4. The Whole Idea Is Ridiculous
"The whole idea is ridiculous. Do you really think that if something like this," he brandished the drawing he'd picked up from the desk, "wanders across the landscape the actual data from Marsman won't be checked and rechecked, processed and reprocessed, trying to get every possible shred of detail? And that when it is, the hoax won't be discovered, and the whole space research program totally discredited. Then watch your appropriations wane!" Kim was as angry as I'd ever seen him.
I've considered that with the most extreme care, Kim, and I feel that the chances of our being found out are very small." He grinned. "I had a few drinks with the chairman of the Computer Science department at the faculty club last night. Once the data from Marsman is in the computer, there's literally nothing that can't be done to it while its still in the computer. No one will ever examine data of any sort except that provided by the computer. And consider human nature. The people running the TV experiment won't doubt their own machine, expecially when its putting out exactly what they'd most hoped to see. No, Kim, I think we're safe."
"But its criminal, deliberately falsifying data that way."
"In a moral sense, you're right of course, and that point bothered me more than any other. Its against every principle I was taught and believe, but I think in this one case the advancement of science requires the violation of its principles."
Violation' is right," Kim said.
"Doc, just how badly do you want to go to Mars," I asked.
He looked surprised and a little angry. "Your perception amazes me, Hank, but if you're implying that I'm advocating this merely because I want to go to Mars, you're absolutely wrong. Even if I knew right now that the only effect would be to cause the launching of more Marsmen, I'd still want to follow this course."
"But you still haven't answered my question."
"How badly do I want to go to Mars?" He looked embarassed and turned to stare out the window again. "More than anything at all"
"Then I think we should do it."
"Me too," Jesse echoed.
It took us three more days, working in shifts, to convince Kim to help us. He put up moral arguments, ethical arguments, technical arguments, and practical arguments, but in the end, he yielded .
And he did a beautifiil job. It was 6 a.m. here, but a little before noon ("Don't want to have to worry about shadows.") in Solis Lacus on the sixth day after Marsman landed. A light sandstorm ("Or tracks.") had come up earlier in the morning, and the duty engineer on Earth was alternately yawning and staring at the TV screen trying to decide whether to tell Marsman to go into resting mode until it passed. The screen showed the boulder field Marsman's dog brain was guiding it thru. Suddenly out from behind one of the boulders churned Myrtle, all eight legs paddling sand for all they were worth, apparently flushed by Marsman. It almost immediately disappeared behind another boulder, and was seen no more.
Marsman hadn't been programmed to go chasing after things, even things as interesting as that (oh, vain regrets!), so he took no notice, and by the time his masters could get word to him to go back for another look no trace could be found. It was very convincing, and like I said, a beautiful job.
Unfortunately it wasn't enough. The papers the next day had 'Mars Turtle Found' in four-inch type, all right, and a fuzzy photo of Myrtle, but the next day it was half-inch type on page four, and the day after that, interviews with scientists on page nineteen, and within a week it was forgotten by the public. No manned mission, no more Marsmen, no more money.
Things were very gloomy around the lab after that. Thorsen tried to take it philosophically: "We just underestimated the public's capacity for apathy. We didn't capture their imaginations."
But four weeks later the Solis Lacus Plinth did. Jesse came tearing into the lab to get Kim and me, and we all ran down to Thorsen's office. The bulletin was playing over and over on all the networks. A three meter cube of quartz, half drifted over with sand, once deeply carved, now worn almost smooth by the ceaseless action of the wind and and sand over the weary eons. They'd moved Marsman up close, and you could see the sand and wind eddying around it, and the carving, very faint, but almost, almost intelligible. The hackles on the back of my neck rose. Even Thorsen was speechless.
Funds for more Marsmen were voted almost that night, and construction resumed on Ares and Stalin the following morning. So Thorsen got what he wanted after all. He's scheduled to land with the first group next month. They're planning to set down in Solis Lacus, where Marsman I finally conked out, near where the Plinth is supposed to be.
But I wonder ... (End)