The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Unlearned, by Raymond F. Jones
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Title: The Unlearned
Author: Raymond F. Jones
Illustrator: Ed Emsh
Release Date: June 8, 2010 [EBook #32745]
Language: English
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THE UNLEARNED
By Raymond F. Jones
Illustrated by Ed Emsh
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science
Fiction August 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence
that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
[Sidenote: _The scientists of Rykeman III were conceded by all the
galactic members to be supreme in scientific achievement. Now the Rykes
were going to share their vast knowledge with the scientists of Earth.
To any question they would supply an answer--for a price. And Hockley,
of all Earth's scientists, was the stubborn one who wanted to weigh the
answers with the costs...._]
The Chief Officer of Scientific Services, Information and Coordination
was a somewhat misleading and obscure title, and Dr. Sherman Hockley who
held it was not the least of those whom the title misled and sometimes
obscured.
He told himself he was not a mere library administrator, although he was
proud of the information files built up under his direction. They
contained the essence of accumulated knowledge found to date on Earth
and the extraterrestrial planets so far contacted. He didn't feel
justified in claiming to be strictly a research supervisor, either, in
spite of duties as top level administrator for all divisions of the
National Standardization and Research Laboratories and their
subsidiaries in government, industry, and education. During his term of
supervision the National Laboratories had made a tremendous growth, in
contrast to a previous decline.
Most of all, however, he disclaimed being a figurehead, to which all the
loose strings of a vast and rambling organization could be tied. But
sometimes it was quite difficult to know whether or not that was his
primary assignment after all. His unrelenting efforts to keep out of the
category seemed to be encountering more and more determination to push
him in that direction.
Of course, this was merely the way it looked in his more bitter
moments--such as the present. Normally, he had a full awareness of the
paramount importance of his position, and was determined to administer
it on a scale in keeping with that importance. His decision could affect
the research in the world's major laboratories. Not that he was a
dictator by any means, although there were times when dictation was
called for. As when a dozen projects needed money and the Congress
allotted enough for one or two. Somebody had to make a choice--
His major difficulty was that active researchers knew it was the
Congressional Science Committee which was ultimately responsible for
their bread and butter. And the Senators regarded the scientists, who
did the actual work in the laboratories, as the only ones who mattered.
Both groups tended to look upon Hockley's office as a sort of fulcrum in
their efforts to maintain balance with each other--or as referee in
their sparring for adequate control over each other.
At that, however, things research-wise were better than ever before.
More funds and facilities were available. Positions in pure research
were more secure.
And then, once again, rumors about Rykeman III had begun to circulate
wildly a few days ago.
Since Man's achievement of extra-galactic flight, stories of Rykeman III
had tantalized the world and made research scientists sick with longing
when they considered the possible truth of what they heard. The planet
was rumored to be a world of super-science, whose people had an answer
for every research problem a man could conceive. The very few Earthmen
who had been to Rykeman III confirmed the rumors. It was a paradise,
according to their stories. And among other peoples of the galaxies the
inhabitants of Rykeman III were acknowledged supreme in scientific
achievement. None challenged them. None even approached them in
abilities.
What made the situation so frustrating to Earthmen was the additional
report that the Rykes were quite altruistically sharing their science
with a considerable number of other worlds on a fee basis. Earth
scientists became intoxicated at the mere thought of studying at the
feet of the exalted Rykes.
Except Dr. Sherman Hockley. From the first he had taken a dim view of
the Ryke reports. Considering the accomplishments of the National
Laboratories, he could see no reason for his colleagues' half-shameful
disowning of all their own work in favor of a completely unknown culture
several hundred million light years away. They were bound to contact
more advanced cultures in their explorations--and could be thankful they
were as altruistic as the Rykes!--but it was no reason to view
themselves as idiot children hoping to be taught by the Rykes.
He had kept his opinions very much to himself in the past, since they
were not popular with his associates, who generally regarded his
attitudes as simply old-fashioned. But now, for the first time, a Ryke
ship was honoring Earth with a visit. There was almost hysterical
speculation over the possibility that Earth would be offered tutelage by
the mighty Ryke scientists. Hockley wouldn't have said he was
unalterably opposed to the idea. He would have described himself as
extremely cautious. What he did oppose wholeheartedly was the enthusiasm
that painted the Rykes with pure and shining light, without a shadowy
hue in the whole picture.
Since his arrival, the Ryke envoy had been closeted with members of the
Congressional Science Committee. Not a word had leaked as to his
message. Shortly, however, the scientists were to be let in on the
secret which might affect their careers for better or for worse during
the rest of their lives, and for many generations to come. The meeting
was going to be--
Hockley jumped to his feet as he glanced at the clock. He hurried
through the door to the office of his secretary, Miss Cardston, who
looked meaningfully at him as he passed.
"I'll bet there isn't a Senator on time," he said.
In the corridor he almost collided with Dr. Lester Showalter, who was
his Administrative Assistant for Basic Research. "The Ryke character
showed up fifteen minutes ago," said Showalter. "Everyone's waiting."
"We've got six minutes yet," said Hockley. He walked rapidly beside
Showalter. "Is there any word on what the envoy's got that's so
important?"
"No. I've got the feeling it's something pretty big. Wheeler and Johnson
of Budget are there. Somebody said it might have something to do with
the National Lab."
"I don't see the connection between that and a meeting with the Ryke,"
said Hockley.
Showalter stopped at the door of the conference room. "Maybe they want
to sell us something. At any rate, we're about to find out."
The conference table was surrounded by Senators of the Committee.
Layered behind them were scientists representing the cream of Hockley's
organization. Senator Markham, the bulky, red-faced Chairman greeted
them. "Your seats are reserved at the head of the table," he said.
"Sorry about the time," Hockley mumbled. "Clock must be slow."
"Quite all right. We assembled just a trifle early. I want you to meet
our visitor, Special Envoy from Rykeman III, Liacan."
Markham introduced them, and the stick-thin envoy arose with an extended
hand. His frail, whistling voice that was in keeping with his bird-like
character spoke in clear tones. "I am happy to know you, Dr. Hockley,
Dr. Showalter."
The two men sat down in good view of the visitor's profile. Hockley had
seen the Rykes before, but had always been repelled by their snobbish
approach. Characteristically, the envoy bore roughly anthropomorphic
features, including a short feather covering on his dorsal side. He was
dressed in bright clothing that left visible the streak of feathering
that descended from the bright, plumed crown and along the back of his
neck. Gravity and air pressure of Earth were about normal for him. For
breathing, however, he was required to wear a small device in one narrow
nostril. This was connected to a compact tank on his shoulder.
Markham called for order and introduced the visitor. There was a round
of applause. Liacan bowed with a short, stiff gesture and let his small
black eyes dart over the audience. With an adjustment of his breathing
piece he began speaking.
"It is recognized on Earth," he said, "as it is elsewhere, that my
people of Rykeman III possess undisputed intellectual leadership in the
galaxies of the Council. Your research is concerned with things taught
only in the kindergartens of my world. Much that you hold to be true is
in error, and your most profound discoveries are self-evident to the
children of my people."
Hockley felt a quick, painful contraction in the region of his
diaphragm. So this was it!
"We are regarded with much jealousy, envy, and even hatred by some of
our unlearned neighbors in space," said the Ryke. "But it has never been
our desire to be selfish with our superior achievements which make us
the object of these feelings. We have undertaken a program of scientific
leadership in our interstellar neighborhood. This began long before you
came into space and many worlds have accepted the plan we offer.
"Obviously, it is impractical to pour out all the knowledge and basic
science we have accumulated. Another world would find it impossible to
sort out that which was applicable to it. What we do is act as a
consultation center upon which others can call at will to obtain data
pertaining to any problem at hand. Thus, they are not required to sort
through wholly inapplicable information to find what they need.
"For example, if you desire to improve your surface conveyances, we will
supply you with data for building an optimum vehicle suitable for
conditions on Earth and which is virtually indestructible. You will of
course do your own manufacturing, but even there we can supply you with
technology that will make the process seem miraculous by your present
standards.
"Our services are offered for a fee, payable in suitable items of goods
or raw materials. When you contemplate the freedom from monotonous and
unending research in fields already explored by us, I am certain you
will not consider our fees exorbitant. Our desire is to raise the
cultural level of all peoples to the maximum of which they are capable.
We know it is not possible or even desirable to bring others to our own
high levels, but we do offer assistance to all cultures in accord with
their ability to receive. The basic principle is that they shall
ask--and whatever is asked for, with intelligence sufficient for its
utilization, that shall be granted.
"I am certain I may count on your acceptance of the generous offer of my
people."
The envoy sat down with a jiggling of his bright plume, and there was
absolute silence in the room. Hockley pictured to himself the dusty,
cobweb laboratories of Earth vacated by scientists who ran to the phone
to call the Rykes for answers to every problem.
