August 13, 2025 • 61 mins
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Dead Giveaway by Randall Garrett. Logic's a wonderful thing. By
logical analysis, one can determine the necessary reason for the
existence of a dead city of a very high order
on an utterly useless planet. Obviously a shipping transfer point. Necessarily,
(00:21):
Mendez said the young man in the blue and green
Tartan jacket. Why, yes, sure, I've heard of it. Why.
The clerk behind the desk looked again at the information screen.
That's the destination we have on file for Scholar Duckworth,
mister Turnbull. That was six months ago. He looked up
from the screen, waiting to see if Turnbull had any
(00:44):
more questions. Turnbull tapped his teeth with a thumbnail for
a couple of seconds, then shrugged slightly. Any address given
for him, Yes, sir, the hotel Byron Landing City Mendez.
Turnbull nodded. How much is the ferred to Mendez? The
clerk thumbed a button which wiped information from the screen clean,
(01:07):
then replaced it with another list, which flowed upward for
a few seconds, then stopped. Seven hundred and eighty five fifty, sir,
said the clerk, Shall I make you out a ticket?
Turnbull hesitated, what's the route. The clerk touched another control,
and again the information on the screen changed. You'll take
(01:29):
the regular shuttle from here to Luna, then take either
the Stellar Queen or the Oriona to Serrus six. From
there you will have to pick up a ship to
the Central Worlds, either Vanderlin or ben Abram, and take
a ship from there to Mendez. Not complicated, really. The
whole trip won't take you more than three weeks, including stopovers,
(01:52):
I see, said Turnbull. I haven't made up my mind yet.
I'll let you know very well, sir. The Stellar Queen
leaves on Wednesdays and the Rhina on Saturdays. We'll need
three days notice. Turner will thank the clerk and headed
toward the big doors that led out of Long Island Terminal,
(02:14):
threading his way through the little clumps of people that
milled around inside the big waiting room. He hadn't learned
a hull of a lot. He thought he'd known that
Duckworth had gone to Mendez, and he already had the
hotel Byron address. There was, however, some negative information there.
The last address they had was on Mendez, and yet
(02:37):
Scholar Duckworth couldn't be found on Mendez Obviously he had
not filed a change of address there, just as obviously
he had managed to leave the planet without a trace.
There was always the possibility that he'd been killed. Of course,
on a thinly populated world like Mendez, murder could still
(02:58):
be committed with the little chance of being caught. Even
here on Earth, a murderer with the right combination of
skill and luck could remain unsuspected. But who would want
to kill Scholar Duckworth? And why? Turnbull pushed the thought
out of his mind. It was possible that Duckworth was dead,
but it was highly unlikely. It was vastly more probable
(03:22):
that the old scholar had skipped off for reasons of
his own, and that something had happened to prevent him
from contacting Turnbull. After all, almost the same thing had
happened in reverse a year ago. Outside the terminal building,
Turnbull walked over to a hackstand and pressed the signal
button on top of the control column. An empty cab
(03:45):
slid out of the traffic pattern and pulled up beside
the barrier which separated the vehicular traffic from the pedestrian walkway.
The gate in the barrier slid open at the same
time the cab door did, and Turnbull stepped inside and
sat down. He dialed his own number, dropped in the
indicated number of coins, and then relaxed as the cab
(04:08):
pulled out and sped down the freeway toward Manhattan. He'd
been back on Earth now for three days, and the
problem of scholar James Duckworth was still bothering him. He
hadn't known anything about it until he derived at his
apartment after a year's absence. The apartment door sighed a
(04:28):
little as Dave Turnbull broke the electronic seal with the
double key. Half the key had been in his possession
for a year, jealously guarded against loss during all the
time he had been on Lebonn. The other half had
been kept by the manager of the Excelsior apartments. As
the door opened, Turnbull noticed the faint, musty odor that
(04:52):
told of long, unused and poorly circulated air. The conditioners
had been turned down to low power for a year now.
He went inside and allowed the door to close silently
behind him. The apartment was just the same, the broad
expanse of pale blue rug the matching furniture, including the long,
(05:13):
comfortable couch and the fat over stuffed chair, all just
as he had left them. He ran a finger experimentally
over the top of the table nearer the door. There
was a faint patina of dust covering the glossy surface,
but it was very faint. Indeed, he grinned to himself,
(05:34):
in spite of the excitement of the explorations on Le Bond,
it was great to be home again. He went into
the small kitchen, slid open the wall panel that concealed
the apartment's power controls, and flipped the switch from maintenance
to normal. The lights came on, and there was a
faint sigh from the air conditioners as they began to
(05:56):
move the air at a more normal rate through the rooms.
Then he walked over to the liquor cabinet, opened it
and surveyed the contents there, and all their glory sat
the half dozen bottles of English sherry that he'd been
dreaming about for twelve solid months. He took one out
and broke the seal, almost reverently, not that there had
(06:20):
been nothing to drink for the men on le Bond.
The university had not been so blue nosed as all that,
but the choice had been limited to bourbon and scotch. Turnbull,
who was not a whiskey drinker by choice, had longed
for the mellow smoothness of Bristol cream sherry instead of
(06:41):
the smokiness of Scotch or the heavy bodied strength of
the bourbon. He was just pouring his first glass when
the announcer chimed. Frowning, Turnbull walked over to the viewscreen
that was connected to the little eye in the door.
It showed the face of what was his name, Sampson Sanders.
(07:03):
That was it Sanders, the building superintendent. Turnbull punched the
opener and said, come in. I'll be right with you.
Mister Sanders. Sanders was a round, pleasant faced, soft voiced man,
a good ten years older than Turnbull himself. He was
standing just inside the door as Turnbull entered the living room.
(07:27):
There was a small briefcase in his hand. He extended
the other hand as Turnbull approached. Welcome home, mister Turnbull,
he said warmly, we've missed you here at the Excelsior.
Turnbull took the hand and smiled as he shook it.
Glad to be back, mister Sanders. The place looks good
after a year of roughing it. The Superintendent lifted the briefcase.
(07:52):
I brought up the mail that accumulated while you were gone.
There's not much since we sent cards to each return
adre notifying them that you were not available and that
your mail was being held until your return. He opened
the briefcase and took out seven standard pneumatic mailing tubes
and handed them to Turnbull. Turnbull glanced at them. Three
(08:15):
of them were from various friends of his scattered over earth,
One was from Standard Recording Company. The remaining three carried
the return address of James M. Duckworth pH sch UCLA,
Great Los Angeles, California. Thanks, mister, Sanders, said Turnbull. He
(08:39):
was wondering why the man had brought them up so
promptly after his own arrival. Surely, having waited a year,
they would have waited until they were called for. Sanders
blinked apologetically, Doctor Turnbull. I wonder if if any of
those contain money, chicks, cash, anything like that. I don't
(09:03):
know why, Turnbull asked, in surprise. Sanders looked even more apologetic. Well,
there was an attempted robbery here about six months ago.
Someone broke into your mail box downstairs. There was nothing
in it. Of course, we've been putting everything into the
vault as it came in. But the police thought it
(09:24):
might be some one who knew you were getting money
by mail. None of the other boxes were opened, you see,
and he let his voice trail off as Turnbull began
opening the tubes. None of them contained anything but correspondence.
There was no sign of anything valuable. Maybe they picked
my box at random, Turnbull said. They may have been
(09:47):
frightened off after opening the one box. That's very likely,
said Sanders. The police said it seemed to be a
rather amateurist job, although whoever did it certainly succeeded in
neutralizing the alarms. Satisfied, the building superintendent exchanged a few
more pleasantries with Turnbull and departed. Turnbull headed back toward
(10:11):
the kitchen, picked up his glass of sherry, and sat
down in the breakfast note to read the letters. The
one from Standard Recording had come just a few days
after he'd left, thanking him for notifying them that he
wanted to suspend his membership for a year. The three
letters from Cairo, London, and Luna City were simply chatty
(10:33):
little social notes, nothing more. The three from scholar Duckworth
were from a different breed of cat. The first was
postmark twenty one August twenty one eighty seven, three months
after Turnbull had left for Lebon. It was neatly addressed
to Dave F. Turnbull pH D. Dear Dave. It read,
(10:58):
I know I haven't beeniscon assistant in keeping up with
my old pupils as I ought to have been. For this,
I can only beat my breast violently and mutter mia coppa, miacoppa,
mia maxima coppa. I can't even plead that I was
so immersed in my own work that I hadn't the
time to write, because I'm busier now than I've been
for years, and I've had to make time for this letter.
(11:22):
Of course, in another way, this is strictly a business letter,
and it does pertain to my work, so the time
isn't as hard to find as it might be. But
don't think I haven't been watching your work. I've read
every one of your articles in the various journals, and
I have copies of all four of your books nestled
securely in my library. Columbia should be and apparently is
(11:47):
proud to have a man of your ability on its
staff at the rate you've been going, it won't be
long before you get an invitation from the Advanced Study
Board to study for your scholar's degree. As a matter fact,
I'd like to make you an offer right now to
do some original research with me. I may not be
a top flight genius like Metternick or Doll, but my
(12:11):
reputation does carry some weight with the board. That Turnbull
thought was a bit of needless modesty. Duckworth wasn't to
show men that Metternick was or the prolific writer the
Doll was, but he had more intelligence and downright wisdom
than either. So if you could manage to get a
(12:31):
few months leave from Columbia, I'd be honored to have
your assistance. More modesty, thought Turnbull, The honor would be
just the other way around. The problem, in case you're wondering,
has to do with the Centaurus mystery. I think I've
uncovered a new approach that will literally kick the supports
right out from under every theory that's been evolved for
(12:54):
the existence of that city. Sound interesting. I'm mailing this
early so it should reach you in the late afternoon.
Mail if you'll be home at between nineteen hundred and
two thousand. I'll call you and give you the details.
If you've got a pressing appointment, leave details with the operator.
(13:15):
All the best, Jim Duckworth. Turnbull slid the letter back
into its tube and picked up the second letter, dated
August twenty two, twenty one eighty seven. One day later,
Dear Dave, I called last night and the operator said
your phone has been temporarily disconnected. I presume these letters
(13:38):
will be forwarded, so please let me know where you are.
I'm usually home between eighteen hundred and twenty three hundred,
so call me collect within the next three or four days.
All the best, Jim. The third letter was dated ten
November twenty one eighty seven. Turbull wondered why it had
been sent. Obviously, the manager of the Excelsior had sent
(14:02):
Duckworth a notice that doctor Turnbull was off planet and
cannot be reached. He must have received the notice on
the afternoon of twenty two August. That would account for
his having sent a second letter before he got the notice.
Then why the third letter. Dear Dave, I know you
won't be reading this letter for six months or so,
(14:24):
but at least it will tell you where I am.
I guess I wasn't keeping as close tabs on your
work as I thought, Otherwise I would have known about
the expedition to Lebonn. You ought to be able to
make enough credit on that trip to bring you to
the attention of the board. And don't feel too bad
about missing my first letters or the call. I was
(14:44):
off on a wild goose chase that just didn't pan out,
So you really didn't miss a devil of a lot.
As a matter of fact, it was rather disappointing to me.
