Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [255]
"It wasn't on line yet," Harvey Randall said. "It's still under construction. I think they got it to the testing stage before Hammerfall. There wasn't much publicity, because of the environmentalists."
The kosmonauts spoke in excited Russian. Baker and Delanty joined in, speaking much more slowly. Then Baker said, "We were looking for an operating power plant. We thought Sacramento might have survived. Where is this San Joaquin plant? We've got to save it."
"Save it?" George Christopher's face was gray. "Can we save ourselves? Dammit, I don't believe it! How could that cannibal army grow so fast?"
"Mohammed," Harvey Randall said.
"What?"
"When Mohammed began he had five followers. In four months he controlled Arabia. In a couple of years he controlled half the world. And the New Brotherhood has the same kind of growth incentive."
Mayor Seitz shook his head. "Senator … I just don't know. Can we stop that outfit? Maybe we ought to head for the High Sierra while we've got the chance."
There was a long silence.
The Magician
Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.
Arthur C. Clarke
Dan Forrester dozed in front of the woodburning kitchen stove. His feet had been washed and bandaged. He'd taken a shot of insulin, hoping that it was still good, fearing that it wasn't. It was very hard to stay awake.
Maureen Jellison and Mrs. Cox fussed over him, bringing him clean clothes—dry clothes!—and pouring him hot tea. It was very pleasant to sit and feel safe. He could hear voices from the other room. Dan tried to follow the conversation, but he kept falling asleep, then jerking himself awake.
Dan Forrester had spent his life working out the rules of the universe. He had never tried to personalize it. Yet when the Hammer fell, a small bright core of anger had burned in Dan Forrester.
He had forgotten that anger, the anger he felt when he first learned what it meant to be a diabetic. The rules of the universe had never favored diabetics. Dan had long since accepted that. Methodically he set out to survive anyway.
Every day he was still alive. Tired to death, hiding from cannibals, hungrier every day, fully aware of what was happening to his insulin and to his feet, he had kept moving. The steady warmth of anger had never relaxed … but something within him had relaxed now. Physical comfort and the comfort of friendship let him remember that he was tired, and ill, and his feet had turned to broken wood. He fought it because of what he could hear from the next room:
Cannibals. New Brotherhood Army. An ultimatum for the Senator. Thousand men ... they've taken Bakersfield, could double their numbers … Dan Forrester sighed deeply. He looked up at Maureen. "It sounds like a war is coming. Is there a paint store here?"
She frowned down at him. Others had gone mad after less than Dan Forrester had faced. "Paint store?"
"Yes."
"I think so. There was a Standard Brands at the edge of Porterville. It was flooded, I think."
Dan tried to discipline his thoughts. "Perhaps they kept things in plastic bags. What about fertilizer? You have that? Ammonia, for instance. They use it for—"
"I know what they use it for," Maureen said. "Yes, we have some. Not enough for the crops."
Forrester sighed again. "It may not get to the crops. Or maybe we can use it where we'll be able to grow crops later. Were there many swimming pools? A swimming-pool supply store?"
"Yes, there was one of those. It's underwater now—"
"How deep?"
She looked at him sharply. He looked terrible, but his eyes were quite sane. He knew what he was asking. "I don't know. It will be on Al Hardy's maps. Is it important?"
"I think so—" He stopped abruptly. He was listening. In the other room they were talking about a nuclear power plant. Forrester stood up. He had to hold onto the chair. "Would you help me go in there, please?" His voice was apologetic, but somehow there was no way to refuse him. "Oh—one more thing. A filling station. I'll need some drums of grease solvent."
Maureen, mystified,