What a technological gulf, thought Duncan, between these two objects! The Minisec was a triumph
of the Neoelectronic Age; the sketchbook had existed virtually unchanged for at least a thousand years —
and so had the pencil tucked into it. It was very true, as some philosopher of history had once said, that mankind never completely abandons any of its ancient tools. Yet Karl's sketchbooks had always been
something of an affectation; he could make competent engineering drawings, but had never shown any
genuine sign of artistic talent.
As Duncan slowly turned the leaves, he was acutely conscious of the hidden eyes all around him.
Without the slightest doubt, every page here had been carefully recorded, using all the techniques that could bring out invisible marks and erasures. It was hard to believe that he could add much to in the
investigations that had already been made.
Karl apparently used his sketchbooks to make notes of anything that interested him, to conduct a sort
of dialogue with himself, and to express his emotions. There were cryptic words and numbers in small,
precise handwriting, fragments of calculations and equations, mathematical sketches...
And there were spacescapes, obviously rough drawings of scenes on the outer moons, with the
formalized circle-and-ellipse of Saturn hanging in the sky...
... circuit diagrams, with more calculations full of lambdas and omegas, and vector notations that
Duncan could recognize, but could not understand... and then suddenly, bursting out of the pages of
impersonal notes and rather inept sketches, something that breathed life, something that might have been the work of a real artist — a portrait of Calindy, drawn with obvious, loving care.
It should have been instantly recognizable; yet strangely enough, for a fraction of a second, Duncan
stared at it blankly. This was not the Calindy he now knew, for the real woman was already obliterating the image from the past. Here was Calindy as they had both remembered her — the girl frozen forever in the bubble stereo, beyond the reach of Time.
Duncan looked at this picture for long minutes before turning the page. It was really excellent —
quite unlike all the other sketches. But then, how many times had Karl drawn it, over and over again,
during the intervening years?
No one spoke from the air around him or interrupted his thoughts. And presently he moved on.
... more calculations... patterns of hexagons, dwindling away into the distance — why, of course!
"That's the titanite lattice — but the number written against it means nothing to me. It looks like a Terran viddy coding."
"You are correct. It happens to be the number of a gem expert here in Washington. Not Ivor
Mandel'stahm, in case you're wondering. The person concerned assures us that Mr. Helmer never
contacted him, and we believe him. It's probably a number he acquired somehow, jotted down, but never
used."
... more calculations, now with lots of frequencies and phase angles. Doubtless communications stuff
— part of Karl's regular work...
... geometrical doodles, many of them based on the hexagon motive...
...Calindy again — only an outline sketch this time, showing none of the living care of the earlier
drawing...
... a honeycomb pattern of little circles, seen in plan and elevation. Only a few were drawn in detail, but it was obvious that there must be hundreds. The interpretation was equally obvious...
"The CYCLOPS array — yes, he's written in the number of elements and over-all dimensions."
"Why do you think he was so interested?"
"That's quite natural —it's the biggest and most famous radio telescope on Earth. He often discussed it with me."
"Did he ever speak of visiting it?"
"Very likely — but I don't remember. After all, this was some years ago."
The drawings on the next few pages, though very rough and diagrammatic, were clearly details of
CYCLOPS — antenna feeds, tracking mechanisms, obscure bits of circuitry, interspersed with yet more
calculations. One sketch had been started and never finished. Duncan looked at it sadly, then turned the page. As he had expected, the next sheet was blank.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," he said, closing the book, "but I get nothing at all from this. Kar— Mr.
Helmer's field was communications science; he helped design the Titan-Inner Planets Link. This is all
part of his work. His interest is completely understandable, and I see nothing unusual about it."
"Perhaps so, Mr. Makenzie. But you haven't finished."
Duncan looked in surprise at the empty air. Then Under Secretary Smith gestured toward the
sketchbook.
"Never take anything for granted," he said mildly. "Start at the other end."
Feeling slightly foolish, Duncan reopened the sketchbook, then flipped it over as he realized Karl had used it from both directions. (But he had been too badly shaken by those last drawings, and was not
thinking too clearly...)
The inside back cover was blank, but the facing page bore the single enigmatic word ARGUS. It meant