So I've decided to take a long needed sabbatical leave
and combine it with a little research on the half
intelligent natives of Mendez. I'll see you in a year
(15:05):
or so. As ever. Jim Duckworth, well, that was that
turnbull thong. It galled him a little to think that
he'd been offered a chance to do research with scholar
Duckworth and hadn't been able to take it. But if
the research hadn't panned out, he frowned and turned back
to the first letter. A theory that would literally kick
(15:28):
the supports right out from under every theory that's been
evolved for the existence of that city, He'd said, Odd,
it was unlike Duckworth to be so positive about anything
until he could support his own theory without much fear
of having it pulled to pieces. Turnbull poured himself a
(15:48):
second glass of sherry, took a sip, and rolled it
carefully over his tongue. The Centaurus Mystery, that's what the
explorers had called it back in twenty forty one, nearly
a century and a half before, when they'd found the
great City on one of the planets of the Alpha
(16:08):
Centaurus System. Man's first interstellar trip had taken nearly five
years at sublight velocities, and bing right off the bat,
they'd found something that made interstellar travel worthwhile. Even though
they'd found no planet in the Alpha Centaurus System that
was really habitable for Man, they'd seen it from space,
(16:32):
a huge dome city gleaming like a great gem from
the center of the huge desert that covered most of
the planet. The planet itself was Mars like, flat and
arid over most of its surface, with a thin atmosphere
high in CO two and very short on oxygen. The
city showed up very well through the cloudless air. From
(16:56):
the very beginning, it had been obvious that who, whoever,
or whatever had built the city had not evolved on
the planet where it had been built. Nothing more complex
than the Lichens had ever evolved there, as thousands of
drillings into the crust of the planet had shown. Certainly,
nothing of near humanoid construction could ever have come into
(17:20):
being on that planet without leaving some trace of themselves
or the genetic forebears, except for that single huge city.
How long the city had been there was anyone's guess,
a thousand years, a million. There was no way of telling.
It had been sealed tightly so none of the sand
that blew across the planet's surface could get in. It
(17:43):
had been set on a high plateau of rock, far
enough above the desert level to keep it from being buried,
and the transport dome was made of an aluminum oxide
glass that was hard enough to resist the slight erosion
of its surface that might have had been caused by
the gentle, thin winds dashing microscopic particles of sand against
(18:06):
its smooth surface. Inside, the dry air had preserved nearly
every artifact, leaving them as they had been when the
city was deserted by its inhabitants at an unknown time
in the past. That's right, deserted. There were no signs
of any remains of living things. They had all simply
(18:27):
packed up and left, leaving everything behind. Dating by the
radiocarbon method was useless. Some of the carbon compounds in
the various artifacts showed a fat trace of radiocarbon, others
showed none. But since the method depends on the knowledge
of the amount of nitrogen in the atmosphere of the
planet of origin, the rate of bombardment of that atmosphere
(18:51):
by high velocity particles, and several other factors, the information
on the radioactivity of the specimens meant nothing. There was
also the likelihood that the carbon in the various polymer
resins came from oil or coal, and fossil carbon is
useless for radio dating. Nor did any of the more
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modern methods show any greater success. It had taken man
centuries of careful comparison and cross checking to read the
evolutionary history written in the depths of its own planet's crust.
To try to date the city was impossible. It was
like trying to guess the time by looking at a
faceless clock with no hands. There the city stood one
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hundred miles across ten thousand square miles of complex enigma.
It had given man his first step into the ever
widening field of cultural zenology. Dave Turnbull finished his sherry,
got up from the breakfast nook, and walked into the
living room where his reference books were. Copy of Kleinzmeinsteinopolis's
(20:03):
City of Centaurus hadn't been opened in years, but he
took it down and flipped it open within three pages
of the section he was looking for. It is obvious, therefore,
that every one of the indicators points in the same direction.
The city was not could not have been self supporting.
There is no source of organic material on the planet
(20:26):
great enough to support such a city. Therefore, foodstuffs must
have been imported. On the other hand, it is necessary
to postulate some reason for establishing a city on an
otherwise barren planet and populating it with an estimated six
hundred thousand individuals. There can be only one answer. The
(20:48):
race that built the city did so for the same
reason that human beings built such megalopolises as New York,
Los Angeles, Tokyo, and London, because it was a focal
point for important trade routes. Only such trade routes could
support such a city. Only such trade routes give reason
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for the city's very existence, and when those trade routes
changed or were supplanted by others in the course of time,
the reason for the city's existence vanished. Turnbull closed the
book and shoved it back into place. Certainly, the theory
made sense, and had for a century. Had Duckworth come
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across information that would seem to smash that theory. The
planet itself seemed to be perfectly constructed for a gigantic
landing field for interstellar ships. It was almost flat, and
if the transshipping between the interstellar vessels had been done
by air, there would be no need to build a
hard surface for the field. And there were other indications.
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Every fact that had come to light in the ensuing
century had been in support of the Greek German Zenologist's theory.
Had Duckworth come up with something new? If so, why
had he decided to discard it and forget his new theory?
If not, why had he formulated the new theory and
on what grounds? Turnbull lit a cigarette and looked sourly
(22:15):
at the smoke that drifted up from its tip. What
the devil was eating him? He'd spent too much time
away from Earth. That was the trouble. He'd been too
deeply immersed in his study of labonn for the past year.
Now all he had to do was get a little
hint of something connected with cultural zenology, and his mind
went off on dizzy tizzies. Forget it. Duckworth had thought
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he was on to something, found out that he wasn't
and discarded the whole idea. And if someone like scholar
James Duckworth had decided it wasn't worth fooling with, then
why was a common PhD like Turnbull worrying about it,
especially when he had no idea what it started Duckworth
off in the first place. And his thought came came
(23:00):
back around to that again. If Duckworth had thought enough
of the idea to get excited over it, what had
set him off? Turnbull felt he'd like to know what
had made Duckworth think, even for a short time, that
there was some other explanation for the city Ah Hell,
he'd asked Duckworth some day, there was plenty of time.
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He went over to the phone, dialed a number, and
sat down comfortably in his fat, blue, over stuffed chair.
It buzzed for half a minute, then the tail tail
lit up, but the screen remained dark. Dave said a
feminine voice, are you back? Where on Earth have you been?
I haven't, said Turnbull? How come no vision? I was
(23:46):
in the Hammond silly, And what do you mean I haven't?
You haven't? What you asked me where on Earth i'd been?
And I said I haven't. Oh lucky man galvanig around
the starways while less poor humans have to stay home. Yeah,
great fun. Now, look, Dee, get some clothes on and
(24:09):
turn on your pickup. I don't like talking to gray screens.
Half a sec there was a minute's pause, then the
screen came on, showing the girl's face. Now, what do
you have on your purported mind? Simple? I've been off
earth for a year, staring at bearded faces and listening
(24:30):
to Barrett tone voices. If it isn't too short notice,
I'd like to take you to dinner and a show
and whatever else suggests itself afterward done, she said, what
time twenty hundred at your place? I'll be waiting. Dave
Turnbull cut the circuit, grinning. The Duckworth problem had almost
(24:53):
faded from his mind, but it flared back up again
when he glanced at the mail tubes on his desk. Damn,
he said. He turned back to the phone, jammed a
finger into the dial, and spun it angrily. After a moment,
the screen came to life with the features of a
beautifully smiling but obviously efficient, blonde girl Interstellar Communications. May
(25:17):
I serve you, sir? How long will it take to
get a message to Mendez? And what will it cost?
One moment, sir, her right hand moved off screen and
her eyes shifted to look at a screen that Turnbull
couldn't see Mendez. She said shortly. The message will reach
there in five hours and thirty six minutes total transmission time.
(25:40):
Allow an hour's delay forgetting the message on the tapes.
For beaming, the cost is one seventy five per symbol.
Spaces and punctuation marks are considered symbols A and and
and the are symbols. Turnabile thought a moment it was high,
damned high. But then a man with a bona fide
(26:02):
p h D was not exactly a poor man, if
he worked at his specialty or not. I'll call you
back as soon as I have composed the message, he said,
Very well, sir. He cut the circuit, grabbed a pencil
and started scribbling. When he'd finished reducing the thing to
its bare minimum, he started to dial the number again.
(26:23):
Then he scowled and dialed another number. This time, a
mild faced young man in his middle twenties appeared. University
of California in Los Angeles Personnel Office, mass serve you.
This is doctor Dave Turnbull in New York. I understand
that scholar Duckworth is on leave. I'd like his present address.
(26:44):
The young man looked politely firm. I am sorry, doctor,
we cannot give out that information. Oh yap, look here,
I know where he is. Just give me the he stopped.
Never mind, let me talk to Thornwald. Thornwall was easier
to deal with since he knew both Duckworth and Turnbull.
(27:04):
Turnbull showed him Duckworth's letter on the screen. I know
he's in Mendez. I just don't want to have to
look all over the planet for him. I know, Dave,
I'm sure it's all right. The address is Landing City
Hotel Byron Mendez. Thanks, thorn I'll do you a favor
(27:25):
some day. Sure, see you. Turnbull cut off, dialed. Interstellar
Communications sent his message and relaxed. He was ready to
make a night of it. He was going to make
his first night back on Earth a night to remember.
Speaker 2 (27:42):
He did.
Speaker 1 (27:44):
The next morning, he was feeling almost flighty. He buzzed
and flitted around his apartment as though he'd hit a
high point on a manic cycle, happily burbling utter nonsense
in the form of a perfectly ridiculous popular So, my dear,
the merest touch of.
Speaker 2 (28:02):
You has opened up my eyes. And if I get
too much of you, you really paralyze Donna, Donna Bella,
Donna Clyding, Crimson Bright. Though I'm near you, I don't
want to see the falling shades of night. Even when
the phone chimed in its urgent message, it didn't disturb
(28:23):
his frothy mood. But three minutes later he had dropped
down to Earth with a heavy clunk. His message to
Mendez had not been delivered. There was not now and
never had been. A scholar James Duckworth registered at the
Hotel Byron in Landing City. Neither was his name on
(28:44):
the incoming passenger lists at the spaceport at Landing City.
He forced himself to forget about it. He had a
date with d again that night, and he was not
going to let something silly like this bother him. But
bother him it did, Unlike the night before, the date
was an utter fiasco, a complete flop. D sensed his mood,
(29:08):
misinterpreted it, complained of a headache, and went home early.
Turnbull slept badly that night. Next morning, he had an
appointment with one of the executives of uc l I,
University of Columbia in Long Island, and on the way
back he stopped at the spaceport to see what he
could find out, but all he got was purely negative information.
(29:34):
On his way back to Manhattan, he sat in the
autocab and fumed. When he reached home, he stalked around
the apartment for an hour, smoking half a dozen cigarettes,
chain fashion, and polishing off three glasses of Bristol cream
without even tasting it. Dave Turnbull, like any really top
flight investigator, had developed intuitive thinking to a fine art.
(29:57):
Ever since the Lancaster method had shown the natural laws
applying to intuitive reasoning, no scientists worthy of the name
failed to apply it consistently in making his investigations. Only
when exact measurement became both possible and necessary. Was there
any need to apply logic to a given problem. A
(30:18):
logician adds two and two and gets four. An intuitionist
multiplies them and gets the same answer. But a logician
faced with three twos gets six, an intuitionist gets eight.
Intuition will get higher orders of answers from a given
set of facts than logic will. Turnbull applied intuition to
(30:41):
the facts he knew and came up with an answer.
Then he phoned the New York Public Library, had his
phone connected with the stacks, and spent an hour checking
for data that would either prove or disprove his theory.
He found plenty of the former and none of the latter.
Then he called his superiors at Columbia. He had to
write up his report on the labon explorations. Would it
(31:04):
be possible for him to take a six month leave
of absence for the purpose.
