Contact - Carl Sagan [84]
On her console, she punched in the code numbers for a few of her slides. The great mirrored hall darkened.
"Dr. Lunacharsky and I are convinced that these are different projections of the same three-dimensional configuration. We showed the entire configuration in computer simulated rotation yesterday. We think, though we can't be sure, that this is what the interior of the Machine will look like. There is as yet no clear indication of scale. Maybe it's a kilometer across, maybe it's submicroscopic. But notice these five objects evenly spaced around the periphery of the main interior chamber, inside the dodecahedron. Here's a close-up of one of them. They're the only things in the chamber that look at all recognizable.
"This appears to be an ordinary overstuffed armchair, perfectly configured for a human being. It's very unlikely that extraterrestrial beings, evolved on another quite different world, would resemble us sufficiently to share our preferences in living room furniture. Here, look at this close up. It looks like something from my mother's spare room when I was growing up."
Indeed, it almost seemed to have flowered slipcovers. A small flutter of guilt entered her mind. She had neglected to call her mother before leaving for Europe, and, if truth be told, had called her only once or twice since the Message was received. Ellie, how could you? she remonstrated with herself.
She looked again at the computer graphics. The fivefold symmetry of the dodecahedron was reflected in the five interior chairs, each facing a pentagonal surface. "So it's our contention-Dr. Lunacharsky and I-that the five chairs are meant for us. For people. That would mean that the interior chamber of the machine is only a few meters across, the exterior, perhaps ten or twenty meters across. The technology is undoubtedly formidable, but we don't think we're talking about building something the size of a city. Or as complex as an aircraft carrier. We might very well be able to build this, whatever it is, if we all work together.
"What I'm trying to say is that you don't put chairs inside a bomb. I don't think this is a Doomsday Machine, or a Trojan Horse. I agree with what Dr. Sukhavati said, or maybe only implied: the idea that this is a Trojan Horse is itself an indication of how far we have to go."
Again there was an outburst. But this time der Heer made no effort to stop it; indeed, he actually turned the complainant's microphone on. It was the same delegate who had interrupted Sukhavati a few minutes earlier, Philip Bedenbaugh of the United Kingdom, a Labour Party minister in the shaky coalition government.
"…simply doesn't understand what our concern is. If it was literally a wooden horse, we would not be tempted to bring the alien device within the city gates. We have read our Homer. But flounce it up with some upholstery and our suspicions are allayed. Why? Because we are being flattered. Or bribed. There's an historic adventure implied. There's the promise of new technologies. There's a hint of acceptance by-how to put it?-greater beings. But I say no matter what lofty fantasies the radio astronomers may entertain, if there is even a tiny chance the machine is a means of destruction, it should not be built. Better, as the Soviet delegate has proposed, to burn the data tapes and make the construction of radio telescopes a capital crime."
The meeting was becoming unruly. Scores of delegates were electronically queuing for authorization to speak. The hubbub rose to a subdued roar that reminded Ellie of her years of listening to radioastronomical static. A consensus did not seem readily within reach, and the co-chairmen were clearly unable to restrain the delegates.
As the Chinese delegate rose to speak, the vitagraphics were slow to appear on Ellie's screen and she looked around for help. She had no idea who this man was either. Nguyen "Bobby" Bui, a National Security Council staffer now assigned to der Heer, leaned