Brain World up-7

by Mack Reynolds

  Dorn and Ronny both looked at him questioningly.

  The doctor said casually, in his mild voice, “What’s wrong with Einstein?”

  “Nothing.”

  They still looked at him.

  He buttered his roll. The other passengers, three men, all of whom were obviously in interplanetary commerce, didn’t bother to listen. The ennui of space had already set in.

  He said, “And nothing right, either, from a spaceman’s viewpoint. There’s nothing to do.”

  Ronny said, “How do you mean?”

  “There’s not even a bar at the spaceport. You can’t understand theTri-Di. Even if you could, the kind of shows they run you can’t… ”

  Ronny said, “What do you mean, you can’t understand the Tri-Di?”

  “They don’t speak Basic, or even Amer-English.”

  “Oh. You mean on none of the programs? I’ve been on planets, such as Paris, where they continue to speak an old Earth language called French, or that damned Neu Reich, where they speak German, but everybody spoke Basic as well, and a good many of the theatres and Tri-Di and TV shows were in it, usually entertainment they’d imported from other planets.”

  “On none of the programs,” the captain growled. “The cloddies never import entertainment from other planets. They make it clear they think it’s too juvenile.”

  Ronny took a sip of wine before saying, still in puzzlement, “But there must be other types of entertainment in the cities besides those dependent on language—nightclubs, bars… ”

  “There are no cities. Even if there were, there wouldn’t be any nightclubs or bars. From what I hear, they don’t drink alcohol, or anything else that’s supposedly bad for your health, for that matter. Not even coffee.”

  Dorn Horsten said, “No cities?”

  “They don’t like them.”

  Ronny said in protest, “But you’ve got to have cities.”

  “Evidently, they don’t think so,” the captain said. “I was talking to one of their customs officials, if that’s what you could call him, once, and he explained it to me. He said that, by the time the colonists arrived on Einstein from Earth, cities were already what he called an anachronism. The original reasons for being no longer applied. Originally, they were centers for defense, centers for trade, centers for manufacture, education, religion. Obviously, the defense reason is out now. In modern warfare, where you still find it at all, a city is just a sitting duck. And with modern methods of transportation, computers and automation, you can put your manufacturing plants and distribution centers anywhere. You don’t need a city for them. And with modern communications and planet-wide data banks, you don’t need cities for educational centers. As far as religion is concerned, damn few people are religious any more, especially on Einstein, but you can always tune in Tri-Di if you want to hear a sermon.”

  “Well, this is a new one for me,” Ronny said. “I’ve never been on a planet that didn’t have at least small cities. Don’t they even have towns?”

  “No. They like privacy and they don’t like congestion, pollution and the other alleged shortcomings of cities and towns.”

  One of the other passengers, a red-faced type, yawned and said, “Have you all heard the one about the lovelorn gorilla? It’s the funniest dirty joke I ever heard.”

  Chapter Six

  Einstein began its peculiarity right from the beginning.

  The skipper himself saw them to the gangplank, followed by two spacemen with their luggage. He had amusement in his gruff expression. It was a small spaceport with only two other craft on it. Both of them looked like interplanetary tramps. It would seem that Einstein wasn’t exactly much of a center of traffic.

  Ronny and Dorn looked out over the pavement upon which the Sheppard had just landed. Three automated stevedore carts were hustling toward them; otherwise, the whole area was empty, save for a natty hover car parked only a few meters away. The sole occupant was a girl.

  There were no buildings lining the field. Where the metallic-looking landing area ended, there was what looked like nothing so much as an Earth-side golf course. A bit more rolling, perhaps, than a golf course, including ponds and small lakes, and clumps of trees. In general, the first impression was than Einstein was earthlike to within a few percentage points. Either that, or the planetary engineers had gone to great effort to make it so.

  Ronny look in the captain, who was grinning deprecation. Ronny said, “Where in the hell are the administration buildings, the freight terminals, the spaceport hotel and so on?”

  The captain said, “Damned if I know.”