Senator Markham stood up and glanced over the audience. "There is the
essence of the program which has been submitted to us," he said. "There
is a vast amount of detail which is, of course, obvious to the minds of
our friends on Rykeman III, but which must be the subject of much
deliberation on the part of us comparatively simple minded Earthmen." He
gave a self-conscious chuckle, which got no response.
Hockley felt mentally stunned. Here at last was the thing that had been
hoped for by most, anxiously awaited by a few, and opposed by almost no
one.
"The major difficulty," said Markham with slow dignity, "is the price.
It's high, yes. In monetary terms, approximately twelve and a half
billions per year. But certainly no man in his right mind would consider
any reasonable figure too high for what we can expect to receive from
our friends of Rykeman III.
"We of the Science Committee do not believe, however, that we could get
a commitment for this sum to be added to our normal budget. Yet there is
a rather obvious solution. The sum required is very close to that which
is now expended on the National Standardization and Research
Laboratories."
Hockley felt a sudden chill at the back of his neck.
"With the assistance of the Rykes," said Markham, "we shall have no
further need of the National Laboratories. We shall require but a small
staff to analyze our problems and present them to the Rykes and relay
the answers for proper assimilation. Acceptance of the Ryke program
provides its own automatic financing!"
He glanced about with a triumphant smile. Hockley felt as if he were
looking through a mist upon something that happened a long time ago. The
National Lab! Abandon the National Lab!
Around him there were small nods of agreement from his colleagues. Some
pursed their lips as if doubtful--but not very much. He waited for
someone to rise to his feet in a blast of protest. No one did. For a
moment Hockley's own hands tensed on the back of the chair in front of
him. Then he slumped back to his seat. Now was not the time.
They had to thrash it out among themselves. He had to show them the
magnitude of this bribe. He had to find an argument to beat down the
Congressmen's irrational hopes of paradise. He couldn't plead for the
Lab on the grounds of sentiment--or that it was sometimes a good idea to
work out your own problems. The Senators didn't care for the problems or
concerns of the scientists. It appeared that even the scientists
themselves had forgotten to care. He had to slug both groups with
something very solid.
Markham was going on. "We are convinced this is a bargain which even the
most obstinate of our Congressional colleagues will be quick to
recognize. It would be folly to compute with building blocks when we can
gain access to giant calculators. There should be no real difficulty in
getting funds transferred from the National Laboratory.
"At this time we will adjourn. Liacan leaves this evening. Our
acceptance of this generous offer will be conveyed to Rykeman III
directly upon official sanction by the Congress. I wish to ask this same
group to meet again for discussion of the details incident to this
transfer of operations. Let us say at ten o'clock in the morning,
gentlemen."
* * * * *
Hockley said goodbye to the envoy. Afterwards, he moved through the
circle of Senators to his own group. In the corridor they tightened
about him and followed along as if he had given an order for them to
follow him. He turned and attempted a grin.
"Looks like a bull session is in order, gents. Assembly in five minutes
in my office."
As he and Showalter opened the door to Miss Cardston's office and strode
in, the secretary looked up with a start. "I thought you were going to
meet in the conference room."
"We've met," said Hockley. "This is the aftermeeting. Send out for a
couple of cases of beer." He glanced at the number surging through the
doorway and fished in his billfold. "Better make it three. This ought to
cover it."
With disapproval, Miss Cardston picked up the bills and turned to the
phone. Almost simultaneously there was a bellow of protest and an
enormous, ham-like hand gripped her slender wrist. She glanced up in
momentary fright.
Dr. Forman K. Silvers was holding her wrist with one hand and clapping
Hockley on the back with the other. "This is not an occasion for beer,
my boy!" he said in an enormous voice. "Make that a case of champagne,
Miss Cardston." He released her and drew out his own billfold.
"Get somebody to bring in a couple of dozen chairs," Hockley said.
In his own office he walked to the window behind his desk and stood
facing it. The afternoon haze was coming up out of the ocean. Faintly
visible were the great buildings of the National Laboratories on the
other side of the city. Above the mist the sun caught the tip of the
eight story tower where the massive field tunnels of the newly designed
gammatron were to be installed.
Or _were_ to have been installed.
The gammatron was expected to make possible the creation of
gravitational fields up to five thousand g's. It would probably be a
mere toy to the Rykes, but Hockley felt a fierce pride in its creation.
Maybe that was childish. Maybe his whole feeling about the Lab was
childish. Perhaps the time had come to give up childish things and take
upon themselves adulthood.
But looking across the city at the concrete spire of the gammatron, he
didn't believe it.
He heard the clank of metal chairs as a couple of clerks began bringing
them in. Then there was the clink of glassware. He turned to see Miss
Cardston stiffly indicating a spot on the library table for the glasses
and the frosty bottles.
Hockley walked slowly to the table and filled one of the glasses. He
raised it slowly. "It's been a short life but a merry one, gentlemen."
He swallowed the contents of the glass too quickly and returned to his
desk.
"You don't sound very happy about the whole thing," said Mortenson, a
chemist who wore a neat, silvery mustache.
"Are you overjoyed," said Hockley, "that we are to swap the National Lab
for a bottomless encyclopedia?"
"Yes, I think so," said Mortenson. "There are some minor objections, but
in the end I'm certain we'll all be satisfied with what we get."
"Satisfied! Happy!" exclaimed the mathematician, Dr. Silvers. "How can
you use words so prosaic and restrained in references to these great
events which we shall be privileged to witness in our lifetimes?"
He had taken his stand by the library table and was now filling the
glasses with the clear, bubbling champagne, sloshing it with ecstatic
abandon over the table and the rug.
Hockley glanced toward him. "You don't believe, then, Dr. Silvers, that
we should maintain any reserve in regard to the Rykes?"
"None whatever! The gods themselves have stepped down and offered an
invitation direct to paradise. Should we question or hold back, or say
we are merely happy. The proper response of a man about to enter heaven
is beyond words!"
The bombast of the mathematician never failed to enliven any backroom
session in which he participated. "I have no doubt," he said, "that
within a fortnight we shall be in possession of a solution to the
Legrandian Equations. I have sought this for forty years."
"I think it would be a mistake to support the closing of the National
Laboratories," said Hockley slowly.
As if a switch had been thrown, their expressions changed. There was a
sudden carefulness in their stance and movements, as if they were
feinting before a deadly opponent.
"I don't feel it's such a bad bargain," said a thin, bespectacled
physicist named Judson. He was seated across the room from Hockley.
"I'll vote to sacrifice the Lab in exchange for what the Rykes will give
us."
"That's the point," said Hockley. "Exactly what are the Rykes going to
give us? And we speak very glibly of sharing their science. But shall we
actually be in any position to share it? What becomes of the class of
scientists on Earth when the Lab is abandoned?"
Wilkins stood abruptly, his hands shoved part way into his pockets and
his lower jaw extended tensely. "I don't believe that's part of this
question," he said. "It is not just we scientists who are to share the
benefits of the Rykes. It is Mankind. At this time we have no right to
consider mere personal concerns. We would betray our whole calling--our
very humanity--if we thought for one moment of standing in the way of
this development because of our personal concern over economic and
professional problems. There has never been a time when a true scientist
would not put aside his personal concerns for the good of all."
Hockley waited, half expecting somebody to start clapping. No one did,
but there were glances of self-righteous approval in Wilkins' direction.
The biologist straightened the sleeves of his coat with a smug gesture
and awaited Hockley's rebuttal.
"_We_ are Mankind," Hockley said finally. "You and I are as much a part
of humanity as that bus load of punch machine clerks and store managers
passing on the street outside. If we betray ourselves we have betrayed
humanity.
"This is not a sudden thing. It is the end point of a trend which has
gone on for a long time. It began with our first contacts beyond the
galaxy, when we realized there were peoples far in advance of us in
science and economy. We have been feeding on them ever since. Our own
developments have shrunk in direct proportion. For a long time we've
been on the verge of becoming intellectual parasites in the Universe.
Acceptance of the Ryke offer will be the final step in that direction."
Instantly, almost every other man in the room was talking at once.
Hockley smiled faintly until the angry voices subsided. Then Silvers
cleared his throat gently. He placed his glass beside the bottles on the
table with a precise motion. "I am sure," he said, "that a moment's
thought will convince you that you do not mean what you have just said.
"Consider the position of pupil and teacher. One of Man's greatest
failings is his predilection for assuming always the position of teacher
and eschewing that of pupil. There is also the question of humility,
intellectual humility. We scientists have always boasted of our
readiness to set aside one so-called truth and accept another with more
valid supporting evidence.
