Omega

by Bradley Stoke

  Chapter 18

  Soon we were again wandering the City streets admiring the tall centuries-old buildings in the district around the Half Man. The garden and its earthly delights couldn’t have seemed further from the growl of slow moving traffic and the crush of innumerable pedestrians. The mid-afternoon sun shone down from a sky only occasionally enlivened by the odd fluffy cloud.

  Beta paused outside a grand imposing building, perhaps two or three hundred years old, distinguished by a large triangular stone motif of a woman and an ape carrying geometers and telescopes supported by tall fluted pillars. A statue of a woman stood high on a pedestal at the entrance whose simple cloth garment dropped sufficiently to display her rounded breasts and most of her upper torso. She gazed up at the sky while clutching a large abacus in her arms as if it were a musical instrument.

  “What kind of building is this?” Beta wondered, standing in front of the statue and staring up at the forbidding array of windows that dotted the limestone exterior. “It’s not a museum or art gallery is it?”

  I pointed at a large carved stone on which were sitting several chimpanzees and a macaque, all wearing white overcoats and surrounded by a scattering of books. A small chimpanzee wearing glasses dangled her feet over the enormous carved letters: THE ACADEMY. Smaller letters beneath displayed the rest of the title: of Social and Physical Sciences.

  “The Academy?” mused Beta. “I’ve heard of that. It’s the centre for research and development for the entire country. It deals with science, philosophy, religion, economics, and almost everything else there is to know about. Shall we have a closer look?”

  We strolled past the statue to the foot of the marble steps leading up to the building, which we ascended reverently and peered through the wide open doors of the main entrance into a massive hallway.

  “It’s as vast as the interior of the Cathedral!” gasped Beta. “No wonder it’s got such a venerable reputation.”

  “And unlike the reputation for superstition of a cathedral, it has one for Truth and Knowledge!” commented a young woman in her late twenties, who, like the chimpanzees outside, wore a long white coat that reached down to her knees. She scrutinised us through a pair of thick spectacles. “Good afternoon. My name is Pandora. Pandora Serenissima. I am an official Academy guide. My function is to escort visitors around the hallowed corridors of the Academy, and my services are provided by the Academy free to anyone who wishes to take advantage of them.”

  “That’s very generous,” I remarked.

  “The founders of the Academy believed that the fruit of the work pursued within these walls should be available to all. They regarded Truth and Knowledge not as a patented commodity to be hidden from sight and accessible only to the few: so unlike the élitism practised by the various religions. If you so wish, I shall gladly take you on an escorted tour.”

  “That sounds a wonderful idea! What do you think?” Beta asked me.

  I looked around the quite monstrous proportions of the central hallway that still by no means reached the very top of the building. Ahead of us a wide marble staircase led up, floor by floor, past balconies and small windows, from which could be glanced the occasional silhouetted figure or the back of a computer screen. At the very top was a huge archaic clock whose roman numerals were perfectly visible even from this great distance. On either side of it stood plaster figures of scantily dressed women carrying more instruments of measurement and calculation. A pendulum dangled from the domed ceiling and swung backwards and forwards some six yards above our heads. There was a general bustle of people, many wearing white coats like that favoured by Pandora, but others sporting a mix of tweed and corduroy.

  “The Academy was not built in a day,” Pandora recited, beginning her duties without waiting for my response. “This enormous building has grown up steadily, room by room, floor by floor, from its very modest beginnings many centuries ago. Its original purposes were associated with biblical interpretation and astrology - activities which continue to be performed but attract very little in the way of grants and celebrated throughout history by the construction of grandiose monuments. Some of these can be seen in the Academy’s gardens where they still perform their outmoded purposes of capturing solstice sunlight in baskets and randomly throwing sticks. However, as science and knowledge has grown, so too has the Academy to its modern grandeur, advancing vertically upwards storey by storey, and expanding sideways by the steady acquisition and appropriation of adjacent buildings. This process is set to continue for as long as business and government award grants for the many different branches of research pursued by the Academy.”

  “What has this research produced?” wondered Beta.

  Pandora laughed. “Just look around you! Look at the City. Look at the Academy. Look at the cars, the trains, the computers and all the modern conveniences. All that is the result of work pursued here. Without it there just wouldn’t be a modern society. It’s all technology driven. And that technology didn’t come from nowhere. It was produced by the work for which the Academy is famous. We would still be crossing the seas by sailing ship, toiling with quill and papyrus, freezing in winter and living from day to day. There would be no television. No space exploration. No computers.”