  Ronny looked at him and said, “Thanks. But you warned us. This must be a helluva liberty set-down for your boys.”

  “Not even a place to get a beer,” the captain told him. He’d obviously accompanied them for the sole purpose of witnessing their astonishment. He said, “I suppose that mopsy down there is your welcoming committee.”

  “Welcoming committee?” Dorn Horsten said blankly. “We’re a delegation from the Commissariat of Interplanetary Affairs, from United Planets. The first that’s ever come from Earth. I was, ah, rather expecting a band or so, blaring the planetary anthem of Einstein and possibly that of United Planets. A welcoming committee of a dozen or so elderly looking types with red sashes across their chests. Possibly a company or so of soldiers to be reviewed.”

  “You dreamer,” the captain laughed sourly. “Have fun, gents.”

  Ronny and Horsten started down the gangplank, followed by the two spacemen with their bags.

  They approached the hover car, and, as they did, the girl came out of it, smiling.

  On her, a smile was something. She was a very blonde, in the Scandinavian tradition. No, in the Finnish tradition, which is the blondest of the Scandinavians. Her hair was impossibly fine and light yellow almost to the point of being white. Her eyes were so blue as to be startling. Her features reminded Ronny Bronston of an actress of yesteryear that he had seen several times in historical movie films—Jean Simmons. Her lips were implausibly red, but, very obviously, not due to cosmetics.

  She was dressed in a gorgeous brilliantly-white blouse and a kilt that resembled those of Crete in the days of Knossos and King Minos. Her slippers were in the Etruscan revival style, which Ronny had last seen on the planet Shangri-La. Her figure was the unfulfilled dream of a Tri-Di director of sex shows.

  “Holy smokes,” Ronny said under his breath as they approached her.

  “Indeed, yes,” Dorn murmured back. “I find that I’m not nearly as old as I thought I was.”

  She spoke to them brightly and her voice, though perhaps a trifle sultry, matched her physical appearance. It reached down inside you and grabbed. She said, “I am Rosemary. Welcome to Einstein. You are, of course, the celebrated Doctor Dorn M. Horsten and… ” she smiled at Ronny in a blaze “… Ronald Bronston.”

  Ronny said, in mock protest, even as they shook hands, Earth fashion, “I’m celebrated too. Sometimes with fireworks.”

  “Yes,” she said, still smiling. “So we are aware. I should have said, the notorious Ronny Bronston.”

  Oh, oh. He had been trying to jest. But, on the face of it, the powers that be on Einstein knew he was the trouble shooter extraordinary of Section G. That wasn’t so good. But at least he knew that they knew.

  Rosemary said, “I am your guide. I am completely at your service.”

  Dorn said gallantly, “Do your authorities always send such charming guides?”

  She smiled at him, and there was a pixie quality there that seemed out of place in her classical beauty. “As a biologist, Doctor Horsten, you will be interested in knowing that on Einstein we breed for physical attributes as well as mental ones.”

  So, Ronny thought inwardly, she is perfectly aware of how exceptionally attractive she is. He was to find out later that she wasn’t; only average for Einstein.

  He said, “We weren’t expected?”

  She made motions for the spacemen to place the luggage i
n the hover car. They had been staring at her as though hypnotized. The look in their eyes was such as to be almost an unsult. Only a spark would be needed for them to throw her to the tarmac and attempt rape. They sighed resignation and male frustration and did their duty and left.

  She politely gestured to seats in the vehicle as she said, “Oh yes, of course. We received the space cable from the Octagon that you were to arrive. Why in the name of the Holy Ultimate do they call it a space cable? On the face of it, cables are not exactly practical in interplanetary communications.”

  “A left over expression from the past,” Dorn Horsten said mildly. “But aren’t there any of your officials… ” He let the sentence dribble away.

  “We don’t have officials on Einstein,” she said, activating the car.

  Ronny closed his eyes in pain at that one.

  She said, heading at a good clip for the nearest area of the golf course, “Would you prefer speaking in Basic rather than Amer-English?”