"Since our first contact with other galactic civilizations we have had
the utmost need to adopt an attitude of humility. We have been fortunate
in coming to a community of worlds where war and oppression are not
standard rules of procedure. Among our own people we have encountered no
such magnanimity as has been extended repeatedly by other worlds,
climaxed now by the Ryke's magnificent offer.
"To adopt sincere intellectual humility and the attitude of the pupil is
not to function as a parasite, Dr. Hockley."
"Your analogy of teacher and pupil is very faulty in expressing our
relation to the Rykes," said Hockley. "Or perhaps I should say it is too
hellishly accurate. Would you have us remain the eternal pupils? The
closing of the National Laboratories means an irreversible change in our
position. Is it worth gaining a universe of knowledge to give up your
own personal free inquiry?"
"I am sure none of us considers he is giving up his personal free
inquiry," said Silvers almost angrily. "We see unlimited expansion
beyond anything we have imagined in our wildest dreams."
On a few faces there were frowns of uncertainty, but no one spoke up to
support him. Hockley knew that until this vision of paradise wore off
there were none of them on whom he could count.
He smiled broadly and stood up to ease the tension in the room. "Well,
it appears you have made your decision. Of course, Congress can accept
the Ryke plan whether we approve or not, but it is good to go on record
one way or the other. I suppose that on the way out tonight it would be
proper to check in at Personnel and file a services available
notification."
And then he wished he hadn't said that. Their faces grew a little more
set at his unappreciated attempt at humor.
* * * * *
Showalter remained after the others left. He sat across the desk while
Hockley turned back to the window. Only the tip of the gammatron tower
now caught the late afternoon sunlight.
"Maybe I'm getting old," Hockley said. "Maybe they're right and the Lab
isn't worth preserving if it means the difference between getting or not
getting tutelage from the Rykes."
"But you don't feel that's true," said Showalter.
"No."
"You're the one who built the Lab into what it is. It has as much worth
as it ever had, and you have an obligation to keep it from being
destroyed by a group of politicians who could never understand its
necessity."
"I didn't build it," said Hockley. "It grew because I was able to find
enough people who wanted the institution to exist. But I've been away
from research so long--I never was much good at it really. Did you ever
know that? I've always thought of myself as a sort of impressario of
scientific productions, if I might use such a term. Maybe those closer
to the actual work are right. Maybe I'm just trying to hang on to the
past. It could be time for a jump to a new kind of progress."
"You don't believe any of that."
Hockley looked steadily in the direction of the Lab buildings. "I don't
believe any of it. That isn't just an accumulation of buildings over
there, with a name attached to them. It's the advancing terminal of all
Man's history of trying to find out about himself and the Universe. It
started before Neanderthal climbed into his caves a half million years
ago. From then until now there's a steady path of trial and error--of
learning. There's exultation and despair, success and failure. Now they
want to say it was all for nothing."
"But to be pupils--to let the Rykes teach us--"
"The only trouble with Silvers' argument is that our culture has never
understood that teaching, in the accepted sense, is an impossibility.
There can be only learning--never teaching. The teacher has to be
eliminated from the actual learning process before genuine learning can
ever take place. But the Rykes offer to become the Ultimate Teacher."
"And if this is true," said Showalter slowly, "you couldn't teach it to
those who disagree, could you? They'd have to learn it for themselves."
Hockley turned. For a moment he continued to stare at his assistant.
Then his face broke into a narrow grin. "Of course you're right! There's
only one way they'll ever learn it: go through the actual experience of
what Ryke tutelage will mean."
Most of the workrooms at Information Central were empty this time of
evening. Hockley selected the first one he came to and called for every
scrap of data pertaining to Rykeman III. There was a fair amount of
information available on the physical characteristics of the world.
Hockley scribbled swift, privately intelligible notes as he scanned. The
Rykes lived under a gravity one third heavier than Earth's, with a day
little more than half as long, and they received only forty percent as
much heat from their frail sun as Earthmen were accustomed to.
Cultural characteristics included a trading system that made the entire
planet a single economic unit. And the planet had no history whatever of
war. The Rykes themselves had contributed almost nothing to the central
libraries of the galaxies concerning their own personal makeup and
mental functions, however. What little was available came from observers
not of their race.
There were indications they were a highly unemotional race, not given to
any artistic expression. Hockley found this surprising. The general rule
was for highly intellectual attainments to be accompanied by equally
high artistic expression.
But all of this provided no data that he could relate to his present
problem, no basis for argument beyond what he already had. He returned
the films to their silver cans and sat staring at the neat pile of them
on the desk. Then he smiled at his own obtuseness. Data on Rykeman III
might be lacking, but the Ryke plan had been tried on plenty of other
worlds. Data on _them_ should not be so scarce.
He returned the cans and punched out a new request on the call panel.
Twenty seconds later he was pleasantly surprised by a score of new tapes
in the hopper. That was enough for a full night's work. He wished he'd
brought Showalter along to help.
Then his eye caught sight of the label on the topmost can in the pile:
Janisson VIII. The name rang a familiar signal somewhere deep in his
mind. Then he knew--that was the home world of Waldon Thar, one of his
closest friends in the year when he'd gone to school at Galactic Center
for advanced study.
Thar had been one of the most brilliant researchers Hockley had ever
known. In bull session debate he was instantly beyond the depth of
everyone else.
Janisson VIII. Thar could tell him about the Rykes!
Hockley pushed the tape cans aside and went to the phone in the
workroom. He dialed for the interstellar operator. "Government priority
call to Janisson VIII," he said. "Waldon Thar. He attended Galactic
Center Research Institute twenty-three years ago. He came from the city
Plar, which was his home at that time. I have no other information,
except that he is probably employed as a research scientist."
There was a moment's silence while the operator noted the information.
"There will be some delay," she said finally. "At present the
inter-galactic beams are full."
"I can use top emergency priority on this," said Hockley. "Can you clear
a trunk for me on that?"
"Yes. One moment, please."
He sat by the window for half an hour, turning down the light in the
workroom so that he could see the flow of traffic at the port west of
the Lab buildings. Two spaceships took off and three came in while he
waited. And then the phone rang.
"I'm sorry," the operator said. "Waldon Thar is reported not on Janisson
VIII. He went to Rykeman III about two Earth years ago. Do you wish to
attempt to locate him there?"
"By all means," said Hockley. "Same priority."
This was better than he had hoped for. Thar could really get him the
information he needed on the Rykes. Twenty minutes later the phone rang
again. In the operator's first words Hockley sensed apology and knew the
attempt had failed.
"Our office has learned that Waldon Thar is at present on tour as aide
to the Ryke emissary, Liacan. We can perhaps trace--"
"No!" Hockley shouted. "That won't be necessary. I know now--"
He almost laughed aloud to himself. This was an incredible piece of good
luck. Waldon Thar was probably out at the space port right now--unless
one of those ships taking off had been the Ryke--
He wondered why Thar had not tried to contact him. Of course, it had
been a long time, but they had been very close at the center. He dialed
the field control tower. "I want to know if the ship from Rykeman III
has departed yet," he said.
"They were scheduled for six hours ago, but mechanical difficulty has
delayed them. Present estimated take-off is 1100."
Almost two hours to go, Hockley thought. That should be time enough.
"Please put me in communication with one of the aides aboard named
Waldon Thar. This is Sherman Hockley of Scientific Services. Priority
request."
"I'll try, sir." The tower operator manifested a sudden increase of
respect. "One moment, please."
Hockley heard the buzz and switch clicks of communication circuits
reaching for the ship. Then, in a moment, he heard the somewhat
irritated but familiar voice of his old friend.
"Waldon Thar speaking," the voice said. "Who wishes to talk?"
"Listen, you old son of a cyclotron's maiden aunt!" said Hockley. "Who
would want to talk on Sol III? Why didn't you give me a buzz when you
landed? I just found out you were here."
"Sherm Hockley, of course," the voice said with distant, unperturbed
tones. "This is indeed a surprise and a pleasure. To be honest, I had
forgotten Earth was your home planet."
"I'll try to think of something to jog your memory next time. How about
getting together?"
"Well--I don't have very long," said Thar hesitantly. "If you could come
over for a few minutes--"
Hockley had the jolting feeling that Waldon Thar would just as soon pass
up the opportunity for their meeting. Some of the enthusiasm went out of
his voice. "There's a good all-night inter-planetary eatery and bar on
the field there. I'll be along in fifteen minutes."
"Fine," said Thar, "but please try not to be late."
On the way to the field, Hockley wondered about the change that had
apparently taken place in Thar. Of course, _he_ had changed,
too--perhaps for much the worse. But Thar sounded like a stuffed shirt
now, and that is the last thing Hockley would have expected. In school,
Thar had been the most irreverent of the whole class of irreverents,
denouncing in ecstasy the established and unproven lore, riding the
professors of unsubstantiated hypotheses. Now--well, he didn't sound
like the Thar Hockley knew.
