Kandinski looked up. ‘Do you read science fiction?’ he asked matterof-factly.
‘Not as a rule,’ Ward admitted. When Kandinski said nothing he went on: ‘Perhaps I’m too sceptical, but I can’t take it seriously.’
Kandinski pulled a blister on his palm. ‘No one suggests you should. What you mean is that you take it too seriously.’
Accepting the rebuke with a smile at himself, Ward pulled out one of the magazines and sat down at a table next to Kandinski. On the cover was a placid suburban setting of snugly eaved houses, yew trees and children’s bicycles. Spreading slowly across the roof-tops was an enormous pulpy nightmare, blocking out the sun behind it and throwing a weird phosphorescent glow over the roofs and lawns. ‘You’re probably right,’ Ward said, showing the cover to Kandinski. ‘I’d hate to want to take that seriously.’
Kandinski waved it aside. ‘I have seen 11th-century illuminations of the Pentateuch more sensational than any of these covers.’ He pointed to the cinema theatre on the far side of the square, where the four-hour Biblical epic Cain and Abel was showing. Above the trees an elaborate technicolored hoarding showed Cain, wearing what appeared to be a suit of Roman armour, wrestling with an immense hydraheaded boa constrictor.
Kandinski shrugged tolerantly. ‘If Michelangelo were working for MGM today would he produce anything better?’
Ward laughed. ‘You may well be right. Perhaps the House of the Medicis should be re-christened "16th CenturyFox".’
Kandinski stood up and straightened the shelves. ‘I saw you here with Godfrey Cameron,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘You’re working at the Observatory?’
‘At the Hubble.’
Kandinski came and sat down beside Ward. ‘Cameron is a good man. A very pleasant fellow.’
‘He thinks a great deal of you,’ Ward volunteered, realizing that Kandinski was probably short of friends.
‘You mustn’t believe everything that Cameron says about me,’ Kandinski said suddenly. He hesitated, apparently uncertain whether to confide further in Ward, and then took the magazine from him. ‘There are better ones here. You have to exercise some discrimination.’
‘It’s not so much the sensationalism that puts me off,’ Ward explained, as the psychological implications. Most of the themes in these stories come straight out of the more unpleasant reaches of the unconscious.’
Kandinski glanced sharply at Ward, a trace of amusement in his eyes. ‘That sounds rather dubious and, if I may say so, second-hand. Take the best of these stories for what they are: imaginative exercises on the theme of tomorrow.’
‘You read a good deal of science fiction?’ Ward asked.
Kandinski shook his head. ‘Never. Not since I was a child.’
‘I’m surprised,’ Ward said. ‘Professor Cameron told me you had written a science fiction novel.’
‘Not a novel,’ Kandinski corrected.
‘I’d like to read it,’ Ward went on. ‘From what Cameron said it sounded fascinating, almost Swiftian in concept. This space-craft which arrives from Venus and the strange conversations the pilot holds with a philosopher he meets. A modern morality. Is that the subject?’
Kandinski watched Ward thoughtfully before replying. ‘Loosely, yes. But, as I said, the book is not a novel. It is a factual and literal report of a Venus landing which actually took place, a diary of the most significant encounter in history since Paul saw his vision of Christ on the road to Damascus.’ He lifted his huge bearded head and gazed at Ward without embarrassment. ‘As a matter of interest, as Professor Cameron probably explained to you, I was the man who witnessed the landing.’
Still maintaining his pose, Ward frowned intently. ‘Well, in fact Cameron did say something of the sort, but I…’
‘But you found it difficult to believe?’ Kandinski suggested ironically.
‘Just a little,’ Ward admitted. ‘Are you seriously claiming that you did see a Venusian space-craft?’
Kandinski nodded. ‘Exactly.’ Then, as if aware that their conversation had reached a familiar turning he suddenly seemed to lose interest in Ward. ‘Excuse me.’ He nodded politely to Ward, picked up a length of hose-pipe connected to a faucet and began to spray one of the big mobiles.
Puzzled but still sceptical, Ward sat back and watched him critically, then fished in his pockets for some change. ‘I must say I admire you for taking it all so calmly,’ he told Kandinski as he paid him.
‘What makes you think I do?’
‘Well, if I’d seen, let alone spoken to a visitor from Venus I think I’d be running around in a flat spin, notifying every government and observatory in the world.’
‘I did,’ Kandinski said. ‘As far as I could. No one was very interested.’
Ward shook his head and laughed. ‘It is incredible, to put it mildly.’
‘I agree with you.’
‘What I mean,’ Ward said, ‘is that it’s straight out of one of these science fiction stories of yours.’