Speaker 1 (31:09):
It would. The following Saturday, doctor Dave F. Turnbull was
on the Interstellar Liner Oriona, bound for Serious. If ever
there was a gold mine in the sky, it was
Centaurus City. To the cultural zenologist who worked on its
mysterious riches, it seemed to present an almost inexhaustible supply
(31:31):
of new data. The former inhabitants had left everything behind
as though it were no longer of any value whatever.
No other trace of them had as yet been found
anywhere in the known galaxy. But they had left enough
material in Centaurist city to satisfy the curiosity of mankind
for years to come, and enough mystery and complexity to
(31:54):
whet that curiosity to an even sharper degree. It's difficult
for the average person to grasp just how much information
can be packed into a city covering ten thousand square
miles with a population density equal to that of Manhattan.
How long would it take the hypothetical man from Mars
to investigate New York or London if he had only
(32:17):
the city to work with, If he found them just
as they stand, except that the inhabitants had vanished, the
technological level of the aliens could not be said to
be either above or below that of man. It could
only be said to be different. It was as if
the two cultures complemented each other. The areas of knowledge
(32:38):
which the aliens had explored seemed to be those which
mankind had not yet touched, while at the same time
there appeared to be many levels of common human knowledge
which the aliens had never approached. From the combination of
the two, whole new fields of human thought and endeavor
had been opened. No trace of the alien spaceships had
(32:59):
been uncovered, but the anti gravitational devices in their aircraft,
plus the basic principles of man's own near light velocity drive,
had given man the ultra light drive. Their knowledge of
social organization and function far exceeded that of man, and
the hints taken from the deciphered writings of the aliens
(33:20):
had radically changed man's notion of government. Now humanity could
build a galactic civilization, a unity that was neither a
pure democracy nor an absolute dictatorship, but resulted in optimal
governmental control combined with optimum individual freedom. It was e
plurbus unum. Plus. Their technological writings were few in so
(33:44):
far as physics and chemistry were concerned. What there turned
out to be elementary texts rather than advanced studies, which
was fortunate because it had been through these that the
cultural zenologists had been able to decipher the language of
the Aliens, a language that was no more alien to
the modern mind than say, ancient Egyptian or Cretan, but
(34:07):
without any advanced texts, Deciphering the workings of the thousands
of devices that the aliens had left behind was a
tedious job. The elementary textbooks seemed to deal with the
same sort of science that human beings were used to,
but at some point beyond the aliens had taken a
slightly different course, and at first only the very simplest
(34:30):
of the mechanisms could be analyzed. But the investigators learned
from the simpler mechanisms and found themselves able to take
the next step forward to more complex ones. However, it
still remained a fact that the majority of devices were
as incomprehensible to the investigators as would the function of
a transistor have been to James Clark Maxwell. In the
(34:53):
areas of the social sciences, data was deciphered at a
fairly rapid rate. The aliens seemed to have concentrated all
their efforts on that. Psionics, on the other hand, seemed
never to have occurred to them, much less to have
been investigated. And yet there were devices in Centaurist City
that bore queer generic resemblances to common terrestrial psionic machines.
(35:18):
But there was no hint of such things in the
alien literature, and the physical sciences were deciphered only slowly
by a process of cut and try, and cut and
try again. The investigations would take time. There were only
a relatively small handful of men working on the problems
that the city posed, not because there weren't plenty of
(35:39):
men who would have sacrificed their time and efforts to
further the work, but because the planet, being hostile to man,
simply would not support very many investigators. It was not
economically feasible to pour more men and material into the
project after the point of diminishing returns had been reached. Theoretically,
(36:00):
it would have been possible to reseal the city's dome
and pump in an atmosphere that human beings could live with,
but aside from every other consideration, it was likely that
such an atmosphere would ruin many of the artifacts within
the city. Besides, the work in the city was heady stuff.
Investigation of the city took a particular type of high
(36:21):
level mind, and that kind of mind did not occur
in vast numbers. It was not turnbul thought his particular
dish of tea. The physical sciences were not his realm,
and the work of translating the alien writings could be
done on Earth from stat copies if he cared to
do that kind of work. Serius six was a busy planet,
(36:45):
a planet that was as earth like as a planet
could be without being Earth itself. It had a single moon,
smaller than the Earth's and somewhat nearer to the planet itself.
The Oriona landed there, and Dave Turnbul took a shuttle
ship to Sirius six, dropping down to the spaceport near Neuberlin,
the capital. It took less than an hour to find
(37:08):
that Scholar Duckworth had gone no farther on his journey
to Mendez than Sirius six. He hadn't cashed in his ticket.
If he had, they'd have known about it on Earth,
but he certainly hadn't taken a ship toward the central
stars either. Turnbull got himself a hotel room and began
checking through the Neuberlin city directory. There it was big
(37:32):
as life and fifteen times as significant rawlings Scientific Corporation.
Turnbull decided he might as well tackle them right off
the bat. There was nothing to be gained by pussy
footing around he used the phone, and after browbeating several
of the employees and pulling his position on a couple
of executives, he managed to get an appointment with the
(37:54):
assistant director, Lawrence Drawford. The director, scholar Jason Rawling, was
not on SIRUS six at the time. The appointment was
scheduled for nine hundred the following morning, and Turnbull showed
up promptly. He entered through the big main door and
walked to the reception desk. Yes, said the girl at
(38:15):
the desk. How do you do? Turnbull said, my name
is Turnbull. I think I'm expected just a moment. She
checked with the information panel on her desk, then said,
go right on up, doctor Turnbull. Take number four, lift
chute to the eighteenth floor and turn left. Doctor Drawford's
(38:38):
office is at the end of the hall. Turnbull followed directions.
Drawford was a heavy set, floorid faced man with an
easy smile and a rather too hearty voice. Call me in,
doctor Turnbull. It's a pleasure to meet you. What can
I do for you? He waved Turnbull to a chair
(38:58):
and sat down behind his Turnbull said, carefully, I'd just
like to get a little information. Doctor Drawford Drawford selected
a cigar from the humidor on his desk and offered
one to Turnbull. Cigar. No, well, if I can be
of any help to you, I'll certainly do the best
I can. But there was a puzzled look on his
(39:21):
face as he lit his cigar. First, said Turnbull, am
I correct in saying that Rawling Scientific is in charge
of the research program at Centaurus City? Drawford exhaled a
cloud of blue gray smoke. Not precisely. We work as
a liaison between the Advanced Study Board and the Centaurus group,
(39:43):
and we supply the equipment that's needed for the work there.
We build instruments to order that sort of thing. Scholar
Rawlings is a member of the board, of course, which
admits of a somewhat closer liaison than might otherwise be possible.
But I'd hardly s that we're in charge of the
research that's handled entirely by the group leaders at the
(40:04):
city itself. Turnbull lit a cigarette. What happened to Scholard Duckworth,
he said suddenly. Drawford blinked, I beg your pardon again.
Turnbull's intuitive reasoning leaped far ahead of logic. He knew
that Drawford was honestly innocent of any knowledge of the
whereabouts of scholar James Duckworth. I was under the impression,
(40:27):
Turnbull said easily that scholar Duckworth was engaged in some
sort of work with Scholar Rawlings. Drawford smiled and spread
his hands. Well, now that may be, doctor Turnbull. If so,
they're engaged in something that's above my level. Oh, Drawford
pursed his lips for a moment, frowning. Then he said,
(40:49):
I must admit that I am not a good intuitive thinker,
doctor Turnbull. I have not the capacity for it. I
suppose That's why I'm an engineer instead of a basic
research man. That's why I'll never get a scholar's degree again,
he paused, before continuing. For that reason, scholar Rawlings leaves
(41:10):
the logic to me and doesn't burden me with his
own business. Nominally he is the head of the corporation.
Actually we operate in different areas, areas which naturally overlap
in some places, but which are not congruent by any means.
In other words, said Turnbull, if Duckworth and Rawlings were
(41:32):
working together, you wouldn't be told about it, not unless
scholar Rawlings thought it was necessary to tell me, Drawford said,
He put his cigar carefully in the ash drop. Of course,
if I asked him, I'm sure he'd give me the information,
but it's hardly any of my business. Turnbull nodded and
(41:53):
switched his tack. Scholar Rawlings is off planet. I believe
that's right. I'm not at liberty to disclose his whereabouts, however,
Drawford said, I realized that, but I'd like to get
a message to him, if possible. Drawford picked up his
cigar again and puffed at it a moment before saying anything. Then,
(42:17):
Doctor Turnbull, please don't think I'm being stuffy, but may
I ask the purpose of this inquiry A fair question,
said Turnbull, smiling. I really shouldn't have come barging in
here like this without explaining myself first. He had his
lie already formulated in his mind. I'm engaged in writing
(42:37):
up a report on the cultural significance of the artifacts
on the planet Lebon. You may have heard something of it.
I've heard the name, Drawford admitted. That's in the Sagittarius
sector somewhere, as I recall, that's right, well, as you know,
the theory for the existence of centaurist city assumes that
(43:00):
it was at one time the focal point of a
complex of trade routes through the galaxy established by a
race that has passed from the galactic scene. Drawford was
nodding slowly, waiting to hear what Turnbull had to say.
I trust you'll keep this to yourself, doctor Turnbull said,
extinguishing his cigarette. But I am of the opinion that
(43:23):
the artifacts on Lebon bear a distinct resemblance to those
of the city. It was a bald, out and out lie,
but he knew Drawford would have no way of knowing
that it was. I think that Lebon was actually one
of the colonies of that race, one of their food
growing planets. If so, there's certainly a necessity for correlation
(43:45):
between the data uncovered on Lebon and those which had
been found in the city. Drawford's face betrayed his excitement. Why, why,
that's amazing. I can see why you would once to
get in touch with scholar rating certainly, do you really
think there's something in this idea? I do, said Turnbull firmly.
(44:05):
Will it be possible for me to send a message
to him? Certainly, Drawford said quickly. I'll see that he
gets it as soon as possible. What did you wish
to say? Turnbull reached into his belt pouch, pulled out
a pad and stylus, and began to write, I have
reason to believe that I have solved the connection between
(44:27):
the two sources of data concerned in the Centaurist city problem.
I would also like to discuss the Duckworth theory with you.
When he had finished, he signed his name at the
bottom and handed it to Drawford. Drawford looked at it,
frowned and looked up at Turnbull questioningly. He'll know what
(44:47):
I mean, Turnbull said, Scholar Duckworth had an idea that
Lebond was a data source on the problem even before
we did our digging there. Frankly, that's why I thought
Duckworth might be working with Scholar Rawlings. Drawford's face cleared,
very well, I'll put this on the company transmitters immediately,
doctor Turnbull, and don't worry, I won't say anything about
(45:11):
this to anyone until Schalar Rawlings or you yourself give me
the go ahead. I'd certainly appreciate that, Turnbull said, rising
from his seat. I'll leave you to your work now,
doctor Drawford. I can be reached at the Mayfair Hotel.
The two men shook hands and Turnbull left quickly. Turnbull
(45:33):
felt intuitively that he knew where Rawllings was on the
Centaurus planet, the planet of the city. But where was Duckworth.
Reasons said that he too was at the city. But
under what circumstances was he a prisoner? Had he been killed? Outright?
