“Surely the more we learn about the natural world, the more of God’s hand we see in it. Science gives endless witness to the Light.”
Allison shifted restlessly, and she was relieved when Bill’s message had ended. Of course, the background temperature was just right for “us.” If it were not, she figured, nobody would be here to worry about it, would they?
As for the present age of the universe, that was also roughly the average lifetime of a star: enough time for some stars to age and spew forth organic elements needed for life to arise, but not so long that other suns had all decayed before intelligent life had time to evolve on their planets. And what property governed the average stellar lifetime? The field strength ratio, of course. So, life had appeared when the time was right.
She checked herself then. Why should Bill’s enthusiasm have annoyed her so much? It must have been because at one time, she, too, had worshiped the Lamps of Science: the Earthly wonderworkers such as Edison, Curie and Einstein, who had seemed as mythic to her as Prometheus or Pandora, or the prophets of the Bible. And now? In vain I send my soul into the dark…
Breathing swelled and ebbed like a tide. The room’s illumination wavered as clouds moved outside. The rain persisted, but perhaps it was trailing off.
“Who has access to the Light?”
Celia’s hoarse voice had come from several rows behind. “We all know the answer, Friends,” she went on. “Every one of us bears a part of it. Yet with all of this Light, why is there still darkness in the world—and what are we called to do about it?
“Let me tell you something which happened to me as a little girl on the Plowshare, just two years out from Earth. We had Meeting on the ship, and I remember the day I was told in class that messages of worship were spontaneous and in fact involuntary in nature, since the Lord used one as a vessel with which to pour out His meaning. This idea terrified me, because I felt sure that I would only make a fool of myself if ever the Lord tried such a thing with me!
“So for some weeks thereafter I refused to go to Meeting. I used to run and hide in the ship’s hold among the granaries and chicken coops, and no one could make me come out, not even my parents.
“It was Rachel Coffin who found me at last, for she knew her way down there. She caught me and said, ‘Celia, what are you doing down here? What right do you have to keep your own messages hidden away from everyone else? Remember the Sermon on the Mount; don’t hide your Light in a chicken coop, but come out and share it with us.’ And she took me back to the Meeting.
“Today I realize that ‘everyone’ means not just Foxfield Friends, but the entire galaxy, every citizen, every form of consciousness in it. Some manifestations of the Light may seem void, incomprehensible to us at first glance, just as the greater and lesser wavelengths of the radiant spectrum are invisible to our own eyes. But ultimately nothing is invisible to the inner vision.
“George Fox told us to ‘walk cheerfully over the world, answering that of God in every one.’ So we are meant to go out into the larger world, even where it appears to see things differently from our own way. We must go to answer the Light wherever it may be found, and whatever the shape of its vessel.”
Allison felt overwhelmed. How could one answer the Light of billions of people? You couldn’t even learn all of their names, let alone get to know them. For that matter, how could she reach even one of them: a pilot who sent his vessel and others to death for the thrill of a game, a war-game among citizens who had forsworn war.
The Meeting was over before she knew it. Hands were clasping one after another, the children returned, and brief words were exchanged before Lowell rose for announcements.
“No infants born yet this week,” Lowell said. “But of course we do have our UNI guests, as we all know by now. The crew of the UNIS-11 extends an open invitation for us to visit the ship, and prophylaxis for oxygen shortage will be provided on request; if interested, please see Martha.
“Furthermore I’ve just been notified that a delegation of UNI Quakers expects to arrive on Saturday. A half-dozen individuals are expected, so if you’ve extra room in your home for a few days let me know.
“Other UNI-related matters will come under care of the Committee for Extraplanetary Concerns, which Martha will convene next Tuesday. Anything else?”
Letitia Mott, a Coral Vale woman, stood then. She was tall for a Foxfielder, and gaunt, and her eyes were dark like Seth’s. “Friends know,” she said, “that this is the time for conjoining among Fractions of the One. Her numbers are greater than usual this year, so I remind everyone to take care in your travels, especially northward, so as to avoid harm either to yourselves or to the new Splints.”
“We appreciate your counsel,” said Lowell. “Anne?”
Anne announced the spiritual retreat to be held at midsummer.
Then people flowed into the aisles, waving and chatting. Allison tried to reach Lowell, but Frances Poyser accosted her.
“Allison, I haven’t seen you for days.” Frances embraced her, then looked at her sternly. The doctor’s features were sharp and economical, like the tip of a pen. “Ruth is in bad shape. She’ll be in bed for a while.”
“But she will be all right? I’ll stop by, before I head back.”
Frances nodded. “I’ll be out by then, on a case of chicken pox.”
“Business as usual?”
“More or less. Rennie’s foetal karyotype looks normal, praise the Lord; she was so worried about Down’s syndrome.”
“That’s a chromosome defect? Like Gordie Daniels last year?”
“Quite rare; his was the first case I’ve seen. But the chance does rise for mothers your age, or Rennie’s. And there’s nothing I can do for it—nothing.”