He took a table and sat down just as Thar entered the dining room. The
latter's broad smile momentarily removed Hockley's doubts. The smile
hadn't changed. And there was the same expression of devilish disregard
for the established order. The same warm friendliness. It baffled
Hockley to understand how Thar could have failed to remember Earth was
his home.
Thar mentioned it as he came up and took Hockley's hand. "I'm terribly
sorry," he said. "It was stupid to forget that Earth meant Sherman
Hockley."
"I know how it is. I should have written. I guess I'm the one who owes a
letter."
"No, I think not," said Thar.
They sat on opposite sides of a small table near a window and ordered
drinks. On the field they could see the vast, shadowy outline of the
Ryke vessel.
Thar was of a race genetically close to the Rykes. He lacked the
feathery covering, but this was replaced by a layer of thin scales,
which had a tendency to stand on edge when he was excited. He also wore
a breathing piece, and carried the small shoulder tank with a faint air
of superiority.
Hockley watched him with a growing sense of loss. The first impression
had been more nearly correct. Thar hadn't wanted to meet him.
"It's been a long time," said Hockley lamely. "I guess there isn't much
we did back there that means anything now."
"You shouldn't say that," said Thar as if recognizing he had been too
remote. "Every hour of our acquaintance meant a great deal to me. I'll
never forgive myself for forgetting--but tell me how you learned I was
aboard the Ryke ship."
"The Rykes have made us an offer. I wanted to find out the effects on
worlds that had accepted. I learned Janisson VIII was one, so I started
looking."
"I'm so very glad you did, Sherm. You want me to confirm, of course, the
advisability of accepting the offer Liacan has made."
"Confirm--or deny it," said Hockley.
Thar spread his clawlike hands. "Deny it? The most glorious opportunity
a planet could possibly have?"
Something in Thar's voice gave Hockley a sudden chill. "How has it
worked on your own world?"
"Janisson VIII has turned from a slum to a world of mansions. Our
economic problems have been solved. Health and long life are routine.
There is nothing we want that we cannot have for the asking."
"But are you _satisfied_ with it? Is there nothing which you had to give
up that you would like returned?"
Waldon Thar threw back his head and laughed in high pitched tones. "I
might have known that would be the question you would ask! Forgive me,
friend Sherman, but I had almost forgotten how unventuresome you are.
"Your question is ridiculous. Why should we wish to go back to our
economic inequalities, poverty and distress, our ignorant plodding
research in science? You can answer your own question."
They were silent for a moment. Hockley thought his friend would have
gladly terminated their visit right there and returned to his ship. To
forestall this, he leaned across the table and asked, "Your
science--what has become of that?"
"Our science! We never had any. We were ignorant children playing with
mud and rocks. We knew nothing. We had nothing. Until the Rykes offered
to educate us."
"Surely you don't believe that," said Hockley quietly. "The problem you
worked on at the Institute--gravity at micro-cosmic levels. That was not
a childish thing."
Thar laughed shortly and bitterly. "What disillusionment you have
coming, friend Sherman! If you only knew how truly childish it was. Wait
until you learn from the Rykes the true conception of gravity, its
nature and the part it plays in the structure of matter."
Hockley felt a sick tightening within him. This was not the Waldon Thar,
the wild demon who thrust aside all authority and rumor in his own
headlong search for knowledge. It couldn't be Thar who was sitting
passively by, being _told_ what the nature of the Universe is.
"Your scientists--?" Hockley persisted. "What has become of all your
researchers?"
"The answer is the same," said Thar. "We had no science. We had no
scientists. Those who once went by that name have become for the first
time honest students knowing the pleasure of studying at the feet of
masters."
"You have set up laboratories in which your researches are supervised by
the Rykes?"
"Laboratories? We have no need of laboratories. We have workshops and
study rooms where we try to absorb that which the Rykes discovered long
ago. Maybe at some future time we will come to a point where we can
reach into the frontier of knowledge with our own minds, but this does
not seem likely now."
"So you have given up all original research of your own?"
"How could we do otherwise? The Rykes have all the answers to any
question we have intelligence enough to ask. Follow them, Sherman. It is
no disgrace to be led by such as the Ryke teachers."
"Don't you ever long," said Hockley, "to take just one short step on
your own two feet?"
"Why crawl when you can go by trans-light carrier?"
Thar sipped the last of his drink and glanced toward the wall clock. "I
must go. I can understand the direction of your questions and your
thinking. You hesitate because you might lose the chance to play in the
mud and count the pretty pebbles in the sand. Put away childish things.
You will never miss them!"
They shook hands, and a moment later Hockley said goodbye to Thar at the
entrance to the field. "I know Earth will accept," said Thar. "And you
and I should not have lost contact--but we'll make up for it."
Watching him move toward the dark hulk of the ship, Hockley wondered if
Thar actually believed that. In less than an hour they had exhausted all
they had to say after twenty years. Hockley had the information he
needed about the Ryke plan, but he wished he could have kept his old
memories of his student friend. Thar was drunk on the heady stuff being
peddled by the Rykes, and if what he said were true, it was strong
enough to intoxicate a whole planet.
His blood grew cold at the thought. This was more than a fight for the
National Laboratories. It was a struggle to keep all Mankind from
becoming what Thar had become.
If he could have put Thar on exhibition in the meeting tomorrow, and
shown what he was once like, he would have made his point. But Thar,
before and after, was not available for exhibit. He had to find another
way to show his colleagues and the Senators what the Rykes would make of
them.
He glanced at his watch. They wouldn't like being wakened at this hour,
but neither would the scientists put up much resistance to his request
for support in Markham's meeting. He went back to the bar and called
each of his colleagues who had been in the meeting that day.
* * * * *
Hockley was called first when the assembly convened at ten that morning.
He rose slowly from his seat near Markham and glanced over the somewhat
puzzled expressions of the scientists.
"I don't know that I can speak for the entire group of scientists
present," he said. "We met yesterday and found some differences of
opinion concerning this offer. While it is true there is overwhelming
sentiment supporting it, certain questions remain, which we feel require
additional data in order to be answered properly.
"While we recognize that official acceptance can be given to the Rykes
with no approval whatever from the scientists, it seems only fair that
we should have every opportunity to make what we consider a proper study
and to express our opinions in the matter.
"To the non-scientist--and perhaps to many of my colleagues--it may seem
inconceivable that there could be any questions whatever. But we wonder
about the position of students of future generations, we wonder about
the details of administration of the program, we wonder about the total
effects of the program upon our society as a whole. We wish to ask
permission to make further study of the matter in an effort to answer
these questions and many others. We request permission to go as a
committee to Rykeman III and make a first hand study of what the Rykes
propose to do, how they will teach us, and how they will dispense the
information they so generously offer.
"I ask that you consider this most seriously, and make an official
request of the Rykes to grant us such opportunity for study, that you
provide the necessary appropriations for the trip. I consider it most
urgent that this be done at once."
There was a stir of concern and disapproval from Congressional members
as Hockley sat down. Senators leaned to speak in whispers to their
neighbors, but Hockley observed the scientists remained quiet and
impassive. He believed he had sold them in his telephone calls during
the early morning. They liked the idea of obtaining additional data.
Besides, most of them wanted to see Rykeman III for themselves.
Senator Markham finally stood up, obviously disturbed by Hockley's
abrupt proposal. "It has seemed to us members of the Committee that
there could hardly be any need for more data than is already available
to us. The remarkable effects of Ryke science on other backward worlds
is common knowledge.
"On the other hand we recognize the qualifications of you gentlemen
which make your request appear justified. We will have to discuss this
at length, but at the moment I believe I can say I am in sympathy with
your request and can encourage my Committee to give it serious
consideration."
* * * * *
A great deal more was said on that and subsequent days. News of the Ryke
offer was not given to the public, but the landing of the Ryke ship
could not be hidden. It became known that Liacan carried his offer to
other worlds and speculation was made that he offered it to Earth also.
Angry questions were raised as to why the purpose of the visit was not
clarified, but government silence was maintained while Hockley's request
was considered.
It encountered bitter debate in the closed sessions, but permission was
finally given for a junket of ninety scientists and ten senators to
Rykeman III.
This could not be hidden, so the facts were modified and a story given
out that the party was going to request participation in the Ryke
program being offered other worlds, that Liacan's visit had not been
conclusive.
In the days preceding the take-off Hockley felt a sense of destiny
weighing heavily upon him. He read every word of the stream of opinion
that flowed through the press. Every commentator and columnist seemed
called upon to make his own specific analysis of the possibilities of
the visit to Rykeman III. And the opinions were almost uniform that it
would be an approach to Utopia to have the Rykes take over. Hockley was
sickened by this mass conversion to the siren call of the Rykes.
