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At 8:50 p.m. the campus public address system began urging everyone to turn on their televisions. Ten minutes later, Dave and Glenn watched the university station’s broadcast as Chancellor O’Reilly and several other university dignitaries filed into the briefing room to face the cameras. Of particular interest to Dave was the presence of a naval officer, whom he did not recognize. O’Reilly came to the podium and looked squarely into the camera.
“This afternoon,” he began, “a commissioning test of a new force field generator, carried out on behalf of the Department of Defense in our experimental area, had some serious and unintended consequences. The experiment triggered an electrical storm, which ultimately led to a detonation that damaged the force field equipment. Furthermore, unbelievable as it may seem, this explosion at 14:31 hours has dislocated—that is to say, moved—the whole island of Halcyon from its original location. We have not yet determined our new coordinates, but I can say that Halcyon’s very best minds are working out our location and how to get back home.
“Let me tell you what we know. The air, the ocean, and even our preliminary astronomical data indicate that we have been dislocated to a part of the earth very close to our original position near North Carolina. It is puzzling that we have so far not been able to communicate with the mainland, but it is likely that the failure of our communication equipment is a consequence of the dislocation process.”
“If this is a joke, it’s a very bad joke!” sputtered Glenn as he jumped up from his chair.
“It’s no joke,” said Dave softly.
O’Reilly continued as a picture of the truncated bridge filled the screen. “The bridge to the mainland has been neatly sliced in two. Fortunately the whole island was dislocated, so all of our resources are intact. The nuclear power plant is still operational, and our self-contained island infrastructure is functioning well. We do not have to worry about running out of electricity, since there is enough nuclear fuel on site for about fifteen years.
“However, the geography around our island has changed. It is my belief, based on discussions with my advisors, that the island has moved only a few miles from its previous location. The coast is now six miles away. If we cannot reestablish communication with the mainland over the airwaves in the next few hours, then we will send a boat to the mainland.
“As I have said, our best evidence indicates that we have moved only a few miles. However, until we have confirmed this conjecture by communicating with the mainland, we must take steps to ensure the orderly functioning of our small community.
“As chancellor, I—together with the senate and Commander Sanderson from the naval station at the south end of the island—have taken it upon ourselves to form an interim government to ensure we continue to conduct our affairs in an orderly manner under the rule of law during this interregnum. It seems prudent under the circumstances to act as if we might be without communication or support for a protracted period of time. We will work to assure our basic necessities. Once we have taken steps to ensure our survival, if we have neither been rescued nor found a way to return home, then we will hold elections and operate as a freely democratic country.
“For now we will declare martial law. All food will be used to carry our population through the next critical few weeks. There will be no hoarding. I repeat, all food will be shared equally. If we have to go hungry, we will all go hungry together. In addition to the 15,000 students housed in dormitories on campus, we have about 5,000 faculty and support personnel. Many of these support personnel lived on the mainland. They will be housed mostly with the faculty in the faculty district, but some will also have to be placed in your dormitory rooms. If you have a large room and must accept a third person, please do so with goodwill.
“Finally, you will ask, ‘What are our next steps?’ To that I would respond that our most immediate need is food. We must look first to the sea to support us. Securing our food supply will buy us the time we need to reverse the dislocation or await rescue. To buy us this time, I am suspending all classes, and we will assign everyone to necessary tasks. It is essential that we work together and put our community ahead of our own personal wants and needs. It is only by this kind of unselfishness that we will pull through this crisis. May God have mercy on us!” O’Reilly took a sip of water from a glass and cleared his throat.
“We are all asking what has happened to us. Dr. Blackmore, the vice-chancellor, and his team of physicists and engineers will take personal responsibility for investigating the accident. I have asked him to keep us informed of his progress on an ongoing basis.
“I will take personal responsibility for our survival. I have asked Trevor Huxley, who will take responsibility for food procurement, to provide some of the details on logistics. Trevor?”
Huxley, a short, heavily jowled, overweight man with a red face, took off his glasses to clean them. His voice was unexpectedly thin and reedy, despite his flabby appearance, as he read from a prepared speech. “I am sure that everyone is as shocked as I am at what has happened. I’m sure you will understand me if I say that we must all pull together. What I say may seem high-handed to some, but it is essential to our survival.”