  “But don’t plenty of people still live like that?” objected Beta. “In the Village we still don’t have many of the benefits you talk about.”

  “That’s a political problem. That’s not the fault of Science. As I see it, and of course I speak as an individual rather than as a representative of the Academy, Science provides and Politics distributes. One should not confuse the two. Science in itself is blind. The knowledge the Academy brings can be applied in countless ways. It can be for the universal good and it can rain death and destruction down on us all. That isn’t the fault of Science. That is the fault of political systems.”

  “Shouldn’t the Academy be working towards the common good?” Beta persisted.

  “That is a political decision. It’s not one for the Academy to be concerned with. It is here to provide enlightenment and knowledge. And doesn’t that in itself have great intrinsic worth? Why should the Academy be troubled when its brief is simply to uncover the great truths of the universe? That is its purpose. And that is what it does well. If we didn’t know such things: why then we would be no better than primitives who lived in simple self-sufficient communities!”

  “But I come from such a place,” Beta argued. “We don’t find any real need for Science there.”

  “Nonsense!” sniffed Pandora. “Simple principles such as crop rotation, efficient harnesses for horses and good agricultural implements all come from Science.”

  “But hasn’t Science brought a lot of problems to the world?” I asked.

  “We now know that it’s as nothing compared to the destruction that the natural world can wrought. In any case, look at all the uncountable physical, mental and health benefits Science has brought through medicine, arts and economic growth. Nobody could deny that we are all healthier as a result of antibiotics, inoculations and body scanners. We now know so accurately what the causes are of pollution, economic crisis, starvation, disease and warfare. We now know exactly how to improve everyone’s lot.”

  “Then why are so many people so poor and ignorant?” Beta asked.

  “Politics. People. Stupidity. That’s all. Science can’t be blamed for its misapplication. We may know how to solve the big problems in the world, but it takes political will to apply it. The Academy wasn’t built as a political institution, and that is just and right. The fine work done here is available for everyone, and if the result is nuclear bombs, cruise missiles and ozone depletion: then so be it! It is for government, whether Red, Coition or Illicit, to make the crucial decisions.”

  We followed the guide as she strode forward on her flat shoes and up the marble staircase past election posters, already peeling now their use was expended. There were almost equal numbers of them for the Red and Illicit Parties. We str
ode along a balcony, peering down on the vast hallway, along which occasional stalls were selling political literature. One was covered with pictures of Chairman President Rupert and his marsupial face featured prominently on the tall piles of green books.

  “The Illicit Party seems to be very popular here,” I commented.

  “Yes, I suppose it is,” Pandora mused, as if she had never considered this before. “I can’t answer why. Politics is not my subject. But there are many people in the Social Sciences department who might know. Would you like to speak to one of them?”

  “That sounds interesting,” Beta replied. She grimaced at a poster of Rupert outside a door and crudely painted graffiti which read: Beware! Red Traitor! next to a cartoon of an inoffensive orang utan in an ill-fitting denim jacket.

  “We are in the Social Sciences department now,” Pandora continued, as we turned off the main balcony and walked along a corridor of ornate wooden doors marked by black plaques on which names of Professors and Doctors were printed in White below their specialisations. These included Modern Politics, Mediæval Housing Policy, Sociopathology, and Racism, Sexism and Ideological Correctness. “I must confess it’s not an area of study with which I’m terribly familiar. It all seems very inexact to me. I’m sure that it has provided the world with great insights: but I fail to see how such widely disparate opinions can be held without there being some sense of incoherence. How can Economics be considered a science if there are so many widely different interpretations as to what generates economic growth or even what economic well-being actually means? However, I’m sure Professor Schwarz will be able to enlighten us.”

  She stopped outside a door where the professor’s name was displayed just above a poster of President Chairman Rupert and the single word: TRUTH. His department was known as Contemporary Sociopoliticoeconomics of which he was the Professor Emeritus. She knocked on the door and on hearing a response she pushed it open to reveal a large study in which the walls were covered by shelves upon shelves of books and a few more posters featuring the face of the President Chairman. A relatively elderly gibbon sat in a leather chair wearing a tweed jacket, smoking a pipe and reading a large book. He glanced up at us and an indulgent smile peered through the clouds of smoke emanating from the pipe.

