The Web Between the Worlds - Charles Sheffield, ebook, CALIBRE SFF 1970s, Temp 2
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The Web Between the Worlds
Table of Contents
An open letter to the Bulletin of the Science Fiction Writers of America
CHAPTER 1: "Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven, to His feet thy tribute bring."
CHAPTER 2: A Look at Jacob's Ladder
CHAPTER 3: "Go and catch a falling star . . . "
CHAPTER 4: "Busy old fool, unruly Sun . . . "
CHAPTER 5: "The Light of Other Days"
CHAPTER 6: A Voyage to Atlantis
CHAPTER 7: How to Build a Beanstalk
CHAPTER 8: "To meet with Caliban"
CHAPTER 9: "Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain"
CHAPTER 10: The Birth of Ourobouros
CHAPTER 11: "What seest thou else, in the dark backward and abysm of time?"
CHAPTER 12: ". . . at the quiet limit of the world, a white-haired shadow roaming like a dream . . . "
CHAPTER 13: The Masters of Atlantis
CHAPTER 14: Goblin Mystery
CHAPTER 15: "I do begin to have bloody thoughts"
CHAPTER 16: "Then I saw that there was a way to Hell, even from the Gates of Heaven"
CHAPTER 17: A Bridge to Midgard
CHAPTER 18: "Cor contritum quasi cinis, gere curam mei finis"
APPENDIX 1: Notes on Quotes
APPENDIX 2: Beanstalks in Fact and Fiction
The Web Between the Worlds
Charles Sheffield
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any
resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Copyright (c) 1979 by Charles Sheffield.
Revised edition copyright (c) 2001 by Charles Sheffield.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.
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A Baen Book
Baen Publishing Enterprises
P.O. Box 1403
Riverdale, NY 10471
www.baen.com
ISBN: 0-671-31973-6
Cover art by Bob Eggleton
First revised printing, February 2001
Distributed by Simon & Schuster
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
Production by Windhaven Press, Auburn, NH
Printed in the United States of America
To Ann and Brock
Baen Books by Charles Sheffield
The Spheres of Heaven
The Mind Pool
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 My Brother's Keeper
The Compleat McAndrew
Convergent Series
Transvergence
Proteus in the Underworld
borderlands of Science
The Web Between the Worlds
An open letter to the Bulletin
of the Science Fiction Writers
of America
Early in 1979 I published a novel,
The Fountains of Paradise
, in which an engineer named Morgan,
builder of the longest bridge in the world, tackles a far more ambitious project—an "orbital tower"
extending from a point on the equator to geostationary orbit. Its purpose: to replace the noisy, polluting
and energy-wasteful rocket by a far more efficient electric elevator system. The construction material is a
crystalline carbon filter, and a key device in the plot is a machine named "Spider."
A few months later another novel appeared in which an engineer named Merlin, builder of the longest
bridge in the world, tackles a far more ambitious project—an "orbital tower," etc. etc. The construction
material is a crystalline silicon fiber, and a key device in the plot is a machine named "Spider" . . .
A clear case of plagiarism? No—merely an idea whose time has come. And I'm astonished that it hasn't
come sooner.
The concept of the "space elevator" was first published in the West in 1966 by John Isaacs and his team
at La Jolla. They were greatly surprised to discover that a Leningrad engineer, Yuri Artsutanov, had
anticipated them in 1960; his name for the device was a "cosmic funicular." There have since been at least
three other independent "inventions" of the idea.
I first mentioned it in a speech to the American Institute of Architects in May 1967 (see "Technology and
the Future" in
Report on Planet Three
) and more recently (July 1975) in an address to the House of
Representatives Space Committee (see
The View From Serendip
). However, although I had been
thinking about
The Fountains of Paradise
for almost two decades, it was not until a very few years ago
that I decided to use the orbital tower as its theme. One reason for my reluctance was, I suspect, an
unconscious fear that,
surely
, some science-fiction writer would soon latch on to such a gorgeous idea.
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 Then I decided that I simply had to use it—even if Larry Niven came out first . . .
Well, Charles Sheffield (currently President of the American Astronautical Association and V/P of the
Earth Satellite Corporation) only missed by a few months with his Ace novel
The Web Between the
Worlds
. (Incidentally, that would have been a good title for Brian Aldiss' marvellous fantasy
Hothouse
,
[a.k.a.
The Long Afternoon of Earth
] which had
spiderwebs
linking Earth and Moon!) I am much
indebted to Dr. Sheffield for sending me the ms. of his novel; and if you want another coincidence, I had
just started reading his
first
novel,
Sight of Proteus
(Ace), when the second one arrived . . .
