michael crichton.congo-第2章

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ges；　once　an　expedition　was　deep　enough　into　the　field　to　be　dependent　on　them。　He　had　budgeted　for　this　eventuality　and；　having　agreed　to　their　demands；　he　thought　no　more　about　it。
　Even　when　they　came　upon　several　areas　littered　with　shattered　fragments　of　bone…which　the　porters　found　frightening…Kruger　was　not　concerned。　Upon　examination；　he　found　the　bones　were　not　human　but　rather　the　small　delicate　bones　of　colobus　monkeys；　the　beautiful　shaggy　black…and…
　white　creatures　that　lived　in　the　trees　overhead。　It　was　true　that　there　were　a　lot　of　bones；　and　Kruger　had　no　idea　why　they　should　be　shattered；　but　he　had　been　in　Africa　a　long　time；　and　he　had　seen　many　inexplicable　things。
　Nor　was　he　any　more　impressed　with　the　overgrown　fragments　of　stone　that　suggested　a　city　had　once　stood　in　this　area。　Kruger　had　e　upon　unexplored　ruins　before；　too。　In　Zimbabwe；　in　Broken　Hill；　in　Maniliwi；　there　were　the　remains　of　cities　and　temples　that　no　twentieth…century　scientist　had　ever　seen　and　studied。
　He　camped　the　first　night　near　the　ruins。
　The　porters　were　panic…stricken；　insisting　that　the　evil　forces　would　attack　them　during　the　night。　Their　fear　was　caught　by　the　American　geologists；　to　pacify　them；　Kruger　had　posted　two　guards　that　night；　himself　and　the　most　trustworthy　porter；　Misulu。　Kruger　thought　it　was　all　a　lot　of　rot；　but　it　had　seemed　the　politic　thing　to　do。
　And　just　as　he　expected；　the　night　had　passed　quietly。　Around　midnight　there　had　been　some　movement　in　the　bush；　and　some　low　wheezing　sounds；　which　he　took　to　be　a　leopard。　Big　cats　often　had　respiratory　trouble；　particularly　in　the　jungle。　Otherwise　it　was　quiet；　and　now　it　was　dawn：　the　night　was　over。
　A　soft　beeping　sound　drew　his　attention。　Misulu　heard　it　too；　and　glanced　questioningly　at　Kruger。　On　the　transmitting　equipment；　a　red　light　blinked。　Kruger　got　up　and　crossed　the　campsite　to　the　equipment。　He　knew　how　to　operate　it；　the　Americans　had　insisted　that　he　learn；　as　an　〃emergency　procedure。〃　He　crouched　over　the　black　transmitter　box　with　its　rectangular　green　LED。
　He　pressed　buttons；　and　the　screen　printed　TX　HX；　meaning　a　transmission　from　Houston。　He　pressed　the　response　code；　and　the　screen　printed　CAM　LO　K。　That　meant　that　Houston　was　asking　for　video　camera　transmission。　He　glanced　over　at　the　camera　on　its　tripod　and　saw　that　the　red　light　on　the　case　had　blinked　on。　He　pressed　the　carrier　button　and　the　screen　printed　SATLOK；　which　meant　that　a　satellite　transmission　was　being　Locked　in。　There　would　now　be　a　six…minute　delay；　the　time　required　to　lock　the　satellite…bounced　signal。
　He'd　better　go　wake　Driscoll；　the　head　geologist；　he　thought。　Driscoll　would　need　a　few　minutes　before　the　transmission　came　through。　Kruger　found　it　amusing　the　way　the　Americans　always　put　on　a　fresh　shirt　and　bed　their　hair　before　stepping　in　front　of　the　camera。　Just　like　television　reporters。
　Overhead；　the　colobus　monkeys　shrieked　and　screamed　in　the　trees；　shaking　the　branches。　Kruger　glanced　upward；　wondering　what　had　set　them　going。　But　it　was　normal　for　colobus　monkeys　to　fight　in　the　morning。
　Something　struck　him　lightly　in　the　chest。　At　first　he　thought　it　was　an　insect　but；　glancing　down　at　his　khaki　shirt；　he　saw　a　spot　of　red；　and　a　fleshy　bit　of　red　fruit　rolled　down　his　shirt　to　the　muddy　ground。　The　damned　monkeys　were　throwing　berries。　He　bent　over　to　pick　it　up。　And　then　he　realized　that　it　was　not　a　piece　of　fruit　at　all。　It　was　a　human　eyeball；　crushed　and　slippery　in　his　fingers；　pinkish　white　with　a　shred　of　white　optic　nerve　still　attached　at　the　back。
　He　swung　his　gun　around　and　looked　over　to　where　Misulu　was　sitting　on　the　rock。　Misulu　was　not　there。
