mc.theandromedastrein-第1部分

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　　　FOREWORD
　
　　　This　book　recounts　the　five…day　history　of　a　major　American　scientific　crisis。
　
　　　As　in　most　crises；　the　events　surrounding　the　Andromeda　Strain　were　a　pound　of　foresight　and　foolishness；　innocence　and　ignorance。　Nearly　everyone　involved　had　moments　of　great　brilliance；　and　moments　of　unaccountable　stupidity。　It　is　therefore　impossible　to　write　about　the　events　without　offending　some　of　the　participants。
　
　　　However；　I　think　it　is　important　that　the　story　be　told。　This　country　supports　the　largest　scientific　establishment　in　the　history　of　mankind。　New　discoveries　are　constantly　being　made；　and　many　of　these　discoveries　have　important　political　or　social　overtones。　In　the　near　future；　we　can　expect　more　crises　on　the　pattern　of　Andromeda。　Thus　I　believe　it　is　useful　for　the　public　to　be　made　aware　of　the　way　in　which　scientific　crises　arise；　and　are　dealt　with。
　
　　　In　researching　and　recounting　the　history　of　the　Andromeda　Strain；　I　received　the　generous　help　of　many　people　who　felt　as　I　did；　and　who　encouraged　me　to　tell　the　story　accurately　and　in　detail。
　
　　　My　particular　thanks　must　go　to　Major　General　Willis　A。　Haverford；　United　States　Army；　Lieutenant　Everett　J。　Sloane；　United　States　Navy　（Ret。）；　Captain　L。　S。　Waterhouse；　United　States　Air　Force　（Vandenberg　Special　Projects　Division）；　Colonel　Henley　Jackson　and　Colonel　Stanley　Friedrich；　both　of　Wright　Patterson；　and　Murray　Charles　of　the　Pentagon　Press　Division。
　
　　　For　their　help　in　elucidating　the　background　of　the　Wildfire　Project；　I　must　thank　Roger　White；　National　Aeronautics　and　Space　Administration　（Houston　MSQ；　John　Roble；　NASA　Kennedy　plex　13；　Peter　J。　Mason；　NASA　Intelligence　（Arlington　Hall）；　Dr。　Francis　Martin；　University　of　California　（Berkeley）　and　the　President's　Science　Advisory　Council；　Dr。　Max　Byrd；　USIA；　Kenneth　Vorhees；　White　House　Press　Corps；　and　Professor　Jonathan　Percy　of　the　University　of　Chicago　（Genetics　Department）。
　
　　　For　their　review　of　relevant　chapters　of　the　manuscript；　and　for　their　technical　corrections　and　suggestions；　I　wish　to　thank　Christian　P。　Lewis；　Goddard　Space　Flight　Center；　Herbert　Stanch；　Avco；　Inc。；　James　P。　Baker；　Jet　Propulsion　Laboratory；　Carlos　N。　Sandos；　California　Institute　of　Technology；　Dr。　Brian　Stack；　University　of　Michigan；　Edgar　Blalock；　Hudson　Institute；　Professor　Linus　Kjelling；　the　RAND　Corporation；　Dr。　Eldredge　Benson；　National　Institutes　of　Health。
　
　　　Lastly；　I　wish　to　thank　the　participants　in　the　Wildfire　Project　and　the　investigation　of　the　…so…called　Andromeda　Strain。　All　agreed　to　see　me　and；　with　many；　my　interviews　lasted　over　a　period　of　days。　Furthermore；　I　was　able　to　draw　upon　the　transcripts　of　their　debriefing；　which　are　stored　in　Arlington　Hall　（Substation　Seven）　and　which　amounted　to　more　than　fifteen　thousand　pages　of　typewritten　manuscript。　This　material；　stored　in　twenty　volumes；　represents　the　full　story　of　the　events　at　Flatrock；　Nevada；　as　told　by　each　of　the　participants；　and　I　was　thus　able　to　utilize　their　separate　viewpoints　in　preparing　a　posite　account。
　
　　　This　is　a　rather　technical　narrative；　centering　on　plex　issues　of　science。　Wherever　possible；　I　have　explained　the　scientific　questions；　problems；　and　techniques。　I　have　avoided　the　temptation　to　simplify　both　the　issues　and　the　answers；　and　if　the　reader　must　occasionally　struggle　through　an　and　passage　of　technical　detail；　I　apologize。
　
　　　I　have　also　tried　to　retain　the　tension　and　excitement　o　events　in　these　five　days；　for　there　is　an　inherent　drama　in　the　story　of　Andromeda；　and　if　it　is　a　chronicle　of　stupid；　deadly　blunders；　it　is　also　a　chronicle　of　heroism　and　intelligence。