  “Good afternoon, Pandora. Showing more visitors around the Academy? And who have we here? Welcome. Welcome. I always enjoy entertaining visitors. And why, Pandora, have they thought it desirable to come and see an old ape at study?”

  “This young lady was asking questions about the apparent popularity of the Illicit Party and I thought you would be the obvious candidate to answer her questions...”

  “...As I am a card-carrying member of the Illicit Party, no doubt? But I am really quite a recent convert. For many years I confess my political views were unashamedly socialist, but I have in recent months found much to persuade me to switch my political allegiance. And now, rather than celebrating, I am rather disgusted by the victory of the Communist and Anarchist Insurrectionists in the General Election. This is a catastrophe of the first order which justifies any action of reprisal or civil disobedience.” He lowered the pince-nez which attached itself precariously to the end of his flattened nose. “I take it that from where you originate the Illicit Party has not gained the significance that it is gaining elsewhere. Perhaps you are unaware of the clarity of vision and the solid scientifically verifiable ideological basis of Illiberal Socialism?”

  “Well, yes,” admitted Beta, standing by the side of a large globe of the world while the gibbon took another puff from his hooked pipe. “We’ve seen a great deal of activity from the Illicit Party while we’ve been in the City. A lot of it seems to be very destructive and antisocial.”

  “If the ends are justified then so too are the means by which to attain it. What this country - and every other country on this planet - needs is strong government blessed with a clear vision of where it wants to go and not afraid to do what is necessary to get there. A party with an ideology that understands the need for strong central power vested in one person - in this case that of President Chairman Rupert. An ideology set on the discovery and prudent application of the Truth. A party firm and unwavering in its ideological purity, but flexible to change that same ideology in every possible detail to further its ends and the greater good of the people of the Illiberal Socialist state. A party which recognises the necessary links between careful monetary management and strong defence, and does not kow-tow to the malevolent socialist and liberal policies of trades unions, intellectuals and artists.”

  “I just don’t know what it is that the Illicit Party represents,” Beta wondered. “All we’ve seen of it is violence and intimidation.”

  “In the right place, these methods of political persuasion, along with indoctrination, terrorism, assassination and kidnapping, are all integral to the pursuit of far-reaching and irreversible change. Let us not be shy about this. Political change is not a painless process.”

  “But why Illicitism?” I asked. “Why should I support Rupert’s party rather than the Red, Black or Green Parties?”

  “The Illicit Party is the party of the resolution of antitheses. It is a party which has the boldness to adopt the best of political ideologies long thought of as opposites. A party which adopts the traditional Communist policies of economic centralisation; political control through Party infiltration at all levels; and an end to the dominance of the working class by the petit bourgeoisie. A party which also adopts the Black Party policies of racial purity, dictatorship and the militarisation of civil society. A party not afraid to sacrifice jobs, personal freedom and pluralism to economic growth, progress and pragmatic dogmatism. No other party offers so much and can reconcile so many apparently opposing views.”

  Pandora laughed. “I really don’t understand you social scientists! Only you could possibly believe that it is possible for a doctrine to be two things simultaneously. Aren’t there reasons to support the Illicit cause that might be more persuasive to the scientist?”

  “Historical necessity,” answered the gibbon, with a wild look of triumph, thrusting his pince-nez into the air while resting the leather patch of his elbow on the desk. “The study of Sociopoliticoeconomics has proved that all political change comes about because it is necessary and unavoidable. As society changes - whether through technological innovation or military conquest - then its ideological underpinning must also change. I am convinced that the inevitable and unavoidable consequence of the changes in our highly complex society demands the adoption of an ideology which seeks to reduce these complexities to simple and undeniable concepts such as those pursued by the Illicit Party. Power. Truth. Wealth. What simpler goals of government and social change could there be? A society freed of the baleful influences of Cats, intellectual dissidence, pacifism and religion. A society cleansed of the evils of homosexuality, feminism, modern art and uncertainty. A society focused like a laser beam on the greater good revealed by the Truth.”

  “I still don’t see how it is historically necessary that Illicit ideology should dominate,” Pandora objected.

