Ballroom of the Skies

Fifteen

In the desert the nights were cool and dry, the days crisp, blinding. It was a miner’s shack, abandoned when the claim was worked out. Mary drove into town eight miles away once a week for supplies. Fuel was a problem, water was a problem, money would soon be a problem. But each day was an idyll, each night pale silver with too many stars. They would sit on an outcropping of rock, still warm from the sun of the day. He would wonder where he had been — which exact portion of the big sky.

She wore jeans and white shirts and went barefoot gingerly until her slim feet were brown and toughened. The sun bleached the ends of her hair, whitened her brows and lashes, and turned her face a deep ruddy brown. He liked to watch her. She had a cat’s grace, a cat’s ability to relax utterly. They walked miles across the harsh burned land They talked of all things under the sun.

Mary never tired of making him perform. The tiny Pack B fascinated her. He taught her the sequence of wheels, tried to teach her how to use it. She tried until she was on the edge of tears, saying, “I can’t get rid of that last tiny little feeling that it’s impossible. If I could only accept it completely... Do it again, Dake. Let me watch again.”

And finally she refused to try anymore. Her smile seemed a bit strained.

There was another game. She would say, “I met this one when I was studying in Sarasota right after Korea. About five foot six, a hundred and seventy pounds, I’d say. Balding, with very silky blond hair. Big bland blue eyes, and a snub nose and a puckery little mouth, and two chins. He stood very straight, with his stomach sticking out, and when he was thinking of how he would explain something, he’d suck his teeth. He used to wear white slacks and a beaded belt and dark shirts with short sleeves, navy or black.”

“Like this?”

And she would clap her hands with sudden delight, or she would frown and say, “He’s wrong, somehow. Let me think. It’s the forehead.”

And he would alter the illusion until she was satisfied, and he would fix the man in his memory, ready to reproduce him at any time she desired. Once they had a party. He produced the illusions of a round dozen of the people she had described. He created them to the extent of his abilities, sitting taut with the strain of managing so many of them. And Mary walked among them, burlesquing the considerate hostess, saying outrageous things to them.

And suddenly she began to laugh, and she sat down on the sand, and laughter turned to tears, her face huddled against her knees. He dissolved the illusions and went to her, kneeling beside her, touching her shoulder.

“What is it?”

She lifted her wet face and tried to smile. “I... don’t know. It’s a crazy thing. I started feeling as though I’m... here with you like a favorite puppy, or an amusing kitten or something. And what you were doing was like throwing a ball for me to fetch it back to you, panting and wagging my tail.”

“Not like that.”

“Dake, what are we doing here?”

“I had to have someone accept what I could do. Take it without fear and without horror. It seemed necessary to find someone, to find you.”

“But I’m shut out, aren’t I? I’m... like that puppy.”

“How honest do you want me to be?”

She was solemn. “All the way, Dake.”

“I have a feeling of guilt, about the things I can do and you can’t. Guilt makes me resent the fact that you can’t. I’m dissatisfied with your lack of ability.”

“I’ll be honest too. I envy you. And it’s a very small step from envy to resentment, from resentment to hate. I keep saying to myself, ‘Why did they take him? Why did they train him? Why wasn’t it me?’ Do you see?”

“Yes, I see, Mary. I’ve told you... every part of the story. Every part of my life, I guess. You know how it happened.”

“I know how it happened. And I’ve watched you, Dake. I’ve watched you sitting, staring at nothing, that puzzled look on your face. You haven’t told me the whole thing, have you?”

He sat back on his heels, picked up a handful of sun-hot sand, let it slide through his fingers. He said, “These weeks here... it’s the first breathing space I’ve had. The first time to think. My mind goes around and around in a crazy circle and then always ends up flat against a paradox that I can’t solve, can’t see around. A featureless thing like a wall.”

“I think I know what it is, Dake. You tell me.”

He picked up more sand, tossed it aside irritably. “Just this. The mind and the spirit are perhaps... indivisible. On Training T, I was trained by humans, in an alien series of mental techniques. Their method of conquering space, this Pack B, the buildings and methods I saw — all those came from some alien technology far superior to anything on earth. But their greatest advances are in the realm of the brain, and its great unused power. If the mind and the spirit are — instead, I guess I should say the mind and the soul — if they are indivisible, I should think that any increment in the power to use the mind would presuppose a greater understanding of the human soul. And if that is true, why is the influence of the trained ones inimical to mankind? Greater knowledge should mean greater understanding. So why haven’t they made of Earth a decent, safe, sane place to live. I know that with the powers I have, if I could be the only man on Earth with these powers, I could lead this planet into the greatest period of prosperity and peace it has ever seen. If I could do it, by crumbling away the rotten spots, reinforcing the good spots, why don’t they do it? I certainly have no corner on good will. I saw the people trained at the same time I was. I saw them change. I saw an ignorant Spanish Gypsy girl change utterly from a person who functioned on the instinctual animal level to a person who began to have sound, sincere, abstract thoughts and concepts. I’ve labeled the entire operation as something evil. And I doubt whether my label is... accurate. I have the feeling of some chance slipping away from me.”

