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Authors: Greg Keyes
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than I do about the big picture. Maybe whoever was studying the blight had decided it couldn’t be fought—that, as Professor Brand said, it was just a matter of time. Maybe they were spending resources on this project because, no matter how far-fetched the whole thing seemed, it was the only hope humanity had.
A lot of really smart people had to have bought into the idea.
Of course, even smart people can be wrong.
Still, it was all better than what he had feared at first. They hadn’t turned back to weapons, thank God, and war. He hadn’t stumbled onto a plan to take what little was left and hoard it away. They weren’t trying to squeeze the last remaining drops of life from the dirt.
No, instead of looking down, they were looking up.
They had turned back to the stars.
* * *
Later, Professor Brand showed him the equations. Cooper had had plenty of math back in the day, but it had been more applied than theoretical, so this was all way beyond him. The equations covered more than a dozen blackboards in the professor’s office, complete with diagrams, and while he could pick out parts of it, the rest might as well have been written in cuneiform, as far as he was concerned.
“Where have you got to?” Cooper asked.
“Almost there,” Professor Brand assured him.
“Almost? You’re asking me to hang everything on ‘almost?’”
The professor stepped a little closer.
“I’m asking you to trust me,” he said. Professor Brand’s eyes were burning with what seemed like a limitless passion, and Cooper realized that the old man had thrown all of himself into this. He believed— really believed—that it could be done. Cooper had seen glimpses of this fervor before, back in the day, but he had never understood what lay behind it.
Now he did. The survival of the human race.
“All those years of training,” he said. “You never told me.”
“We can’t always be open about everything , Coop, even if we want to be.” The professor paused, and then he said, “What can you tell your children about this mission?”
That was a tender point, one he had already been considering. What would he tell Tom and Murph? That the world was ending? That he was going off into space to try and save it? And if he had known all those years ago he was training for such a mission, how would he have reacted?
There was no way to know. So much time had passed, so much had occurred, he barely knew the young man he had once been.
“Find us a new home,” the professor said. “When you return, I’ll have solved the problem of gravity. You have my word.”
TWELVE
The truck had barely rolled to a stop before Murph swung the door open and dashed for the house. On the porch, Donald watched her whiz past, then shot his son-in-law a questioning look.
Cooper simply shook his head and followed Murph inside and up the stairs. He heard a dragging sound coming from her room.
When he tried to open her door, it only cracked a little—from what he could tell, she had stacked a desk and a chair against it.
“Murph?” he attempted.
“Go!” she shouted. “If you’re leaving, just go!”
* * *
Donald listened in his usual way, without many interruptions or much expression, just taking it in as it came. It was a little cool on the porch, but Cooper preferred to be out beneath the night sky, rather than in the house.
After a time, he’d given Donald the full story of what had happened to him and Murph. He sat back to see how the old man would react.
“This world was never enough for you, was it, Coop?” Donald said.
Cooper didn’t answer right away. He knew it was an indictment, that there was an accusation there. Donald took things as they came. He might grouse a little here and there, but he was adaptable. And he was good at finding the virtue in whatever situation presented itself. He was a man who counted his blessings more often than he railed against injustice.
Nothing wrong with that, Cooper mused. The world needed
A lot of really smart people had to have bought into the idea.
Of course, even smart people can be wrong.
Still, it was all better than what he had feared at first. They hadn’t turned back to weapons, thank God, and war. He hadn’t stumbled onto a plan to take what little was left and hoard it away. They weren’t trying to squeeze the last remaining drops of life from the dirt.
No, instead of looking down, they were looking up.
They had turned back to the stars.
* * *
Later, Professor Brand showed him the equations. Cooper had had plenty of math back in the day, but it had been more applied than theoretical, so this was all way beyond him. The equations covered more than a dozen blackboards in the professor’s office, complete with diagrams, and while he could pick out parts of it, the rest might as well have been written in cuneiform, as far as he was concerned.
“Where have you got to?” Cooper asked.
“Almost there,” Professor Brand assured him.
“Almost? You’re asking me to hang everything on ‘almost?’”
The professor stepped a little closer.
“I’m asking you to trust me,” he said. Professor Brand’s eyes were burning with what seemed like a limitless passion, and Cooper realized that the old man had thrown all of himself into this. He believed— really believed—that it could be done. Cooper had seen glimpses of this fervor before, back in the day, but he had never understood what lay behind it.
Now he did. The survival of the human race.
“All those years of training,” he said. “You never told me.”
“We can’t always be open about everything , Coop, even if we want to be.” The professor paused, and then he said, “What can you tell your children about this mission?”
That was a tender point, one he had already been considering. What would he tell Tom and Murph? That the world was ending? That he was going off into space to try and save it? And if he had known all those years ago he was training for such a mission, how would he have reacted?
There was no way to know. So much time had passed, so much had occurred, he barely knew the young man he had once been.
“Find us a new home,” the professor said. “When you return, I’ll have solved the problem of gravity. You have my word.”
TWELVE
The truck had barely rolled to a stop before Murph swung the door open and dashed for the house. On the porch, Donald watched her whiz past, then shot his son-in-law a questioning look.
Cooper simply shook his head and followed Murph inside and up the stairs. He heard a dragging sound coming from her room.
When he tried to open her door, it only cracked a little—from what he could tell, she had stacked a desk and a chair against it.
“Murph?” he attempted.
“Go!” she shouted. “If you’re leaving, just go!”
* * *
Donald listened in his usual way, without many interruptions or much expression, just taking it in as it came. It was a little cool on the porch, but Cooper preferred to be out beneath the night sky, rather than in the house.
After a time, he’d given Donald the full story of what had happened to him and Murph. He sat back to see how the old man would react.
“This world was never enough for you, was it, Coop?” Donald said.
Cooper didn’t answer right away. He knew it was an indictment, that there was an accusation there. Donald took things as they came. He might grouse a little here and there, but he was adaptable. And he was good at finding the virtue in whatever situation presented itself. He was a man who counted his blessings more often than he railed against injustice.
Nothing wrong with that, Cooper mused. The world needed
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