“Every year, around this time, they head for the Mountain, and they all die on its lower slopes. Sometimes you’ll meet them halfway up the cable ride, but that’s the highest they get. Which is lucky for the Vihara.”
“The Vihara?” asked Morgan sleepily.
“The Temple. If they ever reach it, Kalidasa will have conquered, and the bhikkus – the monks – will have to leave. That’s the prophecy – it’s carved on a stone slab in the Ranapura Museum. I can show it to you.”
“Some other time,” said Morgan hastily, as he settled back into the padded seat. But it was many kilometres before he could doze off again, for there was something haunting about the image that the driver had conjured up.
He would remember it often in the months ahead – when waking, and in moments of stress or crisis. Once again he would be immersed in that golden snowstorm, as the doomed millions spent their energies in a vain assault upon the mountain and all that it symbolised.
Even now, at the very beginning of his campaign, the image was too close for comfort.
19. By the Shores of Lake Saladin
Almost all the Alternative History computer simulations suggest that the Battle of Tours (AD 732) was one of the crucial disasters of mankind. Had Charles Martel been defeated, Islam might have resolved the internal differences that were tearing it apart and gone on to conquer Europe. Thus centuries of Christian barbarism would have been avoided, the Industrial Revolution would have started almost a thousand years earlier, and by now we would have reached the nearer stars instead of merely the further planets…
But fate ruled otherwise, and the armies of the Prophet turned back into Africa. Islam lingered on, a fascinating fossil, until the end of the twentieth century. Then, abruptly, it was dissolved in oil…
(Chairman’s Address: Toynbee Bi-centennial Symposium, London, 2089.)
“Did you know,” said Sheik Farouk Abdullah, “that I have now appointed myself Grand Admiral of the Sahara Fleet?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me, Mr. President,” Morgan answered, as he gazed out across the sparkling blue expanse of Lake Saladin. “If it’s not a naval secret, how many ships do you have?”
“Ten at the moment. The largest is a thirty-metre hydroskimmer run by the Red Crescent; it spends every weekend rescuing incompetent sailors. My people still aren’t much good on the water – look at that idiot trying to tack! After all, two hundred years really isn’t long enough to switch from camels to boats.”
“You had Cadillacs and Rolls-Royces in between. Surely that should have eased the transition.”
“And we still have them; my great-great-great-grandfather’s Silver Ghost is just as good as new. But I must be fair – it’s the visitors who get into trouble, trying to cope with our local winds. We stick to power-boats. And next year I’m getting a submarine guaranteed to reach the lake’s maximum depth of 78 metres.”
“Whatever for?”
“For they tell us that the Erg was full of archaeological treasures. Of course, no-one bothered about them before it was flooded.”
It was no use trying to hurry the President of ANAR – the Autonomous North African Republic – and Morgan knew better than to attempt it. Whatever the Constitution might say, Sheik Abdullah controlled more power and wealth than almost any single individual on earth. Even more to the point, he understood the uses of both.
He came from a family that was not afraid to take risks, and very seldom had cause to regret them. Its first and most famous gamble – which had incurred the hatred of the whole Arab world for almost half a century – was the investment of its abundant petro-dollars in the science and technology of Israel. That farsighted act had led directly to the mining of the Red Sea, the defeat of the deserts, and, very much later, to the Gibraltar Bridge.
“I don’t have to tell you, Van,” said the Sheik at last, “how much your new project fascinates me. And after all that we went through together while the Bridge was being built, I know that you could do it – given the resources.”
“Thank you.”
“But I have a few questions. I’m still not clear why there’s Midway Station – and why it’s at a height of twenty-five thousand kilometres.”
“Several reasons. We needed a major power plant at about that level, which would involve fairly massive construction there in any case. Then it occurred to us that seven hours was too long to stay cooped up in a rather cramped cabin, and splitting the journey gave a number of advantages. We shouldn’t have to feed the passengers in transit-they could eat and stretch their legs at the Station. We could also optimise the vehicle design; only the capsules on the lower section would have to be streamlined. Those on the upper run could be much simpler and lighter. The Midway Station would not only serve as a transfer point, but as an operations and control center and ultimately, we believe, as a major tourist attraction and resort in its own right.”
“But it’s not midway! It’s almost – ah – two-thirds of the distance up to stationary orbit.”
“True; the mid-point would be at eighteen thousand, not twenty-five. But there’s another factor – safety. If the section above is severed, the Midway Station won’t crash back to Earth.”
“Why not?”
“It will have enough momentum to maintain a stable orbit. Of course, it will fall earthward, but it will always remain clear of the atmosphere. So it will be perfectly safe – it will simply become a space station, moving in a ten-hour, elliptical orbit. Twice a day it will be right back where it started from, and eventually it could be reconnected. In theory, at least…”
“And in practice?”
“Oh, I’m sure it could be done. Certainly the people and equipment on the station could be saved. But we wouldn’t have even that option if we established it at a lower altitude. Anything falling from below the twenty-five thousand kilometre limit hits the atmosphere and burns up in five hours, or less.”
“Would you propose advertising this fact to passengers on the Earth-Midway run?”
“We hope they would be too busy admiring the view to worry about it.”
“You make it sound like a scenic elevator.”
“Why not? Except that the tallest scenic ride on earth only goes up a mere three kilometres! We’re talking about something ten thousand times higher.”
There was a considerable pause while Sheik Abdullah thought this over.
“We missed an opportunity,” he said at last. “We could have had five-kilometre scenic rides up the piers of the Bridge.”
“They were in the original design, but we dropped them for the usual reason – economy.”
“Perhaps we made a mistake; they could have paid for themselves. And I’ve just realised something else. If this – hyperfilament – had been available at the time I suppose the Bridge could have been built for half the cost.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, Mr. President. Less than a fifth. But construction would have been delayed more than twenty years, so you haven’t lost by it.”
“I must talk that over with my accountants. Some of them still aren’t convinced it was a good idea, even though the traffic growth rate is ahead of projection. But I keep telling them that money isn’t everything – the Republic needed the Bridge psychologically and culturally, as well as economically. Did you know that 18 percent of the people who drive across it do so just because it’s there, not for any other reason? And then they go straight back again, despite having to pay the toll both ways.”
“I seem to recall,” said Morgan dryly, “giving you similar arguments, a long time ago. You weren’t easy to convince.”
“True. I remember that the Sydney Opera House was your favourite example. You liked to point out how many times that had paid for itself – even in hard cash, let alone prestige.”
“And don’t forget the Pyramids.”
The Sheik laughed. “What did you call them? The best investment in the history of mankind?”
“Precisely. Still paying tourist dividends after four thousand years.”
“Hardly a fair comparison, though. Their running costs don’t compare with those of the Bridge much less your proposed Tower’s.”
“The Tower may last longer than the Pyramids. It’s in a far more benign environment.”
“That’s a very impressive thought. You really believe that it will operate for several thousand years?”
“Not in its original form, of course. But in principle, yes. Whatever technical developments the future brings, I don’t believe there will ever be a more efficient, more economical way of reaching Space. Think of it as another bridge. But this time a bridge to the stars or at least to the planets.”
“And once again you’d like us to help finance it. We’ll still be paying for the last bridge for another twenty years. It’s not as if your space elevator was on our territory, or was of direct importance to us.”