Mission to Minerva

CHAPTER TWELVE

Christian was always telling Mildred tactfully-as closely as he was capable of getting to the meaning of the word, anyway-that she talked too much. If it was true-and she had to concede him something of a point at times, she supposed-then she must try to watch herself and control the trait when she was with Thuriens, she reminded herself. She was here to learn, after all. The trouble was that she always had so many thoughts boiling around inside her head, and she was afraid that if she didn't give vent to them while they were there, they'd sink back below the surface and never come up again. Very probably, it could be exasperating for others sometimes. But surely it was preferable to being like all those people she met everywhere who never seemed to have a worthwhile thought of any kind at all.

Poor Christian! She knew she'd been a pest back in Washington, and he had always been dedicated to his work, even without all the responsibilities of his new job at Goddard. But this project involving a whole, totally different alien culture was so exciting! He was simply too valuable an authority on it all to have just let pass. And he had been a dear to try and extricate himself in such a gracious way, instead of just telling her bluntly that he didn't have the time, in the boorish way that most of the pompous professors she had met over the years would have done. So she had resolved to do her best not to be a deadweight and to cultivate some interest in this Multiverse business that he and the others were getting so involved in with the Thuriens. Actually, it was turning out to be far more interesting than she had ever imagined, even if some of the things they talked about didn't make sense; and she would strive to be independent in pursuing her own work, staying out of their hair as much as possible.

The office the Thuriens had given her to work in couldn't have been better contrived to make her feel at home. It had shelves of reassuringly solid books; a desk and furnishings of polished mahogany and walnut that suited her tastes, along with drapes and a carpet that blended in; a clutter of homey bric-a-brac that included a china-laden mantlepiece, flower vases, and a cuckoo clock; and diamond-paned windows looking out over a valley of the Bavarian Alps. This was hardly surprising, for VISAR had contrived it all to achieve just that. None of it was real, of course, but it all came with a simulated filing cabinet and notepads that she understood, and a work terminal on the desk that used the formats and procedures that she was familiar with back home. The nice thing about it all was that everything she produced while she was on Thurien would find its way back via VISAR and the phone system somehow, and be waiting for her in her own files when she returned. She could even change the pictures on the walls anytime she got tired of them.

Mildred had made the point that if VISAR could create just about any sensory illusion that might be desired, it should be just as capable of putting together a reference system made up of things that she understood, as one incorporating all those annoying menus, options, icons, and incomprehensible boxes that computer people understood. The result was a set of bookshelves unlike any that she had even dreamed of. They were bookshelves because Mildred had insisted that a writer's office had to have books in. But the books arrayed along them changed to suit her particular needs of the moment. If she wanted to check some historical facts, a selection of volumes covering the period she was interested in presented themselves; if something geographical, a variety of atlases, physical, political, biological, and geological, along with travel guides and a picture library; and similarly for biographies, quotations, literature, arts, and every other form of reference that she had experimented with. And she could find her way to anything from indexes that made sense on pages she could turn in the way she had grown up with-except that the indexes rewrote themselves to point to whatever she happened to be researching. It was fantastic!

The other thing she had agitated for was a usable way of keeping track of all those notes, clippings, lists, letters, and so forth that you used to be able to rummage through in a folder, but which none of these desktops on screens ever seemed able to find unless you already knew where to look. In response, VISAR had come up with its single-drawer virtual filing cabinet, which Frenua Showm was just finishing explaining. The drawer looked normal enough, with a wood finish to go with the general decor of the room. It stood on a table at a comfortable height for access, no stooping or stretching to other drawers being necessary because that one could contain anything that was wanted.

"It works the same way as the bookshelves," Showm said. "The label on the front gives the topics the contents are organized under, and the folders inside follow." At the moment, the label was blank. Showm opened the drawer to reveal a set of familiar-looking hangers and tabs, but with all the inserts blank. "Let's try an example. What's a subject that you might be interested in?" she asked.

Mildred ran a virtual fingertip along the line of plastic tabs, feeling them flex slightly and causing a ripple of snapping sounds. It was uncanny. A faint scent of mountain meadows came with the breeze through the open window. She still had to work to remind herself that she was really in a recliner somewhere in the Government Center at Thurios. "One thing I wanted to cover was the Thurien political organization and how it functions," she replied. "How your leaders are appointed, and what guides their decision making. What would all that come under? 'Politics,' I suppose." She was still mildly astounded that somebody of the position that she had been told Frenua Showm held would be taking her through something like this personally and not delegating it to a junior clerk. Thuriens' ideas of priority seemed to be very different from the norms of Earth. Back there, every other value or consideration in modern life seemed subordinated to the great god of "efficiency." The Thuriens didn't seem even to have a concept of the word-at least, not in any economic sense.

