Saturn (10 page)

BULLETIN

TO: All Residents.

FROM: M. Eberly, Director Human Resources Department.

SUBJECT: Naming Contests.

You, the people of this habitat, will decide the names to be given to the five villages, the various work complexes, and the natural areas (farms, orchards, woodlands, lakes, etc.) by participating in contests to select such names.

Residents of each village will select the name for the village in which they reside. Workers in each factory, processing plant, farm, aquaculture complex, etc., will select the names for such centers. If desired, individual buildings may be given specific names.

Each contest will consist of three phases. In the first phase, all citizens will decide on the categories from which names will be eventually chosen. For example, residents will decide whether they wish to name the villages after national heroes, or cities on Earth, or great artists or scientists, etc.

In the second phase, specific names from each chosen category will be nominated and discussed. The list of names for each specific site will be shortened to five, using a secret ballot.

In the third and final phase, permanent names will be chosen from the short lists of five nominees, again by secret ballot.

The Human Resources Department will manage the various contests. The Human Resources Department may appoint one or more panels of citizens to serve as judges, researchers, or in other capacities, as needed.

A public meeting will be convened at 22:00 hours Thursday in the cafeteria to discuss this activity. All residents are urged to attend.

M. Eberly Director, Human Resources Department.

MEMORANDUM

TO: All Habitat Personnel.

FROM: R. Morgenthau, Acting Director, Human Resources.

SUBJECT: Medical Prophylaxis.

As a proactive measure to prevent the outbreak of airborne infectious diseases, every individual's living quarters will be treated with a disinfectant antibiotic spray over the course of the next four weeks.

Each individual will be notified when her or his building is to be treated. Such treatment will be done during normal working hours; it is neither necessary nor desirable for individuals to remain in their quarters during the spraying procedure.

R. Morgenthau.

Acting Director.

Human Resources.

Although there were two full-service restaurants in the village, virtually everyone ate in the big, noisy cafeteria almost every day. The restaurants were small, intimate, run by harried entrepreneurs who obtained their foods directly from the people who ran the farms and the fish tanks. Just as the nutritionists of Selene had learned, aquaculture produced more protein per unit of input energy than barnyard meat animals could. Before leaving the Earth/Moon region, several farmers had suggested bringing rabbits or chickens aboard for their meat. Wilmot had sternly rejected the idea, citing horror stories from Australia of runaway rabbit overpopulation and the diseases that cooped-up birds caused.

So the habitat's residents got their protein from fish, frogs, soy derivatives, and the processed products of the food factory, popularly known as "McGlop." When they did not make their own meals in their quarters, they usually ate in the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was the biggest enclosed space in the habitat, and between meals it often served as a makeshift theater or auditorium. It was after the habitat had cleared the Asteroid Belt and started on the leg of its flight that would take it to Jupiter, that Eberly called a public meeting there.

The meeting was set for 22:00 hours, and there were still a few people finishing their dinners when Eberly's team
—
including Holly
—
began to move all the tables and chairs to one side of the spacious room to clear the floor for the incoming audience.

Eberly stood frowning impatiently at the far end of the room, next to the little stage on which he planned to make his speech. He could see the cafeteria staff and its robots, across the way, cleaning their steam tables and display cases, rattling piles of dishes and glassware. He did not see a large crowd assembling.

Ruth Morgenthau scanned the thinly scattered audience. "All the people from my department are here," she claimed.

"Not many others, though," said Sammi Vyborg.

Colonel Kananga smiled thinly. "This is all being vidded. I'll have the names and dossiers of everyone here."

"It's the names of those who are
not
here that I want," Eberly growled.

"A simple matter of subtraction," said Kananga. And he smiled as if amused by some inside joke.

Once the last of the diners had gotten up and their tables were shoved out of the way, Morgenthau climbed heavily the three steps of the speaker's platform and spread her arms for silence. The muted buzz of the crowd's many separate conversations slowly stopped and everyone turned toward her expectantly.

Holly had been positioned by the main door, which opened out into the village's central green. Her duty, Eberly had told her, was to encourage anyone outside to come in, and to discourage anyone inside from leaving. He had given her two rather large, muscular young men from the security department to help her in the latter task. She felt disappointed that so few people had turned out for Eberly's speech. There was no other public entertainment on the agenda for this evening; she had made certain of that before scheduling his appearance. With ten thousand people in the habitat, she had expected more than a couple of hundred to show up.

At least Dr. Cardenas had come in, giving Holly a cheerful hello as she strode through the open door. But where's everybody else? Holly wondered.

