Desperate Games (2 page)

The revolution of the ‘men of science’, or ‘the conspiracy of the
Nobels
’ as certain people sometimes called it (wrongly, because the initiative had not come from them), took on its precise form in California, amongst a small group of scholars, in an atomic city, which had been created around a giant betatron
and several instruments of that kind, which were at the same time both monstrous and sensitive. Having gone there to pursue their research, which enabled them to penetrate a little further each day into the structure of matter, the physicists from all over the world liked to meet in the evening after work to compare their results with those of their colleagues, to discuss this or that theory or simply to exchange ideas in general. Most of the time these meetings were in small groups and had a truly international character. For several years Soviet and Asian scholars had been able to obtain permission to teach courses in the atomic city, and had developed the habit of doing so, conversing as freely as the others with the most qualified men of science of the New World and with the western world in general.

But if the idea arose and matured there, followed immediately by the will to action and to make a plan, it was only the culmination of a slow progression of the scientific mind, which had been happening in every country for a long time. In the course of their meetings and their conversations, which became more and more frequent, the scholars had come to regard themselves as having formed a truly international world organisation, and the only worthwhile one, that of knowledge and intelligence. Science was for them at the same time the soul of the world and the only force in a position to realise its destiny, after having rescued it from the trivial and infantile preoccupations of ignorant and long-winded politicians. Thus, in the course of numerous friendly discussions, which were almost fraternal, there had gradually developed the vision of a triumphant future, of a planet united, and finally governed by learning and wisdom. It was no longer a matter of confused views and imprecise aspirations. Those who tested the ideas out found them to be based on evidence and good sense, but they were a long way from being able to predict ways of putting them into practice.

The spark flared up almost simultaneously, however, in the brains of several relatively young scholars, invited to the
bungalow where Fawell lived with his daughter. He had married quite young, but had lost his wife while Ruth was still a child, and becoming more and more absorbed in his research, he had never remarried. Ruth, who had no real taste for her studies but pursued them to please her father, ran the household, which was an easy job, given her father’s lack of concern about material matters.

A commonplace incident was the cause of the sudden explosion of minds: a television programme, which managed to unnerve some ordinarily calm colleagues invited to come and have a drink after a long day’s work. Several physicists of various nationalities were present, as well as the mathematician Yranne, who apart from his personal research (which he was able to pursue wherever he was, needing only a pencil and a sheet of paper), provided help to several others with his talent for analysis. Mrs Betty Han was also present. When staying in the region she never missed a chance to catch up with her friends.

After having refilled the glasses and confirmed that the guests’ favourite drinks were at hand, Ruth asked for permission to withdraw, foreseeing that there would be the usual discussions concerning work in progress. But these rather languished after she left and were soon abandoned. It seemed that all of them, without any mutual consultation, were prey to an
idée
fixe
which distracted them that evening from their favourite topics. After glancing at his guests, Fawell switched on the television set. Everyone listened, glass in hand, and watched with curiosity, frowning and with tense expressions on their faces, which seemed to reflect a common feeling of exasperation. It was the usual interview, with a prominent politician giving his opinions with equal confidence on the country’s internal problems as on foreign affairs. It lasted a quarter of an hour. The comments struck Fawell as exceeding the bounds of stupidity, and noticing that his guests had the same feeling, he turned off the programme with a violent gesture and looked at his friends.

‘You heard it, just as I did,’ he said. ‘Every day it’s the same, more or less, with very few variations. The same nonsense churned out over the airwaves every day by men who imagine that they are actually running the country.’

An Englishman, who was teaching a course for several months at the betatron, interrupted him to reassure him that the same stupid things were common currency in the United Kingdom.

‘And I’ve heard even worse in France,’ confirmed Yranne.

An Italian declared that in his country the comments of politicians were no less childish than those which had just been heard. The same expressions, ‘unbearable’, and ‘intolerable’ were uttered in all corners of the room.

