Galileo’s Dream. Kim Stanley Robinson

surface.

      ‘We’re going to fall!’

      But they didn’t. The column of water under them had fountained out of its hole and then quickly frozen in place, so that it stood there as ice, supporting their vessel just as certain sandstone columns held up schist boulders in an area of the Alps. Icicles broke and clattered away from the vessel’s sides, shattering on the low frozen waves now surrounding the column. Black sky; white ice, tinted the oranges of Jupiter; their vessel, like a roc’s egg on a plinth.

      ‘How will we get down?’ Galileo inquired in the sudden silence. His ears buzzed and hurt, and he could see crew members holding their heads.

      ‘Something will come to us,’ said Ganymede.

      Hera laughed just a touch wildly, detached Galileo’s fingers from her arm. ‘The Europans will come for us. The Council will come for us.’

      ‘I don’t care, if they get the others too.’

      ‘The others may have died inside.’

      ‘So be it. We’ll tell the Council what we did, and tell them they should have done it.’ He turned to one of his crew. ‘Prepare the entangler to send Signor Galileo back.’

      The crewman, one of the pilots, bustled out of the chamber through a low door. Ganymede turned to speak to another of them.

      Hera leaned over and said quickly in Galileo’s ear, ‘They will give you an amnestic, and you won’t remember any of this. Drink salt water the moment you wake. Do your alchemists have magnesium sulphate? Well, shit-you won’t remember this either. Here-’ she reached inside her tunic, pulled out a small tablet, gave it to him. ‘This is better than nothing. Hide it on you, and when you see it again, eat it!’ She glared at him, her nose inches from his, and pinched his arm hard. ‘Eat this! Remember!’

      ‘I’ll try,’ Galileo promised, slipping the pill in his sleeve and feeling his arm throb.

      Ganymede towered over him. ‘Come, signor. There is no time to lose, we will soon be apprehended. The other ships may not have made it, in which case good riddance to them, but we will have a lot of explaining to do. Let me convey you back to your home.’

      Galileo stood. As he passed Hera she pinched him again, this time on the butt. Eat the pill, he thought, ignoring her, and walked with Ganymede to the side of his thick perispicillum. Eat the pill.

      ‘Here,’ Ganymede said, and a mist from his hand hit Galileo’s face.

       Chapter Six A Statue Would Have Been Erected

       These confused and intermittent mental struggles slip through one’s fingers and escape by their subtleties and slitherings, not hesitating to produce a thousand chimeras and fantastic caprices little understood by themselves and not at all by their listeners. By these fancies the bewildered mind is bandied about from one phantasm to another, just as in a dream one passes from a palace to a ship and then to a grotto or beach, and finally, when one awakes and the dream vanishes (and for the most part all memory of it also), one finds that one has been idly sleeping and has passed the hours without profit of any sort.

      -GALILEO, letter to Cosimo, 1611

      And indeed he came out of this syncope as one wakes from a dream, agitated, gasping, struggling to remember as it squirted away; you could see it in his face. ‘No,’ he moaned, ‘come back…don’t forget…’

      This time it was his newly hired housekeeper who discovered him: La Piera had arrived at last. ‘Maestro!’ she cried, leaning over to peer into his staring eye. ‘Wake up!’

      He groaned, looked at her without recognition. She gave him a hand, hauled him to his feet. Though a braccio shorter, she was about as heavy as he was.

      ‘They told me you suffer from syncopes.’

      ‘I was dreaming.’

      ‘You were paralysed. I shouted, I pinched you, nothing. You were gone.’

      ‘I was gone.’ He shuddered like a horse. ‘I had a dream, or something. A vision. But I can’t remember it!’

      ‘That’s all right. You’re better off without dreams.’

      He regarded her curiously. ‘Why do you say that?’

      She shrugged her broad shoulders as she tugged his clothes into position, holding up a little pellet she pulled from his jacket and then pocketing it. ‘My dreams are crazy, that’s all. Burning things in the oven while all the fish on the table come to life and start biting me, or sliding out the door like eels. They’re always the same. Rubbish I say! Life is crazy enough as it is.’

      ‘Maybe so.’

      Then Cartophilus hustled onto the altana and came up short at the sight of them. Galileo shuddered again, pointed a finger at him: ‘You!’ he exclaimed.

      ‘Me,’ the ancient one admitted cautiously. ‘What is it, maestro? Why are you up?’

      ‘You know why!’ Galileo roared. Then, piteously: ‘Don’t you?’

      ‘Not I,’ Cartophilus said, shifty as always. ‘I heard voices and came out to see what was up.’

      ‘You let someone in. In the gate?’

      ‘Not I, maestro. Did you fall into one of your syncopes again?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Yes,’ La Piera confirmed.

      Galileo heaved a huge sigh. Clearly he could remember nothing, or next to nothing. He glanced up; Jupiter was nearly overhead. He was cold, he slapped his arms to warm himself. ‘Were the wolves in the hills howling earlier?’ he asked suddenly.

      ‘Not that I heard.’

      ‘I think they were.’ He sat there thinking about it. ‘To bed,’ he muttered, and stood. ‘I can’t do it tonight.’ He glanced up again, hesitated. ‘Ah, damn.’ He plopped down again on his stool. ‘I have to check them, at least. What time is it? Midnight? Bring me some mulled wine. And stay out here with me.’

      Salviati was out of town, and Galileo was therefore stuck in his rented house in Florence. He found himself in a strange mood, distracted and pensive. He made it known to Vinta, in the most obsequious and flowery language he could manage, which was saying a lot, that he wanted to go to Rome to promote his new discoveries-or, as he admitted in a meeting with the Grand Duke’s secretary, to defend them. For there were a lot of serious people who simply didn’t have spyglasses good enough to see the moons of Jupiter, and even well-meaning parties like the Jesuits, the best astronomers in Europe aside from Kepler, were having trouble making the observations. And in Tuscany a new thing had happened: a philosopher named Ludovico delle Colombe was circulating a manuscript that not only ridiculed the notion that the Earth might move, but displayed a long list of quotes from the Bible to back his argument that Galileo’s idea was contrary to Scripture. These quotes included ‘You fixed the earth on its foundation’ (Psalm 104:5); ‘God made the orb immobile’ (1 Chronicles 16:30); ‘He suspended the earth above nothingness, that is, above the centre’ (Job 26:7); ‘The heaviness of stone, the weight of sand’ (Proverbs 27:3); ‘Heaven is up, the earth is down’ (Proverbs 30:3); ‘The sun rises, and sets, and returns to its place, from which, reborn, it revolves through the meridian, and is curved toward the North’ (Ecclesiastes 1:5); ‘God made two lights, i. e. , a greater light and a smaller light, and the stars, to shine above the earth’ (Genesis 1:17).

      Galileo read a manuscript of this letter, given to him by Salviati to show him what was being circulated, and cursed at every sentence. ‘The heaviness of stone! This is stupid!’

      Who wants the human mind put to death? he wrote angrily to Salviati. Who is going to claim that everything in the world which is observable