  “It just is. Society is a complex interweaving of social, political and economic factors, and political parties succeed best when they represent the purest essence of its nature. No party better reflects our modern society than the Illicit Party. Consequently, the Illicit Party will and must take power. But don’t listen to arguments of political necessity alone. Think also of the desirability of Illicit government. The purpose of government is to facilitate the greater good of the society it represents. That greater good can best be measured in terms of economic indicators and territorial extent. What Illicitism promises, - and has delivered in the Illiberal Socialist Republics, - is economic strength as proven by its copious statistics of production and productivity, coupled with an unashamed hunger for extraterritorial acquisition. The combination of aggressive centralised economic policies with an equally aggressive military stance equals the best method of pol
itical and social advance, at the expense only of the cancerous elements of society which most deserve to be cauterised.”

  After leaving Professor Schwarz’s study, Pandora led us to an elevator and beckoned us inside. “So much for Social Sciences!” she remarked. “If we’d spoken to Professor Biyad we’d have learnt why pragmatism is the sole purpose of government. Or to Doctor Rosso why, as society is a thoroughly mutable phenomenon, it is impossible to properly understand it. I’ll take you up to the Physical Sciences department where differences of opinion are on a much smaller scale.”

  The doors of the lift opened and we were in corridors quite obviously more modern, where the doors had no handles and the names of the occupants were written on small LED displays just by the side. “This is where true knowledge is acquired. Here and on the many storeys towering high above us. Here are studied the eleven dimensions of the universe; the fractions of the Avogadro number; the metaconsistency of fractals; the curvature of time; the instances of dark matter; and other such crucial subjects upon which has been built our current prosperity and happiness.”

  “I don’t really understand how that is,” Beta objected. “I’m sure my life hasn’t been that much improved by knowing that space and time bend under gravitational force, or that the entire universe was originally just a perturbation in infinity. I’m sure that my life would be just as happy and profitable if I thought the world was as flat as a pizza, only six thousand years old and that the moon was made of green cheese.”

  Pandora laughed. “What an absurd idea! The fact you know that these things aren’t true tells me that you surely can’t be serious. Without a knowledge of quantum fluctuation, time reversal and solid light how could our society possibly exist?”

  “I’m afraid I have to agree with your guide there,” remarked the equine voice of the Unicorn whom I’d met a few days earlier in Gotesdene and who appeared from behind us. He trotted along on his dainty cloven feet, radiating an apparent golden sheen reflected off his horn and mane. He lowered his head slightly, shook it from side to side, and then levelled it to meet his eyes with ours. “Good afternoon, again, young man. You have indeed travelled a long way in your search for the Truth. Do you hope to find it here in the Academy?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted.

  “It certainly seems a more likely location than the Suburbs, where I gather the Illicitists are heading in their own quest. I would have thought that a place like the Academy, where so many brilliant minds are gathered in the whole-hearted pursuance of different aspects of the Truth, would be a far more likely place to find the Truth than streets and avenues of semi-detached houses and manicured lawns.”

  “What are you doing here?” I couldn’t help asking.

  “Well, I’m not here on a quest like you,” the Unicorn laughed. “And your young lady friend? Are you also seeking the Truth with our Suburban friend?”

  Beta nodded shyly, clearly in some awe at the sight of the Unicorn. “I don’t know if we’ll find it here. It does seem such a big place.”

  “Yes. If the Truth were here, you could spend a very long time finding which room it was hiding in. No, I’m here as a guest of the Academy’s scientists because of the rather long term perspectives I have on historical events. It’s amazing just how much interest they find in the things I’ve seen or witnessed. What was the weather like in the eighteenth century? Did Francis Bacon write King Lear? Did the Mediæval Chinese use silicon chip technology? Was Crete anchored in the Atlantic ocean? How big was the ozone hole after Mount Vesuvius exploded? All fascinating stuff.”

  “I dare say there are scientists interested in you as an individual,” remarked Pandora admiringly. “You’ve lived such a long time, haven’t you?”

  “A very long time. Well, samples of my genes have been studied to exhaustion and my horn is forever having to struggle to replenish the samples scraped off it. Some people still question whether I even exist. Some argue that I am extinct and others that I am physically impossible. And some even say that as a mythological beast I shouldn’t be here at all. It’s all very interesting. I sometimes wonder myself if I exist. What do you think?”

