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

“AH right,” said Nakamura, his eyes implacably hostile, “we will do this your way. . . . Watanabe, you have lost control of the colony. The citizens are very unhappy with your leadership and my people tell me there is widespread talk of impeachment and/or insurrection. You have botched the environmental and RV-41 issues, and now your black woman judge, after innumerable delays, has announced that a nigger rapist will not be subject to a trial by jury. Some of the more thoughtful of the colonists, knowing that you and I have a common background, have asked me to intercede, to try to convince you to step aside before there is widespread bloodshed and chaos.”

This is incredible, Kenji thought as he listened to Nakamura. The man is absolutely out of his mind. The governor resolved to say very little in the conversation.

“So you believe I should resign?” Kenji asked after a protracted silence.

“Yes,” answered Nakamura, his tone growing more

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imperious. “But not immediately. Not until tomorrow. Today you should exercise your executive privilege to change the jurisdiction for the Martinez case away from Nicole des Jardins Wakefield. She is obviously prejudiced. Judges lannella or Rodriguez, either one, would be more appropriate. Notice,” he said, forcing a smile, “that I am not suggesting the case be transferred to Judge Nishi-mura’s court.”

“Is there anything else?” Kenji asked.

“Only one more thing. Tell Ulanov to withdraw from the election. He doesn’t have any chance to win and continuing this divisive campaign will only make it more difficult for us to pull together after the Macmillan victory. We need to be united. I foresee a serious threat to the colony from whatever enemy inhabits the other habitat. The leggies, that you seem to believe are ‘harmless observers,’ are just their advance scouts. . . .”

Kenji was astonished by what he was hearing. How had Nakamura become so warped? Or had he always been this way?

“… I must stress that time is of the essence,” Nakamura was saying, “especially with respect to the Martinez issue and your resignation. I have asked Kobayashi-san and the other members of the Asian community not to act too hastily, but after last night I’m not certain I can restrain them. His daughter was a beautiful, talented young woman. Her suicide note makes it clear that she could not live with the shame implied by the continual delays in the trial of her rapist. There is genuine anger throughout—”

Governor Watanabe temporarily forgot his resolution to remain quiet. “Are you aware,” he said, also standing up, “that semen from two different individuals was found in Mariko Kobayashi after the night during which she was allegedly raped? And that both Mariko and Pedro Martinez repeatedly insisted that they were alone together the entire evening? Even when Nicole hinted to Mariko last week that there was evidence of additional intercourse, the young woman stuck to her story.”

Nakamura momentarily lost his composure. He stared blankly at Kenji Watanabe.

“We have not been able to identify the other party,”

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Kenji continued. “The semen samples mysteriously disappeared from the hospital laboratory before the full DNA analysis could be completed. All we have is the record of the original examination.”

“That record could be wrong,” asserted Nakamura, his self-confidence returning.

“Very, very unlikely. But at any rate, now you can understand Judge Wakefield’s dilemma. Everyone in this colony has already decided Pedro is guilty. She did not want a jury to convict him wrongly.”

There was a long silence. The governor started to depart. “I’m surprised at you, Watanabe,” Nakamura said at length. “You’ve missed the point of this meeting entirely. Whether or not that jigaboo Martinez raped Mariko Kobayashi is really not that important. I have promised her father that the Nicaraguan boy will be punished. And that’s what counts.”

Kenji Watanabe stared at his boyhood classmate with disgust. “I’m going to leave now” he said, “before I become really angry.”

“You will not be given another chance,” Nakamura said, his eyes again full of hostility. “This was my first and final offer.”

Kenji shook his head, pulled back the paper screen himself, and walked out into the corridor.

Nicole was walking along a beach in beautiful sunlight. Ahead of her about fifty meters, Ellie was standing beside Dr. Turner. She was wearing her wedding dress, but the groom was dressed in a bathing suit. Nicole’s great-grandfather Omen was performing the ceremony in his long green tribal robe.

Omeh placed Ellie’s hands in Dr. Turner’s and began a Senoufo chant. He raised his eyes to the sky. A solitary avian soared overheard, shrieking in rhythm with the wedding chant. As Nicole watched the avian flying above her, the sky darkened. Storm clouds rushed in, displacing the placid sky.

The ocean began to churn and the wind to blow. Nicole’s hair, now completely gray, streamed out behind her. The wedding party was in disarray. Everyone ran

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inland to escape the coming storm. Nicole could not move. Her eyes were fixed on a large object being tossed upon the waves.

The object was a huge green bag, like the plastic bags used for lawn trash back in the twenty-first century. The bag was full and was coming toward the shore. Nicole would have tried to grab it, but she was afraid of the moiling sea. She pointed at the bag. She yelled for help.

In the upper left-hand corner of her dream screen ‘she saw a long canoe. As it drew closer, Nicole realized that the eight occupants of the canoe were extraterrestrials, orange in color, smaller than humans. They looked as if they were made from bread dough. They had eyes and faces but no bodily hair. The aliens steered the canoe over to the large green bag and picked it up.

The orange extraterrestrials deposited the green bag on the beach. Nicole did not approach until they climbed back into their canoe and returned to the ocean. She waved good-bye to them and walked over to the bag. It had a zipper, which she carefully opened. Nicole pulled back the top half and stared at the dead face of Kenji Watanabe.

Nicole shuddered, screamed, and sat up in bed. She reached over for Richard, but the bed was empty. The digital clock on the table read 2:48 A.M. Nicole tried to slow her breathing and clear her mind of the horrible dream.

The vivid image of the dead Kenji Watanabe lingered in her mind. As she walked over to the bathroom, Nicole remembered her premonitory dreams about the death of her mother, back when she was only ten years old. What if Kenji is really going to die? she thought, feeling the first wave of panic. She forced herself to think about something else. Now where is Richard at this time of night? she wondered. Nicole pulled on her robe and left the bedroom area.

She walked quietly past the children’s rooms toward the front of the house. Benjy was snoring, as usual. The light was on in the study, but Richard was not there. Two of the new biots plus Prince Hal were also gone. One of the monitors on Richard’s work table still contained a display.

Nicole smiled to herself and remembered their

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agreement. She touched the keys NICOLE on the keyboard and the display changed.

Dearest Nicole [the message appeared], If you awaken before I return, do not worry. I plan to be back by dawn, eight o’clock tomorrow morning at the very latest. I have been doing some work with the 300 series biots—you remember, the ones that are not completely programmed in firmware and therefore can be designed for special tasks—and have reason to believe that someone has been, spying on my work. Therefore, I have accelerated the completion of my current project and have gone outside New Eden for a final test. I love you. Richard.

It was dark and cold out on the Central Plain. Richard tried to be patient. He had sent his upgraded Einstein (Richard referred to it as Super-Al) and Garcia #325 over to the second habitat probe site before him. They had explained to the night watchman, a standard Garcia biot, that the published experiment schedule had changed and that a special investigation was presently going to be conducted. With Richard still out of sight, Super-Al had then withdrawn all the equipment from the opening into the other habitat and placed it on the ground. The process had consumed over an hour of precious time. Now that Super-Al was finally finished, he signaled Richard to approach. Garcia #325 cleverly led the watchman biot off to another area around the probe site so it wouldn’t be able to see Richard.

He wasted no time. Richard pulled Prince Hal out of his pocket and put him in the opening. “Go quickly,” Richard said, setting his small monitor up on the floor of the passage. The opening into the other habitat had been gradually widened over the weeks so that it was now approximately a square, eighty centimeters on a side. There was more than enough room for the tiny robot.