  “Either will do, my dear,” Dorn Horsten told her. “See here, how do you mean there are no officials? We came to initiate negotiations in view of your request to join United Planets. With whom do we deal?”

  “A committee has been elected to meet you personally, Doctor Horsten.”

  Ronny said, “Wizard. Uh, where’s the committee and how do you mean personally? How else could they meet us?”

  She tinkled a laugh that all but had the Section G agents swooning. “We very seldom conduct affairs personally, Citizen Bronston. The time involved in journeying about for such reasons is ridiculous. We perform business and even most of our personal relationships by Tri-Di phone screen. Certainly this applies on such advanced planets as Earth, and, say, Phrygia and Avalon.”

  “Phrygia we no longer have with us,” Ronny told her. “But yes, a good deal of business is transacted by TV phone these days. Why travel half way around the world to make a short-time contact?”

  “Certainly,” she said winningly. “But the committee is to meet you in person tomorrow. They will journey from their respective homes.”

  Ronny assimilated that. He said, not knowing exactly why, “All right. But why were you—I have no objections, of course—chosen to meet us?”

  “Because I’m stupid,” she said brightly, flashing an equally bright smile at him.

  They had reached the edge of the pavement and were darting over the fabulous lawn and rolling grounds of the area that surrounded it. Suddenly they were confronted by an entry into a hillside that formerly hadn’t been visible. She entered without slowing and sighed and flicked off a switch.

  “I dislike driving manually,” she said.

  They were in an underground highway. There wasn’t a great deal of other traffic. The other vehicles they did see were sometimes occupied, more often not. It wasn’t as different as all that. Ronny and Dorn had been on other worlds, including Earth, that had highly automated underground highways. However, none of them were superior to this.

  Ronny said carefully, “How do you mean, stupid? You’re unhappy about taking the assignment?”

  She looked at him in distress. “Oh, no, no. I applied for it. It’s quite the most fascinating, uh, job, I’ve ever been able to land. I meant it literally. I’m stupid.”

  Horsten caught on first. The big doctor said, “You mean… you were chosen to communicate with us because you have a, forgive me, low intelligence?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Now in a few minutes we’ll arrive at the quarters where you are to stay.”

  She looked at Doctor Horsten. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m not an idiot. I’m just slow. As you said, forgive me, but they thought communication would be easier.”

  It was Dorn Horsten this time who closed his eyes in sorrow. In his time… well… in his time he had been accepted… well… in his time…

  They emerged from the underground highway and again were in what seemed to be an overgrown park.

  Rosemary took over the controls and said, “Why does everybody want to be smart?”

  Ronny looked at her. “I don’t know. Why?”

  “It wasn’t a rhetorical question. I meant it. I can see in primitive times, when it was a matter of survival and so forth, that a person had to be either smarter than the next, or stronger. But who cares about those things now? Look at Doctor Horsten. He’s big and, I assume, strong. But who cares if anybody is big or small any more? These are no longer the days of the Vikings. Why should anybody wish to be any larger than, say, a Japanese?”

  “Damned if I know,” Dorn Horsten muttered. “Often, it’s a disadvantage. Half the beds that I try to get into in hotels are too small for me.”

  The vehicle rounded a hill and suddenly there was an entry. It was artfully framed in bougainvillaea of two different colors. It should have looked garish, but didn’t. It was gorgeous. The entry was only a few meters deep and they emerged into a patio, open to the sky, graced by a fountain in its center.

  “Here we are,” Rosemary said cheerfully.

  The two visitors looked up and about. There were various doors and windows built into what they had taken from outside to be a hill covered with grass, bushes and small trees.

  “It’s an underground house!” Ronny blurted.

  “Yes, of course,” she said, beginning to leave the vehicle.

  Ronny sat there for a moment. He said, “Back there at the spaceport. All of the administration buildings, freight depots, that sort of thing, were also underground?”

