Read Online River of Gods by Ian McDonald - Free Book Online
Authors: Ian McDonald
Tags: Science-Fiction
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large object to the Lagrange-five
point of orbital stability."
"What kind of large object?" Lisa Durnau cannot connect
anything that has happened in the past fifty hours to any part of
accumulated thirty-seven years of experience. They tell her this is
space, but it's hot, stinks of feet, and you can't see anything. Your
government pulls off the biggest sleight-of-hand in history but no
one notices because they were watching the pretty pictures.
"An asteroid. This asteroid." Daley Suarez-Martin palms up
a graphic on the screen. It's the usual deep-space potato. The
resolution is not very good. "This is Darnley 285."
"This must be some very special asteroid," Lisa says. "So
is it going to do a Chicxulub on us?"
The G-woman looks pleased. She palms up a new graphic, coloured
ellipses crossing each other.
"Darnley 285 is an Earth-crossing asteroid discovered by NEAT
skywatch in 2027. Please watch this animation." She taps a
yellow ellipse, close in to Earth, far out to the back side of Mars.
"Its nearest approach to earth is just inside lunar orbit."
"That's close for a NEO," Lisa Durnau says. See, I can do
the speak, too.
"Darnley 285 is on a thousand-eighty-five-day orbit; the next
one would have brought her close enough to pose a statistical risk."
The animation passes within a hair of blue earth.
"So you built the light sail to move it out of harm's way,"
Lisa says.
"To move it, but not on account of safety. Please look
carefully. This was the projected orbit in 2030. This is the actual
orbit." A solid yellow ellipse appears. It's exactly the same as
the 2027 orbit. The woman continues. "Close interaction with
Near Earth Object Sheringham Twelve on the next orbit would bring
Darnley 285 to its closest approach, one twelve thousand miles.
Instead, in 2033." The new dotted parabola switches place with
the observed course: exactly the same trajectory logged in 2027. "It
is an anomalous situation."
"You're saying."
"An unidentified force is modifying Darnley 285's orbit to keep
it the same distance from Earth," Daley Suarez-Martin says.
"Jesus," whispers Lisa Durnau, preacherman's daughter.
"We sent a mission out for the 2039 approach. It was in the
highest confidentiality. We found something. We then embarked on an
extended project to bring it back. That's what the light sail test
mission was about, all the Epsilon Indi cover story. We had to get
that asteroid to somewhere we can take a long, close look at it."
"And what did you find?" Lisa Durnau asks.
Daley Suarez-Martin smiles. "Tomorrow we'll send you out to see
for yourself."
6: LULL
Eleven thirty and the club is jumping. Boom-mounted floods define an
oval of sand. The bodies cluster to the light like moths. They move,
they grind, eyes shut in ecstasy. The air smells of used-up day,
heavy sweat, and duty-free Chanel. The girls wear this summer's
shift-Dresses, last summer's two pieces, the occasional classic
V-string. The boys are all bare-chested and carry layers of neck
jewellery. Chin wisps are back, the Mohican is so '46, tribal
body-painting hovers on the edge of the terminally unhip, but
scarification seems to be the coming thing, boys and girls alike.
Thomas Lull is glad the Australian penis-display thongs have cycled
out. He's worked the parties for the Ghosht Brothers for the past
three seasons, cash in hand, and he's seen the fast tide of planet
youth culture ebb and flow, but those things, strapping it up like a
periscope.
Thomas Lull sits on the soft, tired grey sand, forearms resting on
drawn-up knees. The surf is unusually quiet tonight. Hardly a ripple
at the tide line. A bird cries out over the black water. The air is
still, dense, tired. No taste of monsoon on it. The fishermen have
been saying that since the Banglas brought their ice up past Tamil
Nadu the currents have been out of kilter. Behind him, bodies move in
total silence.
Figures resolve out of the dark, two white girls in sarongs and
halter-tops. They're dirty beach-blonde with
point of orbital stability."
"What kind of large object?" Lisa Durnau cannot connect
anything that has happened in the past fifty hours to any part of
accumulated thirty-seven years of experience. They tell her this is
space, but it's hot, stinks of feet, and you can't see anything. Your
government pulls off the biggest sleight-of-hand in history but no
one notices because they were watching the pretty pictures.
"An asteroid. This asteroid." Daley Suarez-Martin palms up
a graphic on the screen. It's the usual deep-space potato. The
resolution is not very good. "This is Darnley 285."
"This must be some very special asteroid," Lisa says. "So
is it going to do a Chicxulub on us?"
The G-woman looks pleased. She palms up a new graphic, coloured
ellipses crossing each other.
"Darnley 285 is an Earth-crossing asteroid discovered by NEAT
skywatch in 2027. Please watch this animation." She taps a
yellow ellipse, close in to Earth, far out to the back side of Mars.
"Its nearest approach to earth is just inside lunar orbit."
"That's close for a NEO," Lisa Durnau says. See, I can do
the speak, too.
"Darnley 285 is on a thousand-eighty-five-day orbit; the next
one would have brought her close enough to pose a statistical risk."
The animation passes within a hair of blue earth.
"So you built the light sail to move it out of harm's way,"
Lisa says.
"To move it, but not on account of safety. Please look
carefully. This was the projected orbit in 2030. This is the actual
orbit." A solid yellow ellipse appears. It's exactly the same as
the 2027 orbit. The woman continues. "Close interaction with
Near Earth Object Sheringham Twelve on the next orbit would bring
Darnley 285 to its closest approach, one twelve thousand miles.
Instead, in 2033." The new dotted parabola switches place with
the observed course: exactly the same trajectory logged in 2027. "It
is an anomalous situation."
"You're saying."
"An unidentified force is modifying Darnley 285's orbit to keep
it the same distance from Earth," Daley Suarez-Martin says.
"Jesus," whispers Lisa Durnau, preacherman's daughter.
"We sent a mission out for the 2039 approach. It was in the
highest confidentiality. We found something. We then embarked on an
extended project to bring it back. That's what the light sail test
mission was about, all the Epsilon Indi cover story. We had to get
that asteroid to somewhere we can take a long, close look at it."
"And what did you find?" Lisa Durnau asks.
Daley Suarez-Martin smiles. "Tomorrow we'll send you out to see
for yourself."
6: LULL
Eleven thirty and the club is jumping. Boom-mounted floods define an
oval of sand. The bodies cluster to the light like moths. They move,
they grind, eyes shut in ecstasy. The air smells of used-up day,
heavy sweat, and duty-free Chanel. The girls wear this summer's
shift-Dresses, last summer's two pieces, the occasional classic
V-string. The boys are all bare-chested and carry layers of neck
jewellery. Chin wisps are back, the Mohican is so '46, tribal
body-painting hovers on the edge of the terminally unhip, but
scarification seems to be the coming thing, boys and girls alike.
Thomas Lull is glad the Australian penis-display thongs have cycled
out. He's worked the parties for the Ghosht Brothers for the past
three seasons, cash in hand, and he's seen the fast tide of planet
youth culture ebb and flow, but those things, strapping it up like a
periscope.
Thomas Lull sits on the soft, tired grey sand, forearms resting on
drawn-up knees. The surf is unusually quiet tonight. Hardly a ripple
at the tide line. A bird cries out over the black water. The air is
still, dense, tired. No taste of monsoon on it. The fishermen have
been saying that since the Banglas brought their ice up past Tamil
Nadu the currents have been out of kilter. Behind him, bodies move in
total silence.
Figures resolve out of the dark, two white girls in sarongs and
halter-tops. They're dirty beach-blonde with
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