Anyone reading our two books will quickly see that the parallels were dictated by the fundamental
mechanics of the subject—though in one major respect we evolved totally different solutions. Dr.
Sheffield's method of anchoring his "Beanstalk" is hair-raising, and I don't believe it would work. I'm
damn sure it wouldn't be permitted!
I'm writing this letter to put the record straight, and to divert any possible charges from Dr. Sheffield. But
I'd also like to satisfy my own curiosity.
It still seems inconceivable to me that, in the eighteen years since it's been circulating, no one has used
this idea in fiction—especially now that it is being taken more and more seriously in
non
-fiction, with a
rapidly expanding literature. (I expect to give a survey paper on the subject at the annual International
Astronautical Federation Congress, Munich, 20 September 1979). I no longer—alas—have the time to
read the S.F. magazines, or more than even a tenth of the
good
books published. So I'd appreciate any
information on this point, before
I
get charged with plagiarism.
As for the rest of you—go right ahead. Charles Sheffield and I have just scratched the surface. The
Space Elevator (and its various offspring, some even more fantastic) may be the great engineering
achievement of the Twenty-first century, making travel round the solar system no more expensive than
any other form of transportation.
Arthur C. Clarke
17 January 1979
Introduction to This Edition
The idea of a space elevator, a load-bearing cable that extends from the surface of the earth to high orbit
and beyond, is an old one. It was first suggested by Tsiolkovsky in 1895, as a passing comment and with
no analysis of the idea. Sixty-five years later, in 1960, the concept was rediscovered and explored in
more detail by another Russian, Artsutanov. His work in turn remained unknown in the West until 1966,
when the idea was rediscovered by Isaacs, Vine, Bradner, and Bachus. Since then it has been
"discovered" at least three more times.
However, the notion of the space elevator, also known as a skyhook, a heavenly funicular, an anchored
satellite, an orbital tower, and my own favorite name, a beanstalk, was still new to science fiction in
1978. When I sent a short story about beanstalks, "Skystalk," to the science fiction magazines, the
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 response was not encouraging. The editor of
Asimov
's magazine, George Scithers, in an unusually frank
rejection slip, said, "Neither I nor anyone on my staff understands this story." The editor of
Analog
magazine, Stan Schmidt, was more encouraging, asking, "Is the idea in this story really feasible?" But he
still rejected it. And when it was finally bought by Jim Baen, in December, 1978, for publication in
Destinies
magazine, he suggested that I write an accompanying article, explaining the dynamics and
physics behind what might otherwise seem an outrageous idea.
All this made me feel somewhat insecure. At the time I was busy writing a whole novel centered on
beanstalks. Suppose that the readers and reviewers rejected the whole thing as scientifically impossible?
And then, in the fall of 1978, I heard from Fred Durant. He was and is a friend of mine, and Arthur
Clarke's oldest friend in the United States. Fred lived just a couple of miles away from me, and he spoke
with Clarke frequently by telephone. Arthur, he told me, was finishing a new novel—a novel in which a
space elevator was a main element.
I won't say I was pleased. Nervous is a better word. I had never met Arthur Clarke, but at Fred
Durant's suggestion, not to say insistence, I took my completed manuscript and sent a copy to Clarke in
Sri Lanka. I had no idea what to expect; what I certainly didn't expect was what came: first, a very
friendly letter from Arthur Clarke, and, soon after, an open letter from him to the Science Fiction Writers
of America, stating that coincidence, not plagiarism, lay behind the fact that two books were to be
published in 1979 with strikingly similar themes. Not just the space elevator, but each book had as main
character the world's leading bridge-builder; each one employed a device known as a Spider.
The fear that the idea would be mocked disappeared. All that was left were questions that remain to this
day. If Clarke had not published his
The Fountains of Paradise
, how would my
The Web Between
the Worlds
have been received? Would my book have been hailed, as the source of a big idea new to
science fiction? Or would it have suffered instant obscurity, as a piece of science fantasy?
I'll never know.
PROLOGUE Goblin Night
The voice began again in her ear as she hurried into the airport. It was the merest thread of sound,
carrying through the implanted receiver.
"I hope you're on the plane by now, Julia. It looks as though it was the right decision. I'm still here in the
lab, but all the exits are covered. I still can't get any messages out over the standard com-links. I'm going
to see if I can signal Morrison, over in Building Two. Keep going, and take care."
Gregor's voice ceased in her ears as she entered the main Christchurch terminal and looked about her. It
was almost two A.M. There were few flights out at this hour, and few people around. That might be both
good and bad. She ought to be able to spot anyone seeking her, but perhaps no one would be there to
save her and her burden from harm. She walked cautiously over to the ticket desk and looked at the
departure display board. One flight was listed in the next hour. It was the one she wanted—and it was
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