Moon Flower

by James P. Hogan

  Since he had time to kill until Xorin returned, he offered to lend a hand. Holgath gave him some long tongs to hold several heavy work pieces on the anvil while Holgath hammered a punch to make holes through the heated sections. Mutu worked the bellows and demonstrated other skills that he had doubtless picked up as a part-time apprentice. Lang used the opportunity to try and find out more from Holgath about how the system on Cyrene worked. Before Holgath could really understand the questions, Lang had to outline to him the basics of business dealings on Earth. Holgath took a swig from a leather water bottle hanging to one side, mopped his face with a cloth, and looked dubious.

  “Everybody tries to take as much as they can get from everyone else, and give as little in return as they can get away with,” he said, summarizing his understanding of what Lang had told him.

  Put that way, it didn’t make Lang feel too comfortable. “To maximize their self-interest,” he confirmed.

  “But what about the interests of everybody — the world as a whole?”

  “The theory is that if everyone takes care of their own part of it, then the best deal that you’re probably going to get will emerge out of it all,” Lang said.

  Holgath thought about it while he replaced the stopper and hung the bottle back up. “How can that be?” he asked at last. “Everybody cannot gain. There must be some who lose — who receive less than what they produce is worth.”

  Lang shrugged. “There’s no way to avoid that.”

  “But then why should they want to do anything at all — unless they are made to? You would have to force them through violence. The only other way would be to take over all the property and leave them owning nothing but their labor, so that unless they work on your terms, they will starve.” Mutu had stopped what he was doing and was listening with horrified expression. Lang could only shrug again. “Is that really how it is on Earth?” Holgath asked.

  “Well, how is it here on Cyrene?” Lang replied, deflecting the question. It wasn’t as if he had ever given much thought to such things himself.

  Holgath frowned. It seemed to be something that he had always accepted and never had to put into words before. “A man works because it is in his nature to want to be useful and respected,” he replied finally. “Is it not natural that I should look for a way to repay what the world provides for me, and find a place in it that I am respected for? I wish for my neighbors to live well and be friends, and they wish the same for me.”

  “Even to the point of not getting the most for yourself that you can?” Lang wasn’t sure he could buy this.

  Holgath shook his head. “To glorify myself and deprive another of his living? No.” He picked up his hammer and punch to resume.

  “You’re saying that people here will work for the satisfaction of it? Simply out of some sense of... of gratitude? A kind of social obligation?”

  “Yes. It’s how they make their contribution to creating a better life for everyone.”

  Lang looked at Holgath skeptically. “I think Terran nature must be a bit different,” he said.

  Holgath waved the hammer at the work piece that Lang was positioning with the tongs. “Then why are you helping me with this, what we are doing right now?”

  “This is a personal thing,” Lang said. “But how do you get a whole world to think that way?”

  “What do you mean, ‘get them to think that way’? It isn’t something you have to explain. Do you have to tell people how to breathe? It’s something that everyone feels.”

  “Not on Earth, apparently,” Lang said.

  “Well, I don’t know anything about that. It sounds as if something is missing from Earth.” Holgath positioned the punch and measured the swing with his eye. “But on Cyrene it is something you would know.”

  Xorin returned shortly before midday with the news that the carriage had stopped the day before at a house some miles downstream and crossed the river via a ford. It was heading for the road that led north into the Harzonne region. The shortest way to follow it would be to cross on the ferry here and go west, which would bring them to the same road but from the opposite direction.

  They walked the two horses onto the flat-bottomed craft, and Mutu made a fine show of his prowess in poling them out from the shallows and then sculling across the deep portion in the river’s center. While Xorin was chatting with Mutu in the stern, Lang made his way forward past the horses to stand brooding to himself at the prow. He looked again at the forest, the hills, and the wide, flowing body of the river. He thought of Marc and Jerri somewhere ahead of him, that he had joked with, listened to, shared stories with all the way from Earth, and the kind of life that they had struck out to try and find for themselves in this new world where so much felt oddly “right,” and yet was filled with such strangeness and wonder. And he thought of the people behind him who had sent him on his mission, and the world and everything about it that they represented.

  Something deeper down inside than the person he normally thought of himself as being seemed to be taking control. He slid his hand inside his tunic, drew out his compad, and stared at it. There was really nothing to decide or think about. The decision was already made. He dropped it over the side. Perhaps it was a lingering preservation instinct that made him hesitate a little longer over the machine pistol. There was no telling where he might find himself well-served by something like that on an unknown world full of who-knew-what kinds of unsuspected perils.

  But already another instinct was telling him that if he was going to begin a new life, the only way was to do it with total commitment and completely, without hedging bets or a precautionary foot left planted in the world that he was leaving.

