His emotional balance was also
erratic--though that was natural, since the stars were completely
berserk in what was left of the sky. He seemed to fluctuate between
bitter sureness of doom and a stupidly optimistic belief that something
could be done to avert that doom. But whatever his mood, he went on
working and scheming furiously. Maybe it was the desperate need to keep
himself occupied that drove him, or perhaps it was the pleading he saw
in the eyes around him. In the end, determination conquered his
pessimism.
Somewhere in the combination of the science he had learned in his own
world and the technique of magic that applied here there had to be an
answer--or a means to hold back the end of the world until an answer
could be found.
The biggest problem was the number of factors with which he had to deal.
There were seven planets and the sun, and three thousand fixed stars.
All had to be ordered in their courses, and the sky had to be complete
in his calculations.
He had learned his trade where the answer was always to add one more
circuit in increasing complexity. Now he had to think of the simplest
possible similarity computer. Electronics was out, obviously. He tried
to design a set of cams, like the tide machine, to make multiple
tracings on paper similar to a continuous horoscope, but finally gave
it up. They couldn't build the parts, even if there had been time.
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