The Doors Of The Universe (48 page)

Among the Scholars there was both bewilderment and outrage. Had Noren, at the last moment, succumbed to the temptation to save the City at the price of keeping the castes? Or had he found evidence that genetic change was unsafe after all and so retreated to save his own life? Comparatively few would follow him two weeks’ journey into the wilderness, for not enough pure water could be carried to supply anyone whose genes had not been altered; those few would not rise against him for the failure of his promises to the rest of the world. And if they were offered Technician status, they would become his sure defenders.

Thus the Scholars were of a mind to forbid this new scheme. Some believed genetic change should be implemented without delay, while others felt he should be publicly repudiated—and nearly all agreed that he should be brought back, by force if necessary, to give an accounting. But the Scholar Stefred trusted Noren; and because he had not aided him in the past, his word prevailed. The City waited, uncertain and afraid, while Providence was established.

After the new settlement’s first harvest, on the day of the Blessing of the Seed, there was yet another prophecy.
When all harvests are as this and no fields of the world need be quickened
, Noren declared,
the Scholars will go back into the sky from whence they once came. By the time of the Star’s appearance, they will return; and there will be a new Founding. And from that day forward, our world will be as the Prophecy promises
.

This was clearly impossible. There was not enough metal in the world to restore space travel; all Scholars knew that. The shuttle used in the establishment of the outpost beyond the mountains was still operable, but the starships in orbit were stripped hulls. Though in theory, the process of decommissioning them carried out by the Founders could be reversed, there were not sufficient resources to restore even one; there never would be, even if the life-support equipment unneeded after full implementation of genetic change were diverted to the task. Moreover, were a space journey to become possible, there could be no chance of fulfilling the Prophecy by it. The Founders had searched thoroughly but futilely for a solar system from which metal might be obtained, and the chances of finding one within range were therefore negligible. So it was said that Noren had been too long away from the computers, that his judgment was warped—or worse, that his longings and his power had driven him to madness.

Yet the Scholar Stefred, now the oldest and most respected member of the Council, still refused to countenance any interference. In his thought was that the First Scholar had feigned madness for worthy ends. “Let Noren come to us in his own time,” he insisted. “For better or for worse, this world’s future is in his hands. If he is mad, which I do not believe, he nevertheless has the people behind him; they will not break the High Law without his sanction. And if he fails in the end to give it, full blame must rest on him for the promises unfulfilled.”

Thus the building of Providence went forward without purpose the Scholars could discern. Perplexed, they reconnoitered from aircars during their trips to and from the outpost. The lake seemed more than a symbol of water now safely used for bathing. Much activity went on there, structures were built at the edge, and people approached these almost as they would holy things like Machines. It was recalled that the Founders’ plan for the transition period preceding fulfillment of the Prophecy included a phase during which villagers would earn Technician status by machine-aided work—but without metal, what semblance of machines could Noren have placed on the lakeshore?

Several seasons passed. And then one morning, fair like all mornings, the plaza before the Gates began to fill with people, though no ceremony was scheduled; and word came through Technicians that the Scholar Noren would soon arrive. Without precedent in his years away from the City, he had commanded that an aircar be sent out to him. He had broadcast a message by radiophone, heard in all villages as well as by his contacts in the Outer City: he would appear at the Gates, and many Scholars would come forth to greet him.

The aircar did not drop into its accustomed dome, but instead came to earth in the plaza outside the walls. Before a crowd surpassing any ever assembled there, the Scholars Noren and Lianne alighted; and with them were two citizens of Providence. Technicians cleared a path for them as they ascended the steps, while Scholars indeed came out to meet them, as many as could stand upon the wide platform—and for the first time in history, the Gates stood open after all had emerged. They invited Noren to pass through; but he shook his head and remained on the topmost step, facing the Scholar Stefred.

