Read Online The Forge of God by Greg Bear - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Greg Bear
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Science fiction; American
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pardon, gentlemen," he said.
Sanborn cleared his throat. "This is Colonel Tuan Anh Phan." He introduced Arthur and Harry.
Phan greeted each with a reserved nod. "I've just been informed that the Australians are releasing news photos and motion pictures. I believe this is important. Their visitors are not like our own."
PERSPECTIVE
InfoNet Political News Forum, October 6, 1996, Frank Topp, commentator : President Crockerman's rating in the World-News public opinion polls has been a rocksteady 60 to 65 percent approval since June, with no signs of change as Election Day approaches. Political pundits in Washington doubt that anything can derail the President's easy victory in November, not even the hundred-billion-dollar trade imbalance between the Eastern Pacific Rim nations and Uncle Sam… or the enigmatic situation in Australia. I, for one, am not even wearing campaign buttons. It's going to be a dull election.
QUARENS ME, SEDISTI LASSOS
Hicks, bleary-eyed, clothing rumpled, sat on the straight-backed hotel desk chair and scanned the contents of the file he had marked "Hurrah."
"Hurrah" contained the choicest bits of information from twenty-two hours and perhaps three hundred dollars' worth of accessing specialist bulletin boards around the world. He did not care about costs. He was still high.
Australia did indeed have an artifact in their Great Victoria Desert, something apparently disguised to resemble a huge chunk of red granite. The Australian government had kept the find secret for about thirty days, until leaks through investigating military and scientific agencies threatened to scoop them on the greatest story of all time. This much and more—speculation, rumors—had been repeated again and again on all the networks he had accessed. While the government had not released full details, they were expected to do so any day.
The Regulus bulletin board was used solely by radio astronomers belonging to the 21cm Club, of which he was an honorary member. After searching through the general and special interest messages, in a small area headlined "Irresponsible Murmurs," Hicks had found a cryptic and unsigned note: "Ham fanatic, right? Say no more about identity. Picked up unscrambled transmission to AFI"—that, Hicks decided, must be Air Force One, the President's plane—"concerning 'our own bogey in the Furnace.' The Man's heading west to Vandenberg. Could this be…?"
Hicks frowned again, reading that. He knew several shuttle pilots currently flying out of Vandenberg. Dare he call them up and ask if anything untoward had been happening? Dare he mention "our own bogey in the Furnace"?
A knock interrupted his reverie. He was heading for the door when it opened and a young Asian woman in lime-green blouse and slacks backed in. "Housekeeping," she announced, seeing him. "Okay?"
Hicks looked over his room abstractedly, relieved that he had chosen to wear a robe. He often worked in the buff, paunch, gray chest hairs, and all—the habit of a bachelor of long standing. "Please, not yet."
"Soon?" she asked, smiling.
"Soon. An hour."
She shut the door behind her. Hicks paced back and forth from curtained window to bathroom door, chin in hand, face as clear and guileless as an infant's. "I cannot think straight," he muttered. Turning on the television and selecting a twenty-four-hour news station, he sat on the corner of the bed.
For a moment, he thought he had tuned to a movie channel by mistake. Three shiny silver objects, shaped like long-necked gourds, hovered above arid sandy ground. Nearby squatted a large van topped by an array of electronic sensing equipment. The van gave the objects scale; each was as tall as a man. Hicks reached over to turn up the volume, joining a male announcer in midsentence:
"—from four days ago, shows the three mechanical remote devices which the Australian government claims emerged from a disguised spacecraft. The government says these devices have communicated with their
Sanborn cleared his throat. "This is Colonel Tuan Anh Phan." He introduced Arthur and Harry.
Phan greeted each with a reserved nod. "I've just been informed that the Australians are releasing news photos and motion pictures. I believe this is important. Their visitors are not like our own."
PERSPECTIVE
InfoNet Political News Forum, October 6, 1996, Frank Topp, commentator : President Crockerman's rating in the World-News public opinion polls has been a rocksteady 60 to 65 percent approval since June, with no signs of change as Election Day approaches. Political pundits in Washington doubt that anything can derail the President's easy victory in November, not even the hundred-billion-dollar trade imbalance between the Eastern Pacific Rim nations and Uncle Sam… or the enigmatic situation in Australia. I, for one, am not even wearing campaign buttons. It's going to be a dull election.
QUARENS ME, SEDISTI LASSOS
Hicks, bleary-eyed, clothing rumpled, sat on the straight-backed hotel desk chair and scanned the contents of the file he had marked "Hurrah."
"Hurrah" contained the choicest bits of information from twenty-two hours and perhaps three hundred dollars' worth of accessing specialist bulletin boards around the world. He did not care about costs. He was still high.
Australia did indeed have an artifact in their Great Victoria Desert, something apparently disguised to resemble a huge chunk of red granite. The Australian government had kept the find secret for about thirty days, until leaks through investigating military and scientific agencies threatened to scoop them on the greatest story of all time. This much and more—speculation, rumors—had been repeated again and again on all the networks he had accessed. While the government had not released full details, they were expected to do so any day.
The Regulus bulletin board was used solely by radio astronomers belonging to the 21cm Club, of which he was an honorary member. After searching through the general and special interest messages, in a small area headlined "Irresponsible Murmurs," Hicks had found a cryptic and unsigned note: "Ham fanatic, right? Say no more about identity. Picked up unscrambled transmission to AFI"—that, Hicks decided, must be Air Force One, the President's plane—"concerning 'our own bogey in the Furnace.' The Man's heading west to Vandenberg. Could this be…?"
Hicks frowned again, reading that. He knew several shuttle pilots currently flying out of Vandenberg. Dare he call them up and ask if anything untoward had been happening? Dare he mention "our own bogey in the Furnace"?
A knock interrupted his reverie. He was heading for the door when it opened and a young Asian woman in lime-green blouse and slacks backed in. "Housekeeping," she announced, seeing him. "Okay?"
Hicks looked over his room abstractedly, relieved that he had chosen to wear a robe. He often worked in the buff, paunch, gray chest hairs, and all—the habit of a bachelor of long standing. "Please, not yet."
"Soon?" she asked, smiling.
"Soon. An hour."
She shut the door behind her. Hicks paced back and forth from curtained window to bathroom door, chin in hand, face as clear and guileless as an infant's. "I cannot think straight," he muttered. Turning on the television and selecting a twenty-four-hour news station, he sat on the corner of the bed.
For a moment, he thought he had tuned to a movie channel by mistake. Three shiny silver objects, shaped like long-necked gourds, hovered above arid sandy ground. Nearby squatted a large van topped by an array of electronic sensing equipment. The van gave the objects scale; each was as tall as a man. Hicks reached over to turn up the volume, joining a male announcer in midsentence:
"—from four days ago, shows the three mechanical remote devices which the Australian government claims emerged from a disguised spacecraft. The government says these devices have communicated with their
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