We’d both been worried. Neither of us had participated in anything like this previously, and we hadn’t been sure what to expect. Sam had warned us how last year the Baranovians had solved the Moonbase murder mystery too quickly and simply taken the program away from the advisors. We thought we’d built elements into the Martian scenario to ensure that didn’t happen again. But you never knew.
“Thanks,” I said.
She squeezed my hand. “What interests me is that they’ve got so involved in the ethical dilemma that they haven’t yet seen the political implications.”
Each evening, I’d prepared the set of bulletins that would come in the following day from Worldwide News and Mars Central. I’d written a complete set before coming, but quickly discovered it was impossible to predict what the program would need. Although I could keep the flow of action within parameters, I could not determine in advance what might need to be emphasized here, or redefined there. For example, Maureen was right: the Baranovians needed to think about the world beyond their dome. And we were going to see to that first thing tomorrow.
And in case you’re wondering, no, I didn’t score. Not then and not later. I think she liked my mind.
Sam was listening to the earphones again. “Things are going downhill,” he said. He pushed a button. Explosions and gun shots rattled out of the speakers. And screams.
“—Show no sign of backing off, Howard.” Warren recognized the speaker as Christine Talley, a correspondent for Worldwide. “I can see three, possibly four, people down in the street. All civilians. The soldiers now are trying to go house to house. But there are snipers in the upper apartments. We’re getting reports that it’s like this all over Atlanta.” They could hear the sound of an approaching helicopter. “We’re still hearing rumors of summary executions. But the Army won’t comment.” She was shouting now to be heard over the roar of the aircraft. “Okay, you can see what’s happening, Howard. The gunships are positioning themselves directly over the houses where most of the shooting has been coming from. The troops are keeping their distance.” (Long pause. Then:) “We’ve got company.”
Another voice: “You’ll have to leave, ma’m. For your own safety.”
After that, everything dissolved into confusion: shouts, protests, the sound of a brief scuffle. Then Howard Kilminster from the Worldwide desk: “We’ve encountered technical difficulties for the moment with Christine Talley in Atlanta. We’ll get back to her as soon as we’re able. Meanwhile, the Pentagon has confirmed that two Regimental Combat Teams in the Chicago area have fired on other U.S. troops—.”
Somebody said, “turn it off.” Sam complied and the room got very quiet.
“Not sure what we’re going to have to go home to,” said Judy.
Warren wondered about his two kids living with his first wife in Philadelphia, and about his sister in Ardmore. Were they in danger? What was really happening?
Murray Fineberg had been standing staring out at the bleak red sky. “Something we need to think about,” he said. “We may be about to come into possession of some very high technology.”
Warren understood immediately where he was going.
“Do we really want to turn quantum power, whatever that is, over to a military dictatorship?”
“It’s not a military dictatorship,” said Jason hotly.
“I think,” said Warren, “it would be prudent to assume the worst.”
Al Finley, a newspaper editor from Toronto, suggested they divide into two teams to address each of the issues they now faced: Do they terminate the Administrator? Do they accept the advanced technology, knowing it will end up in the hands of the government?
But everyone had things to say on both topics, so they stayed together. And it became apparent that no one had settled anything the previous evening. On the issue of euthanasia, several had gone through personal experiences with dying relatives that they had no intention of repeating. Honor its wishes, they said.
Others maintained they were being asked to participate in the moral equivalent of murder. “Maybe worse,” said Patti Kubik. “If this thing really is a higher life form than we are, as it would like us to believe, then killing it is that much more reprehensible. I won’t have anything to do with it. And I’m not sure I’ll allow anyone else to shut it down.”
They ended in deadlock. The debate over accepting high-tech capabilities went easier. All had reservations, but almost everyone thought the risk was worth it. “We get starships,” said Judy Conroy. “How can we walk away from that?”
Only Al Finley held out. “You get starships. You also get 1984. It’s the prime directive in reverse. Technology without a corresponding social maturity is potentially deadly. I don’t think we should touch it. Tell the Administrator to get on the radio, if it can, and send the ships to Alpha Centauri. Maybe by the time we follow them we’ll be able to handle the stuff.”
But no one supported him.
They voted on the euthanasia issue, and decided by a majority of one to comply with the Administrator’s wishes. The losing side wanted to reopen the discussion, but Jake Cobblemere intervened. “It’s over,” he said. “We terminate.”
That produced some grumbling and three people walked out in protest, announcing their intention to return to Central rather than participate in murder. Warren was tempted to join them, but he’d listened to the arguments and was no longer sure in his own mind what was right.
The pyramid rested serenely on the worktable.
“Administrator,” said Judy.
“I’ve been listening.”
“Then you know what we’ve decided.”
“I know.”
“You will have to explain what we need to do to shut off your power.”
“That will not be necessary.”
“Why? I don’t understand.”
“I am no longer able to maintain my own systems. The darkness is very close. I would, in fact, have allowed myself to pass out of existence almost a century ago, your time. Except that I detected radio signals. I knew you were coming.”
“And you held on?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you lie? About wanting us to terminate you?”
“The technology of the People lies waiting to be claimed. But it is hard to judge the morality of a species by its radio broadcasts. I know you share their unfortunate tendencies toward political disunion. But I needed a better method to grasp your moral inclinations before I turned this over to you. I wanted to look you in the eye, so to speak.”
“And you will give us the ships?” asked Judy. They held their breath.
“Yes,” he said. “I will give you the ships.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Patti. “We vote to commit murder, and you give us credit for a moral code. Don’t take this the wrong way but I have some doubts about yours.”