Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [94]
But if the world at large took little notice, the academic community became embroiled almost overnight in debates over the validity of the texts. Some argued that the style could not have been duplicated so effectively by someone perpetrating a hoax, while their opponents maintained that computer analysis was insufficient for the task of measuring genius. Most scholars came down in the middle: They would not weigh in until the source had been revealed and explanations offered.
Reputations, of course, were at stake. No one ever ruined his career by remaining skeptical, but anybody who buys into a new idea that turns out to be silly has a hard time walking away from it.
Shel and Dave made a few more visits to Alexandria, during which the third converter tested out. They collected more plays from Aristarchus, who always treated them as VIPs, and sent them to Aspasia. Dave was especially impressed when he watched her, during an interview with Keller, divert all credit “to the person or persons who made the work available.”
“She’s just trying to protect her rear end,” said Shel. “In case it doesn’t turn out well.”
“Is there any real doubt in your mind?” asked Keller.
“Of course there is.”
“But everyone seems to agree that the work is at the level and in the style of the classical playwrights.”
“That proves nothing, Michelle. We just don’t know what we have.”
“But a hoax of this magnitude—who could do it?”
“We’ll have to wait on that one.”
“You really don’t think they’re legitimate, do you?”
“Michelle, I’d love to know where these plays have been for two thousand years. If whoever sent them is out there now, watching this show, I wish he would step forward and answer some questions. It would help the process immensely.”
“Have you asked them to do that?”
“Yes.”
“And they’ve refused.”
“I haven’t heard a word.”
“Nothing at all?”
“No. And to be honest, Michelle, I can’t imagine a good reason why that would be. If the plays are what they claim.”
“NO.” Shel was adamant. “We don’t do anything like that. Let them sort it out themselves.”
Dave was frustrated. “Look: We’ve been saying all along that eventually we’ll destroy the converters. Okay, we can admit our part in this and do a demonstration. Then throw them into the Atlantic.”
“No.”
“Why not? The stuff we brought back is priceless.” They now had more than forty plays, histories, speculations, philosophical documents. They were piling up. “But what good are they if nobody accepts them?”
“I’ll tell you why not. Right now, everybody thinks time travel’s a fantasy. So we prove them wrong, and every physicist on the planet’s going to try to figure out how it’s done. No. If they decide to declare everything a hoax, then so be it.”
“But what’s wrong with it? If they figure it out, and a few of them try to abuse it and end up in the ocean, so what?”
“That’s nickel-and-dime stuff, Dave. Whether there’s really a cardiac principle, I don’t know. It certainly seems as if there is. And if so, and hundreds of converters show up, it might be subject to overload.”
“You’re talking black magic, Shel.”
“Am I? Okay: We’re also talking about a world in which people can travel into the future and bring home the news. Tomorrow’s news, today. What happens when people find out in advance when they’ll die? What their lives are going to amount to? What happens to science if we can just ride into the future and bring back all the answers? What happens to the Phillies when we know in advance what the pennant races will look like for the rest of the century?
“No. We leave it alone.”
They were in the town house, and Shel was seated on his sofa with a collection of classical architectural