Side 97
Anderson, Poul – Avatar, The
“I see. Won’t you sit down? What would you like? I drew a ration of each type of liquor in the stores.”
“Scotch, then, thank you. Neat; water chaser.” Weisenberg folded his leanness into a chair. Rueda poured the same I or both and settled opposite.
“I thought we should get a little acquainted,” the host said. “In forty hours we will be at the T machine, and God alone knows what will happen. If Daniel’s scheme succeeds and we reach Beta, we still have a long, hard effort before us. If it does not, we may well be in instant danger of our lives. We had better know the ways in which we can depend on one another. And. . . perhaps you can find duty for me. I feel useless, I worry, I drink too much.” His smile was rather sour. “Frieda might keep me occupied, but she’s exploring the new men around her.”
Weisenberg took a smoky sip. “Can’t you ask the skipper for a job?”
“I hate to add to his burdens. Besides, you are our general technical expert. If you could give me a suggestion for me to make to him-do you see? You and I may communicate better than most. I heard you spent years in Peru, working for Aventureros.”
Weisenberg nodded. “I studied nuclear engineering in Lima. There was no school of it then on Demeter. Afterward, yes, I did take a job with your company. That was what got me hooked on being in space. But I loved the city too. It’s beautiful, and gave me many glorious moments. I was there when the Covenant was signed!”
“Why did you return, if you don’t mind telling me?”
“Oh, mainly for my parents’ sake. It was not easy working groundside, though raising a family kept me reasonably cheerful. When Dan started Chehalis, I jumped into his employ.”
Rueda stared at his tumbler, drank, and stared again, as if it held an omen. “Space,” he murmured. “Yes, we must each of us be obsessed with space, no?
Why else would we be here? I think I was first caught in boyhood, on a cold and brilliant night at Machu Picchu. The stars above the Incan ruins were like a host of angels.”
“Or of Others,” Weisenberg said as softly.
Rueda gave him an examining look. “Are you among those who make the Others into God?”
“No, not really.” The conversation was becoming intimate fast; but only forty hours of peace remained. “However, I went to Neo Chasidic rabbinical school in Eopolis. A man can bear the marks of that his whole life, no matter if the faith has gone.”
“Well, I am a Catholic of sorts, I think, but I must admit those years at Beta made me wonder a lot. Until then, I’d almost taken the Others for granted. But when the Betans, with their fantastic capabilities, turned out to be mortal and troubled, the same as us -mystified and awed by the Others, the same as us-yes, it upset a great deal in me.” Rueda grimaced. “I was a political conservative too. Now I see how things I never dreamed of have been infecting government, and that faith also shakes.” He knocked back his whisky. “It continues possible to believe in the power, wisdom, and benevolence of the Others. May it always continue possible.”
Having taken a sip of water, he lifted the liquor bottle off the table beside him and made an offering gesture toward Weisenberg. The engineer shook his head. Rueda glugged forth a refill for himself and started on it.
“I am not a cultist about them,” Weisenberg said. “For instance, I do not believe they are working secretly to guide us and the whole universe. Maybe they are, but their Voice denied it, also to the Betans. By and large, I’m agnostic about them, and will stay that way till we get some direct information, which may well be never.”
“Still, they are important to your soul,” Rueda observed.
Weisenberg nodded anew. “Fundamental. Especially when I’m watching the sky in space. Though they probably do not play at being gods, it does seem impossible-well, impossible for me to accept, at least-that they’re indifferent to us . . . that they let us use their gates merely because we can’t hurt anything of theirs, and show us a single path to a new planet in idle kindliness, like a man feeding pigeons bits of a sandwich he isn’t going to eat.