Macroscope

“What is it?” she asked, bewildered.

“Model of a single cell,” he said. “We have to become acquainted with this basic unit of life, because—”

But she retreated in confusion, unable to follow the technical explanation. He was hardly able to provide it, anyway, ignorant as he knew himself to be in the face of the immense store assembled. “See, there’s the nucleus,” he said instead.

That seemed to satisfy her. She contemplated the semisolid mass of it, this major organelle floating and pulsing in the center of the cell. It was as though it were the brain of the organism, containing as it did the vital chromosomes embedded in a cushiony protective matrix. From the nuclear wall depended the endoplasmic reticulum — a vast complex of membranes extending throughout the cell. This could be likened to the skeleton and nervous system of an animal, providing some support and compartmentation of the whole and transmitting nervous impulses from the nucleus. Tiny ribosomes studding its walls labored to synthesize the proteins essential to the organism’s well-being.

“It’s — alive,” she said, coming at it in simpler terms.

It was alive. It had an apparatus called the Golgi complex that produced specialized secretions needed by the cell and synthesized large carbohydrates. It breathed by means of the mitochondrion organelle. It fought disease by using circulating lysosomes — balls of digestive enzymes that attacked and broke down invaders. Every function necessary for survival was manifested within this living entity.

“This is what we have to preserve,” Ivo explained. “The body as we think of it can disappear, but the functioning cells — of which this is typical — must remain. They must not die; their chromosomes must not be damaged.”

“Yes,” she agreed, understanding the essence if not the detail. “I will remember.”

Carefully, then, they withdrew from the model. Back they went, up out of the broadcast, the university, holding these concepts like a double handful of champagne, inhaling them, recalling them, back to mundane existence.

They removed the receptors and looked about. Afra and Groton were standing there anxiously.

“There’s so much to know!” Beatryx informed them happily.

The rest was comparatively routine. He took Groton, then Afra, and finally even Brad. Mind was not actually necessary for this familiarization, and could even be a liability because of the lurking menace of the destroyer. Brad, at least, had no more to fear from that.

“It is a kind of mutual contract,” Ivo explained at some point. “It isn’t just a matter of you seeing it; it has to see you. Not the cell-model; that’s only a visual aid. The program. So it is able to key in on your cells, your body and your mind for the — transformation, once you understand and agree. You have to agree; you have to want it, or at least be acquiescent. So it can set up an individual program. This is like a delicate surgical operation, and it is the surgeon.” It occurred to him that he was using a lot of simile in his discussion of the macroscosm — but there were no direct terms for it. As the universe was greater than the solar system, so the universal knowledge was greater than man’s terminology.

“Three million years old,” Afra said. “I can imagine a human doctor, or an alien one, or even a robot. But a beam of pseudo-light…!”

“Do any of you think you can maneuver around the destroyer now? This familiarization has to be done within a few hours of the process, each time.”

“No,” Afra returned bluntly. “I am afraid of that thing. It — had me when it — got Brad. I can’t fight it because it appeals to my intelligence. With you, just now, I closed my eyes, figuratively, until we reached the — cell. I refused to comprehend, and I don’t know the route.”

Which was, evidently, the way it had to be, for her. She could comprehend the destroyer, so was vulnerable to it.

“I felt the danger,” Groton said, “but I didn’t grasp it fully. It was like standing at the brink of a waterfall a thousand feet high, feeling the spume and hearing the thunder and smelling the smashing water, but not touching the falls itself. I suppose I am safely below the limit. I believe I could find the way around it, now that you have shown me — if I had to. I would much rather not have to, though.”

So Groton too had to resort to simile.

“It was beautiful,” Beatryx said. “Like poetry and music — but I could never go there by myself. All those rainbow threads—”

And Beatryx.

“One is enough.” Afra asserted herself again. “Next problem: do we trust the procedure? How can we be sure it won’t dissolve us and leave us puddled forever? I appreciate the experience and the review of cellular structure, but I’d like to see a complete cycle before I entrust my tender flesh to it.”

“It could be a more subtle version of the destroyer,” Groton said. “Second-line defense.”

“I don’t believe it. This predates the destroyer. All those programs do, but this is so far ahead that — well, three million years. And everything I’ve seen has been positive, not negative.” Ivo had a sudden thought. “I wonder whether the destroyer-species is trying to make its mark by undoing the work of all the others? It can’t compete positively, so it—”

“Dog in the manger?” Afra said. “Maybe. Maybe not. Evil I could easily believe, but that would simply be nasty.”

Groton was using the optical system again. “I have a metallic reflection. That UN ship is right on course. We’d better act soon or resign ourselves to capture. How long does a melting cycle take?”

“Not long for the breakdown, as I understand it,” Ivo said. “But the reconstitution — several hours, at least, and it can’t start for at least a day, for some reason. So it could be a couple of days for the complete cycle.”

“There goes our margin,” Afra said. “If we test it and it works, it will be too late for anyone else to use it. If we don’t test, we may be committing a particularly grisly form of suicide.”

“We could start someone on the cycle,” Groton said. “If it means death, that should be apparent very soon. The smell—”

“All right!” Afra.

“But if everything appears to be in order—”

“All right. A test-cycle, halfway. Who?”

“I said I was willing to—” Ivo began.

“Better you go last,” she said. “It’s your show. If it bombs out, you should take the consequences.”

“Afra, that isn’t very kind,” Beatryx objected. The negative comment was obviously an effort for her. “We’re not in a kind situation, dearie.”

Groton left the telescope assembly and faced Afra. “I’m glad you see it that way. We do have the obvious choice for the testing cycle.”

She understood him immediately. “No! Not Brad!”

“If the process works, he must undertake it sooner or later unless we leave him behind. If it doesn’t, what kind of a life does he have to lose? It is not, as you pointed out, a kind situation.”

Afra looked at Brad. He was sitting up with his hair boyishly tousled, a day’s shadow on his face, and saliva dribbling down his chin. His trousers were dark where he had wet them again. He was watching something, half-smiling, but his eyes did not move about.

“Let me handle it,” Afra said soberly. “No one else. I’ll — tell you how it comes out.”

Ivo explained in detail what would be necessary. Groton retired to the underbody of Joseph for some work with the power saw, and brought forth the required basin. They set everything up and left her with Brad. The three of them retreated again into Joseph. No one spoke.

There was a short silence. Then Afra screamed — but as Groton went to look, she cried out to be left alone, and he yielded. Faintly they could hear her sobbing, but nothing else.

No one dared conjecture. Ivo pictured Brad slumping down into an amorphous puddle, first the feet, then the legs, then the torso and finally the handsome head. Had she screamed when the face submerged? Tense and silent, they waited.