Showm gestured. The word politics had appeared on the label above the drawer handle. "The inside will organize itself according to the structure you create as you use it. Suppose you wanted to collect material on, say, how various services across Thurien are managed…" In response to her vocal cue, a subhead Planetary Administration added itself to the label below politics. Inside the drawer, a group of folders acquired contents, along with suitable tabs to mark them. Showm lifted one of the folders out, riffled briefly through the papers inside, and handed it to Mildred. "And you can take it back to your desk and use it in the way you are used to, with no screens or confusing dialogs to worry about," she said.

"Splendid!" Mildred exclaimed. The folder was marked "Regional Congresses," and contained a selection of articles, maps, charts, and tables that VISAR had compiled together as a starting point on the subject.

"Everything is very local here," Showm commented. "Nothing as bureaucratic as the kind of thing you're used to. Much of Earth's ways of going about things results from the need to resolve conflicts. That's not a problem that we see a great deal of. Conflict arises from competitiveness, which isn't a big part of Ganymean nature."

"Yes, I'd gathered that. On account of your different origins."

"So it would appear."

Mildred dropped the folder back into its place in the drawer. She was still finding her first experience of being able to study one of the aliens alone, at close quarters, too fascinating to make as much of the opportunity for plying Showm with questions as would have been her normal inclination. And besides, her resolution to herself to heed Christian and not talk too much still held sway. There would be other times.

Showm not only towered over Mildred in height, but was built more broadly and massively in proportion, with long, firm limbs, revealed by a short-sleeved tunic to be magnificently contoured and muscled in an athletic kind of way that made Mildred confess inwardly to a feeling of seeming pudgy in comparison. Her skin was a blue-gray, darkening to purplish blooms at the elbows, backs of her hands, and back and sides of her neck, blending onto the black, crinkly head covering that functioned as hair. The effect was somewhat reminiscent of an old-style Roman or Norman helmet adorning the elongated Ganymean skull with its protruding, counterbalancing jaw. It was a strange irony, Mildred thought, that a race so totally devoid of aggressiveness should possess the physique and appearance that evoked images of the warrior caste.

"Is there no competition for office?" Mildred asked. "The leaders who decide your policies. How are they appointed?"

"Terrans have asked me that before," Showm said. She frowned, evidently still having difficulty with it. "There doesn't seem to be a way of answering that is readily comprehended. What you would call leaders here are not so much 'appointed' as 'recognized.' The qualities have to be there already. Devising some process that declares someone to be suitable when in fact they're not would be pointless. Such a person would never be accepted."

"Well, let's take Calazar as a case in point," Mildred suggested. Calazar had spoken for the Thuriens in the dealings with the Jevlenese and seemed to have functioned in the capacity of a planetary ruler or figurehead. The Thurien word for his title seemed to bear out what Showm had said, the nearest translation being "father-found." Terran translators had played safe by opting for the neutral "Identified One" to describe his position. According to Christian, Calazar was due to come over to the Quelsang Institute some time in the next day or two to see the the Multiporter for himself and add his own personal welcome to the team from Earth. "How did he come to occupy the position that he has?" Mildred asked. "What kind of process put him there?"

"He was selected and trained from an early age. The process…?" Showm seemed at a loss. "How could I describe it? It embodies much tradition and experience that has come together over a long time. I suppose that the form of Terran government that comes closest would be a form of monarchy… but not hereditary or elective. The nearest word would probably be 'consensual.'"

This still wasn't getting to the core issues that Mildred wanted to probe. "What if others were able to organize enough supporters with the ability to place one of their own there regardless?" she said.

"You mean forcibly?"

"Yes."

Showm made a gesture of incomprehension. "Why would anyone want that? Should it please me to have the power to compel you to live your own life otherwise than as you would choose?"

"But when all have to live by the same decision, there have to be differences at times," Mildred persisted. "How do you resolve them?"

"You're thinking in terms of Terran militarism and commerce," Showm replied. "They are both systems for allying against threats and rivalries that arise from the competitiveness that Ganymeans don't have. Our enemies are ignorance, delusion, suffering, and the natural hardships that the universe throws against all of us. Why would we pit ourselves against each other? This is where the gap between our cultures becomes unbridgeable. You have to be Ganymean to understand. It isn't something that can be explained, and you then know. It's something that you grow up with; that you feel."