　
　　　M。C。
　
　　　Cambridge；　Massachusetts　
　
　　　January　1969
　
　　　
　
　　　DAY　1
　
　　　Contact
　
　　　1。　The　Country　of　Lost　Borders
　
　　　A　man　with　binoculars。　That　is　how　it　began：　with　a　man　standing　by　the　side　of　the　road；　on　a　crest　overlooking　a　small　Arizona　town；　on　a　winter　night。
　
　　　Lieutenant　Roger　Shawn　must　have　found　the　binoculars　difficult。　The　metal　would　be　cold；　and　he　would　be　clumsy　in　his　fir　parka　and　heavy　gloves。　His　breath；　hissing　out　into　the　moonlit　air；　would　have　fogged　the　lenses。　He　would　be　forced　to　pause　to　wipe　them　frequently；　using　a　stubby　gloved　finger。
　
　　　He　could　not　have　known　the　futility　of　this　action。　Binoculars　were　worthless　to　see　into　that　town　and　uncover　its　secrets。　He　would　have　been　astonished　to　learn　that　the　men　who　finally　succeeded　used　instruments　a　million　times　more　powerful　than　binoculars。
　
　　　There　is　something　sad；　foolish；　and　human　in　the　image　of　Shawn　leading　against　a　boulder；　propping　his　arms　on　it；　and　holding　the　binoculars　to　his　eyes。　Though　cumbersome；　the　binoculars　would　at　least　feel　fortable　and　familiar　in　his　hands。　It　would　be　one　of　the　last　familiar　sensations　before　his　death。
　
　　　We　can　imagine；　and　try　to　reconstruct；　what　happened　from　that　point　on。
　
　　　Lieutenant　Shawn　swept　over　the　town　slowly　and　methodically。　He　could　see　it　was　not　large；　just　a　half…dozen　wooden　buildings；　set　out　along　a　single　main　street。　It　was　very　quiet：　no　lights；　no　activity；　no　sound　carried　by　the　gentle　wind。
　
　　　He　shifted　his　attention　from　the　town　to　the　surrounding　hills。　They　were　low；　dusty；　and　blunted；　with　scrubby　vegetation　and　an　occasional　withered　yucca　tree　crusted　in　snow。　Beyond　the　hills　were　more　hills；　and　then　the　flat　expanse　of　the　Mojave　Desert；　trackless　and　vast。　The　Indians　called　it　the　Country　of　Lost　Borders。
　
　　　Lieutenant　Shawn　found　himself　shivering　in　the　wind。　It　was　February；　the　coldest　month；　and　it　was　after　ten。　He　walked　back　up　the　road　toward　the　Ford　Econovan；　with　the　large　rotating　antenna　on　top。　The　motor　was　idling　softly；　it　was　the　only　sound　he　could　hear。　He　opened　the　rear　doors　and　climbed　into　the　back；　shutting　the　doors　behind　him。
　
　　　He　was　enveloped　in　deep…red　light：　a　night　light；　so　that　he　would　not　be　blinded　when　he　stepped　outside。　In　the　red　light　the　banks　of　instruments　and　electronic　equipment　glowed　greenly。
　
　　　Private　Lewis　Crane；　the　electronics　technician；　was　there；　also　wearing　a　parka。　He　was　hunched　over　a　map；　making　calculations　with　occasional　reference　to　the　instruments　before　him。
　
　　　Shawn　asked　Crane　if　he　were　certain　they　had　arrived　at　the　place；　and　Crane　confirmed　that　they　had。　Both　men　were　tired：　they　had　driven　all　day　from　Vandenberg　in　search　of　the　latest　Scoop　satellite。　Neither　knew　much　about　the　Scoops；　except　that　they　were　a　series　of　secret　capsules　intended　to　analyze　the　upper　atmosphere　and　then　return。　Shawn　and　Crane　had　the　job　of　finding　the　capsules　once　they　had　landed。
　
　　　In　order　to　facilitate　recovery；　the　satellites　were　fitted　with　electronic　beepers　that　began　to　transmit　signals　when　they　came　down　to　an　altitude　of　five　miles。
　
　　　That　was　why　the　van　had　so　much　radio…directional　equipment。　In　essence；　it　was　performing　its　own　triangulation。　In　Any　parlance　it　was　known　as　single…unit　triangulation；　and　it　was　highly　effective；　though　slow。　The　procedure　was　simple　enough：　the　van　stopped　and　fixed　its　position；　recording　the　strength　and　direction　of　the　radio　beam　from　the　satellite。　Once　this　was　done；　it　would　be　driven　in　the　most　likely　direction　of　the　satellite　for　a　distance　of　twenty　miles。　Then　it　would　stop　and　take　new　coordinates。　In　this　way；　a　series　of　triangulation　points　could　be　mapped；　and　the　van　could　proceed　to　the　satellite　by　a　zigzag　path；　stopping　every　twenty　miles　to　correct　any　error。　The　method　was　slower　than　using　two　vans；　but　it　was　safer　the　Army　felt　that　two　vans　in　an　area　might　arouse　suspicion。
