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

None of us moved for many seconds. Then Richard, who had the best pair of binoculars, spied something flying toward us. “It’s the avians,” he shouted, jumping up and down and pointing at the sky. “I just remembered some-•thing. I visited them in their new home in the north while I was on my odyssey.”

One at a time we each looked through his binoculars. At first it wasn’t certain that Richard was correct in his identification, but as they came closer the fifty or sixty specks resolved themselves into the great birdlike creatures we know as the avians. They headed straight for New York. Half the avians hovered in the sky, maybe three hundred meters above their lair, as the other half dove down to the surface.

“Come on, Daddy,” Katie yelled. “Let’s go.”

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Before I could raise any objection, father and daughter were off at a sprint. I watched Katie run. She is already very fast. In my mind’s eye I could see my mother’s graceful stride across the grass in the park at Chilly-Ma-zarin—Katie has definitely inherited some characteristics from her mother’s side of the family, even though she is first and foremost her father’s daughter.

Simone and Benjy had already started toward our iair. Patrick was concerned about the avians. “Will they hurt Uncle Richard and Katie?” he asked.

I smiled at my handsome five-year-old son. “No, darling,” I answered, “not if they’re careful.” Michael, Patrick, Ellie, and I returned to the lair to watch the starfish being processed in the way station.

We couldn’t see much because all the ports of entry to the starfish were on the opposite side, away from the Raman cameras. But we assumed some kind of unloading activity was occurring, because eventually five shuttles departed for some new location. The starfish was finished with its processing very quickly. It had already left the way station before Richard and Katie returned.

“Start packing,” Richard said breathlessly as soon as he arrived. “We’re leaving. We’re all leaving.”

“You should have seen them,” Katie said to Simone almost simultaneously. “They were huge. And ugly. They went down in their lair—”

“The avians returned to get some special things from their lair,” Richard interrupted her. “Maybe they were mementos of some kind. Anyway, everything fits. We’re getting out of here.”

As I raced around trying to put our essentials into a few of the sturdy boxes, I criticized myself for not having figured everything out sooner. We had watched both the wheel and the starfish “unload” at the way station. But it had not occurred to us that we might be the cargo to be unloaded by Rama,

It was impossible to decide what to pack. We had been living in those six rooms (including the two we had fixed up for storage) for thirteen years. We had probably requested an average of five items a day using the keyboard.

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Granted, most of the objects had long since been thrown away, but still . . . We didn’t know where we were going. How could we know what to take?

“Do you have any idea what’s going to happen to us?” I asked Richard.

My husband was beside himself trying to figure out how to take his large computer. “Our history, our science— all that remains of our knowledge is there,” he said, pointing at the computer in agitation. “What if it’s irretrievably lost?”

It weighed only eighty kilograms altogether. I told him

we could all help him carry the computer after we had

packed clothing, personal items, and some food and water.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” I

repeated.

Richard shrugged his shoulders. “Not the slightest,” he replied. “But wherever it is, I bet it will be amazing.”

Katie came into our room. She was holding a small pouch and her eyes were alive with energy. “I’m packed and ready,” she said. “Can I go topside and wait?”

Her father’s affirmative nod was barely in motion when Katie bolted out the door. I shook my head, giving Richard a disapproving look, and went down the hall to help Simone with the other children. The process of packing for the boys was an ordeal. Benjy was cranky and confused. Even Patrick was irritable, Simone and I had just finished (the job was impossible until we forced the boys to take a nap) when Richard and Katie returned from topside.

“Our vehicle is here,” Richard said calmly, suppressing his excitement.

“It’s parked on the ice,” Katie added, taking off her heavy jacket and gloves.

“How do you know it’s ours?” Michael asked. He had entered the room only moments after Richard and Katie. “It has eight seats and room for our bags,” my ten-year-old daughter replied. “Who else could it be for?”

“Whom,” I said mechanically, trying to integrate this latest new information. I felt as if I had been drinking from a fire hose for four consecutive days.

“Did you see any octospiders?” Patrick asked.

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“Oc-to-spi-der,” Benjy repeated carefully.

“No,” answered Katie, “but we did see four mammoth planes, real flat, with wide wings. They flew over our heads, coming from the south. We think the flat planes were carrying the octos, don’t we, Dad?”

Richard nodded.

I took a deep breath. “All right, then,” I said. “Bundle up, everybody. Let’s go. Carry the bags first. Richard, Michael, and I will make a second trip for the computer.”

An hour later we were all in the vehicle. We had climbed the stairs of our lair for the last time. Richard pressed a flashing red button and our Raman helicopter (I call it that because it went straight up, not because it had any rotary blades) lifted off the ground.

Our flight path was slow and vertical for the first five minutes. Once we were close to the spin axis of Rama, where there was no gravity and very little atmosphere, the vehicle hovered in place for two or three minutes while it changed its external configuration.

It was an awesome final view of Rama. Many kilometers below us our island home was but a small patch of grayish brown in the middle of the frozen sea that circled the giant cylinder. I could see the horns in the south clearer than ever before. Those amazing long structures, supported by massive flying buttresses larger than small towns on the Earth, all pointed directly north.

I felt strangely emotional as our craft began to move again. After all, Rama had been my home for thirteen years. I had given birth to five children there. / also have matured, I remember telling myself, and may finally be growing into the person I have always wanted to be.

There was very little time to dwell on what had been. Once the external configuration change was complete, our vehicle zipped along the spin axis to the northern hub in a matter of a few minutes. Less than an hour later we were all safely in this shuttle. We had left Rama. I knew we would never return. I wiped the tears from my eyes as our shuttle pulled out of the way station.

AT THE NODE

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‘icole was dancing. Her I partner in the waltz was Henry. They were young and very much in love. The beautiful music filled the huge ballroom as the twenty or so couples moved in rhythm around the floor. Nicole looked stunning in her long white gown. Henry’s eyes were fixed on hers. He held her firmly at the waist, but somehow she felt completely free.

Her father was one of the people standing around the edge of the dance floor. He was leaning against a massive column that rose almost twenty feet to the domed ceiling. He waved and smiled as Nicole danced by in the arms of her prince.

The waltz seemed to last forever. When it was finally over, Henry held her hands and told Nicole that he had something very important to ask her. At just that moment her father touched her on the back. “Nicole,” he whispered, “we must go. It’s very late.”

Nicole curtsied to the prince. Henry was reluctant to let go of her hands. “Tomorrow,” he said, “We’ll talk tomorrow.” He blew her a kiss as she left the dance floor.

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When Nicole walked outside it was almost sunset. Her father’s sedan was waiting. Moments later, as they raced down the highway beside the Loire, she was dressed in blouse and jeans. Nicole was younger now, maybe fourteen, and her father was driving much faster than usual. “We don’t want to be late,” he said. “The pageant starts at eight o’clock.”

The Chateau d’Usse loomed before them. With its many towers and spires, the castle had been the inspiration for the original story of Sleeping Beauty. It was only a few kilometers down the river from Beauvois and had always been one of her father’s favorite places.