Free The Collected Stories of Arthur C. Clarke by Arthur C. Clarke

Anything but astronomers.
    Dr Molton was the exception that proved the rule. He looked out at the world and his beloved photographic plates through thick rimless lenses. His clothes were always just a little too tidy and never less than ten years out of date—though incongruously enough his ideas and interests were often not only modern but years ahead of the times.
    He was very partial to boutonnieres—but as the indigenous lunar vegetation gave him little scope in this direction he had to content himself with a somewhat restricted collection of artificial flowers imported from Earth.
    These he varied with such ingenuity and resource that the rest of the staff had spent a good deal of fruitless effort trying to discover the laws governing their order of appearance. Indeed, a very famous mathematician had once lost a considerable sum of money because one day Old Mole appeared wearing a carnation rather than the rose advanced statistical theory had predicted.
    ‘Hello, Doc,’ said Wheeler. ‘What’s it all about? You ought to know!’
    The old man paused and looked at the young astronomer doubtfully. He was never sure whether or not Wheeler was pulling his leg and usually assumed correctly that he was. Not that he minded, for he possessed a dry sense of humour and got on well with the numerous youngsters in the Observatory. Perhaps they reminded him of the time, a generation ago, when he too had been young and full of ambition.
    ‘Why should I know? Professor Maclaurin doesn’t usually confide his intentions to me.’
    ‘But surely you’ve got your theories?’
    ‘I have but they won’t be popular.’
    ‘Good old Doc! We knew you wouldn’t let us down!’
    The old astronomer turned to look at the telescope. Already the mirror was in position beneath its cell, ready to be hoisted back.
    ‘Twenty years ago the last Director, van Haarden, got that mirror out in a hurry and rushed it to the vaults. He didn’t have time for a rehearsal. Professor Maclaurin has.’
    ‘Surely you don’t mean…?’
    ‘In Ninety-five, as you should know but probably don’t, the Government was having its first squabble with the Venus Administration. Things were so bad that for a time we expected an attempt to seize the Moon. Not war, of course, but too close an approximation to be comfortable. Well, that mirror is the human race’s most valuable single possession and van Haarden was taking no risks with it. Nor, I think, is Maclaurin.’
    ‘But that’s ridiculous! We’ve had peace for more than half a century. Surely you don’t think that the Federation would be mad enough to start anything?’
    ‘Who knows just what the Federation is up to? It’s dealing with the most dangerous commodity in the universe—human idealism. Out there on Mars and the moons of Jupiter and Saturn are the finest brains in the Solar System, fired with all the pride and the sense of power that the crossing of real space has given to man.
    ‘They’re not like us Earthbound planet-grubbers. Oh, I know we’re on the Moon and all that but what’s the Moon now but Earth’s attic? Forty years ago it was the frontier and men risked their lives reaching it—but today the theatre in Tycho City holds two thousand!
    ‘The real frontier’s out beyond Uranus and it won’t be long before Pluto and Persephone are inside it—if they’ve not been reached already. Then the Federation will have to spend its energies elsewhere and it will think about reforming Earth. That’s what the Government’s afraid of.’
    ‘Well, and we never knew you were interested in politics! Sid, fetch the Doctor his soap-box.’
    ‘Don’t take any notice of him, Doc,’ said Jamieson. ‘Let’s have the rest of your idea. After all, we’re on quite good terms with the Federation. Their last scientific delegation left only a few months ago and a darn nice crowd they were too. I got an invitation to Mars I want to use as soon as the Director will let me go. You don’t think