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" MISS PRINGLE

FILE WALLACE

Hello, Indra. Yes, you were quite right. I do miss our little argcustom printed pencilsuments. Chandler and I get along fine, and at first the crew treated me - this will amuse you - rather like a holy relic. But they're beginning to accept me, and have even started to pull my leg (do you know that idiom?).

It's annoying not to be able to have a real conversation - we've crossed the orbit of Mars, so radio round-trip is already over an hour. But there's one advantage - you won't be able to interrupt me...

Even though it will take us only a week to reach Jupiter, I thought I'd have time to relax. Not a bit of it: my fingers started to itch, and I couldn't resist going back to school. So I've begun basic training, all over again, in one of Goliath's minishuttles. Maybe Dim will actually let me solo...

It's not much bigger than Discovery's pods - but what a difference! First of all, of course, it doesn't use rockets: I can't get used to the luxury of the inertial drive, and unlimited range. Could fly back to Earth if I had to - though I'd probably get - remember the phrase I used once, and you guessed its meaning? - 'stir crazy'.

The biggest difference, though, is the control system. It's been a big challenge for me to get used to hands-off operation - and the computer has had to learn to recognize my voice commands. At first it was asking every five minutes 'Do you really mean that?' I know it would be better to use the Braincap - but I'm still not completely confident with that gadget. Not sure if I'll ever get used to something reading my mind.

By the way, the shuttle's called Falcon. It's a nice name - and I was disappointed to find that no one aboard knew that it goes all the way back to the Apollo missions, when we first landed on the Moon...

Uh-huh - there was a lot more I wanted to say, but the skipper is calling. Back to the classroom - love and out.

STORE

TRANSMIT

Hello Frank - Indra calling - if that's right word! - custom printed pencilson my new Thoughtwriter - old one had nervous breakdown ha ha - so be lots of mistakes - no time to edit before I send. Hope you can make sense.

COMSET! Channel one oh three - record from twelve thirty - correction - thirteen thirty. Sorry...

Hope I can get old unit fixed - knew all my short-cuts and abbrieves - maybe should get psychoanalysed like in your time - never understood how that Fraudian - mean Freudian ha ha - nonsense lasted as long as it did - Reminds me - came across late Twentieth defin other day - may amuse you - something like this - quote -Psychoanalysis - contagious disease originating Vienna circa 1900 - now extinct in Europe but occasional outbreaks among rich Americans. Unquote. Funny?

Sorry again - trouble with Thoughtwriters - hard to stick to point -xz 12custom printed pencils w 888 5***** js98l2yebdc DAMN... STOP BACKUP

Did I do something wrong then? Will try again. You mentioned Danil... sorry we always evaded your questions about him - knew you were curious, but we had very good reason - remember you once called him a non-person?... not bad guess...!

Once you asked me about crime nowadays - I said any such interest pathological - maybe prompted by the endless sickening television programmes of your time - never able to watch more than few minutes myself... disgusting!

DOOR ACKNOWLEDGE! OH, HELLO MELINDA EXCUSE SIT DOWN NEARLY FINISHED...

Yes - crime. Always some... Society's irreducible noise level. What to do?

Your solution - prisons. State-sponsored perversion factories - costing ten times average family income to hold one inmate! Utterly crazy... Obviously something very wrong with people who shouted loudest for more prisons - They should be psychoanalysed! But let's be fair - really no alternative before electronic monitoring and control perfected - you should see the joyful crowds smashing the prison walls then - nothing like it since Berlin fifty years earlier!

Yes - Danil. I don't know what his crime was - wouldn't tell you if I did - but presume his psych profile suggested he'd make a good - what was the word? - ballet - no, valet. Very hard to get people for some jobs - don't know how we'd manage if crime level zero! Anyway hope he's soon decontrolled and back in normal society

SORRY MELINDA NEARLY FINISHED

That's it, Frank - regards to Dimitrj - you must be halfway to Ganymede now - wonder if they'll ever repeal Einstein so we can talk across space in real-time!

Hope this machine soon gets used to me. Otherwise be lookincustom printed pencilsg round for genuine antique twentieth century word processor... Would you believe - once even mastered that QWERTYIYUIOP nonsense, which you took a couple of hundred years to get rid of?