Surely not? That didn't jibe with his leaving Earth the
(45:54):
way he had. If someone had wanted him killed, they'd
have done it on Earth. They wouldn't have let to
trail on Cirrus six that anyone who was interested could
have followed. On the other hand, how could they account
for Duckworth's disappearance since the trail was so broad. If
the police no, he was wrong. The trouble with intuitive
(46:16):
thinking is that it tends to leave out whole sections
of what to a logical thinker are pieces of absolutely
necessary data. Duckworth actually had no connections with Rawlings, no
logical connection. The only thing the police would have to
work with was the fact that scholar Duckworth had started
a trip to Mendez and never made it farther than
(46:39):
Sirrris six. There he had vanished, why how could they
prove anything. On the other hand, Turnbull was safe. The
letters from Duckworth, plus his visit to Drawford, plus his
acknowledged destination of Cirrus six would be enough to connect
up both cases. If Turnbull vanished, Rawlings should know he
(47:01):
couldn't afford to do anything to Turnbull. Dave Turnbull felt
perfectly safe. He was in his hotel room at the
Mayfair when the announcer chimed five hours later. He glanced
up from his book to look at the screen. It
showed a young man in an ordinary business jumper, looking
rather boredly at the screen. What is it, Turnbull asked,
(47:24):
Message for doctor Turnbull from Rawling Scientific Corporation, said the
young man, in a voice that sounded even more bored
than his face looked. Turnbull sighed and got up to
open the door. When it sectioned, he had only a
fraction of a second to see what the message was.
It was a stun gun in the hand of the
(47:45):
young man. It went off, and Turnbull's mind spiraled into
blackness before he could react. Out of a confused blur
of color, a face sprang suddenly into focus, swam away again,
and came back. The lips of the face moved. How
do you feel, son? Turnbull looked at the face. It
(48:07):
was that of a fairly old man who still retained
the vitality of youth. It was lyne, but still firm.
It took him a moment to recognize the face. Then
he recalled stereos he'd seen. It was scholar Jason Rawlings.
Turnbull tried to lift himself up and found he couldn't.
The scholar smiled, Sorry, we had to strap you down,
(48:29):
he said, but I'm not nearly as strong as you are.
Didn't have any desire to be jumped before I got
a chance to talk to you. Turnbull relaxed. There was
no immediate danger here. Know where you are? Rawlings asked
Centaurs city. Turnbull said, calmly, it's a three day trip,
(48:51):
so obviously you couldn't have made it in the five
hours after I sent you the message. You had me
kidnapped and brought here. The old man round slightly. I
suppose technically it was kidnapping, but we had to get
you out of circulation before you said anything that might
give the whole show away. Turnbull smiled slightly. Aren't you
(49:16):
afraid that the police will trace this to you. Oh,
I'm sure they would, eventually, said Rawlings. But you'll be
able to make any explanation long before that time, I see,
Turnbull said flatly, mind operation, Is that what you did
to Scholar Duckworth. The expression on Scholar Rawlings's face was
(49:39):
so utterly different from what Turnbull had expected that he
found himself suddenly correcting his thinking in the kaleidoscope readjustment
of his mind. What did you think you were onto,
doctor Turnbull, the old man asked slowly. Turnbull started to answer,
but at that moment the door opened. The round pleasant
(50:01):
faced gentleman who came in needed no introduction to Turnbull.
Scalar Duckworth said, hello, Dave. Sorry, I wasn't here when
you woke up, but I got he stopped. What's the matter,
I'm just cursing myself for being a fool, Turnbull said, sheepeshly.
(50:22):
I was using your disappearance as a datum and a
problem that didn't require it. Scalar Rawlings laughed abruptly. Then
you thought, Duckworth chuckled and raised a hand to interrupt Rawlings.
Just a moment, Jason let him logic it out to us. First,
take these straps off, said Turnbull. I'm stiff enough as
(50:44):
it is after being out cold for three days. Rawlings
touched a button on the wall and the restraining straps vanished.
Turnbull sat up, creakily, rubbing his arms. Well, said Duckworth.
Turnbull looked up at the elder man. It was those
first two letters of yours that started me off. I
(51:05):
was afraid of that, Duckworth said Riley. I ah tried
to get them back before I left Earth, but failing that,
I sent you a letter to try to throw you
off the track. Did you think it would, Turnbull asked,
I wasn't sure. Duckworth admitted. I decided that if you
had what it takes to see through it, you deserve
(51:28):
to know the truth. I think I know it already,
I dare say you do, Duckworth admitted, But tell us
first why you jumped to the wrong conclusion. Turnbull nodded
as I said. Your letters got me worrying. I knew
you must be on to something, or you wouldn't have
been so positive. So I started checking on all the
(51:51):
data about the city, especially that which had come in
previous to the time you sent the letters. I found
that several new artifacts had been discovered in Sector nine
of the city, in the park they call the bank buildings.
That struck a chord in my memory, so I looked
back over the previous records. That sector was supposed to
(52:12):
have been cleaned out nearly ninety years ago. The error
I made was in thinking that you had been forcibly
abducted somehow, that you had been forced to write that
third letter. It certainly looked like it. Since I couldn't
see any reason for you to hide anything from me.
I didn't think you'd be in on anything as underhanded
(52:33):
as this looked, so I assumed that you were acting
against your will. Scholar Rawlings smiled, But you thought I
was capable of underhanded tactics. That's not very flattering, young man.
Turnable grinned, I thought you were capable of kidnapping a man?
Was I wrong? Rawlings laughed heartily to say, go on.
(52:58):
Since artifacts had been found in a part of the
city from which they had previously been removed, I thought
that Jim here had found a well a cover up.
It looked as though some of the alien machines were
being moved around in order to conceal the fact that
someone was keeping something hidden, like, for instance, a new
(53:18):
weapon or a device that would give a man more
power than he should rightfully have, such as Duckworth asked,
such as invisibility, or a cheap method of transmutation, or
even a new and faster space drive. I wasn't sure,
but it certainly looked like it might be something of
that sort. Rawlings nodded, thoughtfully. A very good intuition, considering
(53:44):
the fact that you had a bit of erroneous data. Exactly.
I thought that Rowling Scientific Corporation or else you personally
were concealing something from the rest of us and from
the Advisory Board. I thought that scholar Duckworth had found
out about it, and that he'd been kidnapped to hush
(54:05):
him up. It certainly looked that way, I must admit
it did. At that, Duckworth said, But tell me how
does it look now? Turnbull frowned. The picture's all switched around. Now.
You came here for a purpose to check up on
your own data. Tell me, is everything here on the level?
(54:27):
Duckworth paused before he answered, everything human, he said slowly.
That's what I thought, said Turnbull. If the human factors
eliminated at least partially from the data. The intuition comes
through quite clearly. We're being fed information. Duckworth nodded silently.
(54:49):
Rawlings said, that's it. Someone or something is adding new
material to the city. It's like some sort of cosmic
bird feeding state that has to be refilled every so often.
Turnbull looked down at his big hands. It never was
a trade route focus, he said. It isn't even a
(55:11):
city in our sense of the term, no more than
a bird house was a nest. He looked up. That
city was built for only one purpose, to give human
beings certain data, and it's evidently data that we need
in a hurry for our own good. How so, Rawlings asked,
(55:32):
a look of faint surprise on his face. Same analogy.
Why does anyone feed birds? Two reasons, either to study
and watch them or to be kind to them. You
feed birds in the winter because they might die if
they didn't get enough food. Maybe we're being studied and watched, then,
(55:52):
said Duckworth, probingly. Possibly, but we won't know for a
long time. If ever. Duckworth grinned, right, I've seen this city.
I've looked it over carefully, in the past few months.
Whatever entities that built it are so far ahead of
us that we can't even imagine what it will take
(56:13):
to find out anything about them. We are as incapable
of understanding them as a bird is incapable of understanding us.
Who knows about this, Turnbull asked, Suddenly, the entire Advanced
Study Board at least, said Rawlings. We don't know how
many others, But so far we know everyone who has
(56:35):
been able to recognize what is really going on at
the city has also been able to realize that it
is something the human race en mass is not yet
ready to accept. What about the technicians who are actually
working there, asked Turnbull, Rawling smiled. The artifacts are very
(56:55):
carefully replaced. The technicians, again, as far as we know,
have accepted the evidence of their eyes. Turnbull looked a
little dissatisfied. Look, there are plenty of people in the
galaxy who would literally hate the idea that there is
anything in the universe superior to man. Can you imagine
(57:16):
the storm of reaction that would hit if this got out.
Whole groups would refuse to have anything to do with
anything connected with the city. The government would collapse, since
the whole theory of our present government comes from city data,
and the whole work of teaching intuitive reasoning would be
dropped like a hot potato by just those very people
(57:38):
who need to learn to use it. And it seems
to me that some precautions. He stopped, then grinned rather sheepishly. Oh,
he said, I see rawlings. Grinned back. There's never any
need to distort the truth. Anyone who is psychologically incapable
(57:58):
of allowing the exact distance of beings more powerful than
man is also psychologically incapable of piecing together the clues
which would indicate the existence of such beings. Scholar Duckworth
said it takes a great deal of humanity, a real
feeling of honest humility, to admit that one is actually
(58:20):
inferior to someone or something else. Most people don't have it.
They rebel because they can't admit their inferiority. Like the
examples of the North American a mere Indian tribes, Turnbull said,
they hadn't reached the state of civilization that the Aztecs
or Incas had. They were incapable of allowing themselves to
(58:42):
be beaten and enslaved. They refuse to allow themselves to learn.
They fought the white man to the last ditch, and
look where they ended up, precisely, said Duckworth. While the
Mexicans and Peruvians today are a functioning part of civilization
because they could and did learn, I'd just as soon
(59:06):
the human race didn't go the way of the Amerindians,
Turnbull said, I have a hunch it won't. Scholar Rawlings said,
the builders of the city, whoever they are, are edging
us very carefully into the next level of civilization, whatever
it may be. At that level, perhaps we'll be able
(59:28):
to accept their teaching more directly. Duckworth chuckled, Before we
can become gentlemen, we have to realize that we are
not gentlemen. Turnbull recognized the illusion. There is an old
truism to the effect that a barbarian can never learn
what a gentleman is because a barbarian cannot recognize that
(59:49):
he isn't a gentleman. As soon as he recognizes that fact,
he ceases to be a barbarian. He is not automatically
a gentleman, but at least he has been come capable
of learning how to be won. The city itself, said Rawllings.
Acts as a pretty efficient screening device for separating the
(01:00:10):
humble from the merely servile. The servile man represents his
position so much that he will fight anything which tries
to force recognition of his position on him. The servile
slave is convinced that he is equal to or superior
to his master's and that he is being held down
by brute force, so he opposes them with brute force
(01:00:34):
and is eventually destroyed. Turnable blinked a screening device, Then,
like a burst of sunlight, the full intuition came over him.
Duckworth's round face was positively beaming. You're the first one
ever to do it, he said. In order to become
a member of the Advanced Study Board, a scholar must
(01:00:56):
solve that much of the city's secret by himself. I'm
a much older man than you, and I just solved
it in the past few months. You will be the
first p h D to be admitted to the board
while you're working on your scholar's degree. Congratulations. Turnbull looked
down at his big hands, a pleased look on his face.
(01:01:18):
Then he looked up at scholar Duckworth got a cigarette, Jim. Thanks.
You know, we've still got plenty of work ahead of us,
trying to find out just what it is that the
city builders want us to learn. Duckworth smiled as he
held a flame to the tip of Turnbull's cigarette. Who knows,
(01:01:40):
he said quietly. Hell, maybe they want us to learn
about them. End of Dead Giveaway by Randall Garrett
Dead Giveaway by Randall Garrett. Logic's a wonderful thing. By
logical analysis, one can determine the necessary reason for the
existence of a dead city of a very high order
on an utterly useless planet. Obviously a shipping transfer point. Necessarily,
(00:21):
Mendez said the young man in the blue and green
Tartan jacket. Why, yes, sure, I've heard of it. Why.
