The Disestablishment of Paradise Page 7

  ‘She might be right.’

  ‘But the Newton twins and Lizzie Pears. I mean to say . . . I know they’re odd, but not wicked. The aggies can be a pain – suspicious, always wanting more, never satisfied – but now they are hurt as much as the rest of us. I suppose they want someone to blame, and have chosen me. Misplaced anger. They can’t blame God, so they blame us.’

  ‘Well tell them that. Stick to your guns.’

  ‘What guns? I’m tired, Jack. I’m achy. I’m confused. I don’t think it has really sunk in yet, what’s happened. I don’t have much fight left in me right now. I just want to get it over and get out.’

  At that moment the monitor on the table squawked. ‘They are telling us time’s up,’ said Stephenson and pushed his chair back.

  Hera stood up. ‘Are you going to be in there?’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t. I’m booked to get down to Suva as soon as I leave here. Hope to find Elvira is still with us. But I’ll come back as soon as I can.’

  Hera nodded. ‘Good. I’m glad. Give her my love.’

  Stephenson held out his hand. ‘Good luck, Hera. Watch out for Diamond, he’s a dealer in dirt. Used to work on divorce cases. Now they use him as their hatchet man. And don’t go waving your arms about when you’re talking. It makes you look . . . comic.’

  ‘Point taken.’

  The door opened, revealing Kris. ‘Dr Melhuish. This way, if you please.’

  Tania was there too. She had a funny expression on her face and shrugged when she saw Hera.

  ‘Can’t see what the fuss is about. A few candid memos. Nothing like the ones I used to send you and which you obviously destroyed. And they want to query our science, whatever that means. We should be out in half an hour – and then we are going for a drink. Dr Kowalski’s orders.’

  They were led down a long corridor with opaque office doors on either side. At the end was a lift, which took them down a floor to one of the transverse wings. This lift opened into the anteroom of a small concert chamber.

  People were milling about, and again there were reporters and cameras. Hera hurried past. ‘No comment’ was all she would say.

  A balcony ran all the way across the concert chamber. Facing this was a small stage built on two levels. On the top stood a table with an ornate padded chair behind it. This was for the official who would be conducting the hearing. Below that were two smaller tables which faced one another. One was for the ORBE representatives and the other for the Audit Unit. Below that, at ground level, was a table for whoever was making the record. A woman already sat there, her hands folded.

  Kris led Hera and Tania to one of the facing tables. It had two plain plastic chairs. Looking up they could see that the balcony was already quite full, with more people entering all the time.

  ‘I thought this was just a meeting to answer some questions,’ said Tania.

  ‘It is,’ answered Kris.

  ‘So why all the people?’

  ‘There is a lot of interest in this case.’

  ‘So it’s a case now, is it, and not an inquiry?’ she snapped.

  ‘Sorry. Slip of the tongue. I’ll leave you now. If you need anything, I’ll be near the door.’

  Arranged on the table was a carafe of water, a single glass, some blank sheets of paper and a pencil. The table facing them was similarly equipped, except that the chair behind it had a high pointed back more suitable for a church.

  ‘All very theatrical’ was Hera’s only comment.

  Hera heard her name spoken and glanced up at the balcony. There she saw the sullen and angry faces of William and Proctor Newton glaring down at her. Lizzie Pears was sitting away to one side. She was concentrating on her nails, nibbling at them, her face blank. And what had she done to her hair? It was all spiky and seemed to have rags tied in it. Several leading members of the Settlers’ Agricultural Association were also present, huddled together. Hera had the impression that they didn’t want to look her in the eyes. She looked away. Hera felt strangely detached from proceedings, as if they were happening to someone else.

  ‘Now listen,’ said Tania. ‘Don’t let them rush you and don’t let them fluster you. They might try to do both. And if you get stuck, give me a nod and I’ll step in. I’ve stopped bigger inquiries than this when I was in California.’

  Hera nodded.

  Stefan Diamond, carrying a large black legal case, entered and took his place at the table opposite. He did not look at the two women. Everything about the man was heavy, Hera noticed. Heavy jaw, heavy brow, heavy stomach. She pitied his chair. Diamond settled himself, undid the button of his jacket, scratched under the jacket while he looked round the assembly with a somewhat imperious gaze and then, finally, began to unpack the case. He set out his papers and folders carefully while gradually the auditorium fell silent.

  Hera’s attention was interrupted by the arrival of the Space Council member in charge of proceedings. He was a dapper little man with receding hair and bushy eyebrows. He seemed a size too small for the red legal gown he was wearing.

  ‘All rise,’ someone called. And everyone did.

  The chairman sat down after nodding briefly to the assembly. There was a scuffling of feet and some coughing as people made themselves comfortable.