Love and good-bye.

* * *

Hello Frank - here I am again. Still waiting acknowledgement of my last...

Strange you should be heading towards Ganymede, and my old friend Ted Khan. But perhaps it's not such a coincidence: he was drawn by the same enigma that you were...

First I must tell you something about him. His parents played a dirty trick, giving him the name Theodore. That shortens - don't ever call him that! - to Theo. See what I mean?

Can't help wondering if that's what drives him. Don't know anyone else who's developed such an interest in religion - no, obsession. Better warn you; he can be quite a bore.

By the way, how am I doing? I miss my old Thinkwriter, but seem to be getting this machine under control. Haven't made any bad - what did you call them? - bloopers - glitches - fluffs - so far at least - Not sure I should tell you this, in case you accidentally blurt it out, but my private nickname for Ted is 'The Last Jesuit'. You must know something about them - the Order was still very active in your time.

Amazing people - often great scientists - superb scholars - did a tremendous amount of good as well as much harm. One of history's supreme ironies - sincere and brilliant seekers of knowledge and truth, yet their whole philosophy hopelessly distorted by superstition...

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Damn. Got emotional and lost control. One, two, three, four... now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party... that's better.

Anyway, Ted has that same brand of high-minded determination; don't get into any arguments with him - he'll go over you like a steam-roller.

By the way what were steam-rollers? Used for pressing clothes? Can see how that could be very uncomfortable...

Trouble with Thinkwriters... too easy to go off in all directions, no matter how hard you try to discipline yourself... something to be said for keyboards after all... sure I've said that before...

Ted Khan... Ted Khan... Ted Khan

He's still famous back on Earth for at least two of his sayings: 'Civilization and Religion are incompatible' and 'Faith is believing what you know isn't true'. Actually, I don't think the last one is original; if it is, that's the nearest he ever got to a joke. He never cracked a smile when I tried one of my favourites on him - hope you haven't heard it before. It obviously dates from your time.

The Dean's complaining to his Faculty. 'Why do you scientists need such expensive equipment? Why can't you be like the Maths Department, which only needs a blackboard and a waste-paper basket? Better still, like the Department of Philosophy. That doesn't even need a wastepaper basket...' Well, perhaps Ted had heard it before... I expect most philosophers have...

Anyway, give him my regards - and don't, repeat don't, get into any arguments with him!

Love and best wishes from Africa Tower.

TRANSCRIBE STORE

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TRANSMIT POOLE

16
The Captain's Table

The arrival of such a distinguished passenger had caused a certain disruption in the tight little world of Goliath, but the crew had adapted to it with good humour. Every day, at 18.00 hours, all personnel gathered for dinner in the wardroom, which in zero-gee could hold at least thirty people in comfort, if spread uniformly around the walls. However, most of the time the ship's working areas were held at lunar gravity, so there was an undeniable floor - and more than eight bodies made a crowd.

r two pencil is available in your choice of No. 1 Soft Lead or No. 2 Standard Lead, Please specify. custom printed pencilsPlease see Item No. 1195-A for No. 1 thick lead. The ubiquitous, yellow (mostly), seven-inch, two-for-a-quarter lead pencil-the simplest, most convenient, least expensive of all writing instruments. The most useful, least-appreciated, most stolen article in the world. no 2 pencil which produces a specific shade of dark gray. One can usually identify a number 2 pencil by looking for the 2b pencil conspicuously emblazoned on the pencil ...What Mechanical Pencil lead is the Same as a Number 2 pencil?Also that is Good for using on a tests, that's still a Number 2 pencil that's Mechanical.... Best Answer - Chosen by Voters. Any lead that says "HB" should be fine. For examp The semi-circular table that unfolded around the auto-chef at mealtimes could just seat the entire seven-person crew, with the Captain at the place of honour. One extra created such insuperable problems that somebody now had to eat alone for every meal. After much good-natured debate, custom printed pencilsit was decided to make the choice in alphabetical order - not of proper names, which were hardly ever used, but of nicknames. It had taken Poole some time to get used to them: 'Bolts' (structural engineering); 'Chips' (computers and communications); 'First' (First Mate); 'Life' (medical and life-support systems); 'Props' (propulsion and power); and 'Stars' (orbits and navigation).