They had heard nothing more than the usual clichés and official or semi-official declarations. The average viewer would not have been offended. Normally they were not concerned very much about it themselves. But this evening all trace of resignation had disappeared. ‘It’s intolerable, you’re right,’ insisted Fawell, in an odd tone which made everyone focus their attention on him.

He remained silent for a moment, and then he continued, rapping out the syllables:

‘In-to-le-ra-ble, we all agree. Is there anyone who will contradict me if I affirm that that which is intolerable must not be tolerated?’

‘Certainly not me,’ said the mathematician Yranne.

‘It is therefore our duty to act –’

He was going to continue, when a new person burst into the room. His rapid entrance, with his hair in a mess, his clothes dishevelled, and in his pyjama jacket, would have surprised them, even among this circle of friends where any kind of ceremony was unknown, if it was not for the fact that it was the astronomer Zarratoff, who was at that time on a visit to the United States, and who had come to spend a few days at the house of Yranne, one of his best friends. He was known for his absent-mindedness, his
sudden enthusiasms, the passion which he brought to his profession, a passion finding expression sometimes in lyrical outbursts, and his mastery of the game of chess. Of all enthusiasts, only Yranne was occasionally able to beat him.

‘What’s come over you?’ Fawell asked him without very much concern. ‘We were not expecting you this evening. Yranne told me that you were buried in your work. Please don’t consider that a reproach. On the contrary, you could not have come at a better moment.’

In fact Yranne had left the astronomer in his room, in his customary posture: deep in contemplation with a map of the heavens spread out before him, and only pausing to make some hurried notes combined with complex calculations. He knew his friend well enough to know that it was pointless suggesting some distraction when he was absorbed in that way. He had simply warned Fawell that they could not count on Zarratoff that evening.

‘Forgive me, said the astronomer, who seemed to have his mind elsewhere. I couldn’t stand it. I had to talk to someone. I fled my room… It’s the television.’

‘The television?’

He took a swig of alcohol which Fawell had just poured for him and explained.

‘In fact I was working, but it wasn’t going well. I felt myself trapped in a tissue of contradictions. It was then that, to rest my mind, I had the crazy idea of switching on the television set…’

‘I see,’ said Betty. ‘He must have seen the interview.’

‘Not the interview!’ protested Zarratoff. ‘What do you take me for? I’m very wary of such things. I changed the channel after the first few comments. I turned to channel number three. Are you with me?’

‘Well?’

‘Well? If you haven’t tried channel three, you obviously wouldn’t understand.’

‘What does it show?’

‘Games!’

‘Games?’

‘Games,’ the astronomer repeated in a plaintive voice.

‘I understand,’ murmured Yranne.

‘I do too,’ said Fawell. ‘I am, unfortunately, familiar with them!’

All the scholars shared the astronomer’s agitation and seemed to be sincere in feeling sorry for him, without it having been necessary to give them any explanation. He tried to do so however, in the same pathetic tone with which he might have asked heaven to bear witness to his misfortune.

‘Games, do you get it? Or what they
call
games! While there are doubtless thinking beings in the universe who are desperately calling us on an undetected wavelength, these people divide themselves into two groups of a dozen each and play at pulling the ends of a rope, to the applause of a delirious crowd. And when –’

‘That’s enough, old friend,’ said Yranne, interrupting him. ‘We told you that we’ve understood it all and that we share your indignation. So, in one word, what’s your conclusion? What do you think of it?’

‘Intolerable!’ yelled Zarratoff.

The guests burst out laughing.

‘So we are all agreed,’ concluded Fawell, ‘Calm down and finish your drink. You arrived just at the right moment.’

They brought him up to date with the project which was taking shape and the discussion continued.

‘As I was saying,’ continued Fawell, ‘today it is our urgent duty to put a stop to this situation. We do not have the right to let the world go to ruin. In this country all men of science will agree with this.’

‘In France as well,’ declared Yranne, ‘I can guarantee it.’

‘And in England also,’ said the British man, ‘but will they be of the same opinion in the Soviet Union?’

