I wish I'd studied some psychology, thought van der Berg; then I could explore the parameters of his
delusion. Yet now he seems completely sane - except on that one subject.
Though almost any seat was comfortable at one-sixth of a gravity, Floyd had tilted his to the fully
reclining position and had clasped his hands behind his head. Van der Berg suddenly recalled that this was
the classic position of a patient, in the days of the old and still not entirely discredited Freudian analysis.
He was glad to let the other talk first, partly out of sheer curiosity but chiefly because he hoped that
the sooner Floyd got this nonsense out of his system, the sooner he would be cured - or, at least,
harmless. But he did not feel too optimistic: there must have been some serious, deep-seated problem in
the first place to trigger so powerful an illusion.
It was very disconcerting to find that Floyd agreed with him completely, and had already made his own
diagnosis. 'My crew psych rating is Al plus,' he said, 'which means that they'll even let me look at my own files -
only about ten per cent can do this. So I'm as baffled as you are - but I saw Grandfather, and he spoke to
me. I've never believed in ghosts - who does? - but this must mean that he's dead. I wish I could have
got to know him better - I'd been looking forward to our meeting... Still, now I have something to
remember...'
Presently van der Berg asked: 'Tell me exactly what he said.'
Chris smiled a little wanly and answered: 'I've never had one of those total recall memories, and I was
so stunned by the whole thing that I can't give you many of the actual words.' He paused, and a look of
concentration appeared on his face.
'That's strange; now I look back, I don't think we did use words.'
Even worse, thought van der Berg; telepathy as well as survival after death. But he merely said:
'Well, give me the general gist of the - er -conversation. I never heard you say anything remember.'
'Right. He said something like, "I wanted to see you again, and I'm very happy. I'm sure everything is
going to work out well, and Universe will soon pick you up."
Typical bland spirit message, thought van der Berg. They never say anything useful or surprising -
merely reflect the hopes and fears of the listener. Zero-information echoes from the subconscious.
'Go on.'
'Then I asked him where everyone was - why the place was deserted. He laughed and gave me an
answer I still don't understand. Something like: "I know you didn't intend any harm - when we saw you
coming, we barely had time to give the warning. All the - " and here he used a word I couldn't pronounce
even if I could remember it - "got into the water - they can move quite quickly when they have to! They
won't come out until you've left, and the wind has blown the poison away." What could he have meant by
that? Our exhaust is nice, clean steam - and that's what most of their atmosphere is, anyway.'
Well, thought van der Berg, I suppose there's no law that says a delusion - any more than a dream -
has to make logical sense. Perhaps the concept of 'poison' symbolizes some deep-rooted fear that Chris,
despite his excellent psych rating, is unable to face. Whatever it is, I doubt if it's any concern of mine.
Poison, indeed! Bill Tee's propellant mass is pure, distilled water shipped up to orbit from Ganymede.
But wait a minute. How hot is it when it comes out of the exhaust? Haven't I read somewhere... ?
'Chris,' said van der Berg cautiously, 'after the water's gone through the reactor, does it all come out
as steam?'
'What else could it do? Oh, if we run really hot, ten or fifteen per cent gets cracked to hydrogen and
oxygen.'
Oxygen! Van der Berg felt a sudden chill, even though the shuttle was at comfortable room
temperature. It was most unlikely that Floyd understood the implications of what he had just said; the
knowledge was outside his normal sphere of expertise.
'Did you know, Chris, that to primitive organisms on Earth, and certainly to creatures living in an
atmosphere like Europa's, oxygen is a deadly poison?'
'You're joking.'
'I'm not: it's even poisonous to us, at high pressure.'
'I did know that; we were taught it in our diving course.' 'Your - grandfather - was talking sense. It's as if we'd sprayed that
city with mustard gas. Well, not
quite as bad as that - it would disperse very quickly.'
'So now you believe me.'
'I never said I didn't.'
'You would have been crazy if you did!'
That broke the tension, and they had a good laugh together.
'You never told me what he was wearing.'
'An old-fashioned dressing gown, just as I remembered when I was a boy. Looked very comfortable.'
'Any other details?'
'Now you mention it, he looked much younger, and had more hair than when I saw him last. So I don't
think he was - what can I say? - real. Something like a computer-generated image. Or a synthetic
hologram.'
'The Monolith!'
'Yes - that's what I thought. You remember how Dave Bowman appeared to Grandfather on Discovery?
Perhaps it's his turn now. But why? He didn't give me any warning - not even any particular message.
Just wanted to say goodbye and wish me well...'
For a few embarrassing moments Floyd's face began to crumple; then he regained control, and smiled
at van der Berg.
'I've done enough talking. Now it's your turn to explain just what a million-million-ton diamond is doing
- on a world made mostly of ice and sulphur. It had better be good.'
'It is,' said Dr Rolf van der Berg.
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