“I’ve had that feeling for some time, Dake.”

“Then what is the answer?”

“There has to be some answer that you haven’t seen yet.”

“Then why didn’t they tell me the answer?”

“Maybe you had to decide it for yourself. Maybe they gave you enough clues.”

He smiled crookedly. “Then I should keep thinking?”

“Of course. And if you find the answer, you should go back.” She stood up, brushing the sand from herself. “Walk?”

“Sure.”

“Make me a mirage, Dake.”

“What kind?”

“On that hill. Something cool. Something inviting.”

He made heavy old trees and black shade and a limpid fountain. She took his hand and they walked across the desert floor.

“Not a puppy,” he said suddenly. “Something special. Something I need. Patrice had a portion of it, once. Karen had some of it. Even the Gypsy had some of it. I don’t know how to tell you what it is. Strength and warmth. The strong people never seem to be warm enough. The warm people too often have wills like suet. My wife was... right. So are you. I love you.”

“Scratch me behind the ear and throw a ball and I’ll fetch.”

“Stop that!”

“Don’t you see? Remember what they told you when you were learning arithmetic? You can’t add apples and oranges. You have to change the bottom halves of fractions before you can add them together. I can’t become like you. You can’t retrogress to me. I’ll be around as long as you want me, but my attitude will be... sacrificial.”

“That’s a hell of a thing to say.”

“I want you to realize your ‘apartness.’ You can’t love a human except condescendingly. You want desperately for me to be able to insert my thoughts into your mind, as you can into mine. But I can’t. So we’ll never have the sort of communication that you depend on, that you have learned to depend upon. Without that, I’m just a warm, articulated doll. Press the right switch and I’ll say, ‘I love you, Dake.’ Flat and metallic and mechanical. But I cannot ever say it... in your way.”

“But you do?”

“Of course. Puppies have a traditional attachment to their masters. A revolting adoration.”

In anger he walked rigidly ahead. He glanced back and she was standing quite still, watching him. He turned and climbed across brown rock.

Look out! Snake!

He caught the glint of sun on diamond coils and jumped wildly away, feeling the faint brush of blunt head and fangs against the leg of his trousers. It was a gigantic rattler, as big around as his upper arm. He moved warily away from it. It coiled, then turned slowly and slid, like oiled death, off into the raw brown rock.

It was only then, his heart still thudding, that he realized the implication of what had happened. He turned and looked at the girl, a hundred feet away. She stood with her chin up, her arms pressed tightly against her sides.

He walked slowly down toward her, faced her. Her expression told him nothing.

“That night on the bridge?”

“I was never far from you, Dake, from the moment you left Glendon Farms.”

There was a sick taste in his throat. “So I’m an assignment. Is that it?”

“Yes. I should have risked shouting. I didn’t think of it. Para-voice was quicker and... it saved you. I could only think of saving you.”

“Will you explain... everything to me?”

“Let’s go back.”

They walked in silence to the shack. They sat on the ground in the intense desert shade, in the dry coolness.

He laughed flatly. “I must have been pretty amusing, showing you all my little tricks.”

“Quite sweet, actually. A strain, though, not using my screens for so very long.”

“That’s a nice word. Sweet. And you were a sweet puppy, Mary.”

“Get all the bitterness out of your system, Dake.”

“And very amusing that the subject of your assignment fell in love with you.”

“Are you through?”

“What is it all about?”

“You were studied very carefully. There’s a paradox you don’t know about. Those who barely manage to get through without cracking are the ones who are eventually the most valuable. Take the Gypsy. She withstood it easily. And she very probably will never go beyond Stage One. It is the borderline ones who eventually become the Stage Threes. You will be a Stage Three someday, Dake. I know I’ll never go beyond Stage Two. So you see, you are rare and valuable.”

“Thank you,” he said, with irony.

“It was Karen’s duty to start you running. She did it very neatly indeed. You weren’t as much afraid of death as you were afraid of dying without ever knowing what Watkins called the ultimate answer.”

“Why was I supposed to run?”

“Because there is an attitude which you will have to maintain for many years. It can’t be superimposed on you, without limiting your effectiveness. It is a balance and a philosophy that you have to acquire by yourself. Only then are you ready for assignment. You have acquired a large measure of that philosophy here on the desert, with me.”

“This philosophy has dimensions? Standard parts?”

“They vary for the individual, Dake. One of the primary attitudes, however, is an awareness and appreciation of ‘apartness.’ I think you have that. Man hates and fears deviation, and will destroy it if he can. Thus your relationship to man, in your role of induced mutation, must be in somewhat of the nature of parent to child.”

“I’ve felt that. A... pity. A remoteness.”