The clerk behind the desk looked again at the information screen.
That's the destination we have on file for Scholar Duckworth,
mister Turnbull. That was six months ago. He looked up
from the screen, waiting to see if Turnbull had any
(00:44):
more questions. Turnbull tapped his teeth with a thumbnail for
a couple of seconds, then shrugged slightly. Any address given
for him, Yes, sir, the hotel Byron Landing City Mendez.
Turnbull nodded. How much is the ferred to Mendez? The
clerk thumbed a button which wiped information from the screen clean,
(01:07):
then replaced it with another list, which flowed upward for
a few seconds, then stopped. Seven hundred and eighty five fifty, sir,
said the clerk, Shall I make you out a ticket?
Turnbull hesitated, what's the route. The clerk touched another control,
and again the information on the screen changed. You'll take
(01:29):
the regular shuttle from here to Luna, then take either
the Stellar Queen or the Oriona to Serrus six. From
there you will have to pick up a ship to
the Central Worlds, either Vanderlin or ben Abram, and take
a ship from there to Mendez. Not complicated, really. The
whole trip won't take you more than three weeks, including stopovers,
(01:52):
I see, said Turnbull. I haven't made up my mind yet.
I'll let you know very well, sir. The Stellar Queen
leaves on Wednesdays and the Rhina on Saturdays. We'll need
three days notice. Turner will thank the clerk and headed
toward the big doors that led out of Long Island Terminal,
(02:14):
threading his way through the little clumps of people that
milled around inside the big waiting room. He hadn't learned
a hull of a lot. He thought he'd known that
Duckworth had gone to Mendez, and he already had the
hotel Byron address. There was, however, some negative information there.
The last address they had was on Mendez, and yet
(02:37):
Scholar Duckworth couldn't be found on Mendez Obviously he had
not filed a change of address there, just as obviously
he had managed to leave the planet without a trace.
There was always the possibility that he'd been killed. Of course,
on a thinly populated world like Mendez, murder could still
(02:58):
be committed with the little chance of being caught. Even
here on Earth, a murderer with the right combination of
skill and luck could remain unsuspected. But who would want
to kill Scholar Duckworth? And why? Turnbull pushed the thought
out of his mind. It was possible that Duckworth was dead,
but it was highly unlikely. It was vastly more probable
(03:22):
that the old scholar had skipped off for reasons of
his own, and that something had happened to prevent him
from contacting Turnbull. After all, almost the same thing had
happened in reverse a year ago. Outside the terminal building,
Turnbull walked over to a hackstand and pressed the signal
button on top of the control column. An empty cab
(03:45):
slid out of the traffic pattern and pulled up beside
the barrier which separated the vehicular traffic from the pedestrian walkway.
The gate in the barrier slid open at the same
time the cab door did, and Turnbull stepped inside and
sat down. He dialed his own number, dropped in the
indicated number of coins, and then relaxed as the cab
(04:08):
pulled out and sped down the freeway toward Manhattan. He'd
been back on Earth now for three days, and the
problem of scholar James Duckworth was still bothering him. He
hadn't known anything about it until he derived at his
apartment after a year's absence. The apartment door sighed a
(04:28):
little as Dave Turnbull broke the electronic seal with the
double key. Half the key had been in his possession
for a year, jealously guarded against loss during all the
time he had been on Lebonn. The other half had
been kept by the manager of the Excelsior apartments. As
the door opened, Turnbull noticed the faint, musty odor that
(04:52):
told of long, unused and poorly circulated air. The conditioners
had been turned down to low power for a year now.
He went inside and allowed the door to close silently
behind him. The apartment was just the same, the broad
expanse of pale blue rug the matching furniture, including the long,
(05:13):
comfortable couch and the fat over stuffed chair, all just
as he had left them. He ran a finger experimentally
over the top of the table nearer the door. There
was a faint patina of dust covering the glossy surface,
but it was very faint. Indeed, he grinned to himself,
(05:34):
in spite of the excitement of the explorations on Le Bond,
it was great to be home again. He went into
the small kitchen, slid open the wall panel that concealed
the apartment's power controls, and flipped the switch from maintenance
to normal. The lights came on, and there was a
faint sigh from the air conditioners as they began to
(05:56):
move the air at a more normal rate through the rooms.
Then he walked over to the liquor cabinet, opened it
and surveyed the contents there, and all their glory sat
the half dozen bottles of English sherry that he'd been
dreaming about for twelve solid months. He took one out
and broke the seal, almost reverently, not that there had
(06:20):
been nothing to drink for the men on le Bond.
The university had not been so blue nosed as all that,
but the choice had been limited to bourbon and scotch. Turnbull,
who was not a whiskey drinker by choice, had longed
for the mellow smoothness of Bristol cream sherry instead of
(06:41):
the smokiness of Scotch or the heavy bodied strength of
the bourbon. He was just pouring his first glass when
the announcer chimed. Frowning, Turnbull walked over to the viewscreen
that was connected to the little eye in the door.
It showed the face of what was his name, Sampson Sanders.
(07:03):
That was it Sanders, the building superintendent. Turnbull punched the
opener and said, come in. I'll be right with you.
Mister Sanders. Sanders was a round, pleasant faced, soft voiced man,
a good ten years older than Turnbull himself. He was
standing just inside the door as Turnbull entered the living room.
(07:27):
There was a small briefcase in his hand. He extended
the other hand as Turnbull approached. Welcome home, mister Turnbull,
he said warmly, we've missed you here at the Excelsior.
Turnbull took the hand and smiled as he shook it.
Glad to be back, mister Sanders. The place looks good
after a year of roughing it. The Superintendent lifted the briefcase.
(07:52):
I brought up the mail that accumulated while you were gone.
There's not much since we sent cards to each return
adre notifying them that you were not available and that
your mail was being held until your return. He opened
the briefcase and took out seven standard pneumatic mailing tubes
and handed them to Turnbull. Turnbull glanced at them. Three
(08:15):
of them were from various friends of his scattered over earth,
One was from Standard Recording Company. The remaining three carried
the return address of James M. Duckworth pH sch UCLA,
Great Los Angeles, California. Thanks, mister, Sanders, said Turnbull. He
(08:39):
was wondering why the man had brought them up so
promptly after his own arrival. Surely, having waited a year,
they would have waited until they were called for. Sanders
blinked apologetically, Doctor Turnbull. I wonder if if any of
those contain money, chicks, cash, anything like that. I don't
(09:03):
know why, Turnbull asked, in surprise. Sanders looked even more apologetic. Well,
there was an attempted robbery here about six months ago.
Someone broke into your mail box downstairs. There was nothing
in it. Of course, we've been putting everything into the
vault as it came in. But the police thought it
(09:24):
might be some one who knew you were getting money
by mail. None of the other boxes were opened, you see,
and he let his voice trail off as Turnbull began
opening the tubes. None of them contained anything but correspondence.
There was no sign of anything valuable. Maybe they picked
my box at random, Turnbull said. They may have been
(09:47):
frightened off after opening the one box. That's very likely,
said Sanders. The police said it seemed to be a
rather amateurist job, although whoever did it certainly succeeded in
neutralizing the alarms. Satisfied, the building superintendent exchanged a few
more pleasantries with Turnbull and departed. Turnbull headed back toward
(10:11):
the kitchen, picked up his glass of sherry, and sat
down in the breakfast note to read the letters. The
one from Standard Recording had come just a few days
after he'd left, thanking him for notifying them that he
wanted to suspend his membership for a year. The three
letters from Cairo, London, and Luna City were simply chatty
(10:33):
little social notes, nothing more. The three from scholar Duckworth
were from a different breed of cat. The first was
postmark twenty one August twenty one eighty seven, three months
after Turnbull had left for Lebon. It was neatly addressed
to Dave F. Turnbull pH D. Dear Dave. It read,
(10:58):
I know I haven't beeniscon assistant in keeping up with
my old pupils as I ought to have been. For this,
I can only beat my breast violently and mutter mia coppa, miacoppa,
mia maxima coppa. I can't even plead that I was
so immersed in my own work that I hadn't the
time to write, because I'm busier now than I've been
for years, and I've had to make time for this letter.
(11:22):
Of course, in another way, this is strictly a business letter,
and it does pertain to my work, so the time
isn't as hard to find as it might be. But
don't think I haven't been watching your work. I've read
every one of your articles in the various journals, and
I have copies of all four of your books nestled
securely in my library. Columbia should be and apparently is
(11:47):
proud to have a man of your ability on its
staff at the rate you've been going, it won't be
long before you get an invitation from the Advanced Study
Board to study for your scholar's degree. As a matter fact,
I'd like to make you an offer right now to
do some original research with me. I may not be
a top flight genius like Metternick or Doll, but my
(12:11):
reputation does carry some weight with the board. That Turnbull
thought was a bit of needless modesty. Duckworth wasn't to
show men that Metternick was or the prolific writer the
Doll was, but he had more intelligence and downright wisdom
than either. So if you could manage to get a
(12:31):
few months leave from Columbia, I'd be honored to have
your assistance. More modesty, thought Turnbull, The honor would be
just the other way around. The problem, in case you're wondering,
has to do with the Centaurus mystery. I think I've
uncovered a new approach that will literally kick the supports
right out from under every theory that's been evolved for
(12:54):
the existence of that city. Sound interesting. I'm mailing this
early so it should reach you in the late afternoon.
Mail if you'll be home at between nineteen hundred and
two thousand. I'll call you and give you the details.
If you've got a pressing appointment, leave details with the operator.
(13:15):
All the best, Jim Duckworth. Turnbull slid the letter back
into its tube and picked up the second letter, dated
August twenty two, twenty one eighty seven. One day later,
Dear Dave, I called last night and the operator said
your phone has been temporarily disconnected. I presume these letters
(13:38):
will be forwarded, so please let me know where you are.
I'm usually home between eighteen hundred and twenty three hundred,
so call me collect within the next three or four days.
All the best, Jim. The third letter was dated ten
November twenty one eighty seven. Turbull wondered why it had
been sent. Obviously, the manager of the Excelsior had sent
(14:02):
Duckworth a notice that doctor Turnbull was off planet and
cannot be reached. He must have received the notice on
the afternoon of twenty two August. That would account for
his having sent a second letter before he got the notice.
Then why the third letter. Dear Dave, I know you
won't be reading this letter for six months or so,
(14:24):
but at least it will tell you where I am.
I guess I wasn't keeping as close tabs on your
work as I thought, Otherwise I would have known about
the expedition to Lebonn. You ought to be able to
make enough credit on that trip to bring you to
the attention of the board. And don't feel too bad
about missing my first letters or the call. I was
(14:44):
off on a wild goose chase that just didn't pan out,
So you really didn't miss a devil of a lot.
As a matter of fact, it was rather disappointing to me.
