it in detail, history as a function of climatic change. Here, a small decrease in the sun's output had frozen out the Viking colonies in south-west Greenland, stopping the westward exploration and leaving a place in history for Columbus. Here, harsh winters had driven the Indian tribes south from the Dakotas, to a permanent resettlement in milder climes. Further back, a period of high solar activity and the existence of a land bridge across the Bering Strait had made possible the first migrations into North America.
The chill now was mainly psychological, the feeling of living in a bleak era. The growing season was shorter by five days than fifty years ago, but the prediction was for a steady increase in solar activity now, and warmer weather in another twenty years. There was no problem with power. Electricity was abundant and cheap, and the rare frosts helped to keep summer insect pests under control.
Carl's problems today did not concern the weather. He paced the corridor outside the lab, waiting for the free question period. At seventeen, he had reached full height but not weight, a tall, pale, intense youth, thin-limbed and angular. A beard, dark as his hair, had already progressed to the point where he shaved twice a week—secretly, to avoid the jibes of his class-mates. The Church's selection processes had brought Carl to this school after four previous screenings. He knew that his fellow-students were more inquisitive, quicker and less receptive to pat answers, but he had yet to correlate that with the Church edicts that each year decided his school.
"All right, Carl, what's the problem today?" Mr. Nielsen showed no trace of his Scandinavian ancestry. He was small, balding, hook-nosed and pointed-chinned, and his teaching matched his appearance—dry, precise, and brooking no argument. He had no time for uncertainty. The inside of his mind held no shades of grey, just black and white facts and an invincible confidence in their correctness.
"I'm having trouble understanding the recent work, sir. At least, I understand it in pieces, but I can't put them together."
Carl saw Nielsen's look of incomprehension. He knew he had to make this as clear as he could. "You see, last year we did Newton's laws and Newtonian dynamics, and that made perfect sense."
Mr. Nielsen raised his eyebrows. "I should hope so, Denning. It is, as I hope you realize, one of the great truths on which the wonderful edifice of modern science is erected."
His tone was critical and unsympathetic. Carl hurried on. "Yes, sir, and this year we did Maxwell's equations, and they made sense too. At least, I thought they did. Then yesterday I started to look at what happens if you accelerate something up to the speed of light—just keep on applying a constant force, and use Newton's second law of motion. The answers you get are ridiculous, if you believe that Maxwell's equations can be used to describe the behavior of light waves."
He stopped. Mr. Nielsen was frowning and shaking his head. "You are being caught in an old trap, Denning. Newton's laws and Maxwell's equations both form part of the eternal truths of the world. But the attempt to combine them, as you did, is a meaningless exercise. Why should you be able to do so?"
Carl flushed. "If they are all part of Nature, they must be consistent with each other, mustn't they?"
Nielsen smiled. "They are consistent, and fit God's great scheme. But there is no reason why you should be able to apply results from one to the other, as you seem to be trying to do." He settled back in his seat, then spoke again in kinder tones. "You see, Carl, truths may be distinct and absolute, standing in their own right. You must go and think about these things in more depth, until the relationship of our knowledge to the world we live in becomes more clear to you."
After Carl had left the room, dejected and thoroughly confused, Mr. Nielsen reached into his desk and took out the Church Manual. It was as he had
The chill now was mainly psychological, the feeling of living in a bleak era. The growing season was shorter by five days than fifty years ago, but the prediction was for a steady increase in solar activity now, and warmer weather in another twenty years. There was no problem with power. Electricity was abundant and cheap, and the rare frosts helped to keep summer insect pests under control.
Carl's problems today did not concern the weather. He paced the corridor outside the lab, waiting for the free question period. At seventeen, he had reached full height but not weight, a tall, pale, intense youth, thin-limbed and angular. A beard, dark as his hair, had already progressed to the point where he shaved twice a week—secretly, to avoid the jibes of his class-mates. The Church's selection processes had brought Carl to this school after four previous screenings. He knew that his fellow-students were more inquisitive, quicker and less receptive to pat answers, but he had yet to correlate that with the Church edicts that each year decided his school.
"All right, Carl, what's the problem today?" Mr. Nielsen showed no trace of his Scandinavian ancestry. He was small, balding, hook-nosed and pointed-chinned, and his teaching matched his appearance—dry, precise, and brooking no argument. He had no time for uncertainty. The inside of his mind held no shades of grey, just black and white facts and an invincible confidence in their correctness.
"I'm having trouble understanding the recent work, sir. At least, I understand it in pieces, but I can't put them together."
Carl saw Nielsen's look of incomprehension. He knew he had to make this as clear as he could. "You see, last year we did Newton's laws and Newtonian dynamics, and that made perfect sense."
Mr. Nielsen raised his eyebrows. "I should hope so, Denning. It is, as I hope you realize, one of the great truths on which the wonderful edifice of modern science is erected."
His tone was critical and unsympathetic. Carl hurried on. "Yes, sir, and this year we did Maxwell's equations, and they made sense too. At least, I thought they did. Then yesterday I started to look at what happens if you accelerate something up to the speed of light—just keep on applying a constant force, and use Newton's second law of motion. The answers you get are ridiculous, if you believe that Maxwell's equations can be used to describe the behavior of light waves."
He stopped. Mr. Nielsen was frowning and shaking his head. "You are being caught in an old trap, Denning. Newton's laws and Maxwell's equations both form part of the eternal truths of the world. But the attempt to combine them, as you did, is a meaningless exercise. Why should you be able to do so?"
Carl flushed. "If they are all part of Nature, they must be consistent with each other, mustn't they?"
Nielsen smiled. "They are consistent, and fit God's great scheme. But there is no reason why you should be able to apply results from one to the other, as you seem to be trying to do." He settled back in his seat, then spoke again in kinder tones. "You see, Carl, truths may be distinct and absolute, standing in their own right. You must go and think about these things in more depth, until the relationship of our knowledge to the world we live in becomes more clear to you."
After Carl had left the room, dejected and thoroughly confused, Mr. Nielsen reached into his desk and took out the Church Manual. It was as he had
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