“I will not enter the City,” he said, “until all people of the land are free to do so. I have come today for a different purpose.” As he spoke, the man and woman of Providence came forward. They did not kneel, but stood beside him, holding between them a large clay bowl, which they handled as a sacred thing, raising it in the manner of a seed jar presented for blessing.

“These are the firstborn of Futurity,” Noren said, “who now show you the gift of Providence. Grant them in my presence their rightful status as Technicians, according to the Law.”

Leaning forward, Stefred looked into the bowl, and saw with amazement the unmistakable glint of metal.

“I have at last learned how it can be obtained,” said Noren, smiling.

To the people, this was a lesser miracle than the blossoming of unquickened land; having been taught that all metal had been brought into the world by Scholars at the time of the Founding, they viewed a repetition of the event as not especially surprising. But to the Scholars on the platform, it seemed a truly supernatural feat. They wondered, in that moment, if Noren might not possess in truth the powers village tales had long attributed to him.

“This is not my own doing,” he told them solemnly. “I must not be credited with it, now or ever, for it is a blessing of the Star.”

“And… the Prophecy?” Stefred, his voice hushed with awe, spoke for everyone: all the Scholars who had kept that faith and all those who had in sorrow relinquished it for the sake of their people’s assured survival.

“Our faith is vindicated,” Noren declared, “if we are now willing to give up our guardianship and turn to other tasks. I did not wish to raise your hopes before I was sure; but to my people last Seed Blessing Day, I told the literal truth. Though there is not enough metal on this earth to fulfill the Prophecy, what is accessible will suffice to restore one starship. In time, we can mine other worlds as the Visitors once mined here. What we lost to them has been amply repaid.”

Then to the Scholars, in a voice too low to be heard by the multitude over the music that swelled forth, Noren explained his discovery. The metal could be extracted from lake water and wet soil, not by any method the Founders had known, but by genetically altered bacteria—which was, no doubt, a routine process on worlds less rich in ore than the Six. For it had been suggested to him not by sheer genius, but by a new alien artifact found the previous year near Futurity.

“The
Visitors
used this—this genetic process?” Stefred asked.

“So it appears.” Noren’s face was impassive. “The artifact contains coded symbols; Lianne and I were able to decipher them. Once I had the fundamental idea, genetic engineering of native bacteria wasn’t difficult.”

The incredibility of this explanation was apparent. In the first place, it was an almost fantastic coincidence for Noren to have found one alien artifact, the radiating sphere, just at the place where he had crashed in the mountains. That another such coincidence could have occurred was past rational belief; the odds against it were incalculable. And even supposing that it had happened, how could any artifact of those long-vanished miners reveal that they’d used bacteria in such a way? Furthermore, if they’d indeed done so, why had they not completed the job, taken the last traces of metal? Why had the bacteria not gone on extracting it during the interim if there’d been any left—or if they had, why had the Founders not seen?

These questions and more went through Stefred’s mind as he listened—but he knew they were, and would remain, unanswerable. He did not suppose that even Noren had answers to them. Yet one could not deny evidence before one’s eyes merely because logic said it couldn’t exist. Noren was extracting metal from low-grade unminable deposits, and he would not lie about how he’d learned to do so. There was in fact no other way he could have learned. Moreover, his next words confirmed what he had claimed.

“There is also a star chart,” Noren went on calmly. “Its symbols, too, are decipherable and can be fed into the computers. Whether or not we find aliens by following where it leads, we need not worry about failing to find planets.”

A chart of solar systems unknown to the Founders could not have been derived from any source other than the Visitors.

So the Scholars Stefred and Noren embraced, and many prophecies were affirmed to the people; then all priests withdrew into the City save Noren and Lianne. In the days that followed, the Scholars embarked on new work: some to effect genetic change in the Outer City and villages; some to mine distant lakes; some to prepare for the immense task of refitting a starship. And Noren, from his base at Providence, watched with mixed feelings—for he knew that to equip the ship, the City must die.

Yet in his heart was a great thankfulness. For that death must precede a rebirth, and the rebirth would be to a greater destiny than the other Scholars imagined. Only he and Lianne knew the truth about the scope of such a destiny.