So I've decided to take a long needed sabbatical leave
and combine it with a little research on the half
intelligent natives of Mendez. I'll see you in a year
(15:05):
or so. As ever. Jim Duckworth, well, that was that
turnbull thong. It galled him a little to think that
he'd been offered a chance to do research with scholar
Duckworth and hadn't been able to take it. But if
the research hadn't panned out, he frowned and turned back
to the first letter. A theory that would literally kick
(15:28):
the supports right out from under every theory that's been
evolved for the existence of that city, He'd said, Odd,
it was unlike Duckworth to be so positive about anything
until he could support his own theory without much fear
of having it pulled to pieces. Turnbull poured himself a
(15:48):
second glass of sherry, took a sip, and rolled it
carefully over his tongue. The Centaurus Mystery, that's what the
explorers had called it back in twenty forty one, nearly
a century and a half before, when they'd found the
great City on one of the planets of the Alpha
(16:08):
Centaurus System. Man's first interstellar trip had taken nearly five
years at sublight velocities, and bing right off the bat,
they'd found something that made interstellar travel worthwhile. Even though
they'd found no planet in the Alpha Centaurus System that
was really habitable for Man, they'd seen it from space,
(16:32):
a huge dome city gleaming like a great gem from
the center of the huge desert that covered most of
the planet. The planet itself was Mars like, flat and
arid over most of its surface, with a thin atmosphere
high in CO two and very short on oxygen. The
city showed up very well through the cloudless air. From
(16:56):
the very beginning, it had been obvious that who, whoever,
or whatever had built the city had not evolved on
the planet where it had been built. Nothing more complex
than the Lichens had ever evolved there, as thousands of
drillings into the crust of the planet had shown. Certainly,
nothing of near humanoid construction could ever have come into
(17:20):
being on that planet without leaving some trace of themselves
or the genetic forebears, except for that single huge city.
How long the city had been there was anyone's guess,
a thousand years, a million. There was no way of telling.
It had been sealed tightly so none of the sand
that blew across the planet's surface could get in. It
(17:43):
had been set on a high plateau of rock, far
enough above the desert level to keep it from being buried,
and the transport dome was made of an aluminum oxide
glass that was hard enough to resist the slight erosion
of its surface that might have had been caused by
the gentle, thin winds dashing microscopic particles of sand against
(18:06):
its smooth surface. Inside, the dry air had preserved nearly
every artifact, leaving them as they had been when the
city was deserted by its inhabitants at an unknown time
in the past. That's right, deserted. There were no signs
of any remains of living things. They had all simply
(18:27):
packed up and left, leaving everything behind. Dating by the
radiocarbon method was useless. Some of the carbon compounds in
the various artifacts showed a fat trace of radiocarbon, others
showed none. But since the method depends on the knowledge
of the amount of nitrogen in the atmosphere of the
planet of origin, the rate of bombardment of that atmosphere
(18:51):
by high velocity particles, and several other factors, the information
on the radioactivity of the specimens meant nothing. There was
also the likelihood that the carbon in the various polymer
resins came from oil or coal, and fossil carbon is
useless for radio dating. Nor did any of the more
(19:14):
modern methods show any greater success. It had taken man
centuries of careful comparison and cross checking to read the
evolutionary history written in the depths of its own planet's crust.
To try to date the city was impossible. It was
like trying to guess the time by looking at a
faceless clock with no hands. There the city stood one
(19:39):
hundred miles across ten thousand square miles of complex enigma.
It had given man his first step into the ever
widening field of cultural zenology. Dave Turnbull finished his sherry,
got up from the breakfast nook, and walked into the
living room where his reference books were. Copy of Kleinzmeinsteinopolis's
(20:03):
City of Centaurus hadn't been opened in years, but he
took it down and flipped it open within three pages
of the section he was looking for. It is obvious, therefore,
that every one of the indicators points in the same direction.
The city was not could not have been self supporting.
There is no source of organic material on the planet
(20:26):
great enough to support such a city. Therefore, foodstuffs must
have been imported. On the other hand, it is necessary
to postulate some reason for establishing a city on an
otherwise barren planet and populating it with an estimated six
hundred thousand individuals. There can be only one answer. The
(20:48):
race that built the city did so for the same
reason that human beings built such megalopolises as New York,
Los Angeles, Tokyo, and London, because it was a focal
point for important trade routes. Only such trade routes could
support such a city. Only such trade routes give reason
(21:08):
for the city's very existence, and when those trade routes
changed or were supplanted by others in the course of time,
the reason for the city's existence vanished. Turnbull closed the
book and shoved it back into place. Certainly, the theory
made sense, and had for a century. Had Duckworth come
(21:29):
across information that would seem to smash that theory. The
planet itself seemed to be perfectly constructed for a gigantic
landing field for interstellar ships. It was almost flat, and
if the transshipping between the interstellar vessels had been done
by air, there would be no need to build a
hard surface for the field. And there were other indications.
(21:52):
Every fact that had come to light in the ensuing
century had been in support of the Greek German Zenologist's theory.
Had Duckworth come up with something new? If so, why
had he decided to discard it and forget his new theory?
If not, why had he formulated the new theory and
on what grounds? Turnbull lit a cigarette and looked sourly
(22:15):
at the smoke that drifted up from its tip. What
the devil was eating him? He'd spent too much time
away from Earth. That was the trouble. He'd been too
deeply immersed in his study of labonn for the past year.
Now all he had to do was get a little
hint of something connected with cultural zenology, and his mind
went off on dizzy tizzies. Forget it. Duckworth had thought
(22:39):
he was on to something, found out that he wasn't
and discarded the whole idea. And if someone like scholar
James Duckworth had decided it wasn't worth fooling with, then
why was a common PhD like Turnbull worrying about it,
especially when he had no idea what it started Duckworth
off in the first place. And his thought came came
(23:00):
back around to that again. If Duckworth had thought enough
of the idea to get excited over it, what had
set him off? Turnbull felt he'd like to know what
had made Duckworth think, even for a short time, that
there was some other explanation for the city Ah Hell,
he'd asked Duckworth some day, there was plenty of time.
(23:22):
He went over to the phone, dialed a number, and
sat down comfortably in his fat, blue, over stuffed chair.
It buzzed for half a minute, then the tail tail
lit up, but the screen remained dark. Dave said a
feminine voice, are you back? Where on Earth have you been?
I haven't, said Turnbull? How come no vision? I was
(23:46):
in the Hammond silly, And what do you mean I haven't?
You haven't? What you asked me where on Earth i'd been?
And I said I haven't. Oh lucky man galvanig around
the starways while less poor humans have to stay home. Yeah,
great fun. Now, look, Dee, get some clothes on and
(24:09):
turn on your pickup. I don't like talking to gray screens.
Half a sec there was a minute's pause, then the
screen came on, showing the girl's face. Now, what do
you have on your purported mind? Simple? I've been off
earth for a year, staring at bearded faces and listening
(24:30):
to Barrett tone voices. If it isn't too short notice,
I'd like to take you to dinner and a show
and whatever else suggests itself afterward done, she said, what
time twenty hundred at your place? I'll be waiting. Dave
Turnbull cut the circuit, grinning. The Duckworth problem had almost
(24:53):
faded from his mind, but it flared back up again
when he glanced at the mail tubes on his desk. Damn,
he said. He turned back to the phone, jammed a
finger into the dial, and spun it angrily. After a moment,
the screen came to life with the features of a
beautifully smiling but obviously efficient, blonde girl Interstellar Communications. May
(25:17):
I serve you, sir? How long will it take to
get a message to Mendez? And what will it cost?
One moment, sir, her right hand moved off screen and
her eyes shifted to look at a screen that Turnbull
couldn't see Mendez. She said shortly. The message will reach
there in five hours and thirty six minutes total transmission time.
(25:40):
Allow an hour's delay forgetting the message on the tapes.
For beaming, the cost is one seventy five per symbol.
Spaces and punctuation marks are considered symbols A and and
and the are symbols. Turnabile thought a moment it was high,
damned high. But then a man with a bona fide
(26:02):
p h D was not exactly a poor man, if
he worked at his specialty or not. I'll call you
back as soon as I have composed the message, he said,
Very well, sir. He cut the circuit, grabbed a pencil
and started scribbling. When he'd finished reducing the thing to
its bare minimum, he started to dial the number again.
(26:23):
Then he scowled and dialed another number. This time, a
mild faced young man in his middle twenties appeared. University
of California in Los Angeles Personnel Office, mass serve you.
This is doctor Dave Turnbull in New York. I understand
that scholar Duckworth is on leave. I'd like his present address.
(26:44):
The young man looked politely firm. I am sorry, doctor,
we cannot give out that information. Oh yap, look here,
I know where he is. Just give me the he stopped.
Never mind, let me talk to Thornwald. Thornwall was easier
to deal with since he knew both Duckworth and Turnbull.
(27:04):
Turnbull showed him Duckworth's letter on the screen. I know
he's in Mendez. I just don't want to have to
look all over the planet for him. I know, Dave,
I'm sure it's all right. The address is Landing City
Hotel Byron Mendez. Thanks, thorn I'll do you a favor
(27:25):
some day. Sure, see you. Turnbull cut off, dialed. Interstellar
Communications sent his message and relaxed. He was ready to
make a night of it. He was going to make
his first night back on Earth a night to remember.
Speaker 2 (27:42):
He did.
Speaker 1 (27:44):
The next morning, he was feeling almost flighty. He buzzed
and flitted around his apartment as though he'd hit a
high point on a manic cycle, happily burbling utter nonsense
in the form of a perfectly ridiculous popular So, my dear,
the merest touch of.
Speaker 2 (28:02):
You has opened up my eyes. And if I get
too much of you, you really paralyze Donna, Donna Bella,
Donna Clyding, Crimson Bright. Though I'm near you, I don't
want to see the falling shades of night. Even when
the phone chimed in its urgent message, it didn't disturb
(28:23):
his frothy mood. But three minutes later he had dropped
down to Earth with a heavy clunk. His message to
Mendez had not been delivered. There was not now and
never had been. A scholar James Duckworth registered at the
Hotel Byron in Landing City. Neither was his name on
(28:44):
the incoming passenger lists at the spaceport at Landing City.
He forced himself to forget about it. He had a
date with d again that night, and he was not
going to let something silly like this bother him. But
bother him it did, Unlike the night before, the date
was an utter fiasco, a complete flop. D sensed his mood,
(29:08):
misinterpreted it, complained of a headache, and went home early.
Turnbull slept badly that night. Next morning, he had an
appointment with one of the executives of uc l I,
University of Columbia in Long Island, and on the way
back he stopped at the spaceport to see what he
could find out, but all he got was purely negative information.
(29:34):
On his way back to Manhattan, he sat in the
autocab and fumed. When he reached home, he stalked around
the apartment for an hour, smoking half a dozen cigarettes,
chain fashion, and polishing off three glasses of Bristol cream
without even tasting it. Dave Turnbull, like any really top
flight investigator, had developed intuitive thinking to a fine art.
(29:57):
Ever since the Lancaster method had shown the natural laws
applying to intuitive reasoning, no scientists worthy of the name
failed to apply it consistently in making his investigations. Only
when exact measurement became both possible and necessary. Was there
any need to apply logic to a given problem. A
(30:18):
logician adds two and two and gets four. An intuitionist
multiplies them and gets the same answer. But a logician
faced with three twos gets six, an intuitionist gets eight.
Intuition will get higher orders of answers from a given
set of facts than logic will. Turnbull applied intuition to
(30:41):
the facts he knew and came up with an answer.
Then he phoned the New York Public Library, had his
phone connected with the stacks, and spent an hour checking
for data that would either prove or disprove his theory.
He found plenty of the former and none of the latter.
Then he called his superiors at Columbia. He had to
write up his report on the labon explorations. Would it
(31:04):
be possible for him to take a six month leave
of absence for the purpose.