  “Yes, that’s right. Few buildings are really attractive, especially those dealing with necessary production, distribution, communications and so on. So we place them out of sight where they won’t interfere with nature’s beauties. There are other advantages as well. They are easier to heat in the winter, or cool in summer.”

  The two men got out and looked about them for a moment. The patio was beautifully done, almost tropically lush with flowers and ferns.

  Doctor Horsten said in appreciation, “Your gardener is to be congratulated.”

  “Gardener? I have no gardener. Can you gentlemen bring your bags?”

  She led the way to two adjoining rooms, saying, “All rooms lead out on the garden. This will be yours, Doctor, and this yours, Citizen Bronston. Over here is the living room. I’ll await you there.”

  Ronny entered his room, which amounted to a small suite; a bedroom, a bath, a small sitting room. It was very finely done but obviously with comfort in mind, not luxury. The furniture -was functional, rather than pretty. He appreciated the single painting on the wall. It was in the Chinese tradition. The only other decorative bit was a vase which was either a Mexican pre-Columbian antique or a very good copy. Simplicity was highly regarded on Einstein, he decided. Or, at least, it was in this house.

  He left his two bags and went out into the patio again, just as Dorn Horsten emerged from his own suite. They headed for the living room.

  Rosemary was sitting on a sofa which faced on a very large window; so large, indeed, that it covered almost a full wall. Ronny, orienting himself, realized that it must be on the opposite side of the hill from where they had entered. There was a spectacular vista beyond. Most certainly they hadn’t seen the window as they approached. This room carried out the theme of the suites—simple and ultra-comfortable. Art was held to a minimum, but what there was, was superlative.

  Rosemary came to her feet, smiling. She said, “Your quarters are adequate?”

  “Charming,” the doctor told her, bowing slightly in thanks.

  “Wizard,” Ronny said. “I’d like to steal that Chinese painting of the fog-bound mountain.”

  “It’s yours,” she said.

  “Oh, really, I didn’t mean… ”

  “But, of course. I’m so pleased that you appreicate a product of my humble efforts. And now, would you gentlemen like a drink?”

  “Your humble efforts?” Ronny said, staring at her. “Do you mean you did that? I thought it came from Earth, or, at least, one of the Chinese-se
ttled planets.”

  “Oh, no. All of us here on Einstein participate in at least one of the arts. Could I offer a light wine, or perhaps beer? It’s warm today.”

  Dorn Horsten cleared his throat and said, “See here, my dear. How do you mean, all of you participate in at least one of the arts? Suppose someone has no talent. Is he forced, despite that, to participate in one of the arts?”

  She laughed, as though in deprecation. “We are not happy about that term talent. We find that everyone has some inclination in the arts. Much of our raising of the young is devoted to discovering which one—we include, obviously, the handicrafts. From earliest youth, a child is carefully observed to find its particular tendencies and is encouraged to develop them. I had crayons and watercolors available to me from a period before I can actually remember. As I grew older there were teachers, some of them quite exceptional, to continue to channel my desire to draw and paint. Talent, usually, is the ability to work hard and long at one’s chosen art. What is the old saying? A lazy genius isn’t one.”

  Ronny said, “About that drink. I was told you didn’t drink alcohol on Einstein. Or even coffee, for that matter, on the grounds that it’s bad for the health.”

  She went over to a beautifully worked piece of wooden furniture and opened two of its doors to emerge with glasses and a long, thin, green bottle, obviously chill. “Nonsense,” she said. “Alcohol is a blessing come down from man’s early days. I believe I read somewhere that there was only one race, in primitive times, that didn’t work out some alcoholic beverage. They were, I believe, the Tasmanians and they contributed absolutely nothing to man’s culture in any field. We don’t utilize the distilled beverages but we enjoy the fermented and brewed. This is a local wine based on the Reisling grape which our people brought with them when they first emigrated from Earth.”

  She poured deftly into faintly green goblets and served them both before taking up her own glass.

  She said, “To the entry of Einstein into the United Planets confederation.”

  They drank to the toast politely.

  “Won’t you be seated?” she said. “I’m sure that you have a good many questions.”