It was a tremendous relief when the day finally came and the huge
transport ship lifted solemnly into space.
Most of the group were in the ship's lounge watching the television port
as the Earth drifted away beneath them. Senator Markham seemed nervous
and almost frightened, Hockley thought, as if something intangible had
escaped him.
"I hope we're not wasting our time," he said. "Not that I don't
understand your position," he added hastily to cover the show of
antagonism he sensed creeping into his voice.
"We appreciate your support," said Hockley, "and we'll do our best to
see the time of the investigation is not wasted."
But afterwards, when the two of them were alone by the screen, Silvers
spoke to Hockley soberly. The mathematician had lost some of the wild
exuberance he'd had at first. It had been replaced by a deep, intense
conviction that nothing must stand in the way of Earth's alliance with
the Rykes.
"We all understand why you wanted us to come," he said. "We know you
believe this delay will cool our enthusiasm. It's only fair to make
clear that it won't. How you intend to change us by taking us to the
home of the Rykes has got us all baffled. The reverse will be true, I am
very sure. We intend to make it clear to the Rykes that we accept their
offer. I hope you have no plan to make a declaration to the contrary."
Hockley kept his eyes on the screen, watching the green sphere of Earth.
"I have no intention of making any statement of any kind. I was
perfectly honest when I said our understanding of the Rykes would profit
by this visit. You all agreed. I meant nothing more nor less than what I
said. I hope no one in the group thinks otherwise."
"We don't know," said Silvers.
"It's just that you've got us wondering how you expect to change our
views."
"I have not said that is my intention."
"Can you say it is not?"
"No, I cannot say that. But the question is incomplete. My whole
intention is to discover as fully as possible what will be the result of
alliance with the Rykes. If you should conclude that it will be
unfavorable that will be the result of your own direct observations and
computations, not of my arguments."
"You may be sure that is one thing that will not occur," said Silvers.
* * * * *
It took them a month to reach a transfer point where they could change
to a commercial vessel using Ryke principles. In the following week they
covered a distance several thousand times that which they had already
come. And then they were on Rykeman III.
A few of them had visited the planet previously, on vacation trips or
routine study expeditions, but most of them were seeing it for the first
time. While well out into space the group began crowding the vision
screens which brought into range the streets and buildings of the
cities. They could see the people walking and riding there.
Hockley caught his breath at the sight, and doubts overwhelmed him,
telling him he was an utter and complete fool. The city upon which he
looked was a jewel of perfection. Buildings were not indiscriminate
masses of masonry and metal and plastic heaped up without regard to the
total effect. Rather, the city was a unit created with an eye to
esthetic perfection.
Silvers stood beside Hockley. "We've got a chance to make Earth look
that way," said the mathematician.
"There's only one thing missing," said Hockley. "The price tag. We still
need to know what it's going to cost."
Upon landing, the Earthmen were greeted by a covey of their bird-like
hosts who scurried about, introducing themselves in their high whistling
voices. In busses, they were moved half way across the city to a
building which stood beside an enormous park area.
It was obviously a building designed for the reception of just such
delegations as this one, giving Hockley evidence that perhaps his idea
was not so original after all. It was a relief to get inside after their
brief trip across the city. Gravity, temperature, and air pressure and
composition duplicated those of Earth inside, and conditions could be
varied to accommodate many different species. Hockley felt confident
they could become accustomed to outside conditions after a few days, but
it was exhausting now to be out for long.
They were shown to individual quarters and given leisure to unpack and
inspect their surroundings. Furniture had been adjusted to their size
and needs. The only oversight Hockley could find was a faint odor of
chlorine lingering in the closets. He wondered who the last occupant of
the room had been.
After a noon meal, served with foods of astonishingly close
approximation to their native fare, the group was offered a prelude to
the general instruction and indoctrination which would begin the
following day. This was in the form of a guided tour through the science
museum which, Hockley gathered, was a modernized Ryke parallel to the
venerable Smithsonian back home. The tour was entirely optional, as far
as the planned program of the Rykes was concerned, but none of the
Earthmen turned it down.
Hockley tried to concentrate heavily on the memory of Waldon Thar and
keep the image of his friend always before him as he moved through the
city and inspected the works of the Rykes. He found it helped suppress
the awe and adulation which he had an impulse to share with his
companions.
It was possible even, he found, to adopt a kind of truculent cynicism
toward the approach the Rykes were making. The visit to the science
museum _could_ be an attempt to bowl them over with an eon-long vista of
Ryke superiority in the sciences. At least that was most certainly the
effect on them. Hockley cursed his own feeling of ignorance and
inferiority as the guide led them quietly past the works of the masters,
offering but little comment, letting them see for themselves the obvious
relationships.
In the massive display showing developments of spaceflight, the atomic
vessels, not much different from Earthmen's best efforts, were far down
the line, very near to the earliest attempts of the Rykes to rocket
their way into space. Beyond that level was an incredible series of
developments incomprehensible to most of the Earthmen.
[Illustration]
And to all their questions the guide offered the monotonous reply: "That
will be explained to you later. We only wish to give you an overall
picture of our culture at the present time."
But this was not enough for one of the astronomers, named Moore, who
moved ahead of Hockley in the crowd. Hockley saw the back of Moore's
neck growing redder by the minute as the guide's evasive answer was
repeated. Finally, Moore forced a discussion regarding the merits of
some systems of comparing the brightness of stars, which the guide
briefly showed them. The guide, in great annoyance, burst out with a
stream of explanation that completely flattened any opinions Moore might
have had. But at the same time the astronomer grinned amiably at the
Ryke. "That ought to settle that," he said. "I'll bet it won't take a
week to get our system changed back home."
Moore's success loosened the restraint of the others and they beseiged
the guide mercilessly then with opinions, questions, comparisons--and
even mild disapprovals. The guide's exasperation was obvious--and
pleasant--to Hockley, who remained a bystander. It was frightening to
Markham and some of the other senators who were unable to take part in
the discussion. But most of the scientists failed to notice it in their
eagerness to learn.
After dinner that night they gathered in the lounge and study of their
quarters. Markham stood beside Hockley as they partook cautiously of the
cocktails which the Rykes had attempted to duplicate for them. The
Senator's awe had returned to overshadow any concern he felt during the
events of the afternoon. "A wonderful day!" he said. "Even though this
visit delays completion of our arrangements with the Rykes those of us
here will be grateful forever that you proposed it. Nothing could have
so impressed us all with the desirability of accepting the Ryke's
tutelage. It was a stroke of genius, Dr. Hockley. And for a time I
thought you were actually opposed to the Rykes!"
He sipped his drink while Hockley said nothing. Then his brow furrowed a
bit. "But I wonder why our guide cut short our tour this afternoon. If I
recall correctly he said at the beginning there was a great deal more to
see than he actually showed us."
Hockley smiled and sipped politely at his drink before he set it down
and faced the Senator. "I was wondering if anyone else noticed that," he
said.
* * * * *
Hockley slept well that night except for the fact that occasional whiffs
of chlorine seemed to drift from various corners of the room even though
he turned the air-conditioning system on full blast.
In the morning there began a series of specialized lectures which had
been prepared in accordance with the Earthmen's request to acquaint them
with what they would be getting upon acceptance of the Ryke offer.
It was obviously no new experience for the Rykes. The lectures were well
prepared and anticipated many questions. The only thing new about it,
Hockley thought, was the delivery in the language of the Earthmen.
Otherwise, he felt this was something prepared a long time ago and given
a thousand times or more.
They were divided into smaller groups according to their specialties,
electronic men going one way, astronomers and mathematical physicists
another, chemists and general physicists in still another direction.
Hockley, Showalter and the senators were considered more or less free
floating members of the delegation with the privilege of visiting with
one group or another according to their pleasure.
Hockley chose to spend the first day with the chemists, since that was
his own first love. Dr. Showalter and Senator Markham came along with
him. As much as he tried he found it virtually impossible not to sit
with the same open-mouthed wonder that his colleagues exhibited. The
swift, free-flowing exposition of the Ryke lecturer led them immediately
beyond their own realms, but so carefully did he lead them that it
seemed that they must have come this way before, and forgotten it.
Hockley felt half angry with himself. He felt he had allowed himself to
be hypnotized by the skill of the Ryke, and wondered despairingly if
there were any chance at all of combating their approach. He saw nothing
to indicate it in the experience of that day or the ones immediately
following. But he retained hope that there was much significance in the
action of the guide who had cut short their visit to the museum.
