Ballroom of the Skies

Sixteen

He walked alone, and did not know where he walked, or how far. He stood on a hilltop and watched the sun slide red behind the far blue of the mountains. It made such a complete reversal of all his concepts, of all his adjustments to the political and emotional climate of his environment, that he felt as though someone had taken his brain between two hard hands, and twisted it like a sponge.

There was no segment of his beliefs that did not need reorganization, reevaluation.

Earth had a history. There were names in that history. Alexander, Hannibal, Napoleon, Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini. And, he thought, Christ. And Buddha and Muhammad and Vishnu. Good and evil, fighting an endless battle, to a predestined draw. Keep the pot boiling. Keep the four horsemen riding across the ravaged lands. A million men broken and burned and dying for each one selected. Massive, callous, mathematical cruelty, for the sake of... the greatest good for the greatest number.

He sat on the hilltop rocks and watched the stars come out, watched the quick desert night fall like a curtain. Men of Earth, being led in a crazy dance of death, for the sake of the high, wide ballroom of the skies.

He heard Mary’s foot touch a loose stone. She came up behind him. He did not turn. He felt the soft warm pressure of her hand on his shoulder.

I know how difficult it is.

What is the final adjustment? What do I feel, afterward?

“Joy, Dake. Gladness. Pride. Humility. All the best attributes of the human spirit.”

“Will you answer questions? I’ve been thinking in circles again.”

“Of course.”

“Why did I have to be sent back here?”

“Assignment here is part of your training for your future responsibilities. Part of your training in logic, in analysis, in action, and in humility. When your work is valid, you will be credited for it. After you have acquired enough credits, you will be given Stage Two training and returned here. Later, perhaps, you will be accepted for Stage Three training. After three tours here you will be assigned to the post in Empire that you are best qualified for.”

“How long will I have to be here?”

“That depends on your progress. Twenty-five to thirty of their years.”

“Their years?”

“Earth years. Two and a half to three of ours, basing it on effect of time.”

“I want to gloat about that. And feel guilty. That’s a very precious gift.”

“But not mystic. Just one logical result of an advanced medical science. A continuation of the trend you’ve seen here on earth.”

“Another question. There are two groups, apparently, or more. In conflict with each other. I don’t see why that should be necessary, or even advisable.”

“Is any untrained man a fair match for you?”

“N-No, but...”

“Did any man ever play a great game of chess, alone?”

“No.”

“Conflict breeds ingenuity. Competition, also, gives a more random result, one that is less predictable, less likely to be detected by the ordinary thinking man as the result of extra-terrestrial interference. You get credit for accomplishment, and you pay, as Karen did, a penalty for failure. And always you must watch. You watch the top people in every possible line of endeavor. The most successful crooks, as Miguel Larner was. The best statesmen, the best politicians, the best artists, designers, salesmen, engineers. People at the top of every heap got there through conflict, through a compensation for some type of psychic trauma. If the incomprehensible doesn’t drive them mad, they become our best recruits.”

“Why wasn’t Darwin Branson recruited? He was killed, wasn’t he?”

“He had an organic disorder that was too far advanced for treatment. It would have killed him within six months. Besides, it was only during the last three years of his life that he achieved more than a pedestrian impact on his environment. So he wasn’t noticed until too late.”

Dake absorbed that in silence. He stirred restlessly. She sat on the rocks beside him.

“There are so many loyalties to give up,” he said. “Loyalty to my country. That was pretty strong, you know. And now I can see that its weakness is due to what... we have done to it.”

“That word was good to hear. We. It’s an acceptance. Here is something you should consider. The number of recruits we obtain from any one country is in direct ratio to the extent of hardship that country is undergoing. During India’s years of poverty and exploitation and death we obtained many recruits there. During the fattest years of the United States it was difficult to find people sufficiently toughened, hardened. Sword steel is treated in flame. Civilizations rise and fall. Those on top are poor breeding grounds for leadership. See, you have to reverse all your concepts, Dake. Good becomes weakness. Evil becomes strength.”

“And isn’t it all a vast rationalization?”

“So is the life form itself. A rationalization of the means of survival.”

They walked back to the shack, walking in the starlight that silvered the sand underfoot. A coyote cried far away, cried of unmentionable woes and wrongs. He felt the girl shiver.

“We’ll start back in the morning,” he said quietly.

“In the morning, Dake.”

They stood for a time and watched the stars, near the dark hulk of the shack. He held her hand, felt her mind touch gently at his. They stood again in the climactic oneness, and later he began to feel the first faint stirrings of dedication, the first wary Teachings toward a philosophy that would have to support him, amid cruelty, for long years of service to a barely comprehensible dream.