Zarratoff made no hesitation in replying: ‘Only about thirty years ago, one would have hesitated to reply to that question. As you know, the fact of being regarded with suspicion by a part of the world, caused us to maintain a dangerous spirit of nationalism, with which even our greatest scholars were infected. Today, now that this mistrust appears to belong to the past, after we have confirmed, as you have done, the incompetence of our leaders, I can guarantee that it does not exist anymore, and that all the men of science who are worthy of the name are supporters of a rational world organisation. I would add that there is nothing surprising about it. Weren’t we the pioneers of internationalism?’

Everyone applauded his words. Without prior consultation they came to a common conclusion: at the current stage of evolution, a scientific government of the world had become a vital necessity for humanity. But objections did occur to them, as was natural for minds trained to analyse objectively all the data relating to a problem.

‘All the world’s scholars desire it. That’s fine,’ said Yranne, ‘but what about the peoples of the world? What about young people?’

‘Ruth would agree,’ asserted Fawell, ‘and all her friends as well.’

‘So would Nicolas,’ said Zarratoff, ‘we have often discussed it.’

‘Ruth and Nicolas may have been influenced by the intellectual milieu in which they have lived… But can we really be sure about all the scholars? The Chinese, for example?’

‘Betty, you can answer that one.’

‘I think I can reassure you on this point,’ said the Chinese woman, screwing up her eyes, so that her eyelids were stretched.
‘I meet the most eminent of my compatriots fairly often, and I have had the opportunity to sound out their opinions cautiously on the appropriateness of such a revolution, for your plan outlined this evening is not new to me. I have anticipated for a long time that you would be inevitably forced to take action some day. The result of my enquiries is that they all think the same as you do, that is to say that an international organisation is indispensable. This is not new, and they also think that the only viable plan is yours. It is their opinion too that the only central government capable of establishing itself and worthy of running the earth is a scientific government. Believe me, they have had enough, like you, of the childishness of their leaders. Stupidity is, I’m afraid, also international.’

‘I am delighted to hear you say such things. But what about the peoples? As a psychologist, what is your opinion on the matter? Will they accept this revolution?’

Mrs Betty Han took her time before replying, and she screwed up her eyes even more, which in her was a sign of intense thought.

‘It’s possible,’ she said finally. ‘It will be difficult. I would like to know first what kind of action you envisage. Have you established a practical plan for taking over power?’

They looked at each other, somewhat at a loss. Not even the draft of a plan had seen the light, yet alone a practical plan. But neither Fawell nor the other physicists were particularly worried about it. They knew that they always ended up by finding an application for the right idea, or as they said in their jargon, an experiment always confirms a correct theory sooner or later. Well, their basic idea was irrefutable. The mathematician Yranne set it out once more, condensing it into the pure form of a syllogism, of which the premises were obvious: ‘That which is intolerable must not be tolerated. Well, the disintegration of the world into dust, caused by nations led by asses, is intolerable. Therefore it is necessary to put an end to this situation.’

‘But there are nevertheless practical difficulties,’ Betty insisted.

‘But don’t we usually manage to overcome all difficulties?’

‘Where are the difficulties?’ Zarratoff interrupted vehemently. We are faced with ignorant people and we have the power to give them knowledge. All you other physicists, haven’t you invented weapons against which there is no defence?’

‘We have created them, but unfortunately we are no longer in control of them,’ Fawell said with regret. Our discoveries are now in the hands of an army of industrialists, technicians and workers. We would need the total support of all of them to be in control and to impose ourselves by threats. But can we count on their loyal support? And do we want to? For my part I can foresee serious dangers in doing so.’

He was not the only one to nurture this fear. Nothing conflicted so much with the scholars’ way of thinking as industrial technology. After a short debate they all agreed that such an alliance would be dangerous and contrary to the ideal of their revolution, which was that of pure science.

