2001_ A Space Odyssey - Arthur C. Clarke [23]
“Very pleased to have you with us, Dr. Floyd,” said Halvorsen. “Did you have a good trip?”
“Excellent,” Floyd answered. “It couldn’t have been better. The crew looked after me very well.”
He exchanged the usual small talk that courtesy demanded while the bus rolled away from the spacecraft; by unspoken agreement, no one mentioned the reason for his visit. After traveling a thousand feet from the landing site, the bus came to a large sign which read:
WELCOME TO CLAVIUS BASE
U.S. Astronautical Engineering Corps
1994
It then dived into a cutting which took it quickly below ground level. A massive door opened ahead, then closed behind them. This happened again, and yet a third time. When the last door had closed, there was a great roaring of air, and they were back in atmosphere once more, in the shirt-sleeve environment of the Base.
After a short walk through a tunnel packed with pipes and cables, and echoing hollowly with rhythmic thumpings and throbbings, they arrived in executive territory, and Floyd found himself back in the familiar environment of typewriters, office computers, girl assistants, wall charts, and ringing telephones. As they paused outside the door labeled ADMINISTRATOR, Halvorsen said diplomatically: “Dr. Floyd and I will be along to the briefing room in a couple of minutes.”
The others nodded, made agreeable sounds, and drifted off down the corridor. But before Halvorsen could usher Floyd into his office, there was an interruption. The door opened, and a small figure hurled itself at the Administrator.
“Daddy! You’ve been Topside! And you promised to take me!”
“Now, Diana,” said Halvorsen, with exasperated tenderness, “I only said I’d take you if I could. But I’ve been very busy meeting Dr. Floyd. Shake hands with him — he’s just come from Earth.”
The little girl — Floyd judged that she was about eight — extended a limp hand. Her face was vaguely familiar, and Floyd suddenly became aware that the Administrator was looking at him with a quizzical smile. With a shock of recollection, he understood why.
“I don’t believe it!” he exclaimed. “When I was here last she was just a baby!”
“She had her fourth birthday last week,” Halvorsen answered proudly. “Children grow fast in this low gravity. But they don’t age so quickly — they’ll live longer than we do.”
Floyd stared in fascination at the self-assured little lady, noting the graceful carriage and the unusually delicate bone structure. “It’s nice to meet you again, Diana,” he said. Then something — perhaps sheer curiosity, perhaps politeness — impelled him to add: “Would you like to go to Earth?”
Her eyes widened with astonishment; then she shook her head.
“It’s a nasty place; you hurt yourself when you fall down. Besides, there are too many people,”
So here, Floyd told himself, is the first generation of the Spaceborn; there would be more of them in the years to come. Though there was sadness in this thought, there was also a great hope. When Earth was tamed and tranquil, and perhaps a little tired, there would still be hope for those who loved freedom, for the tough pioneers, the restless adventurers. But their tools would not be ax and gun and canoe and wagon; they would be nuclear power plant and plasma drive and hydroponics farm. The time was fast approaching when Earth, like all mothers, must say farewell to her children.
With a mixture of threats and promises, Halvorsen managed to evict his determined offspring and led Floyd into the office. The Administrator’s suite was only about fifteen feet square, but it managed to contain all the fittings and status symbols of the typical $50,000-a-year head of a department. Signed photographs of important politicians — including the President