The mother’s fear, Allison thought, would be especially sharp in any case; the father’s genes, supplanted by the eugenic sperm bank, were never in question. “What about the UNI folks?” she asked. “Could they treat it, somehow? Or do they still practice…”
“Heavens, no. They screen genetic defects at the earliest stage. In fact, they pick out their genes from a catalogue, if this Doctor Nduni is to be believed.” She paused to give weight to her skepticism. Allison tried not to smile; it had been years since anyone had told Frances how to run things.
“That reminds me—Allison, I must get out to see that ‘transcomm’ gadget before long, since they insist on installing one at the Medical Center.”
“Another one?” The programmer pressed her head, suddenly anxious.
“They say it is invaluable for emergencies. They would have brought it today, but I put my foot down; that’s your corner, my dear, so I’ll await your verdict. By the way, that Casimir Stroem showed up again, too; the young biosphere analyst, remember? At least he looks young to me, though looks are no guide any more, from what Rissa tells me.”
She folded her arms. “Allison, do you know what else she told me?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“She said I won’t have to wear glasses any more!” Frances glared through her sparkling lenses.
Allison blinked. “Well, Doc, that sounds like good news to me.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “Of course, dear, don’t mind me. All the same, why do you suppose I got into medicine in the first place? As a child it fascinated me to be afflicted with such a rare form of astigmatism. I understand they replace eyeballs at the drop of a hat these days—a profligate practice, to my mind.”
She lowered her voice. “To change the subject—Allison, you can take a word from old Doc, now, can’t you? About that Connaught girl. She burns the midnight oil too much these days; she’d do anything for you, you know, at the Center. But frankly, when’s she going to start her family? Moderation, that’s all; even you had your chance. It’s not just her duty; she’ll be sorry later.”
Allison was saved from need to reply by Anne, who caught the doctor’s arm.
“Frances,” said Anne, “you’ve got to speak to her—Grandma Ce
lia, I mean. She’s gotten some crazy ideas into her head, mostly my fault, I’m afraid, but I know she’ll listen to you…”
Allison then stepped backward, smack into Noah Rowntree.
“Whoa, there!” he warned. “Might spill a precious burden.”
His daughter Becky squealed and bounced on his broad shoulders.
“Pardon me. How’s she doing, these days?” Allison asked.
Noah set the child down gingerly. “Sleeps through the nights, but not the antinights, yet.” His wife had succumbed to sunstroke while repairing a burst pipeline at high noon.
Allison squatted before the child so that their eyes were level. “Hi, there, Becky. Did you make that in class today?” she asked, noting a decorated apple in her chubby hand. Apples were among the few fruits successfully adapted to Foxfield, though the trees grew as stunted bushes.
Becky nodded.
“It’s very good, Becky.” The apple had a carved face and a black paper hat.
“It’s a Quaker apple,” the child volunteered.
“Oh, a Quaker doll, I see. Like the old Earth Quakers, who wore black clothes, right?”
“Quakers freed black slaves, too.”
Noah grinned with pride. “Isn’t she the learned one?”
In a fit of shyness the girl buried her face in his trouser leg.
“Thanks for finishing up WEATHERCAST,” Noah added, referring to her latest program for the Resource Center. “It will serve us well for the next planting season.”
Allison smiled. “Always glad to be useful.”
Finally she left the Meeting room and found Lowell and Martha sipping tea in the annex. They listened gravely as Allison poured out her account of the catastrophe at the Tech Center, and the citizens’ reaction to it. “The citizens want to help us out, but I’m beginning to wonder what we’re getting into.”
Lowell considered this. “It’s only natural that they should help us. All people are one.”
“Remember the Charter,” said Martha. “They should have sent us help long before now, if they were able to do so.”
“But that’s not the question.” Allison twisted her fingers, trying to find the words. “Can we live with them, Martha?”
“Live as Friends? We’ll see. The Quaker citizens are coming; let’s find out how they manage.”
Allison still was determined to get rid of David’s credometer. When she returned to the transcomm, however, this task proved unexpectedly difficult.
“Request unacceptable,” the System voice told her. “Citizen David Thorne is not deceased.”
She tried to control herself. “No one is more aware than I,” she replied with outward calm, “that my son is alive and well. How does that fact relate to my request?”
“Each citizen at birth is issued a System credometer which she or he retains until moment of decease, as determined by the System monitor.”
“But David didn’t receive it at birth, so why can’t he return it now? Things are different on Foxfield.”
“Correct. You are referred to ‘Special Status Foxfield,’ UNI Board of Adjustors registered document three-one-one-zero…”
A pale wall of light encircled her, and the “document” spread out hieratically upon it.
Allison lost her patience. “I asked for an explanation, not an Egyptian tomb.”
“Please rephrase your question.”
“All right. In ten words or less, why can’t I discontinue my son David’s credometer?”
“You can, you did, and the action cost you credit.”
So that’s why her own credit level had dropped to the low thousands. Allison muttered an imprecation.
“Please rephrase your—”
“Cancel. Is Dave’s ‘credo’ now permanently inactive?”
“No, David Throne is not deceased.”