‘If we suppose that we could succeed in that way,’ Yranne concluded, ‘then our enterprise would end up inevitably in the conquest of the world by a mafia of great industrialists, with basic goals and a mechanical administration which would be oriented towards the development of easing material concerns –’

‘Which we do not want at any price,’ Fawell interrupted dramatically, having seen examples of this on a reduced scale in his own country.

‘…or it would end up being a world dictatorship of the proletariat –’

‘A catastrophic prospect in this day and age!’ the Russian Zarratoff now exclaimed.

‘That is also my opinion,’ said Mrs Betty Han with approval.

Fawell expressed his conviction forcibly that technical experts and industrialists would doubtless be useful, but that science
should retain absolute control and leadership of the action they envisaged. All were in agreement on this point.

‘But we would need the threat of a new unstoppable army, which would be kept secret by the scholars,’ continued Zarratoff. ‘Doesn’t such a thing exist? I am only an astronomical theorist and Yranne is only a mathematician. Neither of us are capable of realising practical things. But the rest of you, you physicists, haven’t you got some little unstoppable death-ray up your sleeve, the mere threat of which would place all those stupid idiots at our mercy?’

‘Impossible,’ replied Fawell. ‘I don’t say that such an invention is inconceivable if we devote ourselves to it seriously, but that’s another case in which the practical realisation would require the assistance of a technical and industrial army. That brings us back to the original problem.’

‘If even your physics is unable to bring about any material action, then it’s scarcely encouraging for our plans.’

‘Listen, Zarratoff,’ said Fawell, ‘I’ll tell you a story which will make you consider the possibilities available to us. It happened a few years ago in the laboratory of O’Kearn, the greatest living physicist, where I am still working. He had already received the Nobel Prize. I was the oldest of his assistants and functioned as the head of the laboratory, with O’Kearn its real spirit.

‘I had been there two years, with a dozen researchers younger than me, but all of them qualified (the boss asked me to fire mercilessly anyone incompetent and even those he suspected of lacking imagination). All of them possessed enviable university degrees and had several years’ practical experience in physics. Important discoveries have emerged from this laboratory.’

‘We know all this.’

‘Fine. In addition to very delicate apparatus, we also had electric motors, some of them ordinary ones, and one in particular which was the most up-to-date model of a synchronous
motor, of quite low power, like the ones you find in all workshops. A mechanic took care of these machines.

‘One evening I left the laboratory, leaving two of my best researchers there, as they wanted to continue an experiment for a few more hours. I was at home, ready to go to bed, when one of the two knocked at my door. He had a crestfallen look about him.

‘“What’s wrong,” I asked, “has there been an accident?”

‘I was worried because the ongoing experiment involved considerable energy, and there was a risk, if it was poorly conducted, of reducing the laboratory, and with it part of the town, to ashes. But I had confidence in my two assistants. I was right. He reassured me quickly.

‘“No. It’s just a little problem, but it needs to be put right as quickly as possible. I preferred to come and ask your advice.”

‘“You did the right thing. What is it?”

‘“Well… it’s the synchronous motor.”

‘“What’s wrong with the synchronous motor, has it broken down?”

‘“On the contrary.”

‘“What do you mean, on the contrary?”

‘He was looking more and more sheepish.

‘“It’s running,” he said without daring to look at me.

‘“What do you mean? It isn’t running smoothly? Tell me!” I said impatiently.

‘He ended up by confessing to me, blushing with embarrassment:

‘“It’s running and I don’t know how to stop it. When Joë left he forgot to do it. I don’t know anything about the control board, and doing something wrong might cause damage.”

‘Joë was our mechanic. I’ve forgotten his second name, but I can still see him: a serene black man, uneducated, but very conscientious in his work. It was the first time that he had been negligent.

‘I gave a little mocking whistle. “What a nuisance! Is it such a serious problem, that you have to disturb the head of the laboratory, just to turn a lever and press a button? And are you alone over there?”

‘“No, there’s the other assistant. Only…”

‘“Only what?”

