The Sentinel - Arthur C. Clarke [32]
But he was jumping to conclusions: no one had proved anything yet.
“If you’re right,” he said, “all I have to do is smash the glass—”
Duval sighed.
“These nontechnical laymen! Do you think it’s likely to be made of anything you could smash without explosives? And if you succeeded, do you imagine that Karellen is likely to breathe the same air as we do? Won’t it be nice for both of you if he flourishes in an atmosphere of chlorine?”
Stormgren turned rather pale.
“Well, what do you suggest?” he asked with some exasperation.
“I want to think it over. First of all we’ve got to find if my theory is correct, and if so learn something about the material of the screen. I’ll put some of my best men on the job—by the way, I suppose you carry a briefcase when you visit the Supervisor? Is it the one you’ve got there?”
“Yes.”
“It’s rather small. Will you get one at least ten inches deep, and use it from now on so that he becomes used to seeing it?”
“Very well,” said Stormgren doubtfully. “Do you want me to carry a concealed X-ray set?”
The physicist grinned.
“I don’t know yet, but we’ll think of something. I’ll let you know what it is in about a month’s time.”
He gave a little laugh.
“Do you know what all this reminds me of?”
“Yes,” said Stormgren promptly, “the time you were building illegal radio sets during the German occupation.”
Duval looked disappointed.
“Well, I suppose I have mentioned that once or twice before. But there’s one other thing—”
“Yes?”
“When you’re caught, I didn’t know what you wanted the gear for.”
“What, after all the fuss you once made about the scientist’s social responsibility for his inventions? Really, Pierre, I’m ashamed of you!”
Stormgren laid down the thick folder of typescript with a sigh of relief.
“Thank heavens that’s settled at last,” he said. “It’s strange to think that those few hundred pages hold the future of Europe.”
“They hold a good deal more than that,” said Karellen quietly.
“So a lot of people have been suggesting. The preamble, and most of the constitution itself, won’t need many alterations when it’s time for the rest of the world to join. But the first step will be quite enough to get on with.”
Stormgren dropped the file into his briefcase, the back of which was now only six inches from the dark rectangle of the screen. From time to time his fingers played across the locks in a half-conscious nervous reaction, but he had no intention of pressing the concealed switch until the meeting was over. There was a chance that something might go wrong: though Duval had sworn that Karellen would detect nothing, one could never be sure.
“Now, you said you’d some news for me,” Stormgren continued, with scarcely concealed eagerness. “Is it about—”
“Yes,” said Karellen. “I received the Policy Board’s decision a few hours ago, and am authorized to make an important statement. I don’t think that the Freedom League will be very satisfied, but it should help to reduce the tension. We won’t record this, by the way.
“You’ve often told me, Rikki, that no matter how unlike you we are physically, the human race will soon grow accustomed to us. That shows a lack of imagination on your part. It would probably be true in your case, but you must remember that most of the world is still uneducated by any reasonable standards, and is riddled with prejudices and superstitions that may take another hundred years to eradicate.
“You will grant us that we know something of human psychology. We know rather accurately what would happen if we revealed ourselves to the world in its present state of development. I can’t go into details, even with you, so you must accept my analysis