Contact - Carl Sagan [77]
"No, they're staying at the Embassy."
It was always the case. Because of the nature of the Soviet economy and the perceived necessity of buying military technology instead of consumer goods with their limited hard currency, Russians had little walking around money when visiting the West. They were obliged to stay in second- or third-rate hotels, even rooming houses, while their Western colleagues lived in comparative luxury. It was a continuing source of embarrassment for scientists of both countries. Picking up the bill for this relatively simple meal would be effortless for Ellie but a burden for Vaygay, despite his comparatively exalted status in the Soviet scientific hierarchy. Now, what was Vaygay…
"Vaygay, be straight with me. What are you saying? You think Ken and Mike are jumping the gun?"
"'Straight' An interesting word; not right, not left, but progressively forward. I'm concerned that in the next few days we will see premature discussion about building something that we have no right to build. The politicians think we know everything. In fact, we know almost nothing. Such a situation could be dangerous."
It finally dawned on her that Vaygay was taking a personal responsibility for figuring out the nature of the Message. If it led to some catastrophe, he was worried it might be his fault. He had less personal motives as well, of course.
"You want me to talk to Ken?"
"If you think it's appropriate. You have frequent opportunities to talk to him?" He said this casually.
"Vaygay, you're not jealous, are you? I think you picked up on my feelings for Ken before I did. When you were back at Argus. Ken and I've been more or less together for the last two months. Do you have some reservations?"
"Oh no, Ellie. I am not your father or a jealous lover. I wish only great happiness for you. It's just that I see so many unpleasant possibilities."
But he did not further elaborate.
They returned to their preliminary interpretations on some of the diagrams, with which the table was eventually covered. For counterpoint, they also discussed a little politics-the debate in America over the Mandala Principles for resolving the crisis in South Africa, and the growing war of words between the Soviet Union and the German Democratic Republic. As always, Arroway and Lunacharsky enjoyed denouncing their own countries' foreign policies to one another. This was far more interesting than denouncing the foreign policies of each other's nation, which would have been equally easy to do. Over their ritual dispute about whether the check should be shared, she noticed that the downpour had diminished to a discreet drizzle.
By now, the news of the Message from Vega had reached every nook and cranny of the planet Earth. People who knew nothing of radio telescopes and had never heard of a prime number had been told a peculiar story about a voice from the stars, about strange beings-not exactly men, but not exactly gods either-who had been discovered living in the night sky. They did not come from Earth. Their home star could easily be seen, even with a full moon. Amidst the continuing frenzy of sectarian commentary, there was also-all over the world, it was now apparent-a sense of wonder, even of awe. Something transforming, something almost miraculous was happening. The air was full of possibility, a sense of new beginning.
"Mankind has been promoted to high school," an American newspaper editorialist had written.
There were other intelligent beings in the universe. We could communicate with them. They were probably older than we, possibly wiser. They were sending us libraries of complex information. There was a widespread anticipation of imminent secular revelation. So the specialists in every subject began to worry. Mathematicians worried about what elementary discoveries they might have missed. Religious leaders worried that Vegan values, however alien, would find ready adherents, especially among the uninstructed young. Astronomers worried that there might be fundamentals about the nearby stars that