slowly.
As if a switch had been thrown, their expressions changed. There was asudden carefulness in their stance and movements, as if they werefeinting before a deadly opponent.
"I don't feel it's such a bad bargain," said a thin, bespectacledphysicist named Judson. He was seated across the room from Hockley."I'll vote to sacrifice the Lab in exchange for what the Rykes will giveus."
"That's the point," said Hockley. "Exactly what are the Rykes going togive us? And we speak very glibly of sharing their science. But shall weactually be in any position to share it? What becomes of the class ofscientists on Earth when the Lab is abandoned?"
Wilkins stood abruptly, his hands shoved part way into his pockets andhis lower jaw extended tensely. "I don't believe that's part of thisquestion," he said. "It is not just we scientists who are to share thebenefits of the Rykes. It is Mankind. At this time we have no right toconsider mere personal concerns. We would betray our whole calling--ourvery humanity--if we thought for one moment of standing in the way ofthis development because of our personal concern over economic andprofessional problems. There has never been a time when a true scientistwould 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 gestureand awaited Hockley's rebuttal.
"_We_ are Mankind," Hockley said finally. "You and I are as much a partof humanity as that bus load of punch machine clerks and store managerspassing on the street outside. If we betray ourselves we have betrayedhumanity.
"This is not a sudden thing. It is the end point of a trend which hasgone on for a long time. It began with our first contacts beyond thegalaxy, when we realized there were peoples far in advance of us inscience and economy. We have been feeding on them ever since. Our owndevelopments have shrunk in direct proportion. For a long time we'vebeen 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 Silverscleared his throat gently. He placed his glass beside the bottles on thetable with a precise motion. "I am sure," he said, "that a moment'sthought will convince you that you do not mean what you have just said.
"Consider the position of pupil and teacher. One of Man's greatestfailings is his predilection for assuming always the position of teacherand eschewing that of pupil. There is also the question of humility,intellectual humility. We scientists have always boasted of ourreadiness to set aside one so-called truth and accept another with morevalid supporting evidence.
"Since our first contact with other galactic civilizations we have hadthe utmost need to adopt an attitude of humility. We have been fortunatein coming to a community of worlds where war and oppression are notstandard rules of procedure. Among our own people we have encountered nosuch 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 isnot to function as a parasite, Dr. Hockley."
"Your analogy of teacher and pupil is very faulty in expressing ourrelation to the Rykes," said Hockley. "Or perhaps I should say it is toohellishly accurate. Would you have us remain the eternal pupils? Theclosing of the National Laboratories means an irreversible change in ourposition. Is it worth gaining a universe of knowledge to give up yourown personal free inquiry?"
"I am sure none of us considers he is giving up his personal freeinquiry," said Silvers almost angrily. "We see unlimited expansionbeyond anything we have imagined in our wildest dreams."
On a few faces there were frowns of uncertainty, but no one spoke up tosupport him. Hockley knew that until this vision of paradise wore offthere 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 acceptthe Ryke plan whether we approve or not, but it is good to go on recordone way or the other. I suppose that on the way out tonight it would beproper to check in at Personnel and file a services availablenotification."
And then he wished he hadn't said that. Their faces grew a little moreset at his unappreciated attempt at humor.
* * * * *
Showalter remained after the others left. He sat across the desk whileHockley turned back to the window. Only the tip of the gammatron towernow caught the late afternoon sunlight.
"Maybe I'm getting old," Hockley said. "Maybe they're right and the Labisn't worth preserving if it means the difference between getting or notgetting 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 worthas it ever had, and you have an obligation to keep it from beingdestroyed by a group of politicians who could never understand itsnecessity."
"I didn't build it," said Hockley. "It grew because I was able to findenough people who wanted the institution to exist. But I've been awayfrom research so long--I never was much good at it really. Did you everknow that? I've always thought of myself as a sort of impressario ofscientific productions, if I might use such a term. Maybe those closerto the actual work are right. Maybe I'm just trying to hang on to thepast. 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'tbelieve any of it. That isn't just an accumulation of buildings overthere, with a name attached to them. It's the advancing terminal of allMan's history of trying to find out about himself and the Universe. Itstarted before Neanderthal climbed into his caves a half million yearsago. From then until now there's a steady path of trial and error--oflearning. There's exultation and despair, success and failure. Now theywant 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 neverunderstood that teaching, in the accepted sense, is an impossibility.There can be only learning--never teaching. The teacher has to beeliminated from the actual learning process before genuine learning canever take place. But the Rykes offer to become the Ultimate Teacher."
"And if this is true," said Showalter slowly, "you couldn't teach it tothose 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'sonly one way they'll ever learn it: go through the actual experience ofwhat Ryke tutelage will mean."
Most of the workrooms at Information Central were empty this time ofevening. Hockley selected the first one he came to and called for everyscrap of data pertaining to Rykeman III. There was a fair amount ofinformation available on the physical characteristics of the world.Hockley scribbled swift, privately intelligible notes as he scanned. TheRykes lived under a gravity one third heavier than Earth's, with a daylittle more than half as long, and they received only forty percent asmuch heat from their frail sun as Earthmen were accustomed to.
Cultural characteristics included a trading system that made the entireplanet a single economic unit. And the planet had no history whatever ofwar. The Rykes themselves had contributed almost nothing to the centrallibraries of the galaxies concerning their own personal makeup andmental functions, however. What little was available came from observersnot of their race.
There were indications they were a highly unemotional race, not given toany artistic expression. Hockley found this surprising. The general rulewas for highly intellectual attainments to be accompanied by equallyhigh artistic expression.
But all of this provided no data that he could relate to his presentproble
m, no basis for argument beyond what he already had. He returnedthe films to their silver cans and sat staring at the neat pile of themon the desk. Then he smiled at his own obtuseness. Data on Rykeman IIImight be lacking, but the Ryke plan had been tried on plenty of otherworlds. 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 tapesin the hopper. That was enough for a full night's work. He wished he'dbrought 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
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