The Disestablishment of Paradise (10 page)

When he had finished reading the letter, Diamond looked across at Hera. His only comment was ‘Well, Dr Melhuish, if ever you wonder about conspiracy theories regarding
Paradise or people or where the climate of suspicion comes from, you need look no further than your own bathroom mirror.’

It was a cheap shot, and one which Tania immediately tried to rebuff, but her words were not heard so great was the outcry. Cheap or otherwise, it was effective. Insults were thrown from the
balcony and Tania found herself in a fierce exchange with Dova Rokka. Order was not restored until a couple of members of the SAA had been removed from the gallery. Tania was also cautioned, and
when she shouted at the chairman she too was ordered out of the hearing.

Hera was now alone. During all this Diamond had closed one of his folders and opened a second. He stood impassively while the chairman dealt with the disturbance. When all was quiet again
Diamond continued in the same steady and unemotional voice: ‘However, appalling though this record of manipulation and disparagement may be, there is another side to this issue which I would
now like to examine.’ He paused theatrically, as though pondering a difficult and perhaps distasteful matter. ‘Dr Melhuish, how well did you know Professor Shapiro?’

The question was sudden and Hera hesitated. ‘I don’t think I understand.’

‘Well, we know that he was your teacher, that he supervised your PhD, that you became colleagues. But was he more than that? A close friend, a confidant possibly, someone you were intimate
with?’

‘I don’t see—’

‘The reason I ask is that aspects of the science he preached, some of the heretical views he propounded, views which have been widely condemned by the wider scientific community, would
appear to be exactly the ones which you have adopted . . . in the manner of a disciple, say, a willing and biddable pupil.’

Hera was up on her feet, her arm outstretched, when she paused. She saw the trap. Of course he was doing this. Winding her up with innuendo. Goading her. Getting her to make herself look
ridiculous. She sat down again. She spoke very slowly and distinctly. ‘That I admired Professor Shapiro is widely known. That I was honoured by his friendship is also true. Your use of the
word intimate causes me some concern and I would ask you to explain exactly what you mean. Are you suggesting that Professor Shapiro, a man older than my father, and I were lovers? If so I shall
ask you for the grounds for that assertion.’

Hera looked to the Space Council representative, who in turn looked at Stefan Diamond and said, ‘Clarification please, Mr Diamond.’

Diamond pondered. ‘I was merely suggesting that you were close friends, not alleging that you were lovers.’

‘In which case,’ cut in Hera, ‘may I register my objection and ask that the misleading words be removed from the record.’

‘Objection sustained. The word intimate is to be struck from the record. And Mr Diamond, may I ask you in future to refrain from using words that have implications that you can not
substantiate. Please continue, Dr Melhuish.’

‘Thank you. I would never seek to deny that Professor Shapiro and I did share intellectual interests. Anyone who can read can see that. As regards his science, when he died the world lost
one of its finest scholars: creative, generous, better read than any man I have ever met, fair-minded and fiercely honest. Rare qualities, you might agree, Mr Diamond.’

‘As rare as temperance in speech and good leadership, Dr Melhuish. Be that as it may.’ He consulted his notes. ‘Now, towards the end of his life, Professor Shapiro published a
short work called
Genius Loci
for which you wrote the introduction. Correct?’

Hera nodded. And then before the chairman could instruct her said, ‘Yes. That is true.’

‘Could you tell us a bit about this book, please?’

Hera frowned. ‘It covers rather a big subject.’

‘Well, briefly then.’

‘The essays, many of which are reworkings of earlier lectures, all centre on the ancient idea that there might be an indwelling spirit or energy which protects, shapes and informs
things.’

‘Things?’

‘People possibly. Mountains. Groves. Buildings. Trees. Standing stones. Monuments. Temples. The idea comes from a time when all creation was thought to be animated by spirit forms.’
Hera broke off. ‘Could you tell me where this is leading? Perhaps then I could focus more accurately on whatever it is you are after.’

‘Could a planet, for instance, be thought to have a
genius loci
?’

‘Of course.’

‘Paradise, for instance.’

‘Certainly. That was the main thrust of the essays, as I am sure you are well aware. Shapiro was using the ancient concept in an attempt to articulate why Paradise seemed to have changed
since the days of the first pioneers.’

