Part 23 (2/2)
”Oh, yes, she is.”
I had to answer. I was so confused that I couldn't think. I had tried to tell the truth to Prof Joe ... oh, maybe I had shaded things, not included every horrid thing that makes a headline. But it was essentially true.
Could I do better under pressure? Would they let me start fresh and accept any propaganda I cooked up? Or would the fact that I changed stories be used to condemn our race?
”I stand on it!”
”Let it be integrated. Patricia Wynant Reisfeld-”
Peewee took only moments to identify and allow to be integrated her recordings; she simply followed my example.
The machine voice said: ”The facts have been integrated. By their own testimony, these are a savage and brutal people, given to all manner of atrocities. They eat each other, they starve each other, they kill each other. They have no art and only the most primitive of science, yet such is their violent nature that even with so little knowledge they are now energetically using it to exterminate each other, tribe against tribe. Their driving will is such that they may succeed. But if by some unlucky chance they fail, they will inevitably, in time, reach other stars. It is this possibility which must be calculated: how soon they will reach us, if they live, and what their potentialities will be then.”
The voice continued to us: ”This is the indictment against you-your own savagery, combined with superior intelligence. What have you to say in your defense?”
I took a breath and tried to steady down. I knew that we had lost-yet I had to try.
I remembered how the Mother Thing had spoken. ”My lord peers-”
”Correction. We are not your 'lords,' nor has it been established that you are our equals. If you wish to address someone, you may call me the 'Moderator.'”
”Yes, Mr. Moderator-” I tried to remember what Socrates had said to his judges. He knew ahead of time that he was condemned just as we knew-but somehow, though he had been forced to drink hemlock, he had won and they had lost.
No! I couldn't use his Apologia-all he had lost was his own life. This was everybody.
”-you say we have no art. Have you seen the Parthenon?”
”Blown up in one of your wars.”
”Better see it before you rotate us-or you'll be missing something. Have you read our poetry? 'Our revels now are ended: these our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits, and are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself . . . itself-yea-all which it ... inherit-shall dissolve-”
I broke down. I heard Peewee sobbing beside me. I don't know why I picked that one-but they say the subconscious mind never does things ”accidentally.” I guess it had to be that one.
”As it well may,” commented the merciless voice.
”I don't think it's any of your business what we do-as long as we leave you alone-” My stammer was back and I was almost sobbing.
”We have made it our business.”
”We aren't under your government and-”
”Correction. Three Galaxies is not a government; conditions for government cannot obtain in so vast a s.p.a.ce, such varied cultures. We have simply formed police districts for mutual protection.”
”But-even so, we haven't troubled your cops. We were in our own backyards-I was in my own backyard!-when these wormface things came along and started troubling us. We haven't hurt you.”
I stopped, wondering where to turn. I couldn't guarantee good behavior, not for the whole human race-the machine knew it and I knew it.
”Inquiry.” It was talking to itself again. ”These creatures appear to be identical with the Old Race, allowing for mutation. What part of the Third Galaxy are they from?”
It answered itself, naming co-ordinates that meant nothing to me. ”But they are not of the Old Race; they are ephemerals. That is the danger; they change too fast.”
”Didn't the Old Race lose a s.h.i.+p out that way a few half-deaths of Thorium-230 ago? Could that account for the fact that the youngest sample failed to match?”
It answered firmly, ”It is immaterial whether or not they may be descended from the Old Race. An examination is in progress; a decision must be made.”
”The decision must be sure.”
”It will be.” The bodyless voice went on, to us: ”Have either of you anything to add in your defense?”
I had been thinking of what had been said about the miserable state of our science. I wanted to point out that we had gone from muscle power to atomic power in only two centuries-but I was afraid that fact would be used against us. ”Peewee, can you think of anything?”
She suddenly stepped forward and shrilled to the air, ”Doesn't it count that Kip saved the Mother Thing?”
”No,” the cold voice answered. ”It is irrelevant.”
”Well, it ought to count!” She was crying again. ”You ought to be ashamed of yourselves! Bullies! Cowards! Oh, you're worse than wormfaces!”
I pulled her back. She hid her head against my shoulder and shook. Then she whispered, ”I'm sorry, Kip. I didn't mean to. I guess I've ruined it.”
”It was ruined anyhow, honey.”
”Have you anything more to say?” old no-face went on relentlessly.
I looked around at the hall. -the cloud-capped towers . . . the great globe itself- ”Just this!” I said savagely. ”It's not a defense, you don't want a defense. All right, take away our star- You will if you can and I guess you can. Go ahead! We'll make a star! Then, someday, we'll come back and hunt you down-all of you!”
”That's telling 'em. Kip! That's telling them!”
n.o.body bawled me out. I suddenly felt like a kid who has made a horrible mistake at a party and doesn't know how to cover it up.
But I meant it. Oh, I didn't think we could do it. Not yet. But we'd try. ”Die trying” is the proudest human thing.
”It is possible that you will,” that infuriating voice went on. ”Are you through?”
”I'm through.” We all were through . . . every one of us.
”Does anyone speak for them? Humans, will any race speak for you?”
We didn't know any other races. Dogs- Maybe dogs would.
”I speak for them!”
Peewee raised her head with a jerk. ”Mother Thing!”
Suddenly she was in front of us. Peewee tried to run to her, bounced off that invisible barrier. I grabbed her. ”Easy, hon. She isn't there-it's some sort of television.”
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