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Perhaps, as Karl had suggested in his notes, there would be warning lights dotted all over the millions of square kilometers of the spherical surface and strung along the six principle axes. To an approaching spaceship, it would look like some glittering Star Day ornament.

Or-and this was more appropriate-a discarded toy from the nursery of the

Gods… Toward evening, while he was waiting for the shuttle back to the mainland,

Duncan found a secluded corner of the coffee shop-cum-bar which

overlooked the lagoon. He sat there thoughtfully, sipping from time to time at a Terran drink he had discovered something called a Tom Collins. It was a bad idea, acquiring vices which could not be exported to Titan; on the other hand, it could equally well be argued that it was foolish not to enjoy the unique pleasures of Earth, even if one had to relinquish them all too soon.

There was also endless enjoyment in watching the play of wind over the water protected by the barrier of the inner reef. Some stretches were absolutely flat, reflecting the blue of the unclouded sky as if in a flawless mirror. Yet other areas, apparently no different, were continually quivering so that not for a moment was the surface still; it was crossed and crisscrossed by innumerable tiny wavelets, no more than a centimeter in height. Presumably some relationship between the varying depth of the lagoon and the velocity of the wind was responsible for the phenomenon, quite unlike anything that Duncan had ever before seen. No matter what the explanation, it was enchantingly beautiful, for the countless reflections of the sun in the dancing water created sparkling patterns that seemed to move forever down the wind, yet remained always in the same spot.

Duncan had never been hypnotized, nor had he experienced more than a few of the nine states of consciousness between full awareness and profound sleep.

he alcohol might have helped, but the scintillating sea was undoubtedly the main factor in producing his present mood. He was completely alert indeed his mind seemed to be working with unusual clarity-but he no longer felt bound by the laws of logic that had controlled all his life. It was almost as if he was in one of those dreams where the most fantastic things can happen, and are accepted as matter of-fact, everyday occurrences.

He knew that he was facing a mystery, of the sort that was anathema to the reputedly hard-headed Makenzies. Here was something that he could

never explain to Malcolm and Colin; they would not laugh 296 at him–or so he hoped-but they would never take him seriously.

Besides, it was so utterly trivial. He had not been vouchsafed some blinding revelation, like an ancient prophet receiving the word of God. All that had happened was that he had come across the same very unusual shape in two quite independent contexts; it might have been a mere coincidence, and the sense of deja vu pure self-delusion. That was the simple, logical answer, which would certainly satisfy everyone else.

It would never satisfy Duncan. He had experienced that indescribable shock a man may know only once in a lifetime, when he is in the presence of the transcendental and feels the sure foundations of his world and his philosophy trembling beneath his feet.

When he saw that careful drawing in Karl’s sketchbook, Duncan had recognized it at once. But now it seemed to him that the recognition came not only from the past, but also from the future. It was as if he had caught a momentary glimpse in the Mirror of Time, reflecting something that had not yet occurred-and something that must be awesomely important for it to have succeeded in reversing the flow of causality.

Project Argus was part of the destiny of mankind; of this, Duncan was now sure beyond any need for rational proof. But whether it would be beneficent was another question. All knowledge was a two-edged sword, and it might well be that any messages from the stars would not be to the liking of the human race. Duncan remembered the dying cries of the sea urchin he had killed, out there on Golden Reef. Were those faint but sinister crepitations wholly meaningless-an accidental by-product? Or did they have some more profound significance? His instincts gave him not the slightest clue, one way or the other.

But it was an act of faith to Duncan, and to those he had worked with all his life, that it was cowardice not to face the truth, whatever it might be and wherever it might lead. If the time was coming for mankind to face the powers behind the stars, so be it. He had no

doubts. All he felt now was a calm contentment—even if it was the calm at the center of the cyclone.

Duncan watched the light trembling and dancing on the lagoon, as the sun sank lower and lower toward the horizon and the hidden coast of Africa.