“The Symphony” was poetry, not music; there was no prescribed tune for it. But Ivo lifted the instrument and felt the power come into his being, for he had dreamed of setting this piece to music many times. He had never had the courage to make the attempt, on his own initiative. But here was his chance to make something of himself and his talent; to find out whether he could open, musically, the door to the riddle that was the destroyer.
There was music in meaning, and meaning in music, and they were very close to one another in the work of Sidney Lanier and in this poem in particular. Each portion of it was spoken by a different instrument, personified, and the whole was the orchestral symphony…
The macroscopic communications systems he had experienced shared this trait. Music, color, meaning — all were interchangeable, and he was sure some species communicated melodically on their homeworlds. A translation was possible, if he borrowed from galactic coding — and if he had the skill to do it accurately. He had learned to comprehend galactic languages, but he had never tried to translate into them. The music charged his hands and body — but could he render the poetry?
The others waited, knowing his problem, searching for some way to help. Harold Groton, whose astrological interpretations could do no good in this situation; Afra Summerfield, whose physical beauty and analytical mind were similarly useless; Beatryx Groton, whose empathy could not enchant his suddenly uncertain fingers.
Analysis, empathy, astrology…
Then he saw that they could help, all of them. Just by being available.
Ivo began to play.
CHAPTER 10
The mists receded; the shadowless darkness evaporated. In the grandeur of sound the vision came, vastly mechanized: the image of the galaxy, cosmic dish of brilliance turning about its nebulous axis, trailing its spiral arms, radiating into space a spherical chord of energy of which the visible spectrum was less than one percent.
Then came the planets, recognizably Solarian, superimposed upon the nebular framework: Pluto, Neptune, Uranus, Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Venus, Mercury, Luna. And it was as though they rolled around within that bowl at differing velocities, Sol rolling too, and Earth at the center. Merged with that was a second bowl, that shifted against the first without friction: galactic and planetary roulette. The combined motions were diverse and complex; it seemed that no eye could trace where within that melee all the planets were at any given moment or how the bowls aligned. Only if the action stopped could such a survey be accomplished — and such a cessation would destroy it all.
It could not be halted — but it could be photographed, in a manner, and such pictures revealed unique aspects. For the two concavities were marked off in quarters, and each quarter in thirds: twenty-four sections between them, twelve against twelve. Each of these was an open chamber wherein a planet might lodge forever, once caught by the flash of the camera. And the flashes came, four of them, making the planets freeze and the two bowls mesh together, binding themselves to the configurations of the instant; and in each case a form of existence was thereby set.
The motions were such that only the instant fixed the ratios; had the action been halted a fraction sooner or later, an entirely different configuration would have resulted, and reality would have deviated by that amount.
This, then, the symphony of motion and meaning, embracing all experience. The instant of its theoretic cessation, that fixation of all planets, was the horoscope.
There was the swell of massed strings as Ivo descended to the circle of pie-shaped pens, searching out the fire symbols. He found a lion with flaming mane and passed it by; a centaur with drawn bow, the arrow a torch, and gave a nod to the archer that was not himself; and the ram. Here he tarried, approaching the animal with caution. The blades of its pasture were red spears of conflagration and the hairs of its body were coils of spreading smoke, but it was the head that predominated. Upon one mighty horn was written ASPIRATION and upon the other, TRADE.
“O Trade! O Trade! would thou wert dead!” Ivo exclaimed, quoting the words of the poet in the language of music: themes of the violin.
But Aries the Ram turned his molten head and snorted fire. “The beasts they hunger, and eat, and die; And so do we, and the world’s a sty; Hush fellow swine; Why nuzzle and cry? Swinehood hath no remedy.”
And Ivo was afraid of this enormous beast, that spoke of other beasts and was so close to him that its very gaze seemed to burn his flesh, and he comprehended its power and determination. But still he tried: “Does business mean, Die, you — live, I? Then ‘Trade is trade’ but sings a lie: ’Tis only war grown miserly.”
Aries pointed one horn at a scorched scroll illuminated in the massed-string surge, and Ivo read:
Formal galactic history commences with the formation of the first interstellar communications network. Only scattered authentic prior evidences exist for the employment of artificial macronics, and these may be disregarded as transitory phenomena of insignificant galactic moment.
The first two cultures to establish a dialogue were only two hundred light-years apart; but a thousand years elapsed from the onset of broadcasting to confirmation. The second culture received the signals of the first and comprehended them, but delayed some time before deciding to respond. It is conjectured that conservative elements within that culture feared the long-range effect of a dialogue with complete aliens: a caution that was justified if value was placed on the status quo.
During the second millennium fifteen additional cultures joined the network, having observed the successful interchange of the first pair and having gained confidence thereby. This was the nucleus of primitive galactic civilization.
Within a hundred thousand years the initial signal had traversed the galaxy and gone beyond, diffusing into the entropy of macronic debris; but its originator had ceased broadcasting within ten thousand, presumably because of species decline or natural catastrophe. It had not been, in retrospect, a particularly notable culture; it owes its distinction in galactic history solely to the fact that it was the first to precipitate the network. Others, however, stimulated by that sample period, remained active, and the total number of participants increased steadily for the first several million years. Eventually the number stabilized, ushering in the so-called main phase.
Spheres of influence developed, the extent of each determined by the relative commencement time of broadcast the level of knowledge provided, the endurance of the originating culture and the compatibility of neighboring cultures. Certain stations, having nothing original to contribute, closed down and were lost to history. Some became intermittent, doing little more than announcing their presence every millennium or so. Some became “service” stations, relaying material gathered and correlated from others. Some merely acknowledged prevailing broadcasts and expressed identification with the more notable ones. A few broadcast without reference to incoming signals, in this manner avoiding direct competition for prestige.
Thus fairly stable spheres developed amid the general chaos, centered on the most durable and knowledgeable stations. This stability extended beyond individual broadcasters, for when a major station desisted lesser ones would fill its place and continue disseminating its information. Quite a number of prominent spheres were based on long-defunct cultures, since the quality of knowledge developed transcended the details of species or culture. Overall civilization gradually expanded, as individual species profited by the knowledge of their neighbors. At times dominance within a sphere would shift, as a pupil became more vigorous than the instructor; but generally the leading cultures maintained their positions, owing perhaps to greater inherent species ability. This main phase endured for about a hundred million years, and almost all the early cultures were replaced by later ones who could lay claim to very little original knowledge. The time of pioneering was over, galactically, and it seemed that the ultimate in civilization had been attained.