Mildred pushed the file drawer closed and gazed at the skyline of mountain peaks beyond the window. "Actually, I do think I know exactly what you mean." She sighed. "The people of Earth have been blundering around for thousands of years, perfecting systems for following the absolute worst kinds of individuals. They let themselves be made to hate each other and be turned into tools for serving the narrow interests of others, when they could be building a better future for all. From what Christian tells me, I think you know enough of our history to be aware of the consequences."

"Christian?"

"My cousin: Professor Danchekker."

"Ah, yes." Showm stared for several seconds with her deep, ovoid eyes. "I don't think I've heard a Terran be that frank before. Is it truly what you believe?"

The remark was so refreshing that Mildred was unable to contain a short laugh. Christian had described to her how Frenua Showm had been the least credulous among the Thuriens in the face of Jevlenese duplicity, and the most suspicious of all human declarations and motives thereafter. "Some of us Terrans are able to see reality as it is, and not as we're told it is, you know," she replied. "It's not a question of believing anything; it's seeing with your own eyes and common sense what is… Or until quite recent times, what was, anyway. It could be starting to change." She meant since the Jevlenese scheming that had gone on for centuries was exposed. "Victor thinks so. You've met him, of course."

"Hunt, the Englishman? Yes."

"But as for our parade of illustrious princes, conquerors, and shapers of society?" Mildred made a sad face. "The worst of the thieves and the scoundrels. None of their fortunes was ever amassed honestly. They all came from living off the backs of the real producers of anything, however else it might have been camouflaged. There's something defective about people who find satisfaction in that or admire it in others; they're not complete as human beings. But they're the ones who have always had the positions of power. Very rational materialists, no doubt, and highly capable when it comes to pursuing this goal of 'efficiency' that they seek in everything. But lacking in the emotional capacity and feeling for human values that a healthy and sane culture needs to be founded on."

Showm was warming to this echoing of her own feelings that she evidently hadn't expected to hear. "The organized violence that you call war is not only abhorrent but incomprehensible to us," she replied. "No person capable of experiencing empathy and compassion could be capable of ordering such things. And subordinating a life to obsessively accumulating possessions in place of cultivating the works that make life truly rewarding is mystifying indeed. Thuriens behaving in such a way would be regarded with concern and sympathy." She paused to eye Mildred searchingly for a moment. "But I'm not sure that our differences are attributable purely to our respective origins in the way you assume. Ours is also a far older culture."

"You think it might be a matter of the Thuriens being more mature as a race?" Mildred asked.

"Possibly. In part, anyway."

"They certainly show more of the characteristics that I'd describe as 'adult,'" Mildred agreed. "It makes so much of what we've seen on Earth appear as the antics of spiteful adolescents in comparison." She had made the same point to Christian on several occasions. Showm seemed surprised to hear this assessment coming from a Terran-impressed, even. Mildred paused, then went on, "Although it is true that Thurien progress came to a halt for a long time, isn't it?" She was referring to the period of stagnation that occurred following Thuriens' attainment of immortality after their migration to the Giants' Star, which they later abandoned.

"Even without that, we were a spacegoing race long before humans existed," Showm pointed out.

"Well, all right, yes, I suppose so…"

"And in those earlier times we went through a phase of what you would probably call hyperrational materialism, too. Before the migration from Minerva, our ancestors considered moving to Earth. They sent survey missions there and set up bases. But nothing in their experience had prepared them for the ferocious competition of life that they found there. They knew that they could never coexist with such a pattern. And so, they…" Showm's voice faltered. She was unable to finish the sentence.

"I know," Mildred said quietly, and nodded. "You don't have to explain. Christian told me about it." The early Ganymeans had embarked on a program to exterminate the higher forms of Terran life with the aim of clearing the territory for their own kind and forms of life compatible with it to move in. Parts of Earth subjected to the pilot experiments had remained deserts to the present day. But the experience had proved too traumatic and filled with unexpected consequences for the Ganymeans involved. So the notion of moving to Earth was forgotten, and the program to move the entire race to a new star system took shape in its place.

"It isn't something that Thuriens normally talk to Terrans about," Showm said. She appeared to be a little taken aback. "Because of uncertainty as to the possible reactions. I was prepared to tell you because you seem more understanding than many might be."

"It came from Victor," Mildred replied. "He learned the story from the Ganymeans of the Shapieron-before there was any contact with Thurien."

"Ah, yes… In that case, I see." Showm nodded. "And you don't hold it against us? I find that… curious."

