2206 : Window Onto A New World
XI. The Preacher The Teacher
Evans could muster sufficient motivation to plough ahead enthusiastically. The overwhelming fast acclimation process would eventually be a mere memory, and probably a dear one at that. And then, the only significant remaining strains would come from the work on SAVIA. If creation was often a nerve-racking activity, he knew that was only the growing pains of innovation, the beckonings of a wider, fuller world, as the former teacher poetically described the fazing thoughts and feelings which frequently accompanied the groundbreaking endeavours. In prior projects, they had rarely been so acute, but he was confident of his capacity to handle them. The programmer reckoned he had the short-term future pretty much figured out. However, the doubt to certainty ratio was virtually inverted in the case of his long-term plans. He could readily bear the idea of assisting Sturn for a few years, until the completion of the artificial intelligence. But carrying on beyond that span was definitely a disturbing notion, and even more inconceivable was the prospect of spending all his career on the almost desert planet. Ovel was far from a paradise, yet it had its undeniable charms, and like it or not, it was home. The radioactive globe, on the other hand, all its technological amenities notwithstanding, was basically a remote colony, similar in this respect to the space stations orbiting its closest neighbour. If he could envisage adjusting to it, to some extent at least, he couldn't imagine how the odd, foreign land could ever inspire him fondness. As the junior engineer pondered the question, gazing silently at the dark infinity, he realized what those who had migrated to the spatial megapolises must had undergone as they had established their new residences. Indeed, very possibly, many of them were still trying to cultivate some kind of affection for the unnatural locations, searching for the crucial ingredient that was missing from their universe. He could recall how in the past he had argued that living in outer space couldn't be that big of a deal, but he had to admit that the actuality of it was not as simple as the deduction. And what then of those who would depart to pioneer the other side of the discontinuity ? The Harmonias, all things considered, were only a quick spaceflight away from the motherland. Should homesickness become intolerable, moving back from them to Ovel was not that complicated an undertaking. Or at any rate, it was feasible, and on relatively short notice. Dwelling in another spacetime continuum had to be something else entirely, and nobody knew what returning from it, estranged by time dilation and all, would entail. –
ÂŤ Do you think the plan of the Coalition can work out ? Âť the techie asked out of the blue.
The physicist stayed speechless for a moment he wished would stop dragging on. Startled out of his own reveries by the unexpected inquiry, all he could do was wonder how the young man could have learned of his association with the political formation. Perhaps had he unwittingly referred to his participation to the outlining of the program of the Progressives during a previous encounter ? No, that was absurd ! He could never have slipped that badly. Nor could his guest have caught him preparing the documents. He stared at his teammate, who was staring back, both of them quiet and visibly worried, although for totally different reasons. The Threshold
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Christopher Stewart