  “You look - and feel - real enough to me!” Beta remarked running her fingers along the length of the Unicorn’s very firm horn.

  “Well, appearances can be very deceptive you know. It could be that I am indeed not real. That I am nothing but the product of generations of imagination, thrown together from elements of different animals like elands, lions, horses and goats, and turned into a symbol of hope and nostalgia. It could be that I am real and that none of you are real. That this guide here is nothing more than an astrological motif. That you, my dear, are only a fantasy of incongruity in a modern age. And that my Suburban friend is nothing but a vehicle for everyone else to reflect their existence through his nullity. It could be that the City is nothing more than a mythical location in a mythical modern age.”

  “That’s nonsense!” laughed Pandora. “There are no doubt levels of scale and abstraction in which one can doubt the solidity of real life. But if there is anything of which I am certain it is that I exist, and it would seem absurd to me that the world around me didn’t exist. How can any sane person deny this? It is on this fundamental premise that all empirical research is built and the foundation on which science and technology is based.”

  “I don’t believe that the world could possibly be such a complex and frightening place if it weren’t real,” Beta elaborated. “I know it all sounds pretty fantastic: all this stuff about parallel universes, fragmented spacetime and multidimensional moëbius bands. But I’m sure that it is as real as we are. And you as well, I’m sure.”

  The Unicorn tossed his head from side to side, as if shaking off the suggestion of his lack of reality. He raised it and addressed me again. “So, how do you like the City? I’m glad to see that you took my advice and came here after leaving Gotesdene. It’s very different from the Country, don’t you think?”

  I nodded. “It’s difficult to believe we’re in the same realm. How can there be so much wealth here and so little in the Country? And things are so expensive here! How can that be?”

  “I’m sure there are people in the Academy who could answer your questions far more authoritatively than me. Isn’t that so?”

  “Indeed, there are many experts here who have thoroughly studied the disparities of the City and the Country in all sorts of disciplines,” confirmed Pandora. “There are Economics professors who argue that the cause is the greater degree of economic activity in the City creating a disproportionate amount of wealth, which reinforces itself by creaming off all surplus economic activity from the Country to satisfy its requirements for labour and resources. There are Sociologists who say that the City is the natural product of the need for people to gather in large units thereby concentrating greater opportunities in the areas of greatest population density. There are Archæologists who would argue that the City is the manifestation of civilisation and without it there would be no science, no technology and no culture. There are Political Scientists who warn that the concentration of wealth in the City is a danger as it bleeds dry the resources of the Country to feed its needs, and that eventually the process must result in an event in which the Country collapses economically and drags the City down with it. There are others who say that the City is merely a phase of society and that eventually the process will go into reverse and that the City will become depopulated and units of production will shift into the Country as technology removes the economic advantage of geographical proximity.”

  “I daresay there is a theory for every individual working in the Academy!” hinnied the Unicorn. “However, I spend a great deal of time in the Country - as I do in the City - and it worries me how the Country can survive as it is for very much longer. I fear that it is fast gaining all the detrimental side affects of City life and precious few of its benefits. And as long as those in the City remain so apparently wealthy (even if their money buys s
o little) then those living in the Country will feel increasing resentment. And while there is mounting dissatisfaction there is also a real risk of major social upheaval.”

  Pandora smiled. “Perhaps, if we’re discussing the City and the Country, we should be in the Geography department rather than the Physical Sciences. I live in the City. There seem to be quite enough problems here without needing to worry about the Country. A lot of it is just economic activity. Nothing in the City can keep pace with it.”

  “Things do change very fast in the City,” the Unicorn agreed. “I can barely recognise some parts of it from the last time I visited. Green fields become housing estates. Slums become industrial parks. Railway stations become supermarkets. Department stores become multi-storey car parks. And the pollution! It seems to change all the time. Once it was coal smoke and ordure. Then it was petrol fumes and nuclear radiation. Now it seems to be noise and ultraviolet light. My head just fills with the smells, sounds and stress of the City: clogging up my nostrils and leaving black grease between my cloven hooves.”

  “Where does all the pollution come from?” wondered Beta naïvely.

