Godzilla vs. Kong Greg Keyes (room on the broom read aloud .txt) 📖

“No,” he said. “That’s not enough. Yes, I understand you may have to liquidate some offshore accounts. That’s fine. What do I pay you for? That’s right. Just do it.” He paused. “And another thing. I’m going to set up a press conference downstairs in about half an hour. I’ll be cutting a handsome donation to whatever organization is out there protesting. It might not shut them up, but it will make them look bad. Yes, of course we’re reporting that one. Don’t get these two things confused. Right.”

He touched the phone off and looked back out the window.

“Environmentalists,” he muttered under his breath.

TWO

It may be replied, that the idea of a world within a world, is absurd. But, who can assert with confidence, that this idea is, in reality, nothing more than the imagination of a feverish brain? How is it shown that such a form does not exist? Are there not as strong reasons for believing that the earth is constituted of concentric spheres, as the court of Spain, or any man in Europe, had to believe that there was an undiscovered continent? Has not Captain Symmes theoretically proven his assertions of concentric spheres and open poles, and embodied a catalogue of facts, numerous and plausible, in support of his opinions? And who has confuted his assertions? I dare to say, that none can be found, who can fully disprove them, and account for the facts which he adduces as the proofs of his theory. Is there not the same reason to believe, that the earth is hollow, as there is to place implicit confidence in the opinion, that the planets are inhabited? And yet the one has been ridiculed as the wild speculations of a madman, while the other receives credit among the most enlightened.

If it can be shown that Symmes’s Theory is probable, or has the least plausibility attached to it—nay, that it is even possible—why not afford him the means of testing its correctness? The bare possibility of such a discovery, ought to be a sufficient stimulus to call forth the patronage of any government. And should the theory prove correct, and the adventure succeed, would it not immortalize our nation?

From Symmes’s Theory of Concentric Spheres,

James McBride, 1826

A Carrier in the Pacific, One Year Ago

“Mercury,” Nathan Lind told his older brother Dave. “Not Apollo.”

Dave settled his paper cup of single malt Scotch on the metal counter.

“Why not Zeus?” he said. “I mean, if we’re talking Greek gods, why not go for it?”

“I’m not talking about Greek gods, dimwit,” Nathan said. “The space program. Mercury. Gemini. Apollo.”

“Oh,” Dave said. “That makes more sense, I guess.”

“It’s an apt comparison,” Nathan replied. “In 1961 the unknown frontier was space; no human being had ever been there. We had a lot of science, but we didn’t know for sure what to expect. So we took it slow.”

“Right,” Dave agreed. “So slow the Soviets beat us to the punch.”

“This isn’t a race,” Nathan said. “We’re not in competition. We practically had to beg the press to show up. We don’t have anything to prove.”

“Well, that’s not true,” Dave said, wagging his finger at Nathan. “We’ve spent years wrangling funding for this expedition. If we don’t have anything to show for it, we won’t get any more. Half of the scientists at Monarch think it’s bullshit, and almost half of those that do think it’s real believe we ought to leave well enough alone, especially after that … bat thing—”

“Camazotz,” Nathan said. “Yeah. He kind of put a damper on things.”

“Right. Since that mess, they want to shut us down. Fortunately, I still have enough pull to make it happen. As long as it happens soon. If we put on a good show, bring back some goodies, we’ll have plenty of people writing us checks. If not, we’re done. Years of working and planning, down the drain.”

“Monarch was practically founded on the notion of the Hollow Earth,” Nathan said. “Bill Randa, Houston Brooks—”

“Randa was crushed by a Skullcrawler some fifty-odd years ago,” Dave said. “And Brooks, well, everyone likes him, but he isn’t taken all that seriously by most people. Not anymore.”

“I take him seriously,” Nathan said.

“Most sane people,” Dave said.

“Hey, who volunteered to pilot this thing?” Nathan said.

“I never said I was sane,” Dave replied. “We have the same genes, you know.”

“Hah,” Nathan said. “You’d never know it to look at us.”

“Yeah. That’s why we’ve been explaining that we aren’t twins since you were eight and I was ten. Remember that time in Sao Paulo, in that bar?”

That was true, although in the details he knew Dave was better-looking; his eyes deep blue instead of gray, his jaw a little more manly, his locks a shade closer to true blond than Nathan’s sandy hair.

“That’s not what I meant,” Nathan said. “What I meant is, you’re the guy who broke Mach 10 in an experimental Monarch aircraft, while I was looking at grains of basalt under a microscope. You summited Everest while I was tracing shifts in paleomagnetism and writing articles in obscure journals about bioelectrical sensory organs in trilobites.”

Dave put his hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “Nathan,” he said. “Shut up. I might have flown a fast plane, but I didn’t develop it. And at this point climbing Everest is, at best, tourism. What you’ve figured out—what you’ve proven—I never could have.”

“There are people who still think I haven’t proven anything,” Nathan said. “They think I’m as nuts as Darling back in 1926, when his expedition started out to find Hollow Earth—and never returned.”

“Sure,” Dave said. “And together, we’re going to show them they’re wrong. In about, what? Eight hours. So let’s have our one shot of decent whisky, get some rest, and change the world. Together.”

Nathan nodded, and reached for his drink. But he frowned.

“Okay,” Dave said. “What is it?”

“We can always delay this,” Nathan said. “Get a little more data. Let me crunch the numbers again.”

Dave sighed. “Like I said,