Contact - Carl Sagan [99]
Adnix, much more than the innumerable libel suits against the original commercial networks, led directly to their demise. For a while there was a small army of unemployed advertising executives, down-and-out former network officials, and penniless divines who had sworn blood oaths to revenge themselves on Hadden. And there was an ever growing number of still more formidable adversaries. Without a doubt, she thought, Hadden was an interesting man.
"So I figure it's time to go. I've got more money than I know what to do with, my wife can't stand me, and I've got enemies everywhere. I want to do something important, something worthy. I want to do something so that hundreds of years from now people will look back and be glad I was around."
"You want-"
"I want to build the Machine. Look, I'm perfectly suited for it. I've got the best cybernetics expertise, practical cybernetics, in the business - better than Camegie-Mellon, better than MIT, better than Stanford, better than Santa Barbara. And if there's anything clear from those plans, it's that this isn't a job for an old-time tool-and-die maker. And you're going to need something like genetic engineering. You won't find anybody more dedicated to this job. And I'll do it at cost."
"Really, Mr. Hadden, who builds the Machine, if we ever get to that point, isn't up to me. It's an international decision. All sorts of politics is involved. They're still debating in Paris about whether to build the thing, if and when we decrypt the Message."
"Don't you think I know that? I'm also applying through the usual channels of influence and corruption. I just want to have a good word put in for me for the right reasons, by the side of the angels. You understand? And speaking of angels, you really shook up Palmer Joss and Billy Jo Rankin. I haven't seen them so agitated since that trouble they had about Mary's waters. Rankin saying he was deliberately misquoted about supporting the Machine. My, my."
He shook his head in mock consternation. That some long standing personal enmity existed between these active proselytizers and the inventor of Preachnix seemed probable enough, and for some reason she was moved to their defense.
"They're both a lot smarter than you might think. And Palmer Joss is…well, there's something genuine about him. He's not a phony."
"You're sure it's not just another pretty face? Excuse me, but it's important that people understand their feelings on this. It's too important not to. I know these clowns. Underneath, when push comes to shove, they're jackals. A lot of people find religion attractive-you know, personally, sexually. You ought to see what happens in the Temple of Ishtar."
She repressed a small shiver of revulsion. "I think I will have that drink," she said.
Looking down from the penthouse, she could see the gradated tiers of the Ziggurat, each draped with flowers, some artificial, some real, depending on the season. It was a reconstruction of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Miraculously, it was so arranged that it did not closely resemble a Hyatt Hotel. Far below, she could make out a torchlit procession headed back from the Ziggurat to the Enlil Gate. It was led by a kind of sedan chair held by four burly men stripped to the waist. Who or what was in it she could not make out.
"It's a ceremony in honor of Gilgamesh, one of the ancient Sumerian culture heroes."
"Yes, I've heard of him."
CHAPTER 14
Harmonic Oscillator
Scepticism is the chastity of