‘“He’s as embarrassed as me. He has no idea how to stop the motor either. But nevertheless we can’t let it run all night.”

‘He was quite right about that. In spite of being in a rotten mood, I realised that I ought to go over there. I slipped my clothes on over my pyjamas and, grumbling as I did so, I got ready to follow him.

‘I had done all these things without thinking about it, only cursing the fact that it was my responsibility. We made our way to the laboratory, which was fortunately not very far away. A thought suddenly struck me and I slowed down.

‘“All the same,” I said to him, “don’t you think it would have been simpler to go and wake Joë?”

‘He looked up at the sky and replied that he had spent two hours searching for Joë, but that Joë could not be found. That only deepened my bad mood and embarrassment for I must confess to you that, although I had been working there for two years, I had just realised that I had no idea how to go about stopping the motor.’

‘I thought that would be the case,’ said Betty.

‘Yet by then I could not go back, and so we went into the lab. It seemed to me that the motor was running smoothly, under the worried eye of the other assistant, who let out a sigh of relief on seeing me. I had a rather painful moment of indecision in front of the control board, not daring to touch a button for fear of causing an accident. I hesitated, and then decided to confess my embarrassment to the two young men and laugh it off with them.

‘“All the same, we must deal with it,” I said finally. There must be an assembly diagram somewhere that will put us on the right track.”

‘We started to rummage around in all the cupboards, and all the drawers. It was a waste of effort. There was not the slightest sign of anything relating to the board whose brass fittings Joë shined every day. The motor continued to run and its purring sounded like a sarcastic comment, only infuriating us.

‘There we were, the three of us trying to trace the cables that disappeared under ebonite, when the door was pushed open, and we were surprised to see O’Kearn himself appear. The boss was returning on foot from the cinema, had seen the light and had come to see what was happening. The humiliation of having to confess to him our incompetence was moderated by our relief at realising that our problems were over. Without further delay I put him in the picture about the situation.

‘He had the same sequence of reactions as I had had. First his eyes lit up with a mocking smile, then he showed signs of being in a bad mood, and then, suddenly, his face darkened. I understood at once. He, the greatest scholar of his time, who had created this research centre, was himself incapable of stopping this ordinary motor. We looked each other in the eye. He had a sense of humour and he burst out laughing.

‘The rest of the story is of no interest. I set up a supervision rota for the two young assistants, who spent the rest of the night taking it in turns by the motor. I don’t know exactly why we did this however, as, if on a whim it had decided not to run smoothly, no one would have known how to fix it. At the very most we could have poured a few drops of oil in a bearing from time to time, as I recalled seeing Joë do. In the end everything went well, and when Joë arrived the next morning, the apparatus stopped quietly as soon as he pressed a button. I have no need to repeat the insults we showered the poor man with… There you are, Zarratoff.’

‘I understand,’ said Yranne, ‘for I have an interesting suggestion to make. You scholars of atomic theory, masters of energy. Haven’t you imagined some procedure to modify the earth’s axis of rotation, wreaking havoc with the climate everywhere? No one would have any resistance against the threat of such a cataclysm. You will tell me that it would be an easy task for you, but that you would need an army of Joës.’

‘Probably, but you know very well that it cannot be realised with our current level of knowledge.’

‘I am very much aware of that,’ Yranne insisted, defending his idea. ‘We all know that, but those louts who govern us don’t. Spread the rumour that you have made a discovery of this kind. Spread a little publicity around, and you will stir up a threat. They accepted the miracle of the atomic bomb. They’re perfectly ready to accept the idea of another such feat on your part. They will swallow this mistake like a lozenge and be really scared. I am saying this in all seriousness.’

‘Good God,’ said Zarratoff, interrupting, ‘Just once in my life, I had a conversation with a minister. I noticed after ten minutes that he was very proud of knowing that the earth moved around the sun. His knowledge of the world did not extend much beyond this. He had no idea that the sun is also a star, and as for the idea of a galaxy, that was just a poetic word to him, with no real meaning.’