Still, Morgenthau smiled jovially at the audience as if everyone this side of Calcutta had crowded the cafeteria floor. She thanked the people for coming and promised them an evening "of the greatest importance since we started this long journey into a bright and glorious future."

Holly watched the faces of the onlookers. They appeared more curious than anything else; hardly fired with enthusiasm for a glorious future.

Then Eberly climbed up onto the stage and stepped to the podium. He nodded curtly to Morgenthau who, still smiling, stepped to the back of the stage.

Why doesn't she get off the stage? Holly wondered. She's distracting people's attention from Malcolm.

For several long moments Eberly simply stood at the podium, gripping its sides, staring out at the audience in cold silence. The crowd begin to stir uneasily. Holly heard muttering.

At last Eberly began to speak. "Each of you has received an announcement of the series of contests to be held for the purpose of naming the villages and other features, both natural and architectural, of this habitat."

"I didn't get an announcement," came a man's low grumble from the audience. Kananga glared and pointed; two husky young black-clad men converged on the man.

Eberly smiled at the heckler, though. "The announcement is in your mail. Simply check your computer; it's there, I promise you."

The man looked startled by the two security officers now standing on each side of him in their black coveralls.

Eberly resumed, "This is your habitat. It is your right to choose the names you want for its natural and man-made features. Besides, these contests will be fun! You will enjoy them, I promise you."

People glanced at each other and murmured. A few turned around and started walking toward the door.

"I'm not finished," Eberly said.

The crowd paid scant attention. It began to break up. A woman raised her voice loudly enough for everyone to hear, "I don't know about you, but I've got work to do tomorrow morning." More people began drifting toward the door.

"Listen to me!" Eberly demanded, his voice suddenly deeper, stronger, more demanding. "You are the most important people in this habitat. Don't turn your backs on your own future!"

Their muttering stopped. They turned back toward Eberly, every eye focused on him.

"The others," Eberly said, in a voice more powerful than Holly had ever heard before, "those who are too lazy, or too timid, or too poorly informed to be here, will envy you in time. For you are the ones who are wise enough, strong enough, brave enough to begin to seize the future in your own hands. You understand that this is
your
habitat,
your
community, and it must be controlled by no one except yourselves."

"Right!" someone shouted.

Holly was staring at Eberly, dimly aware that everyone in the crowd was doing the same now, listening, hearing that richly vibrant voice and the mesmerizing message it carried.

She jumped nearly out of her skin when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey, I didn't mean to spook you."

Holly saw a smiling, solidly built youngish man with a rugged bulldog face. Dark eyes and darker hair.

"What's going on?" he asked in a stage whisper.

Holly gestured toward the stage and whispered back, "Dr. Eberly is giving a speech."

"Eberly? Who's he?"

She shook her head and touched a finger to her lips, then pantomimed for him to come into the cafeteria and listen. Still smiling, the man stepped past her, then stood at the rear of the crowd and crossed his beefy arms over his chest.

Eberly was saying, "Why should you be governed by rules made hundreds of millions of kilometers away, written by old men who know nothing of the conditions you face? What do they know of the problems you encounter every day? What do they care? It's time for you to create your own government and choose your own leaders."

Someone began clapping. The rest of the crowd took it up, applauding and even cheering out loud. Holly clapped along with the others, although she noticed that the newcomer kept his arms folded.

Soon Eberly had them roaring their approval with almost every sentence he spoke. The crowd became a single, unified creature: an animal with many heads and hands and bodies, but only one mind, and that mind was focused entirely on Eberly's message.

"It's up to you to build this new world," he told them. "You will be the leaders of tomorrow."

They applauded and stamped and whistled. Holly thought they would storm the platform and carry Eberly off on their shoulders.

The newcomer turned to her and shouted through the noisy accolade, "He knows how to turn 'em on, doesn't he?"

"He's wonderful!" Holly yelled back, hammering her hands together as loudly as she could.

Eberly smiled brilliantly and thanked the audience several times and finally stepped down from the platform, to be immediately sur
r
ounded by admiring people. The rest of the crowd began to break up and drift outside.

The newcomer asked Holly, "Am I too late to get something to eat?"

"The cafeteria's closed until tomorrow morning," Holly said. Gesturing toward the food dispensers, she added, "You can get something from the machines."

He wrinkled his pug nose. "Stale sandwiches and sodas that make you belch."

Holly giggled. "Well, there are the restaurants. They stay open till midnight, I'm pretty sure."