  He let the weapon go, and watched it disappear beneath the slow, black waters.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  It was decided that Chev would stay for a few days at Linzava before departing back for Revo to return the carriage and resume his duties in the service of Vattorix. Eckelan and two others would travel with him as far as Doriden, where they wanted to study Wolaxal’s steam-engine project. In the meantime, a priority for the three Terrans whom he had brought to Linzava would be learning to ride. They couldn’t expect carriages to be made available every time they needed to travel any distance, and so the sooner they were able to become independent in this respect, the better.

  After all the traveling and then staying up into the night to see Wade’s demonstration, it was late morning by the time they were up and about the next day. As promised, Wade took them back to the lab and performed some tests of the A-wave detector that he had constructed. The accompanying discussion revolved around the physics to begin with and was primarily between Wade and Shearer; but then Uberg widened it to encompass more of the botanical issues, which drew Elena in, and soon the four of them were engrossed in technicalities that Nick had heard before, and which were mostly lost on Jerri. The theorizing and debating continued through lunch, by which time it had become clear that this was only the beginning. Nick suggested to Jerri that they could leave the others to it, and he would show her around the place. At the same time they could take Nim out and give him a chance to start getting to know his way around. Jerri’s head was spinning, and she gratefully agreed.

  They omitted the upper part of the original house, which was reserved as private rooms for the residents. After a tour of the library, sitting rooms, and other parts of the ground-floor level, including a look around the kitchen, they exited into a herb and vegetable garden at the rear, behind the laboratory extension. The fission module that had been “borrowed” from Revo base was housed in a low, bunkerlike cellar adjoining it. As with the ones that she and Marc had seen previously, Jerri found nothing remarkable about it as far as appearances went — a dome-topped cylinder with electrical hardware connecting to a panel of switchgear and indicators. A short distance away, practically hidden by the surrounding trees, they came to a low-roofed log-built structure that was more interesting, if noisy. It was practically a small factory ins
ide, with Cyreneans applying themselves to a variety of tasks, directed by a sprinkling of Terrans. In one corner, a home-built machine powered by a Terran electric motor was pulling copper bars through a series of progressively smaller dies and winding the resulting wire onto a spool. A dozen or so finished spools were stacked nearby.

  “It’s amazing how easy it is to take an infrastructure for granted,” Nick commented as they watched. “It’s all very well having the fission can next door putting out juice, but what do you do with it? Make motors to drive things? But to that you have to have wire, insulation, castings, bearings. You can’t just call your local supplies merchant here. They’re planning on putting another of whatsisname’s steam engines into a mill and foundry down in Ulla. That should make a big difference. It’s the reason why Evan wants some of his boys to get involved in the project at Doriden.”

  They watched a simple grinding head putting the finishing touch to the lead screw for what Nick said would be a more accurate lathe than anything the Cyreneans had at present. In another room, a Terran who looked Asiatic was talking chemistry at a demonstration bench and chalk board in front of a group of about a dozen.

  “It’s not a matter of trying to compete in terms of scale,” Nick said as they came back out and began following a trail through the trees to see the preparations being made for a new building on the slope above. “Evan knows they could never match Earth in volume, even at this distance. It’s more a question of spirit. If you can get the Cyreneans believing in themselves, their own nature will do the rest.” He snorted. “Then maybe one day they’ll be building their own starships and exporting their system to replace the ruins of what’s left of ours.”

  “But do you really think their system can stay the same?” Jerri said. “Or will things have to change eventually?”

  “You brought that up last night.”

  “I know. It still bothers me.”

  “You mean because of some inexorable law like all of the house-trained professors back home teach? Numbers growing, competition for resources increasing, and all that kind of thing.”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “I just hope Evan’s right,” Nick replied. “He’s pretty sure they’ll steer clear of the pitfalls. They seem to have done all right so far. The way they go about things avoids the huge concentrations of wealth that cause all the trouble back home. Everything’s distributed among small family businesses and local municipal bodies. If they want to take on something bigger, a bunch of them will get together and appoint a lead contractor to direct things. But they keep their independence. So the little guy doesn’t end up with nothing. He owns a share in the product.”

  “I’m not sure how you mean,” Jerri said.

  Nick sought for an example and then waved at some felled trunks lying to one side, waiting to be hauled away. Ahead, where a site had been cut into the slope and leveled, Cyreneans with picks and shovels were digging trenches for foundations. “Suppose that you and I got those fellas that you met back in Doriden to make a machine for us that cuts timber faster.”

  “You mean a power saw, for a mill?”

  “Yeah — something like that. And then we find a couple of guys up here, say Bill and Joe, to work it for us. Now the way it is back home, we’d pay them a flat wage and then own the lumber, which we’d then go out and try to sell. Right?”

