that have been made for stardropping—about the chance of usable knowledge being learned from listening to the machines—and, if you do take the idea seriously, whether you think the chance is good enough to justify all the suffering the habit is known to cause.”
Rainshaw twisted his hands together. He said, “I sometimes wonder if I ought to feel guilty.… But it was pure accident, you know, and I’ve never claimed otherwise. So:
is
there information to be gained from stardropping? Well, Mr. Cross, all I can say is that my son—”
He broke off, and the most extraordinary expression came to his face. Dan couldn’t tell whether it indicated shock, or dismay, or only a kind of weary sadness. Redvers caught his eyes and scowled, as to imply, “I warned you!”
Before Dan could frame any kind of commiserations,though, Rainshaw recovered himself, and continued in a perfectly normal tone.
“Yes, my son thought so,” he said. “And I suppose in a way he proved that he was right.”
VI
The sound when Redvers exhaled in relief was like a ray of light cutting brief but alarming darkness. Dan deduced that in the past he’d had a lot of trouble from people making tactless remarks to Rainshaw. However, the scientist himself appeared not to notice. He went on talking, looking at nothing.
“Robin—well, I’d have trusted Robin’s judgment as implicitly as I trust my own. He was never gullible, or easily deluded. He’d shown promise of more originality than I did at his age, and he was certainly a very dependable partner to work with. We were working together on my effect, you know, right up until the time he—ah—disappeared. And he did believe there was usable knowledge to be had from the signals.”
“Where did he get this idea?” Dan ventured.
“As far as I know, it was original with himself. I’ve been asked, over and over”—with a faint reproving smile at Redvers—“whether he’d fallen under the influence of one of these mystical cults, but I’m certain if he had, he’d have asked what I thought about their teachings, and he never breathed a word about anything of the sort.”
“Did he indicate what kind of knowledge he thought might be extracted from the signals?” Dan inquired.
“I can quote you exactly what he said, on our last evening together. We’d been arguing about this very point, and he said, ‘It’s so hard to capture in words—so remote from everyday experience—that I get the feeling it may really come from an alien mind.’ He’d been struggling for hours to persuade me to his way of thinking, you see. It seemed actively painful for him to admit that he was failing. He even began to doubt himself, and that was why he went to his room to listen again to his big stardropper, theone he’d built himself. When I went to call him to dinner, he wasn’t there. And he definitely hadn’t left the house by any normal route.”
Recounting incredible things, his voice was mechanical—drained of emotional judgments like belief and skepticism.
“You didn’t hear anything?” Dan said. “No noise?”
Rainshaw seemed to come back to the present from a long way off. “No noise, Mr. Cross,” he said heavily. “I’ve heard the same stories you seem to have, about people who vanished with a clap of thunder. I don’t know anything about that. All I can say is my boy had gone, and he didn’t leave by a door or a window. Besides, he had nothing to run away from. He was working for his doctorate and he was fascinated by his research; he was engaged to marry a charming girl.… No, I can only accept that he was right. He learned something from his stardropper, and the knowledge enabled him to go—elsewhere. I haven’t any hope of following him. Young minds are flexible, and I’m growing old.”
Like all-too-obvious background music, a spray of rain rattled at the windows and settled to a steady depressing downpour.
Accompanying Dan to the exit, Redvers set a slow pace, as
Rainshaw twisted his hands together. He said, “I sometimes wonder if I ought to feel guilty.… But it was pure accident, you know, and I’ve never claimed otherwise. So:
is
there information to be gained from stardropping? Well, Mr. Cross, all I can say is that my son—”
He broke off, and the most extraordinary expression came to his face. Dan couldn’t tell whether it indicated shock, or dismay, or only a kind of weary sadness. Redvers caught his eyes and scowled, as to imply, “I warned you!”
Before Dan could frame any kind of commiserations,though, Rainshaw recovered himself, and continued in a perfectly normal tone.
“Yes, my son thought so,” he said. “And I suppose in a way he proved that he was right.”
VI
The sound when Redvers exhaled in relief was like a ray of light cutting brief but alarming darkness. Dan deduced that in the past he’d had a lot of trouble from people making tactless remarks to Rainshaw. However, the scientist himself appeared not to notice. He went on talking, looking at nothing.
“Robin—well, I’d have trusted Robin’s judgment as implicitly as I trust my own. He was never gullible, or easily deluded. He’d shown promise of more originality than I did at his age, and he was certainly a very dependable partner to work with. We were working together on my effect, you know, right up until the time he—ah—disappeared. And he did believe there was usable knowledge to be had from the signals.”
“Where did he get this idea?” Dan ventured.
“As far as I know, it was original with himself. I’ve been asked, over and over”—with a faint reproving smile at Redvers—“whether he’d fallen under the influence of one of these mystical cults, but I’m certain if he had, he’d have asked what I thought about their teachings, and he never breathed a word about anything of the sort.”
“Did he indicate what kind of knowledge he thought might be extracted from the signals?” Dan inquired.
“I can quote you exactly what he said, on our last evening together. We’d been arguing about this very point, and he said, ‘It’s so hard to capture in words—so remote from everyday experience—that I get the feeling it may really come from an alien mind.’ He’d been struggling for hours to persuade me to his way of thinking, you see. It seemed actively painful for him to admit that he was failing. He even began to doubt himself, and that was why he went to his room to listen again to his big stardropper, theone he’d built himself. When I went to call him to dinner, he wasn’t there. And he definitely hadn’t left the house by any normal route.”
Recounting incredible things, his voice was mechanical—drained of emotional judgments like belief and skepticism.
“You didn’t hear anything?” Dan said. “No noise?”
Rainshaw seemed to come back to the present from a long way off. “No noise, Mr. Cross,” he said heavily. “I’ve heard the same stories you seem to have, about people who vanished with a clap of thunder. I don’t know anything about that. All I can say is my boy had gone, and he didn’t leave by a door or a window. Besides, he had nothing to run away from. He was working for his doctorate and he was fascinated by his research; he was engaged to marry a charming girl.… No, I can only accept that he was right. He learned something from his stardropper, and the knowledge enabled him to go—elsewhere. I haven’t any hope of following him. Young minds are flexible, and I’m growing old.”
Like all-too-obvious background music, a spray of rain rattled at the windows and settled to a steady depressing downpour.
Accompanying Dan to the exit, Redvers set a slow pace, as
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