“Good morning, Ari, I'd like today's World Court ruling on the case Astroengineering Corporation versus the Sri Kanda Vihara. The summary will do – let me have the full printout later.”
“Decision 1. Lease of temple site confirmed in perpetuity under Taprobanean and World Law, as codified 2085. Unanimous filing.”
“Decision 2. The construction of the proposed Orbital Tower with its attendant noise, vibration and impact upon a site of great historic and cultural importance would constitute a private nuisance, meriting an injunction under the Law of Torts. At this stage, public interest not of sufficient merit to affect the issue. Ruling 4 to 2, one abstention.”
“Thank you, Ari – cancel printout – I won't need it. Goodbye.” Well, that was that, just as he had expected. Yet he did not know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
Rooted as he was in the past, he was glad that the old traditions were cherished and protected. If one thing had been learned from the bloody history of mankind, it was that only individual human beings mattered: however eccentric their beliefs might be, they must be safeguarded, so long as they did not conflict with wider but equally legitimate interests. What was it that the old poet had said? “There is no such thing as the State.” Perhaps that was going a little too far; but it was better than the other extreme.
At the same time, Rajasinghe felt a mild sense of regret. He had half convinced himself (was this merely co-operating with the inevitable?) that Morgan's fantastic enterprise might be just what was needed to prevent Taprobane (and perhaps the whole world, though that was no longer his responsibility) from sinking into a comfortable, self-satisfied decline. Now the Court had closed that particular avenue, at least for many years.
He wondered what Maxine would have to say on the subject, and switched over to delayed playback. On Global Two, the News Analysis channel (sometimes referred to as the Land of Talking Heads), Senator Collins was still gathering momentum.
“– undoubtedly exceeding his authority and using the resources of his division on projects which did not concern it.”
“But surely, Senator, aren't you being somewhat legalistic? As I understand it, hyperfilament was developed for construction purposes, especially bridges. And isn't this a kind of bridge? I've heard Dr. Morgan use that analogy, though he also calls it a tower.”
“You're being legalistic now, Maxine. I prefer the name 'space elevator'. And you're quite wrong about hyperfilament. It's the result of two hundred years of aerospace research. The fact that the final breakthrough came in the Land Division of my – ah – organisation is irrelevant, though naturally I'm proud that my scientists were involved.”
“You consider that the whole project should be handed over to the Space Division?”
“What project? This is merely a design study one of hundreds that are always going on in TCC. I never hear about a fraction of them, and I don't want to – until they reach the stage when some major decision has to be made.”
“Which is not the case here?”
“Definitely not. My space transportation experts say that they can handle all projected traffic increases – at least for the foreseeable future.”
“Meaning precisely?”
“Another twenty years.”
“And what happens then? The Tower will take that long to build, according to Dr. Morgan. Suppose it isn't ready in time?”
“Then we'll have something else. My staff is looking into all the possibilities, and it's by no means certain that the space elevator is the right answer.”
“The idea, though, is fundamentally sound?”
“It appears to be, though further studies are required.”
“Then surely you should be grateful to Dr. Morgan for his initial work.”
“I have the utmost respect for Dr. Morgan. He is one of the most brilliant engineers in my organization – if not in the world.”
“I don't think, Senator, that quite answers my question.”
“Very well; I am grateful to Dr. Morgan for bringing this matter to our notice. But I do not approve of the way in which he did it. If I may be blunt, he tried to force my hand.”
“How?”
“By going outside my organization – his organization – and thus showing a lack of loyalty. As a result of his manoeuvrings, there has been an adverse World Court decision, which inevitably has provoked much unfavourable comment. In the circumstances, I have had no choice but to request – with the utmost regret – that he tender his resignation.”
“Thank you, Senator Collins. As always, it's been a pleasure talking to you.”
“You sweet liar,” said Rajasinghe, as he switched off and took the call that had been flashing for the last minute.
“Did you get it all?” asked Professor Sarath. “So that's the end of Dr. Vannevar Morgan.”
Rajasinghe looked thoughtfully at his old friend for a few seconds.
“You were always fond of jumping to conclusions, Paul. How much would you care to bet?”
III – THE BELL
22. Apostate
Driven to despair by his fruitless attempts to understand the Universe, the sage Devadasa finally announced in exasperation
ALL STATEMENTS THAT CONTAIN THE WORD GOD ARE FALSE.
Instantly, his least-favourite disciple Somasiri replied “The sentence I am now speaking contains the word God. I fail to see, Oh Noble Master, how that simple statement can be false.”
Devadasa considered the matter for several Poyas. Then he answered, this time with apparent satisfaction:
ONLY STATEMENTS THAT DO NOT CONTAIN THE WORD GOD CAN BE TRUE.
After a pause barely sufficient for a starving mongoose to swallow a millet seed, Somasiri replied: “If this statement applies to itself; Oh Venerable One, it cannot be true, because it contains the word God. But if it is not true -”
At this point, Devadasa broke his begging-bowl upon Somasiri's head, and should therefore be honoured as the true founder of Zen.
(From a fragment of the Culavamsa, as yet undiscovered)
In the late afternoon, when the stairway was no longer blasted by the full fury of the sun, the Venerable Parakarma began his descent. By nightfall he would reach the highest of the pilgrim rest-houses; and by the following day he would have returned to the world of men.
The Maha Thero had given neither advice nor discouragement, and if he was grieved by his colleague's departure he had shown no sign. He had merely intoned, “All things are impermanent”, clasped his hands, and given his blessing.
The Venerable Parakarma, who had once been Dr. Choam Goldberg, and might be so again, would have had great difficulty in explaining all his motives. “Right action” was easy to say; it was not easy to discover.
At the Sri Kanda Maha Vihara he had found peace of mind – but that was not enough. With his scientific training, he was no longer content to accept the Order's ambiguous attitude towards God; such indifference had come at last to seem worse than outright denial.
If such a thing as a rabbinical gene could exist, Dr. Goldberg possessed it. Like many before him, Goldberg-Parakarma had sought God through mathematics, undiscouraged even by the bombshell that Kurt Gцdel, with the discovery of undecidable propositions, had exploded early in the Twentieth Century. He could not understand how anyone could contemplate the dynamic asymmetry of Euler's profound, yet beautifully simple,
e^(pi * i) + I = 0
without wondering if the universe was the creation of some vast intelligence.
Having first made his name with a new cosmological theory that had survived almost ten years before being refuted, Goldberg had been widely acclaimed as another Einstein or N'goya. In an age of ultra-specialisation, he had also managed to make notable advances in aero and hydrodynamics – long regarded as dead subjects, incapable of further surprises.