It is a good principle in science not to believe any 'fact' - however well-attested - until it fits into some
accepted frame of reference. Occasionally, of course, an observation can shatter the frame and force the
construction of a new one, but that is extremely rare. Galileos and Einsteins seldom appear more than
once per century, which is just as well for the equanimity of mankind.
Dr Kreuger fully accepted this principle: he would not believe his nephew's discovery until he could
explain it, and as far as he could see that required nothing less than a direct Act of God. Wielding Occam's still highly
serviceable razor, he thought it somewhat more probable that Rolf had made a mistake; if so,
it should be fairly easy to find it.
To Uncle Paul's great surprise, it proved very difficult indeed. The analysis of radar remote-sensing
observations was now a venerable and well-established art, and the experts that Paul consulted all gave
the same answer, after considerable delay. They also asked: 'Where did you get that recording?'
'Sorry,' he had answered. 'I'm not at liberty to say.'
The next step was to assume that the impossible was correct, and to start searching the literature. This
could be an enormous job, for he did not even know where to begin. One thing was quite certain: a bruteforce,
head-on attack was bound to fail. It would be just as if Roentgen, the morning after he had
discovered X-rays, had started to hunt for their explanation in the physics journals of his day. The
information he needed still lay years in the future.
But there was at least a sporting chance that what he was looking for was hidden somewhere in the
immense body of existing scientific knowledge. Slowly and carefully, Paul Kreuger set up an automatic
search programme, designed for what it would exclude as much as what it would embrace. It should cut
out all Earth-related references - they would certainly number in the millions - and concentrate entirely on
extraterrestrial citations.
One of the benefits of Dr Kreuger's eminence was an unlimited computer budget: that was part of the
fee he demanded from the various organizations who needed his wisdom. Though this search might be
expensive, he did not have to worry about the bill.
As it turned out, this was surprisingly small. He was lucky: the search came to an end after only two
hours thirty-seven minutes, at the 21,456th reference.
The title was enough. Paul was so excited that his own comsec refused to recognize his voice, and he
had to repeat the command for a full print-out.
Nature had published the paper in 1981 - almost five years before he was born! - and as his eyes
swept swiftly over its single page he knew not only that his nephew had been right all along - but, just as
important, exactly how such a miracle could occur.
The editor of that eighty-year-old journal must have had a good sense of humour. A paper discussing
the cores of the outer planets was not something to grab the usual reader: this one, however, had an
unusually striking title. His comsec could have told him quickly enough that it had once been part of a
famous song, but that of course was quite irrelevant.
Anyway, Paul Kreuger had never heard of the Beatles, and their psychedelic fantasies
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