Is comedy endemic in intelligent life?
Would evolution be possible without it?
Do ants have a sense of humor?
—De Rerum Comoedia
In a perfect universe “T. S. Eliot” would be “toilets” backwards. But it is an imperfect universe. It is flawed. It has tears and holes and big gaps of nothing, and a strange fungus, called life, which begins to grow wherever there is water. So sadly it’s only “toilest” backwards which is not quite so much fun. An irrelevant point, I know, but I was thinking of language and Carlton’s attempts to understand comedy. He was intrigued by the odd linguistic connection between “comic” and “cosmic.” It was only an s away. Is humor, he wondered, a reaction to the enormousness of it all, an intuitive understanding of just how small the species Homo sapiens is in the cosmos? The Universe can function perfectly well without life at all, and yet, just add water and time, and there it is, growing like slime mold in the cracks of dusty planets, evolving into a million different life forms of startling beauty and efficiency. And why does it evolve intelligence? An intelligence which can only gape in wonder at the grandeur of it all and invent concepts like God to understand the magnitude of the ever-expanding Universe of which it is such a tiny part.
Galaxies are so widely spaced that they can pass through each other without colliding. Now that’s a mind-boggling thought. Let’s see it once again in slow motion. The distance between individual stars is so huge that it is possible for one galaxy to slip through another galaxy without a collision between any of the billions of stars involved. And you’re worried about returning a late library book. It’s hard to grasp this perspective, isn’t it? Perhaps, thought Carlton, this is what comedy is, a perception of a disproportionate ratio between the macrouniverse and their own microworld of self-obsessed concerns.
He began to work on the astrophysics of comedy. The cosmic laugh.
Ping. Of course he was immediately interrupted. Aren’t we always? Isn’t that the funny thing about life? We’re just about to discover the meaning of life when someone comes to read the meter? Isn’t the person from Porlock always banging on the door? Or calling up and offering new and better phone systems. It’s a wonder we get anything done.
This time Carlton was interrupted by the answer to Sammy Weiss’s request about the Gunpowder Plot.
Gunpowder Plot, conspiracy to kill James I, King of England, at the opening of Parliament on November 5, 1605. The plot was formed by a group of prominent Roman Catholics in retaliation against the oppressive anti-Catholic laws being applied by James I. The conspirators rented a vault beneath the House of Lords and stored 36 barrels of gunpowder in it. Guy Fawkes, a soldier of fortune, was to set fire to the gunpowder, but the plot was exposed, and Fawkes was arrested early on November 5. Fawkes confessed and was hanged along with other conspirators in 1606. The Gunpowder Plot is commemorated annually in Great Britain on November 5.
Carlton read it and was baffled. What the hell was all that about?
§
In the communications room of the Iceman, Pavel read the same message. He was monitoring the signals traffic from the Ray. This one made him gulp his coffee and race out of the room.
In the dark hold of the Iceman two dozen men were assembled. It was freezing down there, their breath crystallizing in the cold. They were swathed in woolens and furs, mittens and earmuffs, knitted caps. One or two slapped themselves from time to time, like a horse impatiently stamps its hooves. Josef looked down at them.
“Okay, everyone, listen up. The Di has acknowledged.”
He spoke calmly, reassuringly. Didn’t want to give them any hint of danger.
“They’ve taken the bait, they’re on their way.”
Ironic cheers.
“Don’t start cheering yet. This is only the beginning. But it’s a good beginning.”
One of them let out a whoop and everyone laughed.
“Okay, the bad news is we’re going to have to clean the ship.”
A few groans.
“I know, I know. It’s boring, but we’ve still plenty of time before the Di gets here. This place is going to be swept, and if they find anything, or even suspect anything, we’re dead in the water, so it’s your lives. Is that understood?”
Muttered assents.
“After that I need you to start packing up your belongings and cleaning yourselves up. I wouldn’t let any one of you on my ship.”
Pavel came running up waving a form.
“Just got this from the Ray.” Josef glanced at the intercepted mail report. “Jesus,” he said. “Their tin man’s onto us.” He was looking at the words “Gunpowder Plot.”
“Well, that’s it then,” said Josef. “We have to take them out right now. Activate the bug.”
“But,” said Pavel hesitating. “What about his daughter, sir?”
“You do know how the original Gunpowder Plot failed, don’t you?” Pavel shook his head. “Somebody warned a relative.”