Arthur C. Clarke - Nightfall

VIP免费
2024-12-24 0 0 142.16KB 28 页 5.9玖币
侵权投诉
NIGHTFALL
Isaac Asimov
VERSION 1.2 (DEC 2002) Proofed and formatted by <Bibliophile>.
If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore, and
preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God?”
EMERSON
Aton 77, director of Saro University, thrust out a belligerent lower lip and glared at the young
newspaperman in a hot fury.
Theremon 762 took that fury in his stride. In his earlier days, when his now widely syndicated column
was only a mad idea in a cub reporter’s mind, he had specialized in “impossible” interviews. It had cost
him bruises, black eyes, and broken bones; but it had given him an ample supply of coolness and
self-confidence. So he lowered the outthrust hand that had been so pointedly ignored and calmly waited
for the aged director to get over the worst. Astronomers were queer ducks, anyway, and if Aton’s
actions of the last two months meant anything; this same Aton was the queer-duckiest of the lot.
Aton 77 found his voice, and though it trembled with restrained emotion, the careful, somewhat pedantic
phraseology, for which the famous astronomer was noted, did not abandon him.
“Sir,” he said, “you display an infernal gall in coming to me with that impudent proposition of yours.” The
husky telephotographer of the Observatory, Beenay 25, thrust a tongue’s tip across dry lips and
interposed nervously, “Now, sir, after all—”
The director turned to him and lifted a white eyebrow.
“Do not interfere, Beenay. I will credit you with good intentions in bringing this man here; but I will
tolerate no insubordination now.”
Theremon decided it was time to take a part. “Director Aton, if you’ll let me finish what I started saying,
I think—”
“I don’t believe, young man,” retorted Aton, “that anything you could say now would count much as
compared with your daily columns of these last two months. You have led a vast newspaper campaign
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
against the efforts of myself and my colleagues to organize the world against the menace which it is now
too late to avert. You have done your best with your highly personal attacks to make the staff of this
Observatory objects of ridicule.”
The director lifted a copy of the Saro City Chronicle from the table and shook it at Theremon furiously.
“Even a person of your well-known impudence should have hesitated before coming to me with a request
that he be allowed to cover today’s events for his paper. Of all newsmen, you!”
Aton dashed the newspaper to the floor, strode to the window, and clasped his arms behind his back.
“You may leave,” he snapped over his shoulder. He stared moodily out at the skyline where Gamma, the
brightest of the planet’s six suns, was setting. It had already faded and yellowed into the horizon mists,
and Aton knew he would never see it again as a sane man. He whirled. “No, wait, come here!” He
gestured peremptorily. “I’ll give you your story.”
The newsman had made no motion to leave, and now he approached the old man slowly. Aton gestured
outward.
“Of the six suns, only Beta is left in the sky. Do you see it?”
The question was rather unnecessary. Beta was almost at zenith, its ruddy light flooding the landscape to
an unusual orange as the brilliant rays of setting Gamma died. Beta was at aphelion. It was small; smaller
than Theremon had ever seen it before, and for the moment it was undisputed ruler of Lagash’s sky.
Lagash’s own sun, Alpha, the one about which it revolved, was at the antipodes, as were the two distant
companion pairs. The red dwarf Beta—Alpha’s immediate companion—was alone, grimly alone.
Aton’s upturned face flushed redly in the sunlight. “In just under four hours,” he said, “civilization, as we
know it, comes to an end. It will do so because, as you see. Beta is the only sun in the sky.” He smiled
grimly. “Print that! There’ll be no one to read it.”
“But if it turns out that four hours pass—and another four—and nothing happens?” asked Theremon
softly.
“Don’t let that worry you. Enough will happen.”
“Granted! And still—if nothing happens?”
For a second time, Beenay 25 spoke. “Sir, I think you ought to listen to him.”
Theremon said, “Put it to a vote, Director Aton.”
There was a stir among the remaining five members of the Observatory staff, who till now had
maintained an attitude of wary neutrality.
“That,” stated Aton flatly, “is not necessary.” He drew out his pocket watch. “Since your good friend,
Beenay, insists so urgently, I will give you five minutes. Talk away.”
“Good! Now, just what difference would it make if you allowed me to take down an eyewitness account
of what’s to come? If your prediction comes true, my presence won’t hurt; for in that case my column
would never be written. On the other hand, if nothing comes of it, you will just have to expect ridicule or
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
worse. It would be wise to leave that ridicule to friendly hands.”
Aton snorted. “Do you mean yours when you speak of friendly hands?”
“Certainly!” Theremon sat down and crossed his legs.
“My columns may have been a little rough, but I gave you people the benefit of the doubt every time.
After all. this is not the century to preach ‘The end of the world is at hand’ to Lagash. You have to
understand that people don’t believe the Book of Revelations anymore, and it annoys them to have
scientists turn about-face and tell us the Cultists are right after all—”
“No such thing, young man,” interrupted Aton. “While a great deal of our data has been supplied us by
the Cult, our results contain none of the Cult’s mysticism. Facts are facts, and the Cult’s so-called
mythology has certain facts behind it. We’ve exposed them and ripped away their mystery. I assure you