"Yeah," he said, "I guess that's it."

The last of the crowd was leaving, little knots of two or three, talking about Eberly's speech.

Kris Cardenas stopped beside Holly. "I'm going over to the Bistro for some dessert. Would you like to join me?"

The newcomer said, "Why don't the two of you join me?

Holly glanced at Cardenas. She knew the man's face, but she couldn't recall his name or occupation.

Sensing her puzzlement, he said, "My name is Manuel Gaeta. I'm not part of your regular population here, I'm
—

"You're the stuntman," Holly blurted, remembering now.

Gaeta smiled, almost shyly. "My publicity people say I'm an adventure specialist.'"

"You're the one who wants to go down to the surface of Titan.

He nodded. "If Professor Wilmot lets me do it."

"Why on Earth would anyone want to go to the surface of Titan?"

Cardenas asked.

Gaeta grinned at her. "Because it's there. And nobody's done it before."

With that, he took each of the women by the arm and started off for the Bistro, halfway across the village.

James Colerane Wilmot followed a comfortable routine almost every night. A lifelong bachelor, he usually had an early dinner with friends or colleagues, then retired to his quarters for an hour or two of watching history and a glass of whisky, neat.

He had known that Eberly intended to make a speech of some sort that evening, but had not let the knowledge interfere with his nightly custom. Eberly ran the Human Resources Department well enough, Wilmot thought, which meant that no one brought complaints about the department to Wilmot's attention. He exceeded his authority by allowing that nanotechnology woman to join the community without Wilmot's approval, but that could be handled easily enough. If the man wants to make a speech, what of it?

He felt a bit rankled, therefore, when his phone chimed in the middle of one of his favorite vids,
Secrets of the Star Chamber.
He checked the phone's screen and saw that it was a minor assistant calling. With an irritated huff, Wilmot blanked the holographic image and opened the phone channel.

Bernard Isaacs's face appeared in midair: round, apple-cheeked, tightly curled hair. He seemed flushed with excitement, or perhaps worry.

"Did you hear his speech?" Isaacs asked urgently.

"Whose speech? Do you mean Eberly and his silly contests?"

"It's more than contests. He wants to tear up the protocols and write a new constitution, form a new government!"

Wilmot nodded, wondering what the problem was. "When we reach Saturn, yes, I know. That's in our plan of
—
"

"No!" Isaacs interrupted. "Now! He's telling them they should do it now."

"Telling who?"

"Anyone who will listen!"

"Can't be done," Wilmot said, completely calm. "Everyone signed the agreement to stick by our protocols until we establish the habitat safely in Saturn orbit."

"But he wants to do it now!" Isaacs repeated, his voice rising half an octave.

Wilmot raised a hand. "That's not possible and he knows it."

"But-"

"I'll have a talk with him. See what he's after. Possibly you misunderstood his intention."

Isaacs's round jaw set stubbornly. "I'll send you a vid of his speech. You can see for yourself what he's up to."

"Do that," Wilmot said. "Thank you very much for informing me."

He clicked the phone connection off, noting that the red
recording
light immediately lit up. Isaacs was sending Eberly's speech. Wilmot's brows knitted slightly. Isaacs isn't the excitable type; at least he hasn't been until now. I wonder what's got the wind up in him?

Wilmot resolved to review Eberly's speech. But not until he finished the vid on Henry VIII's means of extracting confessions from his subjects.

Two hours later, after watching Eberly's speech several times and helping himself to another healthy-sized whisky, Wilmot sat back in his favorite easy chair with an odd little smile playing across his lips.

So it's finally begun, he said to himself. The experiment begins to get interesting. At first I was afraid they would all be anarchists, troublemakers, but so far they've behaved rather well, damned little sign of rebelliousness or mischief. Probably they're all getting themselves accustomed to their new world, adapting to life in the habitat. Most of them have never had it so good, I suppose. But this man Eberly wants to rouse them a bit. Very good.

Fascinating. Eberly puts out this silly damned dress code, and no one complains. They either ignore it, or they decorate their clothes with scarves and sashes. These people aren't going to be led around by their noses, that's clear enough.

But Eberly wants to control them, apparently. I wonder what ticked him off? Most likely it was that little dressing down I gave him about the Cardenas woman. Instead of submitting to authority or sulking, he takes political action. Fascinating. Now the question is, what will the general population do? He only got a handful of people to listen to him, but by the start of the workday tomorrow the entire habitat will know of his speech. How will they react?

More importantly, he thought, how should I react? Move to thwart him? Cooperate with him?