During the ten-day voyage, as he listened to the stories, jokes and complaints of his temporary shipmates, Poole learned more about the solar system than during his months on Earth. All aboard were obviously delighted to have a new and perhaps nave listener as an attentive one-man audience, but Poole was seldom taken in by their more imaginative stories.

Yet sometimes it was hard to know where to draw the line. No one really believed in the Golden Asteroid, which was usually regarded as a twenty-fourth-century hoax. But what about the Mercurian plasmoids, which had been reported by at least a dozen reliable witnesses during the last five hundred years?

The simplest explanation was that they were related to ball-lightning, responsible for so many 'Unidentified Flying Object' reports on Earth and Mars. But some observers swore that they had shown purposefulness - even inquisitiveness - when they were encountered at close quarters. Nonsense, answered the sceptics - merely electrostatic attraction!

Inevitably, this led to discussions about life in the Universe, and Poole found himself - not for the first time -defending his own era against its extremes of credulity and scepticism. Although the 'Aliens are among us' mania had already subsided when he was a boy, even as late as the 2020s the Space Agency was still plagued by lunatics who claimed to have been contacted - or abducted - by visitors from other worlds. Their delusions had been reinforced by sensational media exploitation, and the whole syndrome was later enshrined in the medical literature as 'Adamski's Disease'.

The discovery of TMA ONE had, paradoxically, put an end to this sorry nonsense, by demonstrating that though there was indeed intelligence elsewhere, it had apparently not concerned itself with Mankind for several million years. TMA ONE had also convincingly refuted the handful of scientists who argued that life above the bacterial level was such an improbable phenomenon that the human race was alone in this Galaxy - if not the Cosmos.

Goliath's crew was more interested in the technology than the politics and economics of Poole's era, and were particularly fascinated by the revolution that had taken place in his own lifetime - the end of the fossil-fuel age, triggered by the harnessing of vacuum energy. They found it hard to imagine the smog-choked cities of the twentieth century, and the waste, greed and appalling environmental disasters of the Oil Age.

'Don't blame me,' said Poole, fighting back gamely after one round of criticism. 'Anyway, see what a mess the twenty-first century made.'

There was a chorus of 'What do you mean?'s around the table.

'Well, as soon as the so-called Age of Infinite Power got under way, and everyone had thousands of kilowatts of cheap, clean energy to play with - you know what happened!'

'Oh, you mean the Thermal Crisis. But that was fixed.'

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'Eventually - after you'd covered half the Earth with reflectors to bounce the Sun's heat back into space. Otherwise it would have been as parboiled as Venus by now.'

The crew's knowledge of Third Millennium history was so surprisingly limited that Poole - thanks to the intensive education he had received in Star City - could often amaze them with details of events centuries after his own time. However, he was flattered to discover how well-acquainted they were with Discovery's log, it had become one of the classic records of the Space Age. They looked on it as he might have regarded a Viking saga; often he had to remind himself that he was midway in time between Goliath and the first ships to cross the western ocean...

'On your Day 86,' Stars reminded him, at dinner on the fifth evening, 'you passed within two thousand kay of asteroid 7794 - and shot a probe into it. Do you remember?"

'Of course I do,' Poole answered rather brusquely 'To me, it happened less than a year ago'

'Um, sorry. Well, tomorrow we'll be even closer to 13,445. Like to have a look?' With autoguidance and freeze-frame, we should have a window all of ten milliseconds wide.'

A hundredth of a second! That few minutes in Discovery had seemed hectic enough, but now everything would happen fifty times faster.

'How large is it?' Poole asked.

'Thirty by twenty by fifteen metres,' Stars replied. 'Looks like a battered brick.'

'Sorry we don't have a slug to fire at it,' said Props. 'Did you ever wonder if 7794 would hit back?'

'Never occurred to us. But it did give the astronomers a lot of useful information, so it was worth the risk... Anyway, a hundredth of a second hardly seems worth the bother. Thanks all the same.'