　
　　　For　six　hours；　the　van　had　been　closing　on　the　Scoop　satellite。　Now　they　were　almost　there。
　
　　　Crane　tapped　the　map　with　a　pencil　in　a　nervous　way　and　announced　the　name　of　the　town　at　the　foot　of　the　hill：　Piedmont；　Arizona。　Population　forty…eight；　both　men　laughed　over　that；　though　they　were　both　inwardly　concerned。　The　Vandenberg　ESA；　or　Estimated　Site　of　Arrival；　had　been　twelve　miles　north　of　Piedmont。　Vandenberg　puted　this　site　on　the　basis　of　radar　observations　and　1410　puter　trajectory　projections。　The　estimates　were　not　usually　wrong　by　more　than　a　few　hundred　yards。
　
　　　Yet　there　was　no　denying　the　radio…directional　equipment；　which　located　the　satellite　beeper　directly　in　the　center　of　town。　Shawn　suggested　that　someone　from　the　town　might　have　seen　it　ing　down　it　would　be　glowing　with　the　heat　and　might　have　retrieved　it；　bringing　it　into　Piedmont。
　
　　　This　was　reasonable；　except　that　a　native　of　Piedmont　who　happened　upon　an　American　satellite　fresh　from　space　would　have　told　someone　reporters；　police；　NASA；　the　Army；　someone。
　
　　　But　they　had　heard　nothing。
　
　　　Shawn　climbed　back　down　from　the　van；　with　Crane　scrambling　after　him；　shivering　as　the　cold　air　struck　him。　Together；　the　two　men　looked　out　over　the　town。
　
　　　It　was　peaceful；　but　pletely　dark。　Shawn　noticed　that　the　gas　station　and　the　motel　both　had　their　lights　doused。　Yet　they　represented　the　only　gas　station　and　motel　for　miles。
　
　　　And　then　Shawn　noticed　the　birds。
　
　　　In　the　light　of　the　full　moon　he　could　see　them；　big　birds；　gliding　in　slow　circles　over　the　buildings；　passing　like　black　shadows　across　the　face　of　the　moon。　He　wondered　why　he　hadn't　noticed　them　before；　and　asked　Crane　what　he　made　of　them。
　
　　　Crane　said　he　didn't　make　anything　of　them。　As　a　joke；　he　added；　〃Maybe　they're　buzzards。〃
　
　　　〃That's　what　they　look　like；　all　right；〃　Shawn　said。
　
　　　Crane　laughed　nervously；　his　breath　hissing　out　into　the　night。〃　But　why　should　there　be　buzzards　here？　They　only　e　when　something　is　dead。〃　
　
　　　Shawn　lit　a　cigarette；　cupping　his　hands　around　the　lighter；　protecting　the　flame　from　the　wind。　He　said　nothing；　but　looked　down　at　the　buildings；　the　outline　of　the　little　town。　Then　he　scanned　the　town　once　more　with　binoculars；　but　saw　no　signs　of　life　or　movement。
　
　　　At　length；　he　lowered　the　binoculars　and　dropped　his　cigarette　onto　the　crisp　snow；　where　it　sputtered　and　died。
　
　　　He　turned　to　Crane　and　said；　〃We'd　better　go　down　and　have　a　look。〃　
　
　　　2。　Vandenberg
　
　　　THREE　HUNDRED　MILES　AWAY；　IN　THE　LARGE；　square；　windowless　room　that　served　as　Mission　Control　for　Project　Scoop；　Lieutenant　Edgar　roe　sat　with　his　feet　on　his　desk　and　a　stack　of　scientific…journal　articles　before　him。　roe　was　serving　as　control　officer　for　the　night；　it　was　a　duty　he　filled　once　a　month；　directing　the　evening　operations　of　the　skeleton　crew　of　twelve。　Tonight；　the　crew　was　monitoring　the　progress　and　reports　of　the　van　coded　Caper　One；　now　making　its　way　across　the　Arizona　desert。
　
　　　roe　disliked　this　job。　The　room　was　gray　and　lighted　with　fluorescent　lights；　the　tone　was　sparsely　utilitarian　and　roe　found　it　unpleasant。　He　never　came　to　Mission　Control　except　during　a　launch；　when　the　atmosphere　was　different。　Then　the　room　was　filled　with　busy　technicians；　each　at　work　on　a　single　plex　task；　each　tense　with　the　peculiar　cold　anticipation　that　precedes　any　spacecraft　launch。
　
　　　But　nights　were　dull。　Nothin