In the evenings, in the study lounge of the dormitory, they held
interminable bull sessions exchanging and digesting what they had been
shown during the day. It was at the end of the third day that Hockley
thought he could detect a subtle change in the group. He had some
difficulty analyzing it at first. It seemed to be a growing aliveness, a
sort of recovery. And then he recognized that the initial stunned
reaction to the magnificence of the Rykes was passing off. They had been
shocked by the impact of the Rykes, almost as if they had been struck a
blow on the head. Temporarily, they had shelved all their own analytical
and critical facilities and yielded to the Rykes without question.
Now they were beginning to recover, springing back to a condition
considerably nearer normal. Hockley felt a surge of encouragement as he
detected a more sharply critical evaluation in the conversations that
buzzed around him. The enthusiasm was more measured.
It was the following evening, however, that witnessed the first event of
pronounced shifting of anyone's attitude. They had finished dinner and
were gathering in the lounge, sparring around, setting up groups for the
bull sessions that would go until long after midnight. Most of them had
already settled down and were talking part in conversations or were
listening quietly when they were suddenly aware of a change in the
atmosphere of the room.
For a moment there was a general turning of heads to locate the source
of the disturbance. Hockley knew he could never describe just what made
him look around, but he was abruptly conscious that Dr. Silvers was
walking into the lounge and looking slowly about at those gathered
there. Something in his presence was like the sudden appearance of a
thundercloud, his face seemed to reflect the dark turbulence of a summer
storm.
He said nothing, however, to anyone but strode over and sat beside
Hockley, who was alone at the moment smoking the next to last of his
Earthside cigars. Hockley felt the smouldering turmoil inside the
mathematician. He extended his final cigar. Silvers brushed it away.
"The last one," said Hockley mildly. "In spite of all their abilities
the Ryke imitations are somewhat less than natural."
Silvers turned slowly to face Hockley. "I presented them with the
Legrandian Equations today," he said. "I expected to get a
straightforward answer to a perfectly legitimate scientific question.
That is what we were led to expect, was it not?"
[Illustration]
Hockley nodded. "That's my impression. Did you get something less than a
straightforward answer?"
The mathematician exhaled noisily. "The Legrandian Equations will lead
to a geometry as revolutionary as Riemann's was in his day. But I was
told by the Rykes that I 'should dismiss it from all further
consideration. It does not lead to any profitable mathematical
development.'"
Hockley felt that his heart most certainly skipped a beat, but he
managed to keep his voice steady, and sympathetic. "That's too bad. I
know what high hopes you had. I suppose you will give up work on the
Equations now?"
"I will not!" Silvers exclaimed loudly. Nearby groups who had returned
hesitantly to their own conversations now stared at him again. But
abruptly he changed his tone and looked almost pleadingly at Hockley. "I
don't understand it. Why should they say such a thing? It appears to be
one of the most profitable avenues of exploration I have encountered in
my whole career. And the Rykes brush it aside!"
"What did you say when they told you to give it up?"
"I said I wanted to know where the development would lead. I said it had
been indicated that we could have an answer to any scientific problem
within the range of their abilities, and certainly this is, from what
I've seen.
"The instructor replied that I'd been given an answer to my question,
that 'the first lesson you must learn if you wish to acquire our pace in
science is to recognize that we have been along the path ahead of you.
We know which are the possibilities that are worthwhile to develop. We
have gained our speed by learning to bypass every avenue but the main
one, and not get lost in tempting side roads.'
"He said that we've got to learn to trust them and take their word as to
which is the correct and profitable field of research, that 'we will
show you where to go, as we agreed to do. If you are not willing to
accept our leadership in this respect our agreement means nothing.'
Wouldn't that be a magnificent way to make scientific progress!"
The mathematician shifted in his chair as if trying to control an
internal fury that would not be capped. He held out his hand abruptly.
"I'll take that cigar after all, if you don't mind, Hockley."
With savage energy he chewed the end and ignited the cigar, then blew a
mammoth cloud of smoke ceilingward. "I think the trouble must be in our
lecturer," he said. "He's crazy. He couldn't possibly represent the
conventional attitude of the Rykes. They promised to give answers to our
problems--and this is the kind of nonsense I get. I'm going to see
somebody higher up and find out why we can't have a lecturer who knows
what he's talking about. Or maybe you or Markham would rather take it
up--through official channels, as it were?"
"The Ryke was correct," said Hockley. "He _did_ give you an answer."
"He could answer _all_ our questions that way!"
"You're perfectly right," said Hockley soberly. "He could do exactly
that."
"They won't of course," said Silvers, defensively. "Even if this
particular character isn't just playing the screwball, my question is
just a special case. It's just one particular thing they consider to be
valueless. Perhaps in the end I'll find they're right--but I'm going to
develop a solution to these Equations if it takes the rest of my life!
"After all, they admit they have no solution, that they have not
bothered to go down this particular side path, as they put it. If we
don't go down it how can we ever know whether it's worthwhile or not?
How can the Rykes know what they may have missed by not doing so?"
"I can't answer that," said Hockley. "For us or for them, I know of no
other way to predict the outcome of a specific line of research except
to carry it through and find out what lies at the end of the road."
* * * * *
Hockley didn't sleep very well after he finally went to bed that night.
Silvers had presented him with the break he had been expecting and
hoping for. The first chink in the armor of sanctity surrounding the
Rykes. Now he wondered what would follow, if this would build up to the
impassable barrier he wanted, or if it would merely remain a sore
obstacle in their way but eventually be bypassed and forgotten.
He did not believe it would be the only incident of its kind. There
would be others as the Earthmen's stunned, blind acceptance gave way
completely to sound, critical evaluation. And in any case there was one
delegate who would never be the same again. No matter how he eventually
rationalized it Dr. Forman K. Silvers would never feel quite the same
about the Rykes as he did before they rejected his favorite piece of
research.
Hockley arose early, eager but cautious, his senses open for further
evidence of disaffection springing up. He joined the group of chemists
once more for the morning lecture. The spirit of the group was markedly
higher than when he first met with them. They had been inspired by what
the Rykes had shown them, but in addition their own sense of judgment
had been brought out of suspension.
The Ryke lecturer began inscribing on the board an enormous organic
formula, using conventions of Earth chemistry for the benefit of his
audience. He explained at some length a number of transformations which
it was possible to make in the compound by means of high intensity
fields.
Almost at once, one of the younger chemists named Dr. Carmen, was on his
feet exclaiming excitedly that one of the transformation compounds was a
chemical on which he had conducted an extensive research. He had
produced enough to know that it had a multitude of intriguing
properties, and now he was exuberant at the revelation of a method of
producing it in quantity and also further transforming it.
At his sudden enthusiasm the lecturer's face took on what they had come
to recognize as a very dour look. "That series of transformations has no
interest for us," he said. "I merely indicated its existence to show one
of the possibilities which should be avoided. Over here you see the
direction in which we wish to go."
"But you never saw anything with properties like that!" Carmen
protested. "It goes through an incredible series of at least three
crystalline-liquid phase changes with an increase in pressure alone. But
with proper control of heat it can be kept in the crystalline phase
regardless of pressure. It is closely related to a drug series with
anesthetic properties, and is almost sure to be valuable in--"
The Ryke lecturer cut him off sharply. "I have explained," he said, "the
direction of transformation in which we are interested. Your concern is
not with anything beyond the boundaries which our study has proven to be
the direct path of research and study."
"Then I should abandon research on this series of chemicals?" Carmen
asked with a show of outward meekness.
The Ryke nodded with pleasure at Carmen's submissiveness. "That is it
precisely. We have been over this ground long ago. We know where the
areas of profitable study lie. You will be told what to observe and what
to ignore. How could you ever hope to make progress if you stopped to
examine every alternate probability and possibility that appeared to
you?" He shook his head vigorously and his plume vibrated with emotion.
"You must have a plan," he continued. "A goal. Study of the Universe
cannot proceed in any random, erratic fashion. You must know what you
want and then find out where to look for it."
Carmen sat down slowly. Hockley was sure the Ryke did not notice the
tense bulge of the chemist's jaw muscles. Perhaps he would not have
understood the significance if he had noticed.
* * * * *
Hockley was a trifle late in getting to the dining room at lunch time
that day. By the time he did so the place was like a beehive. He was
almost repelled by the furor of conversation circulating in the room as
he entered.
He passed through slowly, searching for a table of his own. He paused a
moment behind Dr. Carmen, who was declaiming in no mild terms his
opinions of a system that would pre-select those areas of research which
were to be entered and those which were not. He smiled a little as he
caught the eye of one of the dozen chemists seated at the table,
listening.
Moving on, he observed that Silvers had also cornered a half dozen or so
of his colleagues in his own field and was in earnest conversation with
them--in a considerably more restrained manner, however, than he had
used the previous evening with Hockley, or than Carmen was using at the
present time.
The entire room was abuzz with similar groups.