‘Become more hostile?’

‘Let us just say changed. We do not yet know the dimensions of that change.’

‘But it has become more hostile, hasn’t it? Plants from Earth don’t grow as well. Toxins have increased in native plants that we used to enjoy. And we have more than one case
of unaccounted death among the settlers. Surely those changes can be seen as more hostile, at least to us human beings?’

‘Yes. But I insist we do not know the dimensions of the change. There may be good things too.’

‘Well, it is nice to speculate. This
genius loci
that Shapiro writes about, can you see it, smell it, feel it?’

‘Some people claim to be able to.’

‘Can
you
feel it, Dr Melhuish?’

There was a long pause. ‘I feel that before I am prepared to answer any further questions I would like you to explain what you are trying to achieve. You are dealing with things which do
not have a simple yes or no answer.’

‘What I am trying to ascertain, Dr Melhuish, is whether or not, as a scientist, you have any personal experience of this mysterious essence. But perhaps we can approach this another way.
What
scientific evidence
, and I stress that phrase, is there for the existence of this
genius loci
?’

‘Well that, precisely, is the problem. That is what interested Shapiro. At the boundaries of science we reach the limits of our ability to prove. The
genius loci
does not respond
to litmus tests or spectroscopic analysis. Even so, it would be good to keep an open mind. I mean, 200 years ago who but writers of fantastic science fiction would have dreamed of fractal points?
Yet now we take these for granted.’

‘So there is no conclusive scientific evidence?’

‘Yes. Correct. There is no conclusive evidence.’

‘But you feel there is some merit in the idea.’

‘I have an open mind.’

‘Surely a bit more than that? In the preface you write, “No one of sense can have visited the surface of this planet without being aware of mystery. To sit as evening comes and feel
the pause between ‘Breaths’, to see the deep green glow of the world as darkness falls, is to draw close to its soul.” Not exactly a scientific analysis, is it?’

‘I was not trying to provide a scientific analysis but to evoke a feeling.’

‘I spent over a week on Paradise, Dr Melhuish, as you well know, and I certainly felt nothing out of the ordinary.’

‘That does not surprise me,’ said Hera. This caused some laughter which was quickly stifled. ‘Incidentally, the Breath is measurable. That is the accepted term we now use for
the band of change which follows the setting sun and precedes the rising sun. We can detect the change when it occurs, but what the change is, in its essence, is not certain.’

‘The breathing of the
genius
of the place, perhaps.’

‘I try to avoid simple anthropomorphic parallels.’

‘Then Shapiro was more radical than you. In the essay entitled “Dark Angel” he speaks about the history of the idea that a planet can react to the presence of humans. He cites
works of fiction,
Solaris
,
Death World
,
The Burning Forest
, to name but three. Works of
fiction,
though.’

‘New ideas often manifest themselves first in fiction.’

‘But science, Dr Melhuish, if it is to have any validity, must deal in facts. In the essay “The Unseen Shadow” Shapiro seems to suggest that ghosts, miracles, flying saucers
and things that go bump in the night might be manifestations of energy forms, your
genius loci
and the like.’

‘The same has been claimed for the passage of fractal points across the face of the Earth.’

‘Junk science, Dr Melhuish. We can track fractal points, or are you suggesting that you have evidence that the failure of agriculture on Paradise is the result of fractal
passage?’

‘No, I do not. It is an idea.’

‘And in the essay “Shadow over Paradise”, an essay which you single out for special praise, Shapiro goes so far as to suggest that it is our own darkness that is being
reflected in Paradise. What does he mean by this? Unable to find a decent theory, unable to accept his own failure to protect the planet placed under his care, he turns in desperation to mysticism
of a kind which once sent people to be burned at the stake. Our darkness! Does he think there is a devil in human beings, or that we carry some mental pestilence which can strike down alien life
forms? Surely, Dr Melhuish, this is the stuff of dotage. The tragedy is made worse, however, by the fact that this deluded old man was able to put his dark imprint on a mind as fine and gifted as
your own, and that you then perpetuated his heresy, thereby discrediting yourself and the able scientists who have had the misfortune to be associated with you.’