'I understand. When you've seen one asteroid, you've seen them -'

'Not true, Chips. When I was on Eros -'

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'As you've told us at least a dozen times -, Poole's mind tuned out the discussion, so that it was a background of meaningless noise. He was a thousand years in the past, recalling the only excitement of Discovery's mission before the final disaster. Though he and Bowman were perfectly aware that 7794 was merely a lifeless, airless chunk of rock, that knowledge scarcely affected their feelings. It was the only solid matter they would meet this side of Jupiter, and they had stared at it with the emotions of sailors on a long sea voyage, skirting a coast on which they could not land.

It was turning slowly end over end, and there were mottled patches of light and shade distributed at random over its surface. Sometimes it sparkled like a distant window, as planes or outcroppings of crystalline material flashed in the Sun...

He remembered, also, the mounting tension as they waited to see if their aim had been accurate. It was not easy to hit such a small target, two thousand kilometres away, moving at a relative velocity of twenty kilometres a second.

Then, against the darkened portion of the asteroid, there had been a sudden, dazzling explosion of light. The tiny slug - pure Uranium 238 - had impacted at meteoric speed: in a fraction of a second, all its kinetic energy had been transformed into heat. A puff of incandescent gas had erupted briefly into space, and Discovery's cameras were recording the rapidly fading spectral lines, looking for the tell-tale signatures of glowing atoms. A few hours later, back on Earth, the astronomers learned for the first time the composition of an asteroid's crust. There were no major surprises, but several bottles of champagne changed hands.

Captain Chandler himself took little part in the very democratic discussions around his semi-circular table: he seemed content to let his crew relax and express their feelings in this informal atmosphere. There was only one unspoken rule: no serious business at mealtimes. If there were any technical or operational problems, they had to be dealt with elsewhere.

Poole had been surprised - and a little shocked - to discover that the crew's knowledge of Goliath's systems was very superficial. Often he had asked questions which should have been easily answered, only to be referred to the ship's own memory banks. After a while, however, he realized that the sort of in-depth training he had received in his days was no longer possible: far too many complex systems were involved for any man or woman's mind to master. The various specialists merely had to know what their equipment did, not how. Reliability depended on redundancy and automatic checking, and human intervention was much more likely to do harm than good.

Fortunately none was required on this voyage: it had been as uneventful as any skipper could have hoped, when the new sun of Lucifer dominated the sky ahead.

III
custom printed pencils THE WORLDS OF GALILEO

(Extract, text only, Tourist's Guide to Outer Solar System, v 219.3)

Even today, the giant satellites of what was once Jupiter present us with major mysteries. Why are four worlds, orbiting the same primary and very similar in size, so different in most other respects?

Only in the case of Io, the innermost satellite, is there a convincing explanation. It is so close to Jupiter that the gravitational tides constantly kneading its interior generate colossal quantities of heat - so much, indeed, that Io's surface is semi-molten. It is the most volcanically active world in the Solar System; maps of Io have a half-life of only a few decades.

Though no permanent human bases have ever been established in such an unstable environment, there have been numerous landings and there is continuous robot monitoring. (For the tragic fate of the 2571 Expedition, see Beagle 5.)

Europa, second in distance from Jupiter, was originally entirely covered in ice, and showed few surface features except a complicated network of cracks. The tidal forces which dominate Io were much less powerful here, but produced enough heat to give Europa a global ocean of liquid water, in which many strange life-forms have evolved.

In 2010 the Chinese ship Tsien touched down on Europa on one of the few outcrops of solid rock protruding through the crust of ice. In doing so it disturbed a creature of the Europan abyss and was destroyed (see Spacecraft Tsien, Galaxy, Universe).

Since the conversion of Jupiter into the mini-sun Lucifer in 2061, virtually all of Europa's ice-cover has melted, and extensive vulcanism has created several small islands.

As is well-known, there have been no landings on Europa for almost a thousand years, but the satellite is under continuous surveillance.

Ganymede, largest moon in the Solar System (diameter 5260 custom printed pencils), has also been affected by the creation of a new sun, and its equatorial regions are warm enough to sustain terrestrial life-forms, though it does not yet have a breathable atmosphere. Most of its population is actively engaged in terraforming and scientific research; the main settlement is Anubis (pop 41,000), near the South Pole.

