STYX
Jiøí Netrval
In the middle of an oval hall with low ceiling there was a pink triangular
table standing on a thin little leg.Four men wearing unbuttoned overalls were
sitting around the table nd haggling excitedly about something.
Signalman Sikorski was sitting part from
them on perverted aluminium case,his back leaning against the armoured wall.Behind
ancient black-rimmed glasses his eyes were shut tight.There was nothing worth
seeing in this room ny more —at ny rate it seemed so to him t that moment.The
excited voices of the men sitting around the table fused into n indistinct murmur.He
thought casually that none of them had ever realized.that the triangle monster
they were sitting around might have been a rarity,even historical relic possibly
from the 20th Century,which had got there mysteriously by some oversight.An
objective exposition entitled “The Beginning Of The Colonization Of Planets”could
be compiled from other furniture in the base.This was probably the way of life
on Mars at some time in the 21st Century…
But now we are further on from that and
there are prospects of higher order,he thought with gloomy irony.What kind of
perspective did they have at the time?Vertiginous:they believed their issue
would reach the stars.And what kind of perspective do we have?We believe that
our offspring will reach the Star.We think only of the one Star that overshadows
all the others as if they didn’t even exist.For long time nobody has used the
sharp astronomical name,everybody talks simply about the Star and isn’t fraid
of being misunderstood.We’ve already been believing in it for one hundred and
fifty years.Four generations…For four generations people have been fighting
through boundless darkness, disappearing in emptiness forever...For long,endlessly
long time they’ve been vegetating in deserted worlds,where cold nd infinite
boredom lurk and where everything becomes old and withers away…everything except
hope…at least,they say so…Hope with big H,”he thought again with the same bad
irony that he couldn’t stamp out.Have I still got hope?I don’t know,I don’t
think of it the way others do…We believe that in fifty years our sons will get
to the Star…One hundred and fifty years ago Rajevsky proved that the cyclic
blazes of the Star were guided...A special library is dedicated to the Star,a
huge white building in the middle of park…hundreds of thousands of volumes and
microfilms…The ruler of stars is the ruler of everything…the highest level of
Intellect…a promise of golden age…I have also believed in that,why not...it
is so beautiful… For one hundred nd fifty years we’ve been transmitting unceasingly…
and They don’t answer…”
He came round and raised his head.Mathematician
Wettstein sitting on a case next to him was watching Sikorski’s face with his
near-sighted blue eyes,which were tired like Sikorski’s own.He waited for continuation
of the dialogue.It was necessary to say something.
“Why don’t They answer,in your opinion?”he
asked,uttering under his breath the last idea that had got stuck in his head.
“I can see only two possible ways to explain
it,”Wettstein began in his quiet gentle voice.He was talking on this topic for
the thousandth time but he didn’t seem to mind it.“Either they are so different
from us that they simply don’t perceive us,or…or they stand so high bove us
that we are for them the same thing that animals are for us —they don’t take
due note of us at all,although they know bout us.Like people,for example, operating
transmitter somewhere in the middle of forest who don’t notice all the birds
singing in the treetops —do you understand?By the way,it reminds me…the latest
news I’ve heard is that Liedermann wants to revive that old signalling theory.It
is a strange idea that everything,the great beating giant,the whole fantastic
set of fireworks serves only for transmitting signals…Millions of light years
away,of course,otherwise it wouldn’t have any purpose.Intergalactic civilization…”
Sikorski didn’t listen to him.Formerly
he’d found the mathematician’s theories interesting,but that was a long time
ago…But there must be something to talk about…
“What are they actually quarrelling about?”he
asked without ny interest,watching the little group around the table.
Wettstein paused in the middle of his speech
and knitted his brows.“I don’t know.I don’t know actually,”he answered after
a while.“I heard that Henry had been saying strange things in the morning.Very
strange things.I don’t know bout nything since.I’ve been working at M-3.But
Henry has seemed to me strange already for a week.He looks as if he hasn’t slept
t all and…”
“What did he actually say?”Sikorski
asked with vestige of interest.
“I don’t remember exactly,”Wettstein replied
evasively.
A clear melodious tone came from the other
end of the hall from massive black control desk.It was Gatty,the main computer
of the base. Then a green light came on bove one of the screens on the desk.Base
commander physicist
Donovan rose and without hurrying stepped
towards the desk.The remaining three men at the table stayed seated nd watched
intensely his every move quietly with intense attention. Donovan bent over and
pushed a button.The main monitor lit up and signals and formulas whirled on
to it like a snowstorm.Several moments..........