* * * * *
The machine had been discovered more than ten years earlier, when the
first Earthmen landed on Titan. Saturn's largest satellite was devoid
of life, a world of dark and cold, of hydrogen atmosphere and methane
clouds, of ammonia seas and ice mountains.
And there in the midst of it all stood the machine: a brazenly
unconcealed cluster of mammoth buildings, with its five stately towers
surmounted by the soaring central sixth. And within, row upon row of
unexplained machinery, fully automated, operating continuously in
perfect order.
Alien.
The discoverers soon concluded that the machine was unbelievably
old, older than the Egyptian pyramids, perhaps even older than the
Martian canals. And it was running smoothly. For untold centuries, for
uncounted millennia, it had continued to operate efficiently, tended
only by automatic machines.
A clear challenge to the space-rovers from Earth. Who made this
machine? How does it work? Why is it here? What is it doing?
As soon as its discovery was made known, the machine was visited by a
steady stream of Earthmen--physicists, archeologists, engineers of a
thousand different specialties, and soldiers, politicians, men who were
now forced to believe the inevitable. The machine was photographed,
x-rayed, blueprinted, analyzed spectroscopically, philosophically, even
theologically.
Who built it? How does it work? Why is it here?
No answers.
Dr. Sidney Lee, an anthropologist who had made a name for himself by
unraveling the history of the ruins on Mars, arrived on Titan full of
optimism and enthusiasm. Twenty months later he was taken from Titan to
a psychomedical center on Earth--completely irrational and suffering
from man's oldest dread: the unknown.
* * * * *
Returning to the underground center that had grown over the years
near the machine, to house the living and working quarters of the
tiny scientific community on Titan, was something like returning home
for Dr. Lee. Someone had seen to it that he got his old quarters back
again. Most of the people he had known from five years ago had gone
elsewhere, but a few remained.
* * * * *
Lee spent his first few days renewing acquaintances and meeting the
new men and women. He was surprised at their youth, until he tried to
recall how he must have looked and acted when he first arrived on Titan.
"Makes you realize how time takes its toll, regardless of geriatrics,"
he said to Dr. Kimball Bennett. Official director of the center,
Bennett had called Lee into his office for a chat.
"Come on now," Bennett scoffed, "you're talking like a man of ninety.
Why, you won't need geriatrics for at least another month."
They both laughed. Bennett was a shy-looking, slender astrophysicist
who spoke softly, never seemed to exert himself, and yet commanded the
unabashed admiration of every member of the center.
"All right," Lee said. "You didn't call me to discuss my failing years.
What's on your mind?"
"Oh, I just thought it's about time you got to work. You've been
loafing around for a week now. We can't afford to feed you free
forever, you know."
"No, I guess you can't," Lee agreed, smiling.
Bennett leaned back in his chair and studied Lee for a long moment. "I
won't ask you why you wanted to come back. But I was delighted when I
saw the paperwork with your name on it. Want to know why?"
"Now I am curious."
"I want to leave Titan. I've been heading this operation for too
many years, now. I want out. And I really can't leave until I have a
top-notch man to run this little show. You're my replacement."
"As director?"
"Yes."
"Not me," Lee said, shaking his head. "I couldn't."
"Why not?"
"Why? Hell, Kim, you saw them carry me out of here five years ago. How
do you know the same thing won't happen again? How do I know it?"
A trace of a smile flickered across Bennett's face. "Look, the fact
that you returned to Titan--to this center and to that infernal machine
out there--well, that's proof enough to me that you've licked whatever
it was that caused your breakdown."
"Maybe you're satisfied," Lee countered, "but how about the rest of
the staff? How will they feel about having a reconditioned neurotic
heading the show?"
Bennett's smile broke into an open grin. "Self-pity is a terrible
thing. Do you know what those kids think of you? You're Dr. Sidney Lee,
the foremost xeno-anthropologist of the human race. You're the man who
deciphered the Martian Script, who uncovered the ruins on Tau Ceti, who
did the definitive studies on the cave man cultures on Sirius and Vega.
Your troubles here on Titan are just a six-month incident in the middle
of a dazzling career. Haven't you noticed the deference with which
they've been treating you? You're a big man on this campus."
"I don't know...."
"It won't be a lifetime job," Bennett coaxed. "In a couple of years
some of the young squirts around here will have acquired enough poise
and self-control to run the show. Then you can go on to something else."
Lee got up from his chair and paced slowly to the bookshelf that lined
one wall of the office. "Why don't you stay on for another year or so,
and then turn it over to one of the youngsters?"
Bennett wordlessly extended his arms over the desk. His hands were
trembling, almost imperceptibly, but trembling.