“I can’t inactivate it?”
“Only by lethalization, which incurs extremely high loss of—”
“Cancel. In ten words or less, why can’t I or anyone else inactivate a credometer before, er, decease of the wearer?”
“Because communication is an inalienable right of all intelligent beings.”
Allison stared for some minutes. She took a look at the Special Status document, but gave up on the first sentence.
“All right,” she decided. “Request communication with Kyoko Aseda, privacy level ten.”
“Request holding…Request accepted.”
A furnished room materialized over precisely half the chamber. Kyoko wore a straight-cut robe of floral design and sat on a mat before a very low table beside a painted screen. To her right sat two young girls with alert eyes and smooth black hair. The three of them rose immediately and bowed in unison.
“So pleased to see you, Allison,” said Kyoko. “These are my daughters, Keiko and Michiko. We are at supper, now.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” Allison said, for she had no idea of what schedule the ship crew followed.
“Never mind,” said Kyoko, “I’m glad to see you again. What can I do for you?”
“Well, I…it’s about the credometer which you gave my son,” Allison began. “As his mother I’m responsible for him, and—well I would have been happier if you’d spoken with me first, that’s all.”
“Oh, I see. Have I missed another local custom?”
The girls watched Allison gravely. The elder, Michiko, might have been Dave’s age, perhaps a year or two older.
“Excuse me,” Allison said, “I’m not sure I understand. Is parental responsibility a ‘local custom’?”
“Some aspects inevitably are. The community also bears some responsibility, no?”
“Exactly. That’s why I’d like to have Dave’s System connection inactivated until we have considered the issue in Monthly Meeting.”
Kyoko sipped from a small teacup. “Allison, it might help if you could describe your concerns for me. What might the Meeting have to fear?”
“Well the privacy problem is one thing; it takes time to learn how the whole thing works, to sort it out. And the strain of all these new things can be especially hard on a youngster like Dave. Two days ago he watched a show in the transcomm where the violent aspects were most distressing, and afterward he couldn’t get to sleep all night. Furthermore, the ‘credo’ seems to permit direct input from anybody anywhere, who could call and tell him who knows what, and—I just can’t allow that.” Allison brushed down her overalls decisively.
“I see.” Kyoko set down her teacup and clasped her hands. “I understand your concern now, and I would like you to understand the perspective of the greater UNI community. Each citizen is connected to the System from birth and remains so throughout life; one grows up with it and accepts it. The System performs many essential functions, but its key role is to synchronize the needs and desires of two hundred million citizens.”
Allison absorbed this number. “But don’t you have the right to choose not to ‘connect’?”
“Not if you’re a citizen,” Kyoko replied, “because you would interfere with the rights of other citizens. As on Foxfield, all UNI citizens depend upon one another. It’s like the right to life.”
“What about that show we saw? They were all blasting each other in spaceships. Or wasn’t that for real?”
“If you renounce your right to life, that’s another matter entirely. I assume you refer to the Stargo games; in that case, the players must release consent under well-specified conditions.”
“You mean they can throw their own lives away like that, but they can’t say ‘no’ to constant surveillance? How does that square with inalienable rights to life and freedom?”
“Communication is the first right. Life is communication. What is death but the irrevocable absence of communication? And the System keeps ninety-nine percent of our citizens within minutes of life-support at any moment; that’s our affirmation of the right to life. Freedom, too, is communication. How can anyone be a prisoner when she can contact any person in the wor
ld at any time? Privacy is a luxury by comparison, though it’s easy enough to raise a credit barrier, or to remove a credo for a limited time, as you did for David.”
By now Allison felt thoroughly confused. “So what difference does it make, then? Suppose I just forget about Dave’s credo?”
The System interrupted. “Questor Silva Maio,” it announced. The scene in the transcomm split in two, with Kyoko on the left and the Adjustor on the right.
“Greetings, Friend Allison.” Adjustor Maio’s words, like her face, were polished as usual. “I see a possible short-term solution to your problem. Under Special Status provisions I may raise a special credit barrier against contact with undermature Foxfielders. This would prevent contact without parental consent, with perhaps ninety percent efficiency. Would this allay your fears?”
“Perhaps,” said Allison guardedly, somewhat taken aback by this turn of events.
“Think it over. I could of course suspend further issuance of credometers on Foxfield.”
“No, that wouldn’t be fair. People have a right to choose, as I did, but they should know about the strings attached.”
The Adjustor nodded, without a wrinkle in her smooth suit. “I thought you would feel that way. After all, why should such productive citizens as yourselves wish to hide the fact?”
Allison flushed as Adjustor Maio signed out. She was left alone with Kyoko and the two round-faced little girls, who kept perfectly still but seemed to take in everything. She reflected for some minutes in silence.
“Your silence is a strange thing for me,” Kyoko observed suddenly. “The silence of your people when our shuttle first landed; even more so, the silence of your Meeting this afternoon.”
She looked up. “You mean you were there today? I didn’t see you—” She caught herself.
Still Forms On Foxfield Page 8