Callisto is again wholly different. Its entire surface is covered by impact craters of all sizes, so numerous that they overlap. The bombardment must have continued for millions of years, for the newer craters have completely obliterated the earlier ones. There is no permanent base on Callisto, but several automatic stations have been established there.

17

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It was unusual for Frank Poole to oversleep, but he had been kept awake by strange dreams. Past and present were inextricably mixed; sometimes he was on Discovery, sometimes in the Africa Tower - and sometimes he was a boy again, among friends he had thought long-forgotten.

Where am I? he asked himself as he struggled up to consciousnescustom printed pencilss, like a swimmer trying to get back to the surface. There was a small window just above his bed, covered by a curtain not thick enough to completely block the light from outside. There had been a time, around the mid-twentieth century, when aircraft had been slow enough to feature First Class sleeping accommodation: Poole had never sampled this nostalgic luxury, which some tourist organizations had still advertised in his own day, but he could easily imagine that he was doing so now.

He drew the curtain and looked out. No, he had not awakened in the skies of Earth, though the landscape unrolling below was not unlike the Antarctic. But the South Pole had never boasted two suns, both rising at once as Goliath swept towards them.

The ship was orbiting less than a hundred kilometres above what appeared to be an immense ploughed field, lightly dusted with snow. But the ploughman must have been drunk - or the guidance system must have gone crazy - for the furrows meandered in every direction, sometimes cutting across each other or turning back on themselves. Here and there the terrain was dotted with faint circles -ghost craters from meteor impacts aeons ago.

So this is Ganymede, Poole wondered drowsily. Mankind's furthest outpost from home! Why should any sensible person want to live here? Well, I've often thought that when I've flown over Greenland or Iceland in winter-time...

There was a knock on the door, a 'Mind if I come in?', and Captain Chandler did so without waiting for a reply.

'Thought we'd let you sleep until we landed - that end-of-trip party did last longer than I'd intended, but I couldn't risk a mutiny by cutting it short.'

Poole laughed.

'Has there ever been a mutiny in space?'

'Oh, quite a few but not in my time. Now we've mentioned the subject, you might say that Hal started the tradition... sorry - perhaps I shouldn't - look - there's Ganymede City!'

Coming up over the horizon was what appeared to be a criss-cross pattern of streets and avenues, intersecting almost at right-angles but with the slight irregularity typical of any settlement that had grown by accretion, without central planning. It was bisected by a broad river - Poole recalled that the equatorial regions of Ganymede were now warm enough for liquid water to exist - and it reminded him of an old wood-cut he had seen of medieval London.

Then he noticed that Chandler was looking at him with an expression of amusement... and the illusion vanished as he realized the scale of the 'city'.

'The Ganymedeans,' he said dryly, 'must have been rather large, to have made roads five or ten kilometres wide.'

'Twenty in some places. Impressive, isn't it? And all the resulcustom printed pencilst of ice stretching and contracting. Mother Nature is ingenious... I could show you some patterns that look even more artificial, though they're not as large as this one.'

'When I was a boy, there was a big fuss about a face on Mars. Of course, it turned out to be a hill that had been carved by sand-storms... lots of similar ones in Earth's deserts.'

'Didn't someone say that history always repeats itself? Same sort of nonsense happened with Ganymede City - some nuts claimed it had been built by aliens. But I'm afraid it won't be around much longer.'

'Why?' asked Poole in surprise.

'It's already started to collapse, as Lucifer melts the permafrost. You won't recognize Ganymede in another hundred years... there's the edge of Lake Gilgamesh - if you look carefully - over on the right-'

'I see what you mean. What's happening - surely the water's not boiling, even at this low pressure?'

'Electrolysis plant. Don't know how many skillions of kilograms of oxygen a day. Of course, the hydrogen goes up and gets lost - we hope.'

Chandler's voice trailed off into silence. Then he resumed, in an unusually diffident tone: 'All that beautiful water down there - Ganymede doesn't need half of it! Don't tell anyone, but I've been working out ways of getting some to Venus.'

'Easier than nudging comets?'

'As far as energy is concerned, yes - Ganymede's escape velocity is only three klicks per second. And much, much quicker - years instead of decades. But there are a few practical difficulties..

'I can appreciate that. Would you shoot it off by a mass-launcher?'