The senators had tried to mingle with the others in past days, always
with more or less lack of success because they found themselves out of
the conversation almost completely. Today they had no luck whatever.
They were seated together at a couple of tables in a corner. None of
them seemed to be paying attention to the food before them, but were
glancing about, half-apprehensively, at their fellow diners--who were
also paying no attention to food.
Hockley caught sight of his political colleagues and sensed their
dismay. The field of disquietude seemed almost tangible in the air. The
senators seemed half frightened by what they felt but could not
understand.
Showalter's wild waving at the far corner of the room finally caught
Hockley's eye and he moved toward the small table which the assistant
had reserved for them. Showalter was upset, too, by the atmosphere
within the room.
"What the devil is up?" he said. "Seems like everybody's on edge this
morning. I never saw a bunch of guys so touchy. You'd think they woke up
with snakes in their beds."
"Didn't you know?" said Hockley. "Haven't you been to any of the
lectures this morning?"
"No. A couple of the senators were getting bored with all the scientific
doings so I thought maybe I should try to entertain them. We took in
what passes for such here, but it wasn't much better than the lectures
as a show. Tell me what's up."
Briefly, Hockley described Silvers' upset of the day before and Carmen's
experience that morning. Showalter let his glance rove over his fellow
Earthmen, trying to catch snatches of the buzzing conversation at nearby
tables.
"You think that's the kind of thing that's got them all going this
morning?" he said.
Hockley nodded. "I caught enough of it passing through to know that's
what it is. I gather that every group has run into the same kind of
thing by now, the fencing off of broad areas where we have already tried
to do research.
"After the first cloud of awe wore off, the first thing everyone wanted
was an answer to his own pet line of research. Nine times out of ten it
was something the Rykes told them to chuck down the drain. That advice
doesn't sit so well--as you can plainly see."
Showalter drew back his gaze and stared for a long time at Hockley. "You
knew this would happen. That's why you brought us here--"
"I had hopes of it. I was reasonably sure this was the way the Rykes
operated."
Showalter remained thoughtful for a long time before he spoke again.
"You've won your point, I suppose, as far as this group goes, but you
can't hope to convince all of Earth by this. The Rykes will hold their
offer open, and others will accept it on behalf of Earth.
"And what if it's we who are wrong, in the end? How can you be sure that
this isn't the way the Rykes have made their tremendous speed--by not
going down all the blind alleys that we rattle around in."
"I'm sure it _is_ the way they have attained such speed of advancement."
"Then maybe we ought to go along, regardless of our own desires. Maybe
we never did know how to do research!"
Hockley smiled across the table at his assistant. "You believe that, of
course."
"I'm just talking," said Showalter irritably. "The thing gets more loopy
every day. If you think you understand the Rykes I wish you would give
out with what the score is. By the looks of most of these guys I would
say they are getting ready to throttle the next Ryke they see instead of
knuckle under to him."
"I hope you're right," said Hockley fervently. "I certainly hope you're
right."
* * * * *
By evening there was increasing evidence that he was. Hockley passed up
the afternoon lecture period and spent the time in the lounge doing some
thinking of his own. He knew he couldn't push the group. Above all, he
mustn't give way to any temptation to push them or say, "I told you so."
Their present frustration was so deep that their antagonism could be
turned almost indiscriminately in any direction, and he would be
offering himself as a ready target if he were not careful.
On the other hand he had to be ready to take advantage of their
disaffection and throw them a decisive challenge when they were ready
for it. That might be tonight, or it might be another week. He wished
for a sure way of knowing. As things turned out, however, the necessity
of choosing the time was taken from him.
After dinner that night, when the group began to drift into the lounge,
Silvers and Carmen and three of the other men came over to where Hockley
sat. Silvers fumbled with the buttons of his coat as if preparing to
make an address.
"We'd like to request," he said, "that is--we think we ought to get
together. We'd like you to call a meeting, Hockley. Some of us have a
few things we'd like to talk over."
Hockley nodded, his face impassive.
"The matter I mentioned to you the other night," said Silvers. "It's
been happening to all the men. We think we ought to talk about it."
"Fine," said Hockley. "I've been thinking it would perhaps be a good
idea. Pass the word around and let's get some chairs. We can convene in
ten minutes."
The others nodded somberly and moved away with all the enthusiasm of
preparing for a funeral. And maybe that's what it would be, Hockley
thought--somebody's funeral. He hoped it would be the Rykes.
The room began filling almost at once, as if they had been expecting the
call. In little more than five minutes it seemed that every member of
the Earth delegation had assembled, leaving time to spare.
The senators still wore their looks of puzzlement and half-frightened
anxiety, which had intensified if anything. There was no puzzlement on
the faces of the scientists, however, only a set and determined
expression that Hockley hardly dared interpret as meaning they had made
up their minds. He had to have their verbal confirmation.
Informally, he thrust his hands in his pockets and sauntered to the
front of the group.
"I have been asked to call a meeting," he said, "by certain members of
the group who have something on their minds. They seem to feel we'd all
be interested in what is troubling them. Since I have nothing in
particular to say I'm simply going to turn the floor over to those of
you who have. Dr. Silvers first approached me to call this discussion,
so I shall ask him to lead off. Will you come to the front, Dr.
Silvers?"
The mathematician rose as if wishing someone else would do the talking.
He stood at one side of the group, halfway to the rear. "I can do all
right from here," he said.
After a pause, as if coming to a momentous decision, he plunged into his
complaint. "It appears that nearly all of us have encountered an aspect
of the Ryke culture and character which was not anticipated when we
first received their offer." Briefly, he related the details of the Ryke
rejection of his research on the Legrandian Equations.
"We were told we were going to have all our questions answered, that the
Ryke's science included all we could anticipate or hope to accomplish in
the next few millenia. I swallowed that. We all did. It appears we were
slightly in error. It begins to appear as if we are not going to find
the intellectual paradise we anticipated."
He smiled wryly. "I'm sure none of you is more ready than I to admit he
has been a fool. It appears that paradise, so-called, consists merely of
a few selected gems which the Rykes consider particularly valuable,
while the rest of the field goes untouched.
"I want to offer public apologies to Dr. Hockley, who saw and understood
the situation as it actually existed, while the rest of us had our heads
in the clouds. Exactly how he knew, I'm not sure, but he did, and very
brilliantly chose the only way possible to convince us that what he knew
was correct.
"I suggest we do our packing tonight, gentlemen. Let us return at once
to our laboratories and spend the rest of our lives in some degree of
atonement for being such fools as to fall for the line the Rykes tried
to sell us."
Hockley's eyes were on the senators. At first there were white faces
filled with incredulity as the mathematician proceeded. Then slowly this
changed to sheer horror.
When Silvers finished, there was immediate bedlam. There was a clamor of
voices from the scientists, most of whom seemed to be trying to affirm
Silvers' position. This was offset by explosions of rage from the
senatorial members of the group.
Hockley let it go, not even raising his hands for order until finally
the racket died of its own accord as the eyes of the delegates came to
rest upon him.
And then, before he could speak, Markham was on his feet. "This is
absolutely moral treachery," he thundered. "I have never heard a more
vicious revocation of a pledged word than I have heard this evening.
"You men are not alone concerned in this matter. For all practical
purposes you are not concerned at all! And yet to take it upon
yourselves to pass judgment in a matter that is the affair of the entire
population of Earth--out of nothing more than sheer spite because the
Rykes refuse recognition of your own childish projects! I have never
heard a more incredible and infantile performance than you supposedly
mature gentlemen of science are expressing this evening."
He glared defiantly at Hockley, who was again the center of attention
moving carelessly to the center of the stage. "Anybody want to try to
answer the Senator?" he asked casually.
Instantly, a score of men were on their feet, speaking simultaneously.
They stopped abruptly, looking deferentially to their neighbors and at
Hockley, inviting him to choose one of them to be spokesman.
"Maybe I ought to answer him myself," said Hockley, "since I predicted
that this would occur, and that we ought to make a trial run before
turning our collective gray matter over to the Rykes."
A chorus of approval and nodding heads gave him the go ahead.
"The Senator is quite right in saying that we few are not alone in our
concern in this matter," he said. "But the Senator intends to imply a
major difference between us scientists and the rest of mankind. This is
his error.
"Every member of Mankind who is concerned about the Universe in which he
lives, is a scientist. You need to understand what a scientist is--and
you can say no more than that he is a human being trying to solve the
problem of understanding his Universe, immediate or remote. He is
concerned about the inanimate worlds, his own personality, his fellow
men--and the interweaving relationships among all these factors. We
professional scientists are no strange species, alien to our race. Our
only difference is perhaps that we undertake _more_ problems than does
the average of our fellow men, and of a more complex kind. That is all.