Wilmot shook his head. Neither, he decided. I must not insert my own prejudices into this experiment. It won't be easy to stay out of it, though. I can't simply disappear; I have a role to play. But I mustn't let it interfere with their behaviors.

Of course, he thought, none of them knows the
real
purpose of this mission. No one even guesses that it exists. And I must keep it that way. If anyone got the slightest hint of it, that would skew the experiment terribly. I'll have to be very careful in phrasing my report back to Atlanta. It wouldn't do to have some snoop in the communications department find out what's really going on here.

He got up from his chair, surprised at how stiff he felt, and headed for his bedroom. I'll play it strictly by the book, he decided. The agreed-upon protocols will be followed at all times. That should offer enough resistance to Eberly to force his next move. I wonder what it will be?

Eberly finally got rid of his admirers and made his way to his own quarters, flanked only by Morgenthau, Vyborg, and Kananga.

Once inside his spartan apartment, he said excitedly, "They loved me! Did you see the way they reacted to me? I had them in the palm of my hand!"

"It was brilliant," said Vyborg quickly.

Morgenthau was less enthusiastic. "It was a good beginning, but only a beginning."

"What do you mean?" Eberly asked, disappointment showing clearly on his face.

Morgenthau sat heavily on the room's only couch. "It wasn't much of a crowd. Fewer than three hundred."

Vyborg immediately agreed. "Less than three percent of the total population."

"But they were
with
me," Eberly said. "I could feel it."

Looking up at him, Morgenthau said, "Three percent might not be all that bad."

"What about the other ninety-seven percent?" Kananga asked.

She shrugged. "It's as Malcolm said in his speech. They're too lazy, too indifferent to care. If we can capture and hold an active minority, we can lead the majority around by its collective nose."

"What will Wilmot's reaction be?" Vyborg asked.

"We'll know soon enough," said Eberly.

A crafty expression came over Morgenthau's fleshy face. "Suppose he simply ignores us?"

"That's impossible," Vyborg snapped. "We've made a direct challenge to his authority."

"But suppose he feels so secure in his authority that he simply ignores us?" Morgenthau insisted.

Eberly said, "Then we will raise the stakes until it's impossible for him to ignore me." He smacked his fist into the open palm of his other hand.

Kananga said nothing, but a wisp of a smile curled his lips slightly.

Holly, Cardenas, and Manuel Gaeta were the last customers in the Bistro. The human hostess had gone home, leaving only the simple-minded robots to stand impassively by the kitchen door, waiting for the people to leave so they could clean the last remaining table and the floor around it.

"...your basic problem is contamination?" Cardenas was asking the stuntman.

Gaeta glanced at the dessert tray the hostess had left on their table: nothing but crumbs. They had finished the coffee long ago.

"Contamination, right," Gaeta said, suppressing a yawn. "Wilmot and the geek boys are scared I'll hurt the bugs down there on the surface."

"That's an important consideration," Holly said.

"Yeah, right."

Cardenas said, "I can solve your problem, I'm pretty sure."

Gaeta's eyes widened. "How?"

"I could program nanomachines to break down any residues of perspiration or whatever organic materials you leave on the outside of your suit. They'll clean it up for you, break down the organics into carbon dioxide and water vapor. No sweat."

"Literally!" Holly accented the pun.

Gaeta did not smile. "These nanomachines... they the type that're called gobblers?"

"Some people call them that, yes," Cardenas replied, stiffly.

"They can kill you, can't they?"

Holly swiveled her attention from Gaeta's swarthy, wary face to Cardenas, who was suddenly tight-lipped.

For a long moment Cardenas did not reply. At last she said, "Gobblers can be programmed to attack proteins, yes. Or
any
carbon-chain organics."

"That's pretty risky, then, isn't it?" he asked.

Holly saw that Cardenas was struggling to keep her voice calm. "Once you're sealed inside the suit, the nanobugs can be sprayed over its outer surface. We can calculate how long it would take them to destroy any organics on the suit. Double or triple that time, then we douse the whole assembly in soft UV. That will deactivate the nanobugs."

"Deactivate?" Gaeta asked. "You mean, like, kill them?"

"They're machines, Manny," she said. "They're not alive. You can't kill them."

"But would they come back later and start chewing on organics again?"

"No, we'll wash them all off. And once they're deactivated, they don't revive. It's like breaking a motor or a child's toy. The pieces don't come back together again spontaneously."

Gaeta nodded. But Holly thought he didn't look convinced.