“You can achieve identification with only those of your children who can be induced to aspire to... adulthood. You are a true adult.”

“With a pretty callous attitude toward the children?”

“There has to be a lot of attrition, a continual thinning of the ranks in order that others may grow.”

“Why?”

“What would the answer to that question be?”

He thought for a moment. “Would it be Watkins’ ultimate answer?”

“Yes.”

“Where is he?”

“Running, as you have been. Maybe he is back by now. Running, not from the fear of death, but from the fear of never knowing.”

“Can you tell me the answer?”

She looked at him for a long time. “I have to know if you’re ready, Dake. I have to know if you can accept it. Take my hands.”

They turned, facing each other. Her lips moved quietly, “Screens down, Dake.”

He was utterly lost in her eyes. Gone. Taken into some warm place. Taken into secret depths of oneness, of togetherness, of warmth, that he had never imagined could exist. This was a closeness far beyond that which could ever be achieved by the body. This was a spiritual mating, a clinging and mingling of souls, a high, wild, hard emotional experience that was beyond space and time...

Then he was aware that they were releasing each other, that they were separating slowly into separate entities.

“I’ve wanted that for so long,” she said gently. Her voice trembled. Her eyes were brimming. “I knew it would be... right.”

“Am... I ready?”

Her lips twisted. “Your ultimate answer will be anticlimax, Dake. Now.”

“I think I sense that. Maybe the obvious is always an anticlimax.”

She stood up lightly. “No, stay there. This is history, Dake. Human history. History of galactic man, and his adjustment to his environment, and his answer to decadence. There is more than a hundred thousand years of recorded history. Someday you will learn more of it. It is part of Stage Two training. The heart worlds grew and learned and warred on each other, and combined, and found peace, and added to themselves those other planets and star systems as they achieved cultural maturity. Each manlike cultural system made its own contributions to the whole. For the sake of simplicity, we shall call the entire unity Empire. Examine that word manlike. If I had a complete adjustment, I would not use that word. Physiological deviations are small throughout the galaxy. We are all men. You saw several varieties on Training T.”

“Acting a bit... servile.”

“Of course. One cultural group, part of the unity of Empire, is called the Senarian. It was that group which carried mathematical calculation to the inevitable pitch where it can make a sound prediction of the future. Perfection of extrapolation, the inevitable end result of all mathematical science. The parsing of time. Many thousand years ago the calculations of the Senarians were directed at a problem which was growing more serious. It had started in a very subtle way. It was noticed that, as new cultures were added to the unity of Empire, there followed a period when the top administrative jobs of Empire, the crucial decision-making positions, were all manned by citizens of the most recent culture to join Empire. After a few generations of the peace and sanity of membership in Empire, the descendants of the newest culture would lose their competitive drive, and no longer be of valid worth for leadership purposes. This was not a pressing problem so long as there were a sufficient number of barbaric cultures forging ahead toward Empire membership, as they would provide the future leadership, the future vitality which would avoid stagnation. But, the Senarians asked their vast computers, what will happen when there is no longer such a supply?

“The answer was disheartening to Empire. Leadership cannot come from any environment where there is peace and plenty. Leadership can only be developed in an environment where there is conflict, savagery, violence, hate. Leadership is the answer to a competitive environment. Empire is not a competitive environment. Empire will eventually be without leadership. Progress will cease.

“The computers were asked a second-level question. What will be the result of the cessation of progress? The answer was destruction. Destruction by life forms of neighboring galaxies. Life forms so alien that there could be no communication. Only through progress could there be a continual increment of strength sufficient to keep the species alive.

“A third question was asked. What can be done? The answer took much longer. And the logic of it was inevitable. Keep one planet in a barbaric state. Keep it in continual conflict. Permit it no knowledge of the existence of Empire, and no knowledge of its function. Do not permit it to destroy itself. Deny it any more than token space travel. Keep it in insane and continual conflict and that planet will provide you with your leadership. Take those men and women who rise to the top of the boiling pot, and skim them off, and train them, and use them.”

He stared at her in the silence. “Then all this... all this that has tortured men for thousands of years... it is just a... trick? A breeding ground? A training ground?”

She looked at him proudly. “More than that, Dake. Much more than that. Earth is the heart of Empire. The ruler. The destiny of the galaxy. Men of Earth rule all the countless stars. They rule justly, firmly, ruthlessly. Under the leadership of Earth, Empire moves on up the infinite ladder of progress, up to a strength that will keep us free forever.”

“Why was Earth selected?”

“Because here man was stronger than elsewhere. His natural environment had been harsher, gravity stronger than the norm, climate more extreme, nature more violent.”

“But I—”

“No more, Dake. Not now. You have to think over what I’ve told you. You have to understand how you must transfer your loyalty from Earth man to Galactic man. But transfer it with an increment in pride in Earth, and in yourself. I will talk to you later, after you have had a chance to think it over.”