the status quo.

Always — until now. Until finally some hidden critical point has been passed. The move away from a steady state is signalled in many ways: by increasing ocean temperatures, by drought and flood, by widespread loss of topsoil, by massive crop failure, and by the collapse of worldwide fishing industries. Many solutions have been proposed. But none of them can even be attempted now. All of them call for some practice of conservation, for the reversing of certain changes. That is impossible. With a world population approaching eight billion, all margin for experiment has long disappeared. As resources grow scarcer, pressure to produce grows and grows. The richest nations practice an increased level of isolationism and caution, the poor ones are at the point of absolute desperation. The materials produced in space are no more than a trickle, where a flood is called for.

I offer naught for your comfort. The world is ready to explode, and I see no way to avoid that explosion. What I offer you is only a chance for some of your children…

* * *

“Still at it?” said Jan de Vries. He had activated the videophone connection between the offices. At the sound of his voice Judith Niles put down the slim transcript.

“I’m ready to quit. I don’t think I want to read any more. Did you take a look at this?”

De Vries nodded. “It is not difficult to see why Salter Wherry lacks popularity in the esteemed halls of the United Nations. His recruiting campaign for the space colonies is certainly effective, but he doesn’t paint an encouraging picture of the world’s future. Let us hope that he is wrong.” He moved his index finger along the line of his neat moustache. “The suit is all set. They are ready when you are.”

“Who’ll do it? I left the final screening with Charlene.”

“Wolfgang Gibbs. He’s young, and he’s fit, and we’re agreed that it is not dangerous.”

Judith Niles looked thoughtful. “I’m not so sure of that. Vacuum is vacuum — you don’t play games with it. Tell them to prep him. I’m on my way over.” When she arrived the final lab preparation was complete. Emergency resuscitation equipment stood in banks along the walls. In the middle, seated on a long table in a sealed chamber, Wolfgang Gibbs was adjusting the gloves of the space suit. Charlene Bloom was by his side, obsessively checking the helmet. She straightened up as Judith Niles entered the room.