Read Online The Cassandra Project by Jack McDevitt - Free Book Online

And never confronting a loudmouth host whose primary goal was to make his guests look silly.
    Then it was time. Shirley switched on the monitor, and he watched the intros to
Koestler Country
. Koestler appeared, relaxed in a book-lined studio. He was in his fifties, sporting a smile that suggested the rest of the world was deranged but he would set it straight. He had thick red hair and always dressed casually. Tonight, it was a light blue pullover shirt and an azure sports jacket. He was looking through a sheaf of notes as the camera panned in on him, and a piano played the show’s bouncy theme. He looked up, suddenly aware of the presence of an audience. “Hello, Mr. and Ms. America,” he said. “Welcome to
Koestler Country
.” He smiled and laid the papers on a side table. “Tonight, we’ll be looking at who really controls the environmental protections in the United States, why a former astronaut showed up on the Space Coast for a public service award from NASA and promptly gave it back, whether we’re doing the right thing shutting down our military and naval bases around the world, and, finally, whether our continually advancing technology is destroying our kids’ ability to talk with one another. Our first guest this evening is Eliot Kramer. Eliot is an economist and was a member of the last administration’s corruption watchdog group.”
    Kramer walked in past a set of dark curtains. He wore an artificial smile. “Good to see you again, Al,” he said, as Koestler rose to shake his hand. Then they both sat down.
    “Last time, Eliot,” said the host, “we talked about the degree to which corporations control the efforts to do something about the environment. Has that changed at all?”
    “It has, Al. It’s gotten worse. And in my view, it’s time to put some of these people in jail.”
    —
    “So, Jerry,” he said, inviting him in, “what’s happening with NASA these days?” Al Koestler was not a fan of the space effort. “Once you got beyond Earth orbit,” he was fond of saying, “there’s no point in continuing. It’s cold, dark, and empty out there. No place to go. Nothing to bring back.”
    “We’re still doing exploratory work.”
    “What, actually, are you exploring?”
    Jerry was taken by surprise. He’d expected an immediate focus on Frank Kirby. “The outer planets. We’ve learned a lot these past few years.”
    “For example?”
    “We have a pretty good idea why Uranus rotates on its side. You know that, right? That it’s completely tipped over?”
    “How would that affect us, Jerry?”
    “Well, there is no direct impact. But— You
are
familiar with the term ‘blue sky science’?”
    “Of course. That’s science that doesn’t do anything for us. But it’s fine. I just don’t think the taxpayers should have to pay for it.” He continued in that vein for several minutes. And finally took a long, deep breath. “NASA gave an award to one of its former employees this morning. It went to Frank Kirby for community service in Orlando, Jerry. Am I right?”
    “Yes. That’s correct.”
    “Kirby, I understand, has a long history of taking care of battered women and kids in trouble. A genuinely good guy.”
    “Yes. He is. We were pleased to have the opportunity to recognize all he’s done.”
    “Let’s play a clip. This took place shortly after the award ceremony.” Koestler glanced up at a screen set back among the books. Jerry watched himself again talking with Kirby, watched the conversation morph into a confrontation, himself matched against a kindly man in a wheelchair.
    Then Kirby shoved the plaque at him.
“Here, Jerry, you can have it. And if we weren’t in polite company, I’d tell you what you could do with it.”
    They froze the picture. “Jerry,” said Koestler, “why would anybody care who was on the capsule radio?”
    “It just seemed odd, Al. It was no big deal, and I was surprised he got annoyed.”
    “Is there a suggestion that Myshko and his