Rama 3 – The Garden of Rama by Clarke, Arthur C.

58

ARTHUR C, CLARKE AND GENTRY LEE

even if I delay it chemically? On the basis of the two data points thus far, there is no evidence that Richard can produce a boy at all. We could establish a laboratory to permit male sperm selection from his semen, but it would take a monumental effort on our part and months of detailed interaction with the Ramans. And there would still remain the issues of sperm preservation and delivery to the ovaries.

I thought through the various proven techniques of altering the natural sex selection process (the man’s diet, type and frequency of intercourse, timing with respect to ovula-tion, etc.) and concluded that Richard and I would probably have a good chance of producing a boy naturally, if we were very careful. But at the back of my mind the thought persisted that the odds would be still more favorable if Michael were the father. After all, he had two sons (out of three children) as a result of random behavior. However much I might be able to improve the probabilities with Richard, the same techniques with Michael would virtually guarantee a son.

Before I fell back asleep I considered briefly the’imprac-ticality of the entire idea. A foolproof method of artificial insemination (which I would be required to supervise, even though I was the subject) would have to be devised. Could we do that, in our current situation, and guarantee both the sex and the health of the embryo? Even hospitals on Earth, with all the resources at their command, are not always successful. The other alternative was to have sex with Michael. Although I did not find that thought unpleasant, the sociological ramifications seemed so great that 1 abandoned the idea altogether.

(Six hours later.) The men surprised me tonight with a special dinner. Michael is becoming quite a cook. The food tasted, as advertised, like beef Wellington, although it looked more like creamed spinach. Richard and Michael also served a red liquid that was labeled wine. It wasn’t terrible, so I drank it, discovering much to my surprise that it contained some alcohol and 1 actually felt high.

All of us adults were, in fact, slightly tipsy by the end of the dinner. The girls, Simone especially, were puzzled

THE GARDEN OF RAMA

59

by our behavior. During our dessert of coconut pie, Michael told me that 41 was a “very special number.” He then explained to me that it was the largest prime that started a long quadratic sequence of other primes. When I asked him what a quadratic sequence was, he laughed and said he didn’t know. He did, however, write out the forty-element sequence he was talking about: 41, 43, 47, 53, 61, 71, 83, 97, 113 . . . , concluding with the number 1,601. He assured me that every one of the forty numbers in the sequence was a prime. “Therefore,” he said with a twinkle, “forty-one must be a magic number.”

While I was laughing, our resident genius Richard looked at the numbers and then, after no more than a minute of playing with his computer, explained to Michael and me why the sequence was called “quadratic.” “The second differences are constant,” he said, showing us what he meant with an example. “Therefore the entire sequence can be generated by a simple quadratic expression. Take/(AO = N2 — N + 41,” he continued, “where N is any integer from 0 through 40. That function will generate your entire sequence.

“Better still,” he said with a laugh, “consider f(N) = N2 — 81N + 1681, where N is an integer running from 1 to 80. This quadratic formula starts at the tail end of your string of numbers, f(l) — 1601, and proceeds through the sequence in decreasing order first. It reverses itself at ^40) = f(4l) = 41, and then generates your entire array of numbers again in increasing order.”

Richard smiled. Michael and I just stared at him in awe.

13 March 2205

Katie had her second birthday today and everyone was in a good mood, Richard especially. He does like his little girl, even though she manipulates him outrageously. For her birthday he took her over to the octospider lair cover and they rattled the grills together. Both Michael and I expressed our disapproval, but Richard laughed and winked at Katie.

At dinner Simone played a short piano piece that Mi-

60

ARTHUR C. CLARKE AND GENTRY LEE

chael has been teaching her and Richard served a quite remarkable wine—a Raman chardonnay, he called it— with our poached salmon. In Rama poached salmon looks like scrambled eggs on Earth, which is a bit confusing, but we continue to adhere to our convention of labeling foods according to their tastes.

I’m feeling buoyantly happy, even though I must admit that I am slightly nervous about my coming discussion with Richard. He is very upbeat at the present time, mostly because he’s busily working on not one, but two major projects. Not only is he making liquid concoctions whose taste and alcohol content rival the fine wines of the planet Earth, but also he is creating a new set of twenty-centimeter robots based on the characters from the plays of the twentieth century Nobel laureate Samuel Beckett. Michael and I have been urging Richard to reincarnate his Shakespeare troupe for several years, but the memory of his lost friends has always stopped him. But a new playwright— that’s a different question. He has already finished the four characters in Endgame. Tonight the children laughed gleefully when the old folks “Nagg” and “Nell” rose out of their tiny garbage cans shouting, “My pap. Bring me my pap.”

I am definitely going to present to Richard my idea of having a son with Michael as the father. He will, I am certain, appreciate the logic and the science of the suggestion, although I can hardly^xpect him to be terribly enthusiastic about it. Of course I have not mentioned my idea at all to Michael yet. He does know I have something serious on my mind, however, because I have asked him if he would look after the girls this afternoon while Richard and I go topside for a picnic and a talk.

My nervousness about this issue is probably unwarranted. It is doubtless based on a definition of proper behavior that simply has no application to our present situation. Richard is feeling good these days. His wit has been very sharp lately. He may throw a few sharp zingers at me during our discussion, but I bet he will be in favor of the idea at the end.

8

7 May 2205 This has been the spring of

I our discontent. Oh, Lord,

what fools we mortals be. Richard, Richard, please come back.

Where to start? And how to begin? Do I dare to eat a peach? In a minute there are visions and revisions that a minute … In the next room Michael and Simone come and go, talking of Michelangelo.

My father always told me that everyone makes mistakes. Why did mine have to be so colossal? The idea made good sense. My left brain said it was logical. But deep down inside the human being, reason does not always carry the day. Emotions are not rational. Jealousy is not the output of a computer program.

There were plenty of warnings. That first afternoon, as we sat beside the Cylindrical Sea and had our “picnic,” I could tell from Richard’s eyes that there was a problem. Uh-oh, back off, Nicole, I said to myself.

But later he seemed so reasonable. “Of course,” Richard said that same afternoon, “what you are suggesting is the genetically correct thing to do. I will go with you to

62

ARTHUR C. CLARKE AND GENTRY LEE

tell Michael. Let’s get this over as fast as we can, hoping one encounter will be all that is necessary.”

I felt elated at the time. It never occurred to me that Michael might balk. “It would be a sin,” he said in the evening, after the girls were asleep, within seconds after he understood what we were proposing.

Richard took the offensive, arguing that the entire concept of sin was an anachronism even on Earth and that Michael was just being silly. “Do you really want me to do this?” Michael asked Richard directly at the end of the conversation.

“No,” Richard answered after a brief hesitation, “but it’s clearly in the best interests of our children.” I should have paid more attention to the “no.”

It never occurred to me that my plan might not work. I tracked my ovulation cycle very carefully. When the designated night finally arrived, I informed Richard and he stalked out of the lair for one of his long hikes in Rama. Michael was nervous and fighting his feelings of guilt, but even in my worst doomsday scenario I had not . imagined that he might be unable to have intercourse with me.