  “Ultimately it comes from the Country and from abroad,” the Unicorn replied. “The raw materials are imported into the City and converted into petrol, polystyrene, newspapers, plastic bottles and street lighting. This in turn is discarded as waste - sometimes solid, sometimes liquid, sometimes gas, and sometimes as specks of dust floating above the street. Then I don’t know what happens to it all.”

  “It gets returned to the Country,” Pandora answered, without a hint of irony in her voice. “That’s where all the rubbish heaps, nuclear dumps and sewage farms are. You don’t want all that foul stuff polluting the City, do you?”

  “So, it gets returned to where it came from in a different form to how it was sent,” Beta mused. “I suppose that’s only fair. Perhaps it can be sent back to the City later.”

  “Only if it’s cleaned and made properly sterile,” sniffed Pandora dismissively.

  “The City may be a very stressful place, but I love it,” the Unicorn added. “It’s such an exciting place. The world would be a sorrier place without it. This is where all the culture is, where all the shops are, where all the money is. It has to be somewhere, and this is it. I see the City growing and growing. Expanding by acquisition and growth. Rather like this Academy. The buildings grow ever taller. More and more of the Country is sacrificed to accommodate the hunger for land. Roads penetrate deeper and deeper into what were once pampas, dense forests and marshland. And as it expands, the City’s heart becomes increasingly derelict as yesterday’s technology becomes today’s industrial wasteland.”

  Beta frowned. “Are you implying that the City will eventually swallow up all the Country?”

  “I can’t see that happening at all!” laughed Pandora sceptically. “There’s an awful lot of Country. And big though the City might be, - and bigger still as it may well be in the future, - it couldn’t possibly expand that much.”

  “You say that,” the Unicorn argued sadly, “and there must be truth in what you say. The City needs a world beyond it to survive. But I’ve seen the City double and double generation after generation. I remember when all this didn’t exist: the tall buildings, the busy roads, the night clubs, the underground trains. I remember when the City was just a small village of Celtic peasants fishing in the river and hunting mammoths. I’ve seen the City grow to be a small town, and then grow ever bigger, swallowing up other villages and towns, paving the dirt-tracks with tar macadam, laying railway tracks through ancient palaces and digging underground sewerage canals beneath cathedrals. I’ve known places famous for picturesque waterfalls and herds of wildebeest which are now buried under skyscrapers, underpasses and flyovers. If the City does indeed grow at its present exponential rate then surely, by all the rules of geometric progression, this nation will become just one vast City from border to border, from shore to shore and from deep beneath the ground to high above the sky.”

  “That can’t happen!” Pandora objected. “Before then the whole edifice would have to collapse. It can’t expand too far or too fast without exceeding all the available resources, and stretching its ability to service its needs beyond its capacity to do so!”

  The Unicorn nodded sagely. “I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure you’re absolutely right! However, I’m hungry. Would you like to join me for a meal in the Academy’s excellent restaurant?”

  Beta protested about the cost, but the Unicorn dismissed her objections. “It’s no problem to me to afford it,” he assured us.

  Pandora and he led us along a series of corridors and down several storeys to the refectory which was a large hall of tables, chairs and an extensive counter serving sandwiches, snacks and hot meals. A few people were scattered about the tables, many wearing white coats, and chatting over coffee and biscuits. We selected some sandwiches and drinks at the counter and the Unicorn paid the barbary ape serving at the till. We sat down at a table, with the Unicorn standing to one side, chewing on clumps from the trough of hay he’d ordered for himself.

  “So, young man, do you think your visit to the Academy has brought you any closer in your search for the Truth?” he asked, strands of hay drooping from his lips. “Or do you think that the Illicit Party is correct in seeking the Truth in the Suburbs?”

  “I’m not sure,” I replied thoughtfully. “We haven’t actually found the Truth here, and I get the impression that there is too much disagreement amongst the distinguished professors and academics as to what the Truth may be, for it to be likely to find it here.”

  “In any case,” Beta interjected, “we were advised by someone we’ve recently met to follow this Rupert and search for the Truth in the Suburbs. We were told that there would really be nothing lost by doing so.”

  “Indeed not,” agreed the Unicorn. “Though it does seem the most unlikely place in the entire universe for it to be. And aren’t the Suburbs exactly the place from which your search began? What point is there of retracing your steps?”

