The 13 Crimes of Science Fiction
n Asimov's "The Singing Bell," a clever criminal's Moon-heist and perfect alibi are challenged. An Earth-bound detective uses scientific deduction to expose the audacious deception.
Isaac Asimov, a master storyteller equally at home in the realms of science fiction and mystery, once set out to prove a point to a renowned editor, John W. Campbell. Campbell believed that a truly fair science fiction mystery was an impossibility, suggesting that the vast opportunities in science fiction would inevitably lead to authors changing the rules mid-story, making detection unfair for the reader. Asimov, however, disagreed, and his works, including "The Singing Bell," stand as a testament to his conviction that the rigorous logic of classic mystery could thrive even amidst the wonders of a futuristic setting.
"The Singing Bell" exemplifies the inverted mystery genre, a format where the reader is privy to the commission of the crime from the outset, with the central puzzle revolving not around "who" did it, but "how" the clever criminal will ultimately be apprehended. This narrative structure allows Asimov to craft a profound examination of human ingenuity pitted against the seemingly flawless machinations of a brilliant mind. It serves as a stark reminder, woven into the fabric of science fiction, that even the most meticulously planned transgression carries the seeds of its own undoing.
The story introduces Louis Peyton, a figure of formidable intellect and an unmatched record of outsmarting Earth's police force. For years, Peyton had successfully navigated a labyrinth of legal and technological challenges, consistently foiling the advanced "psychoprobe" and other investigative tools. His unbroken string of successes, he believed, stemmed from sheer ability, not mere chance, a legacy he intended to immortalize in a private testament. Peyton's philosophy was clear: no deceptive pattern, however intricate, could mask a crime without leaving some tell-tale trace. His crime, therefore, was designed to be the ultimate proof of his genius.
Peyton's meticulous planning extends to every facet of his life, particularly his annual retreat. He isolates himself in a steel and concrete refuge nestled high in the Rockies, a self-sufficient fortress designed to withstand ancient, long-forgotten threats. Here, surrounded by mountain peaks, with his own power unit and water supply, he orchestrates a perfect illusion of continuous presence. Every August, for precisely eight days, a force field ensures his complete isolation, and he even meticulously accounts for his supplies, deliberately destroying just enough to simulate his consumption, leaving no discernible gap in his carefully constructed alibi.
The object of Peyton's ambition is the acquisition of "Singing Bells," rare and immensely valuable artifacts, unpolished yet holding significant worth. The pursuit of these Bells leads him to the unforgiving landscape of the Moon, a setting that, remarkably, had never before witnessed a deliberate act of violence or murder in the fifty years since its dominion was established. This unprecedented nature of the crime further elevates its status as a challenge to justice. Peyton, ever the strategist, even utilizes an accomplice, Albert Cornwell, who possesses a map to the Bells and a spaceship for the Lunar expedition. However, Peyton views Cornwell as a disposable "dead end," implying his ruthless dedication to eliminating any potential weakness in his scheme. Upon his return, Peyton further cements his alibi by orchestrating the destruction of the spaceship in a nuclear explosion, ensuring no material evidence links him to the Lunar journey.
When the Terrestrial Bureau of Investigation (TBI) steps in, represented by Inspector H. Seton Davenport, they face an extraordinary predicament. Peyton's alibi appears impenetrable, built upon years of verifiable, self-imposed isolation at his remote estate. Furthermore, legal constraints prevent the use of a "psychoprobe"—a mental scanner—without irrefutable evidence of guilt, creating a frustrating Catch-22 for the investigators. The absence of a psychoprobe record, ironically, would be seen by any juror as a sign of prosecutorial weakness. Davenport, in a desperate bid for a breakthrough, turns to an unlikely figure: Dr. Wendell Urth.
Dr. Urth is an extraterrologist, a scholar of other worlds, yet paradoxically, he steadfastly refuses to travel into space, dismissing it as "foolishness". With his thick features, snubby nose, and heavy glasses, Urth cuts an unassuming figure, a "plump extraterrologist" firmly rooted on Earth. His unique genius, however, lies in his ability to perceive fundamental, often overlooked, truths of the universe. When presented with the seemingly perfect crime, Urth's approach is not to hunt for dramatic confessions or conventional clues, but to delve into the underlying scientific principles and universal laws that no criminal, however clever, can escape. His methodology, he states, is akin to "digging up the data yourself" to find the answers.
The story builds towards a masterful confrontation of intellects, as Dr. Urth, from his Earth-bound perspective, systematically unravels Peyton's Lunar deception. Asimov skillfully demonstrates that even a crime committed far from Earth is still subject to the immutable laws of physics and biology. The narrative carefully progresses, allowing the reader to observe how Urth dissects the problem, focusing on the subtle, often unseen, interactions between an individual and their environment. The story implicitly asks: what fundamental aspect of Earth's environment, so integral to human experience, could possibly be missing from a space traveler, leaving an indelible mark that even the most meticulous criminal cannot erase? This is the intellectual precipice Asimov places his readers upon.
"The Singing Bell" culminates in a profound revelation, showcasing Asimov's genius in crafting a solution that is both scientifically elegant and logically airtight. The story reinforces the idea that true perfection is elusive, especially when human fallibility intersects with universal constants. It is a testament to the power of keen observation and logical deduction, illustrating that even in the distant future, with advanced technology, certain elemental truths remain key to uncovering deception. Asimov's inverted mystery not only entertains but educates, proving that science fiction can indeed house the most challenging and satisfying of crime puzzles, adhering to the strictest rules of fair play while expanding the boundaries of the genre. The satisfaction of the narrative comes from witnessing how a complex crime, meticulously designed to defy detection, is brought to light by a mind focused on the fundamental, rather than the spectacular.
