Contact - Carl Sagan [134]
"Your question is made of words. You ask me to use words to describe what has nothing to do with words. Let me see. There is a Japanese story called The Dream of the Ants.' It is set in the Kingdom of the Ants. It is a long story, and I will not tell it to you now. But the point of the story is this: To understand the language of the ants, you must become an ant."
"The language of the ants is in fact a chemical language," said Lunacharsky, eyeing the Abbot keenly. "They lay down specific molecular traces to indicate the path they have taken to find food. To understand the language of the ants, I need a gas chromatograph, or a mass spectrometer. I do not need to become an ant."
"Probably, that is the only way you know to become an ant," returned the Abbot, looking at no one in particular. `Tell me, why do people study the signs left by the ants?"
"Well," Ellie offered, "I guess an entomologist would say it's to understand the ants and ant society. Scientists take pleasure in understanding."
"That is only another way of saying that they love the ants."
She suppressed a small shudder.
"Yes, but those who fund the entomologists say something else. They say it's to control the behavior of ants, to make them leave a house they've infested, say, or to understand the biology of soil for agriculture. It might provide an alternative to pesticides. I guess you could say there's some love of the ants in that," Ellie mused.
"But it's also in our self-interest," said Lunacharsky. `The pesticides are poisonous to us as well."
"Why are you talking about pesticides in the midst of such a dinner?" shot Sukhavati from across the table.
"We will dream the dream of the ants another time," the Abbot said softly to Ellie, flashing again that perfect, untroubled smile.
Reshod with the aid of meter-long shoehorns, they approached their small fleet of automobiles, while the serving women and proprietress smiled and bowed ceremoniously. Ellie and Xi watched the Abbot enter a limousine with some of their Japanese hosts.
"I asked him, If he could talk with a stone, could he communicate with the dead?" Xi told her. "And what did he say?"
"He said the dead were easy. His difficulties were with the living."
CHAPTER 18
Superunification
A rough sea! Stretched out over Sado The Milky Way.
-MATSUO BASHO (1644-94) Poem
PERHAPS THEY had chosen Hokkaido because of its maverick reputation. The climate required construction techniques that were highly unconventional by Japanese standards, and this island was also the home of the Ainu, the hairy aboriginal people still despised by many Japanese. Winters were as severe as the ones in Minnesota or Wyoming. Hokkaido posed certain logistical difficulties, but it was out of the way in case of a catastrophe, being physically separated from the other Japanese islands. It was by no means isolated, however, now that the fifty-one-kilometer-long tunnel connecting it with Honshu had been completed; it was the longest submarine tunnel in the world.
Hokkaido had seemed safe enough for the testing of individual Machine components. But concern had been expressed about actually assembling the Machine in Hokkaido. This was, as the mountains that surrounded the facility bore eloquent testimony, a region surging with recent volcanism. One mountain was growing at the rate of a meter a day. Even the Soviets-Sakhalin Island was only forty-three kilometers away, across the Soya, or La Pйrouse Strait-had voiced some misgivings on this score. But in for a kopek, in for a ruble. For all they knew, even a Machine built on the far side of the Moon could blow up the Earth when activated. The decision to build the Machine was the key fact in assessing dangers; where the thing was built was an entirely secondary consideration.
By early July,