  ‘We’ll call this inquiry to order,’ said the chairman. He then went on to give a brief outline of the reasons for the inquiry – that certain allegations had been lodged against the ORBE project management – and the protocols that would be followed. Questions would only be put by the representative of the Audit Unit, but there would be opportunities for public comment at the end of proceedings and for Dr Melhuish to make a final statement should she so choose. He then invited Mr Diamond to begin.

  Diamond rose to his feet and in a deadpan voice outlined the details of the audit that had just been completed. Hera listened with her head on one side. How different, she thought, was Diamond’s account of the process from her own perception, and yet factually he was correct and she could not fault him there. And somewhere between it all was the truth, she supposed. She found her attention wandering, looking at the mosaic pattern formed by the acoustic tiles on the wall.

  ‘Now, Dr Melhuish, do you recall making the following statement? “We must not confuse culture with civilization. Hunter-gatherers were just as clever as we are and probably had a more coherent view of the universe, and their place within it, than we have. By and large they did not damage the landscape, taking only what they needed, leaving Nature to regenerate of her own accord. It was with the coming of agriculture that the damage started. The first farms led to enclosures, to selective breeding, to the damming of rivers, the moulding of hills and ultimately the desire to manipulate Nature rather than cohabit with her.” ’

  Hera had to think hard. ‘Yes, I think those were my words. We were on a panel. Me and some others. We were students at the Institut des Hautes Études. Over thirty years ago. You have been digging deep.’

  ‘It would seem, then, that from an early age you were critical of farmers, indeed of agriculture in general.’

  ‘That panel, if I remember rightly, was dealing with environmental issues, trying to get at why things had gone wrong on Earth. I was merely pointing out a significant but sometimes overlooked revolution that took place in the prehistory of Earth.’

  ‘I repeat. “It was with the coming of agriculture that the damage started.” Your words, Dr Melhuish. Moving on.’ Diamond picked up a sheaf of notes. ‘The following is an extract from the founding charter of the Observation, Regeneration and Botanic Expansion project on Paradise. “The ORBE project undertakes to make its scientific expertise available to help the settler agricultural sector in its efforts to create sustainable agriculture on Paradise.” You signed this document when you accepted the position, Dr Melhuish. We note that in your application for a position with ORBE, you state that you can support “all aspects of the charter”. In view of your later record, Dr Melhuish, it would seem that you were being c
ircumspect with the truth, presumably in order to gain employment and, perhaps, to be near your mentor, Professor Shapiro.’

  ‘Objection.’ It was Tania. ‘Mr Diamond’s presumptions are misleading and irrelevant.’

  ‘Sustained. Mr Diamond, please restrict yourself to the facts.’

  This kind of exchange set the tone for the inquiry.

  Little by little, by cutting and pasting together comments made by Hera, Diamond was able to create the picture of a tyrannical wasp-tongued woman who was intolerant of the problems faced by the descendants of the settlers and interested only in her own projects.

  At first Hera tried to defend herself, pointing out the importance of context. But Diamond was not to be drawn; he simply ignored her and moved on. ‘Here is Dr Melhuish writing to an ORBE project worker who answers to the name Pietr Z. It was written shortly after she had taken over the leadership of the ORBE project from her mentor and friend, Professor Shapiro. “No wonder they call them aggies,’ she says. “Aggravating, agoraphobic, aggrieved and aggressive.” ’

  ‘That was a joke,’ said Hera wearily.

  ‘Yes, but at whose expense? And who was laughing?’ snapped back Diamond. ‘Or were you merely trying to continue the tradition established by your predecessor, Shapiro?’ Hera merely shook her head. There was hissing in the auditorium.

  Tania leaned close. ‘Why does he keep making these digs about old Shapiro?’

  ‘No idea,’ whispered Hera.

  ‘Here’s Dr Melhuish again,’ continued Diamond, ‘this time offering advice to a new appointee who has had an argument with one of the members of the SAA. The recipient of Dr Melhuish’s good advice, Dr Tania Kowalski, is the lady who has accompanied her here to this inquiry. I will read this memo in full, for it reveals Dr Melhuish’s hardening intransigence towards the agricultural sector.’

  Memo to Tania Kowalski.

  You ask why the aggies are so difficult. They are having a hard time, no question, but underlying that is the traditional xenophobia which seems to spring up so easily in secluded rural communities. This can be fuelled by jealousy, a sense of personal failure, a vision centred on the past, by insecurity and, of course, ignorance – all of which are true here. When reason fails, men turn to strange gods. When things continue to get worse, they look for an enemy to blame. We are it. We give them solidarity. If we were not here it would be the Space Council or they would start feuding among themselves and setting up little fiefdoms. But they never look within. Sad really, because the first settlers were men and women of vision, the pick of the bunch; but that spirit has now dwindled and we are left with these secretive and suspicious people who have so upset you. Take heart, brave lady. The other problem is that they see themselves as the true inheritors of Paradise and want something to hand on to their descendants. They resent us as interlopers. I once suggested that they should stop trying to farm but should just sit back and enjoy Paradise and watch the forest grow. From their reaction you would think that I had suggested they ate their children. Also, like all ignorant people, they are frightened of our knowledge.’