that the Cult hates us now worse than you do.”
“I don’t hate you. I’m just trying to tell you that the public is in an ugly humor. They’re angry.”
Aton twisted his mouth in derision. “Let them be angry.”
“Yes, but what about tomorrow?”
“There’ll be no tomorrow!”
“But if there is. Say that there is—just to see what happens. That anger might take shape into something
serious. After all, you know, business has taken a nosedive these last two months. Investors don’t really
believe the world is coming to an end, but just the same they’re being cagy with their money until it’s all
over. Johnny Public doesn’t believe you, either, but the new spring furniture might just as well wait a few
months—just to make sure.
“You see the point. Just as soon as this is all over, the business interests will be after your hide. They’ll
say that if crackpots—begging your pardon—can upset the country’s prosperity any time they want,
simply by making some cockeyed prediction—it’s up to the planet to prevent them. The sparks will fly,
sir.”
The director regarded the columnist sternly. “And just what were you proposing to do to help the
situation?”
“Well”—Theremon grinned—“I was proposing to take charge of the publicity. I can handle things so
that only the ridiculous side will show. It would be hard to stand, I admit, because I’d have to make you
all out to be a bunch of gibbering idiots, but if I can get people laughing at you, they might forget to be
angry. In return for that, all my publisher asks is an exclusive story.”
Beenay nodded and burst out, “Sir, the rest of us think he’s right. These last two months we’ve
considered everything but the million-to-one chance that there is an error somewhere in our theory or in
our calculations. We ought to take care of that, too.”
There was a murmur of agreement from the men grouped about the table, and Aton’s expression
became that of one who found his mouth full of something bitter and couldn’t get rid of it.
“You may stay if you wish, then. You will kindly refrain, however, from hampering us in our duties in any
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
way. You will also remember that I am in charge of all activities here, and in spite of your opinions as
expressed in your columns, I will expect full cooperation and full respect—”
His hands were behind his back, and his wrinkled face thrust forward determinedly as he spoke. He
might have continued indefinitely but for the intrusion of a new voice.
“Hello, hello, hello!” It came in a high tenor, and the plump cheeks of the newcomer expanded in a
pleased smile. “What’s this morgue-like atmosphere about here? No one’s losing his nerve, I hope.”
Aton started in consternation and said peevishly, “Now what the devil are you doing here, Sheerin? I
thought you were going to stay behind in the Hideout.”
Sheerin laughed and dropped his stubby figure into a chair. “Hideout be blowed! The place bored me. I
wanted to be here, where things are getting hot. Don’t you suppose I have my share of curiosity? I want
to see these Stars the Cultists are forever speaking about.” He rubbed his hands and added in a soberer
tone. “It’s freezing outside. The wind’s enough to hang icicles on your nose. Beta doesn’t seem to give
any heat at all, at the distance it is.”
The white-haired director ground his teeth in sudden exasperation. “Why do you go out of your way to
do crazy things, Sheerin? What kind of good are you around here?”
“What kind of good am I around there?” Sheerin spread his palms in comical resignation. “A
psychologist isn’t worth his salt in the Hideout. They need men of action and strong, healthy women that
can breed children. Me? I’m a hundred pounds too heavy for a man of action, and I wouldn’t be a
success at breeding children. So why bother them with an extra mouth to feed? I feel better over here.”
Theremon spoke briskly. “Just what is the Hideout, sir?”
Sheerin seemed to see the columnist for the first time. He frowned and blew his ample cheeks out. “And
just who in Lagash are you, redhead?”
Aton compressed his lips and then muttered sullenly, “That’s Theremon 762, the newspaper fellow. I
suppose you’ve heard of him.”
The columnist offered his hand. “And, of course, you’re Sheerin 501 of Saro University. I’ve heard of
you.” Then he repeated, “What is this Hideout, sir?”
“Well,” said Sheerin, “we have managed to convince a few people of the validity of our prophecy
of—er—doom, to be spectacular about it, and those few have taken proper measures. They consist
mainly of the immediate members of the families of the Observatory staff, certain of the faculty of Saro
University, and a few outsiders. Altogether, they number about three hundred, but three quarters are
women and children.”
“I see! They’re supposed to hide where the Darkness and the—er—Stars can’t get at them, and then
hold out when the rest of the world goes poof.”
“If they can. It won’t be easy. With all of mankind insane, with the great cities going up in
flames—environment will not be conducive to survival. But they have food, water, shelter, and
weapons—”
“They’ve got more,” said Aton. “They’ve got all our records, except for what we will collect today.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Those records will mean everything to the next cycle, and that’s what must survive. The rest can go
hang.”
Theremon uttered a long, low whistle and sat brooding for several minutes. The men about the table had
brought out a multi-chess board and started a six-member game. Moves were made rapidly and in
silence. All eyes bent in furious concentration on the board. Theremon watched them intently and then
rose and approached Aton, who sat apart in whispered conversation with Sheerin.