　Kruger　moved　across　the　campsite。　Overhead；　the　colobus　monkeys　fell　silent。　He　heard　his　boots　squish　in　the　mud　as　he　moved　past　the　tents　of　sleeping　men。　And　then　he　heard　the　wheezing　sound　again。　It　was　an　odd；　soft　sound；　carried　on　the　swirling　morning　mist。　Kruger　wondered　if　he　had　been　mistaken；　if　it　was　really　a　leopard。
　And　he　saw　Misulu。　Misulu　lay　on　his　back；　in　a　kind　of　halo　of　blood。　His　skull　had　been　crushed　from　the　sides；　the　facial　bones　shattered；　the　face　narrowed　and　elongated；　the　mouth　open　in　an　obscene　yawn；　the　one　remaining　eye　wide　and　bulging。　The　other　eye　had　exploded　outward　with　the　force　of　the　impact。
　Kruger　felt　his　heart　pounding　as　he　bent　to　examine　the　body。　He　wondered　what　could　have　caused　such　an　injury。　And　then　he　heard　the　soft　wheezing　sound　again；　and　this
　time　he　felt　quite　sure　it　was　not　a　leopard。　Then　the　colobus　monkeys　began　their　shrieking；　and　Kruger　leapt　to　his　feet　and　screamed。
　
　DAY　1：　HOUSTON
　June　13；1979
　
　1。ERTS　Houston
　
　TEN　THOUSAND　MILES　AWAY；　IN　THE　COLD；　Windowless　main　data　room　of　Earth　Resources　Technology　Services；　Inc。；　of　Houston；　Karen　Ross　sat　hunched　over　a　mug　of　coffee　in　front　of　a　puter　terminal；　reviewing　the　latest　Landsat　images　from　Africa。　Ross　was　the　ERTS　Congo　Project　Supervisor；　and　as　she　manipulated　the　satellite　images　in　artificial　contrast　colors；　blue　and　purple　and　green；　she　glanced　at　her　watch　impatiently。　She　was　waiting　for　the　next　field　transmission　from　Africa。
　It　was　now　10：15　P。M。　Houston　time；　but　there　was　no　indication　of　time　or　place　in　the　room。　Day　or　night；　the　main　data　facility　of　ERTS　remained　the　same。　Beneath　banks　of　special　kalon　fluorescent　lights；　programming　crews　in　sweaters　worked　at　long　rows　of　quietly　clicking　puter　terminals；　providing　real…time　inputs　to　the　field　parties　that　ERTS　maintained　around　the　world。　This　timeless　quality　was　understood　to　be　necessary　for　the　puters；　which　required　a　constant　temperature　of　60　degrees；　dedicated　electrical　lines；　special　color…corrected　lights　that　did　not　interfere　with　circuitry。　It　was　an　environment　made　for　machines；　the　needs　of　people　were　secondary。
　But　there　was　another　rationale　for　the　main　facility　design。　ERTS　wanted　programmers　in　Houston　to　identify　with　the　field　parties；　and　if　possible　to　live　on　their　schedules。　Inputting　baseball　games　and　other　local　events　was　discouraged；　there　was　no　clock　which　showed　Houston　time；　although　on　the　far　wall　eight　large　digital　clocks　recorded　local　time　for　the　various　field　parties。
　The　clock　marked　CONGO　FIELD　PARTY　read　06：15　A。M。　when　the　overhead　inter　said；　〃Dr。　Ross；　CCR　bounce。〃
　She　left　the　console　after　punching　in　the　digital　password　blocking　codes。　Every　ERTS　terminal　had　a　password　control；　like　a　bination　lock。　It　was　part　of　an　elaborate　system　to　prevent　outside　sources　tapping　into　their　enormous　data　bank。　ERTS　dealt　in　information；　and　as　R。　B。　Travis；　the　head　of　ERTS；　was　fond　of　saying；　the　easiest　way　to　obtain　information　was　to　steal　it。
　She　crossed　the　room　with　long　strides。　Karen　Ross　was　nearly　six　feet　tall；　an　attractive　though　ungainly　girl。　Only　twenty…four　years　old；　she　was　younger　than　most　of　the　programmers；　but　despite　her　youth；　she　had　a　self…possession　that　most　people　found　striking…even　a　little　unsettling。　Karen　Ross　was　a　genuine　mathematical　prodigy。