Mildred smiled, at the same time snorting scornfully. "I don't think anyone from a species with a record like ours would be in any position to condemn the lapses of another," she replied. "Especially when you were able to learn so much from it-about yourselves and about the true consequences of one's actions. That's more than can be said for the geniuses who led Terrans by the millions from one slaughter to another through millennia, and learned nothing."

"You are wise," Showm commented. "You understand truth. So why don't Terrans allow people like you to lead?"

Mildred laughed delightedly. "We've been through that! I'd never be appointed. They don't want to hear what's true. They want to hear whatever justifies their prejudices."

"Like children who think they can change reality by wishing it so. On Thurien you would be listened to."

"Well then, there's your difference, Frenua."

A movement outside the window caught Mildred's eye. A bird had come out of a tree to swoop down over the stream tracing a rocky course along the valley floor. She watched it climb again until it was soaring against the sky. Behind it in the distance, incongruously, the long, slender shape of a bright yellow zeppelin with red markings was hanging above the mountains. "VISAR, what's that doing there?" Mildred demanded in astonishment.

"Oh, just an experiment I dreamed up to add in some variety. Would you rather I stuck strictly to authenticity?"

Victor had mentioned that one of the tasks VISAR had set itself was trying to plumb the subtleties of Terran humor, and it had taken to injecting peculiar effects into its creations in an effort to arrive at some understanding of what worked and what didn't. He had told VISAR to be sure to let him know if it ever figured the answers out, because as a human he'd like to know, too-which apparently hadn't done much to help the machine draft its game plan. But it was persevering. "No, it's okay," Mildred responded. "Now I'm curious to see what comes next." She thought for a second. "Although, thinking about it, you could put Lynx here. My office really isn't complete without her, you know." The cat promptly appeared, curled up asleep on the window sill.

"I've been developing a theory that a culture's picture of science reflects the level of maturity that it has reached," Showm said. "In the same kind of way as the worldview of an individual. Fairies and enchantment are the stuff of childhood."

"It's true of Thuriens, too?"

"Oh, yes. Materialism and pragmatism of the kind you talk about come with adolescence. We went through it long ago, and Earth is perhaps just beginning to emerge. It goes with the fixation on the shorter term and inability to see beyond self that are the prelude to maturity. But eventually the realization comes that the important things are not all the mysteries that the materialist sciences can explain, but the things that they can't."

"The Thuriens concern themselves with such things?" Now it was Mildred's turn to be surprised.

"The purpose of life and of mind," Showm said. "Where the quest for greater understanding becomes directed when physical knowledge alone proves inadequate."

"You don't think they are just accidental byproducts of physics, then, the way our scientists would have us believe?" That was another area in which Mildred had provoked her cousin's ire over the years, by steadfastly refusing to accept his pronouncements-although lately there had been signs that he might be having second thoughts about some things.

Showm made an expression coupled with an utterance that Mildred was unable to interpret. "No more than that VISAR is just an accidental byproduct of the configuration of optronics that supports it. Only a culture in its materialist phase could have conceived such an impossibility and believed it."

"Adolescence," Mildred said. "Having banished the fairies of childhood, it makes itself the lord of all that exists. Mindless matter is all that it can allow."

"Yes, exactly."

"So what exists beyond Thuriens and humans?"

"We don't know. The desire is to find out is our greatest motivation."

"Was that why the Thuriens gave up immortality?"

"Not exactly. But we realized later that it was a necessary thing to do in order to ask and understand the question."

There was a drawn-out silence. Mildred had the feeling of sharing a commonality of understanding with this alien that ran deeper than most she could remember. She was still reflecting on the strangeness of the situation, when Showm said, "Well, as I said earlier, I do have another pressing matter to take care of now. I'll leave you to experiment with your office at your leisure. But we must pursue our talk further, Mildred. It's not the kind of thing I'm used to discussing with Terrans. I live in the mountain region to the south of Thurios. You'll have to be my guest there next time-I mean in actuality, in person. But for now, I have to take my leave."

"Thank you. I'd like that," Mildred said. "Au revoir, then." And she was alone in her Bavarian office, staring out at the valley and the mountains, with the yellow-and-red zeppelin growing larger above. Lynx opened an eye, stretched, and yawned. Mildred was too filled with new thoughts to be in a mood for playing with the cat right now. VISAR seemed to pick up on it, and Lynx settled down again.

"I just think I ought to point out what an unusual honor it is to be invited in person to a Thurien's home," VISAR said. "And especially with someone like Frenua. You're the first Terran she has ever said that to. I just thought it was something you should be aware of. You've evidently made quite an impression."