  It took five minutes for the chairman to restore order after the reading of this letter. Hera sat silent, no longer staring at the wall but at a place on the ground some metres in front of her. Even Tania was silent.

  A newspaper report published the next day described Hera as sitting ‘hunched like a woman drunk or immersed in a compelling story, while the storm gathered about her’. Fatigue was taking its toll. She was hearing her own words but remembering the occasions which gave rise to them. Hearing how easily Diamond’s flat delivery killed any lightness or wit. She realized too that Jack Stephenson was right: she should have stayed on Paradise. ‘The big boys don’t play fair and they play for keeps.’ Who had said that?

  ‘You have nothing to say, Dr Melhuish?’

  Hera roused. ‘You don’t tell the full story. Why not tell them about the time I stayed up all night and was midwife when the girl up there, Elizabeth Pears, was born?’

  Diamond cut in smoothly. ‘No one doubts you have your fine and gentle side, but this inquiry is concerned with the standard of your leadership, your objectivity and the professional decisions you made.’ He paused and then added. ‘However, in deference to Dr Melhuish’s demand that I tell the full story, I will now read the full text of her letter to Senator Jack Stephenson concerning tourism.’ There was an immediate murmuring in the crowd, for the tourism issue had been, and in some quarters still was, a cause for dissension.

  From Dr Hera Melhuish to Senator John Stephenson.

  Dear Jack

  Re Tourism Proposal

  Thanks for keeping me informed on progress. I have just had a long and difficult meeting with the members of the SAA. The tomato crop we had high hopes for after starting the seeds off world, putting the plants under polythene and hand pollinating every flower, has failed. Dova Rokka, on whose farm we had helped locate it, found out this morning. She brought some of the tomatoes to show us. They had turned black. I cut one open and inside it was just mush and water. I’ve sent them for analysis of course, but I don’t think analysis will help much. All I can think is that there is something in the air of Paradise that we can’t feel but the plants can.

  Rokka and the rest took this badly. I had not realized how much they had pinned their hopes on a few miserable tomatoes. I think Rokka is ready to call it a day. She has relatives on one of the lunar outlanders and is thinking of going there and starting again. However, she may not. Dai Tattersall has come up with a scheme, backed by the mad, bad Newton twins, for developing their farms as tourist resorts. Apparently there is money available to back this scheme – private investment assisted with some Central incentive solas – and he is all excited. He’s gone so far as to draw up some sketches. Honeymoon co ages on the Bell Tree Islands, Scout camps and the like in the Organs. You get the picture? What worries me is that they have obviously been talking to someone at Central. They were very shifty when I pressed for details, and Proctor did his imitation of a mushroom and pulled his hat down over his eyes. He probably has cute ideas about establishing a little white church on a little green hillside under fleecy little clouds. Over my dead body!

  Up on the balcony someone shouted something and the chairman immediately stopped proceedings and warned that if there were any more disruptions he would consider clearing the gallery. ‘Continue, Mr Diamond.’

  I know we have been through all this a hundred times, but they don’t want to hear. What you are going to have to do, Jack, is get a protocol through the Space Council. Something very definitive. An absolute prohibition on any commercial development. Especially tourism. I know you see the dangers as clearly as I do, but this idea has got to be stopped now, stamped on hard, once and for all. So put your boots on. I’ll keep you informed if I hear anything new.

  And while you are shaping up the anti-tourism proposal, give a thought to this. As you know, I firmly believe that there is a place for experimental agriculture on Paradise, but having the two organizations – the SAA and the ORBE project – both concerned with the bio-development of Paradise really makes no sense. We pull in different directions all the time. It would make a lot more sense for the agricultural sector to be put under ORBE control. Then we could keep an eye on it, get rid of the commercial supply imperative which weighs like a rock, and treat agriculture as the experimental arm that it really is. The aggies would hate this, of course. They’d fight us like cats in a barrel. Already they talk about their ancestors as if they had been here for centuries – and I quite like that. I feel the same way about Angelique-over-Io. But while Io is thriving and expanding, Paradise is not – and the dream they have of handing on neat little pastures to their descendants just ain’t going to happen, not until we get a handle on the crop failures. Sorry I am going on a bit. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help scotch the tourism plan and tell me what you think of my idea of making SAA part of ORBE.

  Best wishes to Elvira whe
n you see her.

  Hera.

  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.’