  Before I could answer him, we were approached by a chimpanzee in a white coat carrying a clipboard and with a pencil protruding from the chest pocket.

  “Ah! There you are!” she exclaimed to the Unicorn. “I was hoping I’d meet you. I’d like to introduce you to a colleague of mine, Doctor Dixhuit, who would like to discuss your observations of Mediæval crop rotation.” She indicated a colobus monkey. “Could we possibly trouble you for a few moments?”

  “Certainly you may,” replied the Unicorn amiably. “Anything I can do to further the cause of knowledge.”

  He bid the three of us farewell and trotted off out of the canteen between the two simians.

  Pandora observed him leave, and then turned towards us with a small frown. “Excuse me, but am I right in understanding from your exchange with our artiodactyl friend that you two are searching for the Truth just like those fanatics from the Illicit Party?”

  We nodded. “It seems a very worthwhile pursuit,” Beta explained.

  “Indeed it is,” our guide agreed, “but not one I would have thought to be pursued merely by wandering about. All of us in the employ of the Academy are seeking the Truth, but none of us would seriously contend that it can be discovered just by walking about the City or even the Suburbs. The Truth is a much more abstract and intangible entity, and its eventual discovery is much more likely through the process of scientific enquiry.”

  “How does that work?” Beta wondered.

  “Quite simply by the process of postulating a hypothesis and demonstrating its truth or falsity. The Truth by its very nature is something which must lend itself to logical proof. It must be something for which there can be ultimately no countervailing hypothesis which can be proved to also be true.”

  “But isn’t science to do with observation and experimentation rather than pure logic?” Beta persisted.

  “Naturally. If a hypothesis is true, it must be possible to demonstrate it
s truth by reference to the real world.”

  “Is it necessarily the case that the Truth can be shown to be true by such means?”

  Pandora raised an eyebrow. “What a bizarre idea! Are you suggesting that the Truth is in some inexplicable way divorced from the real world of scientific enquiry? Can you be seriously implying that the Truth is not ultimately a physical and actual attribute of the universe? What else could it be?”

  “How can that explain love, beauty and morality? Where are the ethics of a simple mathematical equation? Where is emotion or feeling in a Truth like that? Where are passion, ecstasy, desire and hope? Where is the possibility of love?”

  “What do you mean by love?” wondered Pandora, seeming genuinely puzzled by Beta’s repetition of this theme. “Love is nothing more than a biological process evolved in social animals for group cohesion and sexual bonding.”

  “That doesn’t seem right!” objected Beta, holding my hand and looking defiantly at Pandora. “Love is the expression of the strongest and most positive feeling there can possibly be. It fills the mind, the body and the soul, and changes our perception of everything. Don’t Christians, for instance, say that God is Love?”

  “That’s nothing but theological nonsense!” sniffed Pandora. “However, I wouldn’t confuse love in the religious sense, which is both promiscuous and indiscriminate, with the carnal love which I suspect you have indulged in. Am I right in assuming that you are not a virgin?”

  Beta blushed, and squeezed my hand rather more tightly. “What did you say?”

  “Are you a virgin? Or have you indulged in physical and carnal activity?”

  Beta shook her head slowly and a little guiltily looking down at the table and the plate in which the crumbs of her sandwich were scattered.

  “It is then no wonder that you have such a strange and unscientific view of the world. I have never felt the need of diverting my energies away from the pure and wholly absorbing search for scientific Truth with such disgusting, nasty and bestial activities as copulation. What kind of person would I be if I allowed myself to indulge in such unrefined and unconstructive activity?”

  Neither Beta nor I had expected such an outburst from the guide, and an uneasy silence prevailed while Pandora sipped her tea and Beta looked down at her plate clearly very upset at her admonishment, but still tightly gripping my hand. Pandora finished her tea and put down her plastic cup.

  “Well, it’s been nice meeting you,” she said in a polite but cold voice. “I wish you the best in your futile search for the Truth, though it would have been more profitable for you to support rather the research of the Academy than the fantasies of a foreign dictator.”

  With that Pandora left, and Beta and I sat together in the expanse of the refectory. We felt somewhat ill at ease sitting there after our small lunch and dressed so very differently from the academics gathered around.

  “Pandora must be wrong with what she says about the Truth. It couldn’t be the Truth at all if it wasn’t also Love,” bravely insisted Beta.