‘Not at all. It is a well argued—’

‘It is fantasy and dark metaphysics and you should be honest enough to admit it.’

‘No. Let me sp—’

‘Scaremongering, then.’

Hera was now up on her feet. ‘No. Shapiro was—’

‘You agree with him. You are an advocate of mystical science. So tell me, Dr Melhuish, whose shadow is being reflected by the hostility of Paradise? The poor farmers who plant the seeds
and whom you have treated so badly, or is it your darkness, Dr Melhuish?’

‘Shapiro was merely setting out some ideas. Things for people to think about. Good God! When you stop people doing that, we really are in trouble. Next you’ll be burning books,
kicking down doors and starting a witch hunt.’

At that moment there was a commotion on the balcony above Hera. Proctor Newton was on his feet and pointing down at Hera. ‘It’s you,’ he shouted. ‘You are the witch. You
are the black witch of Paradise.’ And before anyone could stop him, he picked up the wooden chair on which he had been seated and threw it down at Hera.

The chair struck her on the shoulder. One of the legs hit her in the neck and tore her ear. She was knocked over by the weight of the chair and fell against the stage. The last thing she saw,
the last thing she remembers, was faces staring down at her. Proctor Newton had grown huge bat ears and his nostrils were flared like those of a horse, and the hands that gripped the balcony rail
were giant claws with bronze talons. She saw Stefan Diamond open his mouth and a vast blue and fork-tipped tongue came poking out, flapping and feeling towards her.

That is what she remembers.

What she does not remember was the shouting in the room and the people on the balcony grabbing Proctor Newton and dragging him back. Nor does she remember the young man, Kris, running forward
and lifting her up. And the chairman shouting for calm. Nor does she remember struggling to her feet and being supported, cradling her arm and leaning back against the table. She does not even
remember speaking. But this is what happened, no matter what fantasies her mind dreamed up.

She said – and she was looking up at Proctor Newton, pinned now between two other men – ‘You must hate me very much. Very much. But you have said a wicked thing, and a wrong
thing. I never wished you harm, but you would never listen – and now, and now we have all lost Paradise. I am not a witch. How could you think that? I would have given my life to save
Paradise. I would have given my life to see just once the great Dendron striding on the plain. But so much has been lost, and we must find out why. We must . . .’

And at that point she did faint.

What is one to make of this hearing? On the surface it seems unfair and hurried, but one suspects that a longer hearing would have ended with the same result. Having read all
the papers and transcripts, I have to admit that the correspondence used in evidence at the hearing shows Dr Melhuish as a woman at the end of her patience – angry and undiplomatic. And one
might also argue that Hera Melhuish showed bad judgement in leaving such a clear paper trail for the bloodhounds to follow. But, as Hera comments, ‘It’s with O’Leary
now.’

In retrospect, the correspondence Diamond quoted at the hearing merely heated the atmosphere. The allegation which destroyed Hera was that she indulged in ‘mystical science’. This
touched deep and irrational fears in the community at large, and inspired anger and contempt among the scientific community in general, and especially among those ORBE scientists with whom she
worked on Paradise.

However, as we shall see later, it is her willingness to face mystery that ultimately proved to be Dr Melhuish’s greatest strength.

The ending of this part of her story can be told briefly and bitterly.

Hera was rushed to the hospital on Central, where she recovered consciousness. She made it known that she did not want any action to be taken against Proctor Newton. She received fifteen
stitches to the cuts to her face, neck and ear. She was given the comforting information that had the chair leg struck her just a few centimetres higher then she could have lost teeth, possibly an
eye, or worse. Both her right arm and her collarbone were broken and she had bruising to her ribs. These were treated in the normal way, and she was pronounced in no danger, but in need of bed
rest. Her body would mend. Her mind . . .?

While in hospital Hera received the formal recommendation of the inquiry. It stated, ‘Dr Melhuish, while cleared of any implication of financial impropriety, has in her actions and
leadership fallen below the standards expected of senior administrators. As a consequence we recommend she be suspended forthwith from her position as head of the ORBE project.’ The letter
had the stamp of the Space Council and was signed in the green ink of Timothy Isherwood.