'Oh no - I'd use towers reaching up through the atmosphere, like the ones on Earth, but much smaller. We'd pump the water up to the top, freeze it down to near absolute zero, and let Ganymede sling it off in the right direction as it rotated. There would be some evaporation loss in transit, but most of it would arrive - what's so funny?'

'Sorry - I'm not laughing at the idea - it makes good sense. Bcustom printed pencilsut you've brought back such a vivid memory. We used to have a garden sprinkler - driven round and round by its water jets. What you're planning is the same thing - on a slightly bigger scale... using a whole world...'

Suddenly, another image from his past obliterated all else. Poole remembered how, in those hot Arizona days, he and Rikki had loved to chase each other through the clouds of moving mist, from the slowly revolving spray of the garden sprinkler.

Captain Chandler was a much more sensitive man than he pretended to be: he knew when it was time to leave.

'Gotta get back to the bridge,' he said gruffly. 'See you when we land at Anubis.'

18
custom printed pencils Grand Hotel

The Grand Ganymede Hotel - inevitably known throughout the Solar System as 'Hotel Grannymede' was certainly not grand, and would be lucky to get a rating of one-and-a-half stars on Earth. As the nearest competition was several hundred million kilometres away, the management felt little need to exert itself unduly.

Yet Poole had no complaints, though he often wished that Danil was still around, to help him with the mechanics of life and to communicate more efficiently with the semi-intelligent devices with which he was surrounded. He had known a brief moment of panic when the door had closed behind the (human) bellboy, who had apparently been too awed by his guest to explain how any of the room's services functioned. After five minutes of fruitless talking to the unresponsive walls, Poole had finally made contact with a system that understood his accent and his commands. What an 'All Worlds' news item it would have made - 'Historic astronaut starves to death, trapped in Ganymede hotel room'!

And there would have been a double irony. Perhaps the naming of the Grannymede's only luxury suite was inevitable, but it had been a real shock to meet an ancient life-size holo of his old shipmate, in full-dress uniform, as he was led into - the Bowman Suite. Poole even recognized the image: his own official portrait had been made at the same time, a few days before the mission began.

He soon discovered that most of his Goliath crewmates had domestic arrangements in Anubis, and were anxious for him to meet their Significant Others during the ship's planned twenty-day stop. Almost immediately he was caught up in the social and professional life of this frontier settlement, and it was Africa Tower that now seemed a distant dream.

Like many Americans, in their secret hearts, Poole had a nostalgic affection for small communities where everyone knew everyone else - in the real world, and not the virtual one of cyberspace. Anubis, with a resident population less than that of his remembered Flagstaff, was not a bad approximation to this ideal.

The three main pressure domes, each two kilometres in diameter, stood on a plateau overlooking an ice-field which stretched unbroken to the horizon. Ganymede's second sun

- once known as Jupiter - would never give sufficient heacustom printed pencilst to melt the polar caps. This was the principal reason for establishing Anubis in such an inhospitable spot: the city's foundations were not likely to collapse for at least several centuries.

And inside the domes, it was easy to be completely indifferent to the outside world. Poole, when he had mastered the mechanisms of the Bowman Suite, discovered that he had a limited but impressive choice of environments. He could sit beneath palm trees on a Pacific beach, listening to the gentle murmur of the waves - or, if he preferred, the roar of a tropical hurricane. He could fly slowly along the peaks of the Himalayas, or down the immense canyons of Mariner Valley. He could walk through the gardens of Versailles or down the streets of half a dozen great cities, at several widely spaced times in their history. Even if the Hotel Grannymede was not one of the Solar System's most highly acclaimed resorts, it boasted facilities which would have astounded all its more famous predecessors on Earth.

But it was ridiculous to indulge in terrestrial nostalgia, when he had come half-way across the Solar System to visit a strange new world. After some experimenting, Poole arranged a compromise, for enjoyment - and inspiration -during his steadily fewer moments of leisure.

To his great regret, he had never been to Egypt, so it was delightful to relax beneath the gaze of the Sphinx - as it was before its controversial 'restoration' - and to watch tourists scrambling up the massive blocks of the Great Pyramid. The illusion was perfect, apart from the no-man's-land where the desert clashed with the (slightly worn) carpet of the Bowman Suite.