Speaker 1 (31:09):
It would. The following Saturday, doctor Dave F. Turnbull was
on the Interstellar Liner Oriona, bound for Serious. If ever
there was a gold mine in the sky, it was
Centaurus City. To the cultural zenologist who worked on its
mysterious riches, it seemed to present an almost inexhaustible supply
(31:31):
of new data. The former inhabitants had left everything behind
as though it were no longer of any value whatever.
No other trace of them had as yet been found
anywhere in the known galaxy. But they had left enough
material in Centaurist city to satisfy the curiosity of mankind
for years to come, and enough mystery and complexity to
(31:54):
whet that curiosity to an even sharper degree. It's difficult
for the average person to grasp just how much information
can be packed into a city covering ten thousand square
miles with a population density equal to that of Manhattan.
How long would it take the hypothetical man from Mars
to investigate New York or London if he had only
(32:17):
the city to work with, If he found them just
as they stand, except that the inhabitants had vanished, the
technological level of the aliens could not be said to
be either above or below that of man. It could
only be said to be different. It was as if
the two cultures complemented each other. The areas of knowledge
(32:38):
which the aliens had explored seemed to be those which
mankind had not yet touched, while at the same time
there appeared to be many levels of common human knowledge
which the aliens had never approached. From the combination of
the two, whole new fields of human thought and endeavor
had been opened. No trace of the alien spaceships had
(32:59):
been uncovered, but the anti gravitational devices in their aircraft,
plus the basic principles of man's own near light velocity drive,
had given man the ultra light drive. Their knowledge of
social organization and function far exceeded that of man, and
the hints taken from the deciphered writings of the aliens
(33:20):
had radically changed man's notion of government. Now humanity could
build a galactic civilization, a unity that was neither a
pure democracy nor an absolute dictatorship, but resulted in optimal
governmental control combined with optimum individual freedom. It was e
plurbus unum. Plus. Their technological writings were few in so
(33:44):
far as physics and chemistry were concerned. What there turned
out to be elementary texts rather than advanced studies, which
was fortunate because it had been through these that the
cultural zenologists had been able to decipher the language of
the Aliens, a language that was no more alien to
the modern mind than say, ancient Egyptian or Cretan, but
(34:07):
without any advanced texts, Deciphering the workings of the thousands
of devices that the aliens had left behind was a
tedious job. The elementary textbooks seemed to deal with the
same sort of science that human beings were used to,
but at some point beyond the aliens had taken a
slightly different course, and at first only the very simplest
(34:30):
of the mechanisms could be analyzed. But the investigators learned
from the simpler mechanisms and found themselves able to take
the next step forward to more complex ones. However, it
still remained a fact that the majority of devices were
as incomprehensible to the investigators as would the function of
a transistor have been to James Clark Maxwell. In the
(34:53):
areas of the social sciences, data was deciphered at a
fairly rapid rate. The aliens seemed to have concentrated all
their efforts on that. Psionics, on the other hand, seemed
never to have occurred to them, much less to have
been investigated. And yet there were devices in Centaurist City
that bore queer generic resemblances to common terrestrial psionic machines.
(35:18):
But there was no hint of such things in the
alien literature, and the physical sciences were deciphered only slowly
by a process of cut and try, and cut and
try again. The investigations would take time. There were only
a relatively small handful of men working on the problems
that the city posed, not because there weren't plenty of
(35:39):
men who would have sacrificed their time and efforts to
further the work, but because the planet, being hostile to man,
simply would not support very many investigators. It was not
economically feasible to pour more men and material into the
project after the point of diminishing returns had been reached. Theoretically,
(36:00):
it would have been possible to reseal the city's dome
and pump in an atmosphere that human beings could live with,
but aside from every other consideration, it was likely that
such an atmosphere would ruin many of the artifacts within
the city. Besides, the work in the city was heady stuff.
Investigation of the city took a particular type of high
(36:21):
level mind, and that kind of mind did not occur
in vast numbers. It was not turnbul thought his particular
dish of tea. The physical sciences were not his realm,
and the work of translating the alien writings could be
done on Earth from stat copies if he cared to
do that kind of work. Serius six was a busy planet,
(36:45):
a planet that was as earth like as a planet
could be without being Earth itself. It had a single moon,
smaller than the Earth's and somewhat nearer to the planet itself.
The Oriona landed there, and Dave Turnbul took a shuttle
ship to Sirius six, dropping down to the spaceport near Neuberlin,
the capital. It took less than an hour to find
(37:08):
that Scholar Duckworth had gone no farther on his journey
to Mendez than Sirius six. He hadn't cashed in his ticket.
If he had, they'd have known about it on Earth,
but he certainly hadn't taken a ship toward the central
stars either. Turnbull got himself a hotel room and began
checking through the Neuberlin city directory. There it was big
(37:32):
as life and fifteen times as significant rawlings Scientific Corporation.
Turnbull decided he might as well tackle them right off
the bat. There was nothing to be gained by pussy
footing around he used the phone, and after browbeating several
of the employees and pulling his position on a couple
of executives, he managed to get an appointment with the
(37:54):
assistant director, Lawrence Drawford. The director, scholar Jason Rawling, was
not on SIRUS six at the time. The appointment was
scheduled for nine hundred the following morning, and Turnbull showed
up promptly. He entered through the big main door and
walked to the reception desk. Yes, said the girl at
(38:15):
the desk. How do you do? Turnbull said, my name
is Turnbull. I think I'm expected just a moment. She
checked with the information panel on her desk, then said,
go right on up, doctor Turnbull. Take number four, lift
chute to the eighteenth floor and turn left. Doctor Drawford's
(38:38):
office is at the end of the hall. Turnbull followed directions.
Drawford was a heavy set, floorid faced man with an
easy smile and a rather too hearty voice. Call me in,
doctor Turnbull. It's a pleasure to meet you. What can
I do for you? He waved Turnbull to a chair
(38:58):
and sat down behind his Turnbull said, carefully, I'd just
like to get a little information. Doctor Drawford Drawford selected
a cigar from the humidor on his desk and offered
one to Turnbull. Cigar. No, well, if I can be
of any help to you, I'll certainly do the best
I can. But there was a puzzled look on his
(39:21):
face as he lit his cigar. First, said Turnbull, am
I correct in saying that Rawling Scientific is in charge
of the research program at Centaurus City? Drawford exhaled a
cloud of blue gray smoke. Not precisely. We work as
a liaison between the Advanced Study Board and the Centaurus group,
(39:43):
and we supply the equipment that's needed for the work there.
We build instruments to order that sort of thing. Scholar
Rawlings is a member of the board, of course, which
admits of a somewhat closer liaison than might otherwise be possible.
But I'd hardly s that we're in charge of the
research that's handled entirely by the group leaders at the
(40:04):
city itself. Turnbull lit a cigarette. What happened to Scholard Duckworth,
he said suddenly. Drawford blinked, I beg your pardon again.
Turnbull's intuitive reasoning leaped far ahead of logic. He knew
that Drawford was honestly innocent of any knowledge of the
whereabouts of scholar James Duckworth. I was under the impression,
(40:27):
Turnbull said easily that scholar Duckworth was engaged in some
sort of work with Scholar Rawlings. Drawford smiled and spread
his hands. Well, now that may be, doctor Turnbull. If so,
they're engaged in something that's above my level. Oh, Drawford
pursed his lips for a moment, frowning. Then he said,
(40:49):
I must admit that I am not a good intuitive thinker,
doctor Turnbull. I have not the capacity for it. I
suppose That's why I'm an engineer instead of a basic
research man. That's why I'll never get a scholar's degree again,
he paused, before continuing. For that reason, scholar Rawlings leaves
(41:10):
the logic to me and doesn't burden me with his
own business. Nominally he is the head of the corporation.
Actually we operate in different areas, areas which naturally overlap
in some places, but which are not congruent by any means.
In other words, said Turnbull, if Duckworth and Rawlings were
(41:32):
working together, you wouldn't be told about it, not unless
scholar Rawlings thought it was necessary to tell me, Drawford said,
He put his cigar carefully in the ash drop. Of course,
if I asked him, I'm sure he'd give me the information,
but it's hardly any of my business. Turnbull nodded and
(41:53):
switched his tack. Scholar Rawlings is off planet. I believe
that's right. I'm not at liberty to disclose his whereabouts, however,
Drawford said, I realized that, but I'd like to get
a message to him, if possible. Drawford picked up his
cigar again and puffed at it a moment before saying anything. Then,
(42:17):
Doctor Turnbull, please don't think I'm being stuffy, but may
I ask the purpose of this inquiry A fair question,
said Turnbull, smiling. I really shouldn't have come barging in
here like this without explaining myself first. He had his
lie already formulated in his mind. I'm engaged in writing
(42:37):
up a report on the cultural significance of the artifacts
on the planet Lebon. You may have heard something of it.
I've heard the name, Drawford admitted. That's in the Sagittarius
sector somewhere, as I recall, that's right, well, as you know,
the theory for the existence of centaurist city assumes that
(43:00):
it was at one time the focal point of a
complex of trade routes through the galaxy established by a
race that has passed from the galactic scene. Drawford was
nodding slowly, waiting to hear what Turnbull had to say.
I trust you'll keep this to yourself, doctor Turnbull said,
extinguishing his cigarette. But I am of the opinion that
(43:23):
the artifacts on Lebon bear a distinct resemblance to those
of the city. It was a bald, out and out lie,
but he knew Drawford would have no way of knowing
that it was. I think that Lebon was actually one
of the colonies of that race, one of their food
growing planets. If so, there's certainly a necessity for correlation
(43:45):
between the data uncovered on Lebon and those which had
been found in the city. Drawford's face betrayed his excitement. Why, why,
that's amazing. I can see why you would once to
get in touch with scholar rating certainly, do you really
think there's something in this idea? I do, said Turnbull firmly.
(44:05):
Will it be possible for me to send a message
to him? Certainly, Drawford said quickly. I'll see that he
gets it as soon as possible. What did you wish
to say? Turnbull reached into his belt pouch, pulled out
a pad and stylus, and began to write, I have
reason to believe that I have solved the connection between
(44:27):
the two sources of data concerned in the Centaurist city problem.
I would also like to discuss the Duckworth theory with you.
When he had finished, he signed his name at the
bottom and handed it to Drawford. Drawford looked at it,
frowned and looked up at Turnbull questioningly. He'll know what
(44:47):
I mean, Turnbull said, Scholar Duckworth had an idea that
Lebond was a data source on the problem even before
we did our digging there. Frankly, that's why I thought
Duckworth might be working with Scholar Rawlings. Drawford's face cleared,
very well, I'll put this on the company transmitters immediately,
doctor Turnbull, and don't worry, I won't say anything about
(45:11):
this to anyone until Schalar Rawlings or you yourself give me
the go ahead. I'd certainly appreciate that, Turnbull said, rising
from his seat. I'll leave you to your work now,
doctor Drawford. I can be reached at the Mayfair Hotel.
The two men shook hands and Turnbull left quickly. Turnbull
(45:33):
felt intuitively that he knew where Rawllings was on the
Centaurus planet, the planet of the city. But where was Duckworth.
Reasons said that he too was at the city. But
under what circumstances was he a prisoner? Had he been killed? Outright?