　At　the　age　of　two；　while　acpanying　her　mother　to　the　supermarket；　she　had　worked　out　in　her　head　whether　a　ten…ounce　can　at　19C　was　cheaper　than　a　one…pound…twelve…ounce　can　at　79C。　At　three；　she　startled　her　father　by　observing　that；　unlike　other　numbers；　zero　meant　different　things　in　different　positions。　By　eight；　she　had　mastered　algebra　and　geometry；　by　ten；　she　had　taught　herself　calculus；　she　entered　M。I。T。　at　thirteen　and　proceeded　to　make　a　series　of　brilliant　discoveries　in　abstract　mathematics；　culminating　in　a　treatise；　〃Topological　Prediction　in　n…Space；〃　which　was　useful　for　decision　matrices；　critical　path　analyses；　and　multidimensional　mapping。　This　interest　had　brought　her　to　the　attention　of　ERTS；　where　she　was　made　the　youngest　field　supervisor　in　the　pany。
　Not　everyone　liked　her。　The　years　of　isolation；　of　being　the　youngest　person　in　any　room；　had　left　her　aloof　and　rather　distant。　One　co…worker　described　her　as　〃logical　to　a　fault。〃　Her　chilly　demeanor　had　earned　her　the　title　〃Ross　Glacier；〃　after　the　Antarctic　formation。
　And　her　youth　still　held　her　back…at　least；　age　was　Travis's　excuse　when　he　refused　to　let　her　lead　the　Congo　expedition　into　the　field；　even　though　she　had　derived　all　the　Congo　database；　and　by　rights　should　have　been　the　onsite　team　leader。　〃I'm　sorry；〃　Travis　had　said；　〃but　this　con…
　tract's　too　big；　and　I　just　can't　let　you　have　it。〃　She　had　pressed；　reminding　him　of　her　successes　leading　teams　the　year　before　to　Pahang　and　Zambia。　Finally　he　had　said；　〃Look；　Karen；　that　site's　ten　thousand　miles　away；　in　four…plus　terrain。　We　need　more　than　a　console　hotdogger　out　there。〃
　She　bridled　under　the　implication　that　that　was　all　she　was…a　console　hotdogger；　fast　at　the　keyboard；　good　at　playing　with　Travis's　toys。　She　wanted　to　prove　herself　in　a　four…plus　field　situation。　And　the　next　time　she　was　determined　to　make　Travis　let　her　go。
　Ross　pressed　the　button　for　the　third…floor　elevator；　marked　〃CX　Access　Only。〃　She　caught　an　envious　glance　from　one　of　the　programmers　while　she　waited　for　the　elevator　to　arrive。　Within　ERTS；　status　was　not　measured　by　salary；　title；　the　size　of　one's　office；　or　the　other　usual　corporate　indicators　of　power。　Status　at　ERTS　was　purely　a　matter　of　access　to　information…and　Karen　Ross　was　one　of　eight　people　in　the　pany　who　had　access　to　the　third　floor　at　any　time。
　She　stepped　onto　the　third…floor　elevator；　glancing　up　at　the　scanner　lens　mounted　over　the　door。　At　ERTS　the　elevators　traveled　only　one　floor；　and　all　were　equipped　with　passive　scanners；　it　was　one　way　that　ERTS　kept　track　of　the　movements　of　personnel　while　they　were　in　the　building。　She　said　〃Karen　Ross〃　for　the　voice　monitors；　and　turned　in　a　full　circle　for　the　scanners。　There　was　a　soft　electronic　bleep；　and　the　door　slid　open　at　the　third　floor。
　She　emerged　into　a　small　square　room　with　a　ceiling　video　monitor；　and　faced　the　unmarked　outer　door　of　the　munications　Control　Room。　She　repeated　〃Karen　Ross；〃　and　inserted　her　electronic　identicard　in　the　slot；　resting　her　fingers　on　the　metallic　edge　of　the　card　so　the　puter　could　record　galvanic　skin　potentials。　（This　was　a　refinement　instituted　three　months　earlier；　after　Travis　learned　that　Army　experiments　with　vocal　cord　surgery　had　altered　voice　characteristics　precisely　enough　to　false…positive　Voiceident　programs。）　After　a　cycling　pause；　the　door　buzzed　open。　She　went　inside。
　With　its　red　night　lights；　munications　Control　was
　like　a　soft；　warm　womb…an　impression　heightened　by　the　cramped；　almost　claustrophobic　quality　of　the　room；　packed　with　electronic　equipment。　From　floor　to　ceiling；　dozens　of　video　monitors　and　LEDs　flickered　and　glowed　as　the　technicians　spoke　in　hushed　tones；　setting　dials　and　twisting　knobs。　The　CCR　was　the　electronic　nerve　center　of　ERTS：
　all　munications　from　field　parties　around　the　world　were　routed　through　here。　Everything　in　the　CCR　was　recorded；　not　only　ining　data　but　room　voice　responses；　so　the　exact　conversation　on　the　night　of　June　13；　1979；　is　known。
　One　of　the　technicians　said　to　her；　〃We'll　have　the　transponders　hooked　in　in　a　minut