"The essence of our science is a relentless personal yearning to know
and understand the Universe. And in that, the scientist must not be
forbidden to ask whatever question occurs to him. The moment we put any
restraint upon our fields of inquiry, or set bounds to the realms of our
mental aspirations, our science ceases to exist and becomes a mere
opportunist technology."
Markham stood up, his face red with exasperation and rage. "No one is
trying to limit you! Why is that so unfathomable to your minds? You are
being offered a boundless expanse, and you continue to make inane
complaints of limitations. The Rykes have been over all the territory
you insist on exploring. They can tell you the number of pretty pebbles
and empty shells that lie there. You are like children insistent upon
exploring every shadowy corner and peering behind every useless bush on
a walk through the forest.
"Such is to be expected of a child, but not of an adult, who is capable
of taking the word of one who has been there before!"
"There are two things wrong with your argument," said Hockley. "First of
all, there is no essential difference between the learning of a child
who must indeed explore the dark corners and strange growths by which he
passes--there is no difference between this and the probing of the
scientist, who must explore the Universe with his own senses and with
his own instruments, without taking another's word that there is nothing
there worth seeing.
"Secondly, the Rykes themselves are badly in error in asserting that
they have been along the way ahead of us. They have not. In all their
fields of science they have limited themselves badly to one narrow field
of probability. They have taken a narrow path stretching between
magnificent vistas on either side of them, and have deliberately ignored
all that was beyond the path and on the inviting side trails."
"Is there anything wrong with that?" demanded Markham. "If you undertake
a journey you don't weave in and out of every possible path that leads
in every direction opposed to your destination. You take the direct
route. Or at least _ordinary_ people do."
"Scientists do, too," said Hockley, "when they take a journey.
Professional science is not a journey, however. It's an exploration.
"There is a great deal wrong with what the Rykes have done. They have
assumed, and would have us likewise assume, that there is a certain very
specific future toward which we are all moving. This future is built out
of the discoveries they have made about the Universe. It is made of the
system of mathematics they have developed, which exclude Dr. Silvers'
cherished Legrandian Equations. It excludes the world in which exist Dr.
Carmen's series of unique compounds.
"The Rykes have built a wonderful, workable world of serenity, beauty,
scientific consistency, and economic adjustment. They have eliminated
enormous amounts of chaos which Earthmen continue to suffer.
"But we do not want what the Rykes have obtained--if we have to pay
their price for it."
"Then you are complete fools," said Markham. "Fortunately, you cannot
and will not speak for all of Earth."
Hockley paced back and forth a half dozen steps, his eyes on the floor.
"I think we do--and can--speak for all our people," he said. "Remember,
I said that all men are scientists in the final analysis. I am very
certain that no Earthman who truly understood the situation would want
to face the future which the Rykes hold out to us."
"And why not?" demanded Markham.
"Because there are too many possible futures. We refuse to march down a
single narrow trail to _the_ golden future. That's what the Rykes would
have us do. But they are wrong. It would be like taking a trip through a
galaxy at speeds faster than light--and claiming to have seen the
galaxy. What the Rykes have obtained is genuine and good, but what they
have not obtained is perhaps far better and of greater worth."
"How can you know such an absurd thing?"
"We can't--not for sure," said Hockley. "Not until we go there and see
for ourselves, step by step. But we aren't going to be confined to the
Rykes' narrow trail. We are going on a broad path to take in as many
byways as we can possibly find. We'll explore every probability we come
to, and look behind every bush and under every pebble.
"We will move together, the thousands and the millions of us,
simultaneously, interacting with one another, exchanging data. Most
certainly, many will end up in blind alleys. Some will find data that
seems the ultimate truth at one point and pure deception at another. Who
can tell ahead of time which of these multiple paths we should take?
Certainly not the Rykes, who have bypassed most of them!
"It doesn't matter that many paths lead to failure--not as long as we
remain in communication with each other. In the end we will find the
best possible future for us. But there is no _one_ future, only a
multitude of possible futures. We must have the right to build the one
that best fits our own kind."
"Is that more important than achieving immediately a more peaceful,
unified, and secure society?" said Markham.
"Infinitely more important!" said Hockley.
"It is fortunate at least, then, that you are in no position to
implement these insane beliefs of yours. The Ryke program was offered to
Earth, and it shall be accepted on behalf of Earth. You may be sure of a
very poor hearing when you try to present these notions back home."
"You jump to conclusions, Senator," said Hockley with mild confidence.
"Why do you suppose I proposed this trip if I did not believe I could do
something about the situation? I assure you that we did not come just to
see the sights."
Markham's jaw slacked and his face became white. "What do you mean? You
haven't dared to try to alienate the Rykes--"
"I mean that there is a great deal we can do about the situation. Now
that the sentiments of my colleagues parallel my own I'm sure they agree
that we must effectively and finally spike any possibility of Earth's
becoming involved in this Ryke nonsense."
"You wouldn't dare!--even if you could--"
"We can, and we dare," said Hockley. "When we return to Earth we shall
have to report that the Rykes have refused to admit Earth to their
program. We shall report that we made every effort to obtain an
agreement with them, but it was in vain. If anyone wishes to verify the
report, the Rykes themselves will say that this is quite true: they
cannot possibly consider Earth as a participant. If you contend that an
offer was once made, you will not find the Rykes offering much support
since they will be very busily denying that we are remotely qualified."
"The Rykes are hardly ones to meekly submit to any idiotic plan of that
kind."
"They can't help it--if we demonstrate that we _are_ quite unqualified
to participate."
"You--you--"
"It will not be difficult," said Hockley. "The Rykes have set up a
perfect teacher-pupil situation, with all the false assumptions that go
with it. There is at least one absolutely positive way to disintegrate
such a situation. The testimony of several thousand years' failure of
our various educational systems indicates that there are quite a variety
of lesser ways also--
"Perhaps you are aware of the experiences and techniques commonly
employed on Earth by white men in their efforts to educate the
aborigine. The first procedure is to do away with the tribal medicine
men, ignore their lore and learning. Get them to give up the magic words
and their pots of foul smelling liquids, abandon their ritual dances and
take up the white man's great wisdom.
"We have done this time after time, only to learn decades later that the
natives once knew much of anesthetics and healing drugs, and had genuine
powers to communicate in ways the white man can't duplicate.
"But once in a long while a group of aborigines show more spunk than the
average. They refuse to give up their medicine men, their magic and
their hard earned lore accumulated over generations and centuries.
Instead of giving these things up they insist on the white man's
learning these mysteries in preference to _his_ nonsensical and
ineffective magic. They completely frustrate the situation, and if they
persist they finally destroy the white man as an educator. He is forced
to conclude that the ignorant savages are unteachable.
"It is an infallible technique--and one that we shall employ. Dr.
Silvers will undertake to teach his mathematical lecturer in the
approaches to the Legrandian Equations. He will speculate long and
noisily on the geometry which potentially lies in this mathematical
system. Dr. Carmen will elucidate at great length on the properties of
the chain of chemicals he has been advised to abandon.
"Each of us has at least one line of research the Rykes would have us
give up. That is the very thing we shall insist on having investigated.
We shall teach them these things and prove Earthmen to be an unlearned,
unteachable band of aborigines who refuse to pursue the single path to
glory and light, but insist on following every devious byway and
searching every darkness that lies beside the path.
"It ought to do the trick. I estimate it should not be more than a week
before we are on our way back home, labeled by the Rykes as utterly
hopeless material for their enlightenment."
The senators seemed momentarily appalled and speechless, but they
recovered shortly and had a considerable amount of high flown oratory to
distribute on the subject. The scientists, however, were comparatively
quiet, but on their faces was a subdued glee that Hockley had to admit
was little short of fiendish. It was composed, he thought, of all the
gloating anticipations of all the schoolboys who had ever put a
thumbtack on the teacher's chair.
Hockley was somewhat off in his prediction. It was actually a mere five
days after the beginning of the Earthmen's campaign that the Rykes gave
them up and put them firmly aboard a vessel bound for home. The Rykes
were apologetic but firm in admitting they had made a sorry mistake,
that Earthmen would have to go their own hopeless way while the Rykes
led the rest of the Universe toward enlightenment and glory.
Hockley, Showalter, and Silvers watched the planet drop away beneath
them. Hockley could not help feeling sympathetic toward the Rykes. "I
wonder what will happen," he said slowly, "when they crash headlong into
an impassable barrier on that beautiful, straight road of theirs. I
wonder if they'll ever have enough guts to turn aside?"
"I doubt it," said Showalter. "They'll probably curl up and call it a
day."
Silvers shook his head as if to ward off an oppressive vision. "That
shouldn't be allowed to happen," he said. "They've got too much. They've
achieved too much, in spite of their limitations. I wonder if there
isn't some way we could help them?"
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