He had indeed found an alien artifact. He had shown it, by now, to the City’s scientists; the star chart was in their hands. They would believe the only thing they could believe: that it had been left by the aliens they knew about, the ancient Visitors. His people’s history would never record that other aliens had come and gone, much less that discovery of the artifact near Futurity had not been coincidence at all. But Noren knew, knew surely enough to stake everything on faith that its chart would lead the ship to planets that could be mined. For among the symbols decipherable by science, there had been one that seemed meaningless; and this Lianne had known for the Service emblem.

It must be done very subtly
, she’d told him long before. So subtly that had he not left the City, it could not have been done at all, not, in any case, in his era. Yet the data contained in that small capsule would make the difference between descent into a permanent Stone Age and ultimate rise to Federation level. It was for this the alien elder had come on that long-ago morning, not merely to probe his mind. The decision had been made then; and the Service had gone away in the certainty that he, Noren, would search out all the knowledge accessible to him.

The Dark Era drew to its close. The people of all villages were inoculated; their unquickened land was sown; they knelt with joy beside the streams of their land while Scholars blessed the water in Noren’s name. The people dipped in their hands and drank gladly, knowing themselves one with the earth, with the fruits it could bring forth. And though they still revered the City, they looked to it no more for sustenance.

The Technicians moved from the Outer City to new villages beyond its walls, for the Outer City was not livable any longer. Its power and air conditioning were gone, no water was piped in, all metal that had been used there was sent back into the sky. Every day the shuttle rose and returned. Gradually, the towers too were abandoned, except for the Hall of Scholars where the computer complex was preserved; the Scholars still in the City slept in the open courtyard. The water purification plant was shut down, and no one noted the day on which no more water came through the conduits to village cisterns.

No City goods were now sold in the markets, for there was no longer any way of manufacturing anything beyond what could be made of stone, clay, fiber, wicker and hide. To these crafts the former Technicians turned, taught by village masters, and village craftsworkers thus earned Technician rank. Furthermore, all people in the world could earn it by a few weeks’ labor at lakeside mines. It extended to their children, so that in the next generation no one of lesser status would be left. Only the Scholars remained apart, as priests; but it was made known that their offspring did not succeed them. Henceforth priesthood would be an honor to be sought freely, though still attained through mysterious ordeals to which one must submit of one’s own will.

Through the years of the starship’s refitting, Noren continued to live in Providence, supervising the work there and the training of those who went to other lakes. He had sworn not to enter the Gates until they could remain open, which till the ship was equipped, could not happen. And perhaps he no longer minded exile; he can hardly have wanted to see the City’s lifeblood drained. Bit by bit, all he valued within was taken—finally even the computer complex, which had provided the instructions for restoring interstellar travel, was spilt into components. All that would be left, once the ship had gone, was a climate-controlled data storage vault maintained with minimum power. The City would stand as an empty shell.

Most Scholars did not grieve over this. They were afire with enthusiasm for the space expedition. A large majority were going; among those with scientific training, few but the aged would stay behind. It was a perilous venture, to be sure, and there could be no hope of quick return, for unless they found an alien civilization—which Noren privately knew they would not—supplies were not sufficient for a two-way trip. They would have to build an outpost on a new planet, and stay there many years while they utilized its metal to establish mining and manufacturing facilities.
Not on this world only, but on myriad worlds of innumerable suns shall the spirit of the Star abide
. . . . Metal would, of course, be returned to their people once large-scale mining capability had been developed and more starships recommissioned. But perhaps, too, new worlds would prove more habitable than the old. Many might choose to emigrate to planets with richer resources. The Star might already be visible there, if those planets were within a smaller radius from the nova—priests who were now alive might set eyes upon it! And so might the children of the new race already born. Meanwhile, the world was safe; the stars beckoned; and the Scholars were content. Only the Scholar Noren stood apart.