Surely not? That didn't jibe with his leaving Earth the
(45:54):
way he had. If someone had wanted him killed, they'd
have done it on Earth. They wouldn't have let to
trail on Cirrus six that anyone who was interested could
have followed. On the other hand, how could they account
for Duckworth's disappearance since the trail was so broad. If
the police no, he was wrong. The trouble with intuitive
(46:16):
thinking is that it tends to leave out whole sections
of what to a logical thinker are pieces of absolutely
necessary data. Duckworth actually had no connections with Rawlings, no
logical connection. The only thing the police would have to
work with was the fact that scholar Duckworth had started
a trip to Mendez and never made it farther than
(46:39):
Sirrris six. There he had vanished, why how could they
prove anything. On the other hand, Turnbull was safe. The
letters from Duckworth, plus his visit to Drawford, plus his
acknowledged destination of Cirrus six would be enough to connect
up both cases. If Turnbull vanished, Rawlings should know he
(47:01):
couldn't afford to do anything to Turnbull. Dave Turnbull felt
perfectly safe. He was in his hotel room at the
Mayfair when the announcer chimed five hours later. He glanced
up from his book to look at the screen. It
showed a young man in an ordinary business jumper, looking
rather boredly at the screen. What is it, Turnbull asked,
(47:24):
Message for doctor Turnbull from Rawling Scientific Corporation, said the
young man, in a voice that sounded even more bored
than his face looked. Turnbull sighed and got up to
open the door. When it sectioned, he had only a
fraction of a second to see what the message was.
It was a stun gun in the hand of the
(47:45):
young man. It went off, and Turnbull's mind spiraled into
blackness before he could react. Out of a confused blur
of color, a face sprang suddenly into focus, swam away again,
and came back. The lips of the face moved. How
do you feel, son? Turnbull looked at the face. It
(48:07):
was that of a fairly old man who still retained
the vitality of youth. It was lyne, but still firm.
It took him a moment to recognize the face. Then
he recalled stereos he'd seen. It was scholar Jason Rawlings.
Turnbull tried to lift himself up and found he couldn't.
The scholar smiled, Sorry, we had to strap you down,
(48:29):
he said, but I'm not nearly as strong as you are.
Didn't have any desire to be jumped before I got
a chance to talk to you. Turnbull relaxed. There was
no immediate danger here. Know where you are? Rawlings asked
Centaurs city. Turnbull said, calmly, it's a three day trip,
(48:51):
so obviously you couldn't have made it in the five
hours after I sent you the message. You had me
kidnapped and brought here. The old man round slightly. I
suppose technically it was kidnapping, but we had to get
you out of circulation before you said anything that might
give the whole show away. Turnbull smiled slightly. Aren't you
(49:16):
afraid that the police will trace this to you. Oh,
I'm sure they would, eventually, said Rawlings. But you'll be
able to make any explanation long before that time, I see,
Turnbull said flatly, mind operation, Is that what you did
to Scholar Duckworth. The expression on Scholar Rawlings's face was
(49:39):
so utterly different from what Turnbull had expected that he
found himself suddenly correcting his thinking in the kaleidoscope readjustment
of his mind. What did you think you were onto,
doctor Turnbull, the old man asked slowly. Turnbull started to answer,
but at that moment the door opened. The round pleasant
(50:01):
faced gentleman who came in needed no introduction to Turnbull.
Scalar Duckworth said, hello, Dave. Sorry, I wasn't here when
you woke up, but I got he stopped. What's the matter,
I'm just cursing myself for being a fool, Turnbull said, sheepeshly.
(50:22):
I was using your disappearance as a datum and a
problem that didn't require it. Scalar Rawlings laughed abruptly. Then
you thought, Duckworth chuckled and raised a hand to interrupt Rawlings.
Just a moment, Jason let him logic it out to us. First,
take these straps off, said Turnbull. I'm stiff enough as
(50:44):
it is after being out cold for three days. Rawlings
touched a button on the wall and the restraining straps vanished.
Turnbull sat up, creakily, rubbing his arms. Well, said Duckworth.
Turnbull looked up at the elder man. It was those
first two letters of yours that started me off. I
(51:05):
was afraid of that, Duckworth said Riley. I ah tried
to get them back before I left Earth, but failing that,
I sent you a letter to try to throw you
off the track. Did you think it would, Turnbull asked,
I wasn't sure. Duckworth admitted. I decided that if you
had what it takes to see through it, you deserve
(51:28):
to know the truth. I think I know it already,
I dare say you do, Duckworth admitted, But tell us
first why you jumped to the wrong conclusion. Turnbull nodded
as I said. Your letters got me worrying. I knew
you must be on to something, or you wouldn't have
been so positive. So I started checking on all the
(51:51):
data about the city, especially that which had come in
previous to the time you sent the letters. I found
that several new artifacts had been discovered in Sector nine
of the city, in the park they call the bank buildings.
That struck a chord in my memory, so I looked
back over the previous records. That sector was supposed to
(52:12):
have been cleaned out nearly ninety years ago. The error
I made was in thinking that you had been forcibly
abducted somehow, that you had been forced to write that
third letter. It certainly looked like it. Since I couldn't
see any reason for you to hide anything from me.
I didn't think you'd be in on anything as underhanded
(52:33):
as this looked, so I assumed that you were acting
against your will. Scholar Rawlings smiled, But you thought I
was capable of underhanded tactics. That's not very flattering, young man.
Turnable grinned, I thought you were capable of kidnapping a man?
Was I wrong? Rawlings laughed heartily to say, go on.
(52:58):
Since artifacts had been found in a part of the
city from which they had previously been removed, I thought
that Jim here had found a well a cover up.
It looked as though some of the alien machines were
being moved around in order to conceal the fact that
someone was keeping something hidden, like, for instance, a new
(53:18):
weapon or a device that would give a man more
power than he should rightfully have, such as Duckworth asked,
such as invisibility, or a cheap method of transmutation, or
even a new and faster space drive. I wasn't sure,
but it certainly looked like it might be something of
that sort. Rawlings nodded, thoughtfully. A very good intuition, considering
(53:44):
the fact that you had a bit of erroneous data. Exactly.
I thought that Rowling Scientific Corporation or else you personally
were concealing something from the rest of us and from
the Advisory Board. I thought that scholar Duckworth had found
out about it, and that he'd been kidnapped to hush
(54:05):
him up. It certainly looked that way, I must admit
it did. At that, Duckworth said, But tell me how
does it look now? Turnbull frowned. The picture's all switched around. Now.
You came here for a purpose to check up on
your own data. Tell me, is everything here on the level?
(54:27):
Duckworth paused before he answered, everything human, he said slowly.
That's what I thought, said Turnbull. If the human factors
eliminated at least partially from the data. The intuition comes
through quite clearly. We're being fed information. Duckworth nodded silently.
(54:49):
Rawlings said, that's it. Someone or something is adding new
material to the city. It's like some sort of cosmic
bird feeding state that has to be refilled every so often.
Turnbull looked down at his big hands. It never was
a trade route focus, he said. It isn't even a
(55:11):
city in our sense of the term, no more than
a bird house was a nest. He looked up. That
city was built for only one purpose, to give human
beings certain data, and it's evidently data that we need
in a hurry for our own good. How so, Rawlings asked,
(55:32):
a look of faint surprise on his face. Same analogy.
Why does anyone feed birds? Two reasons, either to study
and watch them or to be kind to them. You
feed birds in the winter because they might die if
they didn't get enough food. Maybe we're being studied and watched, then,
(55:52):
said Duckworth, probingly. Possibly, but we won't know for a
long time. If ever. Duckworth grinned, right, I've seen this city.
I've looked it over carefully, in the past few months.
Whatever entities that built it are so far ahead of
us that we can't even imagine what it will take
(56:13):
to find out anything about them. We are as incapable
of understanding them as a bird is incapable of understanding us.
Who knows about this, Turnbull asked, Suddenly, the entire Advanced
Study Board at least, said Rawlings. We don't know how
many others, But so far we know everyone who has
(56:35):
been able to recognize what is really going on at
the city has also been able to realize that it
is something the human race en mass is not yet
ready to accept. What about the technicians who are actually
working there, asked Turnbull, Rawling smiled. The artifacts are very
(56:55):
carefully replaced. The technicians, again, as far as we know,
have accepted the evidence of their eyes. Turnbull looked a
little dissatisfied. Look, there are plenty of people in the
galaxy who would literally hate the idea that there is
anything in the universe superior to man. Can you imagine
(57:16):
the storm of reaction that would hit if this got out.
Whole groups would refuse to have anything to do with
anything connected with the city. The government would collapse, since
the whole theory of our present government comes from city data,
and the whole work of teaching intuitive reasoning would be
dropped like a hot potato by just those very people
(57:38):
who need to learn to use it. And it seems
to me that some precautions. He stopped, then grinned rather sheepishly. Oh,
he said, I see rawlings. Grinned back. There's never any
need to distort the truth. Anyone who is psychologically incapable
(57:58):
of allowing the exact distance of beings more powerful than
man is also psychologically incapable of piecing together the clues
which would indicate the existence of such beings. Scholar Duckworth
said it takes a great deal of humanity, a real
feeling of honest humility, to admit that one is actually
(58:20):
inferior to someone or something else. Most people don't have it.
They rebel because they can't admit their inferiority. Like the
examples of the North American a mere Indian tribes, Turnbull said,
they hadn't reached the state of civilization that the Aztecs
or Incas had. They were incapable of allowing themselves to
(58:42):
be beaten and enslaved. They refuse to allow themselves to learn.
They fought the white man to the last ditch, and
look where they ended up, precisely, said Duckworth. While the
Mexicans and Peruvians today are a functioning part of civilization
because they could and did learn, I'd just as soon
(59:06):
the human race didn't go the way of the Amerindians,
Turnbull said, I have a hunch it won't. Scholar Rawlings said,
the builders of the city, whoever they are, are edging
us very carefully into the next level of civilization, whatever
it may be. At that level, perhaps we'll be able
(59:28):
to accept their teaching more directly. Duckworth chuckled, Before we
can become gentlemen, we have to realize that we are
not gentlemen. Turnbull recognized the illusion. There is an old
truism to the effect that a barbarian can never learn
what a gentleman is because a barbarian cannot recognize that
(59:49):
he isn't a gentleman. As soon as he recognizes that fact,
he ceases to be a barbarian. He is not automatically
a gentleman, but at least he has been come capable
of learning how to be won. The city itself, said Rawllings.
Acts as a pretty efficient screening device for separating the
(01:00:10):
humble from the merely servile. The servile man represents his
position so much that he will fight anything which tries
to force recognition of his position on him. The servile
slave is convinced that he is equal to or superior
to his master's and that he is being held down
by brute force, so he opposes them with brute force
(01:00:34):
and is eventually destroyed. Turnable blinked a screening device, Then,
like a burst of sunlight, the full intuition came over him.
Duckworth's round face was positively beaming. You're the first one
ever to do it, he said. In order to become
a member of the Advanced Study Board, a scholar must
(01:00:56):
solve that much of the city's secret by himself. I'm
a much older man than you, and I just solved
it in the past few months. You will be the
first p h D to be admitted to the board
while you're working on your scholar's degree. Congratulations. Turnbull looked
down at his big hands, a pleased look on his face.
(01:01:18):
Then he looked up at scholar Duckworth got a cigarette, Jim. Thanks.
You know, we've still got plenty of work ahead of us,
trying to find out just what it is that the
city builders want us to learn. Duckworth smiled as he
held a flame to the tip of Turnbull's cigarette. Who knows,
(01:01:40):
he said quietly. Hell, maybe they want us to learn
about them. End of Dead Giveaway by Randall Garrett
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