Dave saw O’Reilly shift uncomfortably at the longwinded preamble. Huxley noticed the motion, cleared his throat, and applied himself to the written text. “It is essential that we keep all the critical departments functioning: engineering, the physical sciences, and medicine. We will also give priority to the support functions that keep our buildings lit and infrastructure operative. This will mean that additional personnel with the right expertise will have to contribute. If you are asked to lend a hand or take a shift, I would ask that you do so.
“We hope, of course, that we will be rescued soon, but it would be wise and prudent to act as if we might be cut off from home for some time. As the chancellor has pointed out, our critical need is food. We estimate that we have about two weeks worth of food in storage. If we ration it carefully and collect all of the food in the various campus stores, we may have enough for three weeks.
“Those of you who are not directly seconded to the critical support activities that I have already mentioned will be asked to perform one of three functions, and we will assign these by dorm. First, every available boat will be used to bring fish back to campus. We will convert one of the warehouses at East Harbor into a fish processing plant. The dorms Aristotle, Aquinas, Bacon, Bentham, Descarte, Fuerbach, Hegel, Hobbes, Kant, Locke, Machiavelli, and Mill are on fish procurement duty.
“Second, dorms Nietsche, Peirce, Plato, Sartre, Spinoza, and Voltaire will lend support to our experimental farms and harvest the food that we have in the ground, planting new crops if necessary.
“Finally, the dorms Schopenhauer and Socrates have been designated to travel to the mainland.
“If you are contacted by one of the departments to contribute your particular skill, please do so. Otherwise, please contribute to the assignment given to your dormitory. The senate respectfully asks that you provide your full support.”
So my dorm is assigned to exploration. I wonder if Uncle Charlie had me in mind when he made that choice.
O’Reilly approached the microphone and nodded curtly to Huxley. “One more thing,” said O’Reilly. “The naval station at the south end of the island will be considered a critical university department and will be responsible for the defense of the island. Commander Sanderson is now officially in charge of the campus patrol, and he is now also a member of our senate. I believe he would like to say a few words. Commander Sanderson.”
Sanderson, a broad shouldered man in his mid-forties with short hair graying around his temples, strode briskly to the podium. “In view of the seriousness of our situation,” Sanderson said, “as part of the martial law Chancellor O’Reilly has already announced, a curfew at 21:00 hours—that is 9:00 p.m.—is now in force. Please return to your dormitory rooms by that hour. That’s all that I have to say at this time.”
The broadcast went off the air, replaced by a message saying that regular programming would resume the next evening at 7:00 p.m.
Glenn was so angry he stormed out of the room. Dave rose from his chair and began pacing. Ever since the sight of the bridge and the interview with Hoffstetter, he had been trying to explain away the evidence for the dislocation. The official announcement robbed him of the solace of denial, and he was angry.
Why am I angry? If we have been dislocated, why blame them for telling me?
One thing had surprised Dave. He had never heard Uncle Charlie refer to God before. At Halcyon, reference to God was regarded as unscholarly, unprofessional, and anachronistic. Certainly, there was more than one side to Uncle Charlie.
I wonder what other surprises this crisis situation might yet reveal?
Dave’s thoughts were interrupted when Glenn stormed back into the room. “No way am I going to be ordered around,” snarled Glenn. “I know my rights. I don’t have to do anything.” He picked up the phone, changed his mind, and slammed the receiver back onto the cradle.
“Look, Glenn,” said Dave, “we don’t really know where we are or how much trouble we’re in. Wouldn’t it make sense to cooperate?”
“I know how these military guys think,” continued Glenn. “The first hint of an emergency comes along, and they go on a power trip, declare martial law, and begin ordering everyone around. I want no part of it.”
When he saw the anger in Glenn’s face Dave knew that Uncle Charlie had been right. If there were more like Glenn, then the university stood on the brink of a riot. Oh boy, I don’t think I’ve heard the end of this. I hope this doesn’t lead to trouble!
The rest of the evening was spent in small groups in the dorm common area. The group seemed evenly split: there were those who, like Glenn, were angry, those who denied the whole thing, explaining it away as a practical joke or a colossal misunderstanding and those whose fear was palpable.
About midnight, despite the curfew, Dave went out into the dorm courtyard. He realized that even though he had argued for cooperation, the imposition of a curfew rankled him. He looked up and saw the Big Dipper and Polaris. Nothing seemed to have changed. If they had been displaced in time by 50,000 years, he remembered from astronomy class that the Big Dipper handle would be distorted. If it weren’t for the bridge and the mainland, he would think his parents were still only a phone call away. He sat outside looking at the stars until 1:00 a.m. They made him feel as if he were home.