“Listen,” he said, “let’s go somewhere where we won’t bother the rest of the fellows. I want to ask
some questions.”
The aged astronomer frowned sourly at him, but Sheerin chirped up, “Certainly. It will do me good to
talk. It always does. Aton was telling me about your ideas concerning world reaction to a failure of the
prediction—and I agree with you. I read your column pretty regularly, by the way, and as a general thing
I like your views.”
“Please, Sheerin,” growled Aton.
“Eh? Oh, all right. We’ll go into the next room. It has softer chairs, anyway.”
There were softer chairs in the next room. There were also thick red curtains on the windows and a
maroon carpet on the floor. With the bricky light of Beta pouring in, the general effect was one of dried
blood.
Theremon shuddered. “Say, I’d give ten credits for a decent dose of white light for just a second. I wish
Gamma or Delta were in the sky.”
“What are your questions?” asked Aton. “Please remember that our time is limited. In a little over an
hour and a quarter we’re going upstairs, and after that there will be no time for talk.”
“Well, here it is.” Theremon leaned back and folded his hands on his chest. “You people seem so
all-fired serious about this that I’m beginning to believe you. Would you mind explaining what it’s all
about?”
Aton exploded, “Do you mean to sit there and tell me that you’ve been bombarding us with ridicule
without even finding out what we’ve been trying to say?”
The columnist grinned sheepishly. “It’s not that bad, sir. I’ve got the general idea. You say there is going
to be a world-wide Darkness in a few hours and that all mankind will go violently insane. What I want
now is the science behind it.”
“No, you don’t. No, you don’t,” broke in Sheerin. “If you ask Aton for that—supposing him to be in the
mood to answer at all—he’ll trot out pages of figures and volumes of graphs. You won’t make head or
tail of it. Now if you were to ask me, I could give you the layman’s standpoint.”
“All right; I ask you.”
“Then first I’d like a drink.” He rubbed his hands and looked at Aton.
“Water?” grunted Aton.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“Don’t be silly!”
“Don’t you be silly. No alcohol today. It would be too easy to get my men drunk. I can’t afford to tempt
them.”
The psychologist grumbled wordlessly. He turned to Theremon, impaled him with his sharp eyes, and
began.
“You realize, of course, that the history of civilization on Lagash displays a cyclic character—but I mean
cyclic!”
“I know,” replied Theremon cautiously, “that that is the current archaeological theory. Has it been
accepted as a fact?”
“Just about. In this last century it’s been generally agreed upon. This cyclic character is—or rather,
was—one of the great mysteries. We’ve located series of civilizations, nine of them definitely, and
indications of others as well, all of which have reached heights comparable to our own, and all of which,
without exception, were destroyed by fire at the very height of their culture.
“And no one could tell why. All centers of culture were thoroughly gutted by fire, with nothing left behind
to give a hint as to the cause.”
Theremon was following closely. “Wasn’t there a Stone Age, too?”
“Probably, but as yet practically nothing is known of it, except that men of that age were little more than
rather intelligent apes. We can forget about that.”
“I see. Go on!”
There have been explanations of these recurrent catastrophes, all of a more or less fantastic nature.
Some say that there are periodic rains of fire; some that Lagash passes through a sun every so often;
some even wilder things. But there is one theory, quite different from all of these, that has been handed
down over a period of centuries.”
“I know. You mean this myth of the ‘Stars’ that the Cultists have in their Book of Revelations.”
“Exactly,” rejoined Sheerin with satisfaction. “The Cultists said that every two thousand and fifty years
Lagash entered a huge cave, so that all the suns disappeared, and there came total darkness all over the
world! And then, they say, things called Stars appeared, which robbed men of their souls and left them
unreasoning brutes, so that they destroyed the civilization they themselves had built up. Of course they
mix all this up with a lot of religio-mystic notions, but that’s the central idea.”
There was a short pause in which Sheerin drew a long breath. “And now we come to the Theory of
Universal Gravitation.” He pronounced the phrase so that the capital letters sounded—and at that point
Aton turned from the window, snorted loudly, and stalked out of the room.
The two stared after him, and Theremon said, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing in particular,” replied Sheerin. “Two of the men were due several hours ago and haven’t shown
up yet. He’s terrifically short-handed, of course, because all but the really essential men have gone to the
Hideout.”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
摘要：

NIGHTFALLIsaacAsimov   VERSION1.2(DEC2002)Proofedandformattedby.  Ifthestarsshouldappearonenightinathousandyears,howwouldmenbelieveandadore,andpreserveformanygenerationstheremembranceofthecityofGod?”EMERSON Aton77,directorofSaroUniversity,thrustoutabelligerentlowerlipandglaredattheyoungnewspapermani...

展开>> 收起<<
Arthur C. Clarke - Nightfall.pdf

共28页,预览6页

还剩页未读， 继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

相关推荐

更多
立即下载
分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：28 页 大小：142.16KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-24

开通VIP享超值会员特权

  • 多端同步记录
  • 高速下载文档
  • 免费文档工具
  • 分享文档赚钱
  • 每日登录抽奖
  • 优质衍生服务

作者详情

相关内容

更多

热门标签

人际关系 动力学连接体 力的合成 配电装置 高考理综 全宋诗作者索引 公务员考试
/ 28
评分 收藏
分享
立即下载 VIP免费下载
客服
关注