The sky, however, was one that no human eyes had seen until five thousand years after the last stone was laid at Giza. But it was not an illusion; it was the complex and ever-changing reality of Ganymede.

Because this world - like its companions - had been robbed of its spin aeons ago by the tidal drag of Jupiter, the new sun born from the giant planet hung motionless in its sky. One side of Ganymede was in perpetual Lucifer-light - and although the other hemisphere was often referred to as the 'Night Land', that designation was as misleading as the much earlier phrase 'The dark side of the Moon'. Like the lunar Farside, Ganymede's 'Night Land' had the brilliant light of old Sol for half of its long day.

By a coincidence more confusing than useful, Ganymede took almost exactly one week - seven days, three hours -to orbit its primary. Attempts to create a 'One Mede day = one Earth week' calendar had generated so much chaos that they had been abandoned centuries ago. Like all the other residents of the Solar System, the locals employed Universal Time, identifying their twenty-four-hour standard days by numbers rather than names.

Since Ganymede's newborn atmosphere was still extremely tcustom printed pencilshin and almost cloudless, the parade of heavenly bodies provided a never-ending spectacle. At their closest, Io and Callisto each appeared about half the size of the Moon as seen from Earth - but that was the only thing they had in common. Io was so close to Lucifer that it took less than two days to race around its orbit, and showed visible movement even in a matter of minutes. Callisto, at over four times Io's distance, required two Mede days - or sixteen Earth ones - to complete its leisurely circuit.

The physical contrast between the two worlds was even more remarkable. Deep-frozen Callisto had been almost unchanged by Jupiter's conversion into a mini-sun: it was still a wasteland of shallow ice craters, so closely packed that there was not a single spot on the entire satellite that had escaped from multiple impacts, in the days when Jupiter's enormous gravity field was competing with Saturn's to gather up the debris of the outer Solar System. Since then, apart from a few stray shots, nothing had happened for several billion years.

On Io, something was happening every week. As a local wit had remarked, before the creation of Lucifer it had been Hell - now it was Hell warmed up.

Often, Poole would zoom into that burning landscape and look into the sulphurous throats of volcanoes that were continually reshaping an area larger than Africa. Sometimes incandescent fountains would soar briefly hundreds of kilometres into space, like gigantic trees of fire growing on a lifeless world.

As the floods of molten sulphur spread out from volcanoes and vents, the versatile element changed through a narrow spectrum of reds and oranges and yellows when, chameleon-like, it was transformed into its vari-coloured allotropes. Before the dawn of the Space Age, no one had ever imagined that such a world existed. Fascinating though it was to observe it from his comfortable vantage point, Poole found it hard to believe that men had ever risked landing there, where even robots feared to tread... His main interest, however, was Europa, which at its closest appeared almost exactly the same size as Earth's solitary Moon, but raced through its phases in only four days. Though Poole had been quite unconscious of the symbolism when he chose his private landscape, it now seemed wholly appropriate that Europa should hang in the sky above another great enigma - the Sphinx.

Even with no magnification, when he requested the naked-eye view, Poole could see how greatly Europa had changed in the thousand years since Discovery had set out for Jupiter. The spider's web of narrow bands and lines that had once completely enveloped the smallest of the four Galilean satellites had vanished, except around the poles. Here the global crust of kilometre-thick ice remained unmelted by the warmth of Europa's new sun: elsewhere, virgin oceans seethed and boiled in the thin atmosphere, at what would have been comfortable room temperature on Earth.

It was also a comfortable temperature to the creatures whcustom printed pencilso had emerged, after the melting of the unbroken ice shield that had both trapped and protected them. Orbiting spysats, showing details only centimetres across, had watched one Europan species starting to evolve into an amphibious stage: though they still spent much of their time underwater, the 'Europs' had even begun the construction of simple buildings.

That this could happen in a mere thousand years was astonishing, but no one doubted that the explanation lay in the last and greatest of the Monoliths - the many-kilometre-long 'Great Wall' standing on the shore of the Sea of Galilee.

And no one doubted that, in its own mysterious way, it was watching over the experiment it had started on this world - as it had done on Earth four million years before.

19
The Madness of Mankind

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