Imperial Earth

In a hundred years, thought Duncan, he could never have managed to arrange this deliberately. Masterful administration of the unforeseen, indeed! Colin would be proud of him…. It had all begun quite accidentally. When he discovered that the Chief

Engineer bore the scarcely uncommon name of Mackenzie, it had been natural enough to introduce himself and to compare family trees. A glance was sufficient to show that any relationship was remote: Warren Mackenzie,

Doctor of Astrotechnology (Propulsion) was a freckled redhead.

It made no difference, for he was pleased to meet Duncan and happy to chat with him. A genuine friendship had developed, long before Duncan decided to take advantage of it.

“I sometimes feel,” Warren lamented, not very seriously, “that I’m a living cliche. Did you know that there was a time when all ship’s engineers were

Scots, and called Mac-something-or-other?”

“I didn’t know it. Why not Germans or Russians? They started the whole thing.”

“You’re on the wrong wavelength. I’m talking about ships that float on water. The first powered ones were driven by steam-piston engines, working paddle wheels-around the beginning of the nineteenth century. Now, the

Industrial Revolution started in Britain, and the first practical steam engine was made by a Scot. So when steamships began to operate all over the world, the Macs went with them. No one else could understand

such complicated pieces of machinit cry. “Steam engines? Complicated? You must be joking. 99

“Have you ever looked at one? More to it than you might think, though it doesn’t take long to figure it out…. Anyway, while the steamships lasted-that was only about a hundred years-the Scots ran them. I’ve made a hobby of the period; it has some surprising parallels with our time.”

“Go on-surprise me.”

“Well, those old ships were incredibly slow, averaging only about ten klicks, at least for freighters. So really long journeys, even on Earth, could take weeks. Just like space travel.”

“I see. In those days, the countries on Earth were almost as far apart as the planets.”

“Well, some of them. The most perfect analogy is the old British

Commonwealth, the first and last world empire. For almost a hundred years, countries like Canada, India, and Australia relied entirely on steamships to link them to Britain; the one-way journey could easily take a month or more, and was often a once-in-a-lifetime affair. Only the wealthy, or people on official business, could afford it. And-just like today-people in the colonies couldn’t even speak to the mother country. The psychological isolation was almost complete.”

“They had telephones, didn’t they?”

“Only for local use, and only a few even then. I’m talking about the beginning of the twentieth century, remember. Universal global communication didn’t arrive until the end of it.”

“I feel that the analogy is a little forced,” protested Duncan. He was intrigued but unconvinced, and quite willing to listen to Mackenzie’s arguments-as yet, with no ulterior motive.

“I can give you some more evidence that makes a better case. Have you heard of Rudyard Kipling?”

“Yes, though I’ve never read anything of his. He was a writer, wasn’t he?

Anglo-American-sometime between Melville and Hemingway. English Lit’s almost unknown territory to me. Life’s too short.”

“True, alas. But I have read Kipling. He was the first poet of the

machine age, and some people think he was also the finest short-story writer of his century. I couldn’t judge that, of course, but he exactly described the period I’m talking about. “McAndrew’s Hymn,” for example-an old engineer musing about the pistons and boilers and crankshafts that drive his ship round the world. Its technology-not to mention its theology!-has been extinct for three hundred years; but the spirit behind it is still as valid as ever.

“And he wrote poems and stories about the far places of the empire which make them seem quite as remote as the planets are today-and sometimes even more exotic! There’s a favorite of mine called “The Song of the Cities.” I don’t understand half the allusions, but the tributes to Bombay, Singapore,

Rangoon, Sydney, Auckland… make me think of Luna, Mercury, Mars,

Titan…”

Mackenzie paused and looked just a little embarrassed.

“I’ve tried to do something of the same kind myself-but don’t worry, I won’t inflict my verses on it you.

Duncan made the encouraging noises he knew were expected. He was quite sure that before the end of the voyage he would be asked for his criticism-translation, praise—of Mackenzie’s literary efforts.

It was a timely reminder of his own responsibilities. While the voyage was still beginning, he had better start work.