reckoning.”
Sil-Chan felt a constriction of his chest. He felt suddenly old and incomplete. “I know, sir, that we’ve never been noted for our economies, but …”
Tchung waved him to silence. “I will risk the open channels.” He flipped a switch beside his desk projector, indicated the open microphone to the Central Computer. “Sooma, how would you phrase the question to get as succinct an answer as possible? Seventy-four point four one two percent of standby and primary logic banks already are engaged in the first phase of this Dornbaker Account. You must ask a question which uses a primary channel without higher monitor.”
Sil-Chan nodded, ran a hand through his blond brush. “Computer?”
“Computer recognizes Sil-Chan.” The metallic voice carried an impersonal and attenuated tone which Sil-Chan found uncharacteristic. Perhaps it was Tchung’s own office setting.
“I am propounding a top priority question,” Sil-Chan said. “This question takes precedence over all other matters now being considered. Give us an elementary, condensed explanation which requires no more than a few minutes—What is this Dornbaker Account?”
A rasping buzz sounded from the speaker followed by clicks and tappings, then the metallic voice: “Information available only to the Director.”
“Give us that information!” Tchung ordered.
“Computer recognizes Director Tchung,” the metallic voice said. “Does Director Tchung wish this information disclosed to the other person with him?”
“Yes!”
“Noted and filed. Free Island Dornbaker is a land mass of approximately two hundred and seventy-four kilometers length, one hundred and fifty-eight kilometers width. It is located on planet surface approximately four hundred kilometers from the community of Magsayan which is on the shores of Climatic Control Sea number fifteen. The island …”
“Island?” Sil-Chan interrupted.
“A body of land entirely surrounded by water,” said the computer.”
“I know what an island is!” Sil-Chan snapped. “I was just surprised.”
“Computer cannot always distinguish between surprise and the need to know,” the Computer said.
“Get on with it!” Tchung ordered.
“Dornbaker Free Island is an autonomous area by treaty and numerous precedential decisions in Stellar Law that would be applicable in present circumstances. Beneath the island in roughly a cone shape, the original property attached to the autonomous area projects to within three hundred kilometers of planetary core. There is also the restriction on airspace which …”
“Under the island?” Sil-Chan asked.
Tchung nodded.
The Computer clicked, then: “Surprise or interrogation?”
“Interrogation,” Sil-Chan said.
“Computer obeys. The three hundred kilometers beneath this downward projection were ceded to Galactic Archives when this planet was the Terran Autonomy. That was at the time of the gravitronic unit’s installation. This installation occurred immediately prior to the planetary reduction in mass which made room for storage of …”
“But what do you mean by cone-shaped property?” Sil-Chan demanded.
“That portion of Old Terra within the autonomous boundaries of the Free Island and projecting downward toward this planet’s true core.”
Sil-Chan stared across the desk at Tchung. “Does the Computer mean … Earth?”
The Computer responded ahead of Tchung: “That is the most common referent, but actually most of it is solidified magmas.
“Then the counterbalance …” Sil-Chan said.
“The counterbalance,” the Computer explained, “is required to counteract the tremendous weight differential created by the autonomous mass upon the southern equatorial belt. If that weight were permitted to change the planetary axis and …”
Sil-Chan interrupted: “This thing is saying that there’s a gigantic mass of Old Terra under some island and projecting almost to the planet’s core.”
The Computer said: