The Foundations of Paradise - Arthur C. Clarke [39]
“Since you have raised the subject of the 854 agreement, let me remind you that it refers only to the land inside the temple boundaries—which are clearly defined by the walls.”
“Correct. But they enclose the entire summit.”
“You have no control over the ground outside this area.”
“We have the rights of any owner of property. If the neighbors create a nuisance, we would have legal redress. This is not the first time the point has been raised.”
“I know. In connection with the cable-car system.”
A faint smile played over the Mahanayake Thero’s lips. “You have done your homework,” he commended. “Yes, we opposed it vigorously, for a number of reasons—though I admit that now it is here, we have often been thankful for it.” He paused thoughtfully, then added, “There have been some problems, but we have been able to coexist. Casual sightseers and tourists are content to stay on the lookout platform; genuine pilgrims, of course, we are always happy to welcome at the summit.”
“Then perhaps some accommodation could be worked out in this case. A few hundred meters of altitude would make no difference to us. We could leave the summit untouched, and carve out another plateau, like the cable-car terminus.”
Morgan felt distinctly uncomfortable under the prolonged scrutiny of the two monks. He had little doubt that they recognized the absurdity of the suggestion, but for the sake of the record he had to make it.
“You have a most peculiar sense of humor, Dr. Morgan,” the Mahanayake Thero replied at last. “What would be left of the spirit of the mountain—of the solitude we have sought for three thousand years—if this monstrous device is erected here? Do you expect us to betray the faith of all the millions who have come to this sacred spot, often at the cost of their health—even their lives?”
“I sympathize with your feelings,” Morgan answered. (But was he lying? he wondered.) “We would, of course, do our best to minimize any disturbance. All the support facilities will be buried inside the mountain. Only the elevator would emerge, and from any distance it would be quite invisible. The general aspect of the mountain would be totally unchanged. Even your famous shadow, which I have just admired, would be virtually unaffected.”
The Mahanayake Thero turned to his colleague as if seeking confirmation. The Venerable Parakarma looked straight at Morgan and said: “What about noise?”
Damn, Morgan thought; my weakest point. The payloads would emerge from the mountain at several hundred kilometers an hour. The more velocity they could be given by the ground-based system, the less the strain on the suspended tower. Of course, passengers couldn’t take more than half a gee or so, but the capsules would still pop out at a substantial fraction of the speed of sound.
“There will be some aerodynamic noise,” Morgan admitted. “But nothing like that near a large airport.”
“Very reassuring,” said the Mahanayake Thero. Morgan was certain that he was being sarcastic, though he could detect no trace of irony in his voice. He was either displaying an Olympian calm or testing his visitor’s reactions. The younger monk, on the other hand, made no attempt to conceal his anger.
“For years,” he said with indignation, “we have been protesting about the disturbance caused by reentering spacecraft. Now you want to generate shock waves in . . . in our back garden.”
“Our operations will not be transsonic, at this altitude,” Morgan replied firmly. “And the tower structure will absorb most of the sound energy. In fact,” he added, trying to press what he had suddenly seen as an advantage, “in the long run, we’ll help to eliminate re-entry booms. The mountain will actually be a quieter place.”
“I understand. Instead of occasional