  “Okay.”

  “So now you’ve got a conflict. The less we can get away with paying Bill and Joe, the more we have to keep for ourselves. And once they’ve been paid, they don’t give a toss about whether we sell the stuff or not... that is, until it turns out we can’t, and they get laid off.”

  “So how is it different here?”

  “All four of us own the timber. We provided the mill. Bill and Joe did the work. We split the proceeds between us, so everybody is on the same side with the same incentives. We all want to see it sell. No conflict.”

  Simple enough, Jerri thought to herself. But surely not something that could be universal. They had stopped to watch Cyreneans digging the foundation. She nodded, indicating them. “You’re not saying it could work even for guys like that.”

  “Sure it can,” Nick said. “Knowledge is a big commodity here. What comes out of Linzava will earn income from all kinds of sources. And every one of those guys down there can choose a small piece of it instead of a pay check — kind of like a stock certificate. You collect them through life — for all the enterprises that you’ve put something into. They might only be pennies in some cases, but they add up. You can trade them or sell them if you want. So even if you lose an arm and a leg, you’ve still got income. And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?”

  “So who takes care of all the record-keeping and paperwork?”

  “Lawyers. Who else?”

  They came back around to the side of the house where the stable was located, facing the paddock inside the gate. Nick suggested that they could use what was left of the afternoon to begin Jerri’s riding lessons. “Great! Let’s do it,” she replied.

  He led the way inside, and after exchanging a few words with one of the stable hands, went to a stall and led out a plain dun colored mount, smaller than the one he had ridden the day before and seemingly younger. “This is Sheila,” he announced, patting the animal’s neck. “Nice and friendly. Cyrenean horses are amazing. If you get lost just give them a free rein and they’ll always bring you home.” He selected a saddle and harness from several hanging on hooks on the wall, and carrying them under one arm, brought the horse out into the open. Jerri followed with Nim, who was accustomed enough now to Cyrenean animals not to pay much attention.

  “You seem to be the animal expert,” Jerri commented as Nick slung the saddle and began fastening straps and buckles. “I thought you said you were a physician.”

  “Aw, human animals, animal animals. Same thing, really. Didn’t they say you’re an anthropologist?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, there you are then. Same thing. You won’t have a problem.”

  He let her handle and talk to the horse until each was comfortable with the other, and then went through the basics how to mount and dismount, and the elements of control. Then he held the reins while Jerri lodged a foot in the stirrup, lifted herself up, and swung her other leg over.

  “Okay?” Nick called.

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll just walk her around the field for a bit first, to let you get the feel of it.” They set off, heading out away from the house, Nick still holding the reins.

  “So what part of Australia are you from?” Jerri asked.

  “Adelaide, in the south — on the coast going toward the middle, west from Melbourne.”

  “Did you come to Cyrene from there, or had you moved?”

  “I was still there when I applied for the slot — on the same mission as Evan. For some reason they weren’t getting a lot of doctors.”

  “So what made you decide to go?”

  “Oh... The payoffs from drug companies were corrupting everything. If anyone tried to speak out or blow a whistle, it was the end of their career. I suppose I’m too much of an idealist. I went through med school to learn how to make sick people better, not help stockholders get rich. So, all things considered, I figured there might be a better chance of making a go of it here.”

  The horse kept to a loose, steady rhythm, and Jerri was quickly at ease. “So you just came out on your own? No ties, or anything left behind?” she said.

  “None that matter too much. But there’s a neat Cyrenean lady down in Ulla that I’ve been kind of sweet about for a while now. Her name’s Sakari. I guess you’d say we’re serious.” Nick looked up and winked.

  “Does that mean little Nicks running around before too much longer, maybe?” Jerri asked; then she realized that she wasn’t even sure if it was possible. She hadn’t heard of any precedents on Cyrene, although it had happened on some worlds.

  “I don’t think anyone knows yet,” Nick
answered. “Some of the experts say yes, and others say no. But you already know what I think of experts. How about you? I guess you’re just about set with that Marc, eh? He seems a pretty good guy. Sharp, anyhow. Reckon you’ll make a go of it here?”

  Jerri looked around at the forest, with higher peaks rising to the south above the pass over which they had come. It could have been the enchanted woods of an old European folktale set in Transylvania. The splendor of the raw, natural scenery reminded her of the approaches to Yosemite not far from Pinecrest, where she had lived, and places she had seen in her field trips back on Earth. “Oh yes,” she said, and smiled.

  “That’s fine,” Nick pronounced. “Want to take Sheila yourself for a bit now?”

  “Sure.”

  He handed up the reins and stood back while Jerri guided the horse into a wide circuit toward the middle of the field. “Remember what I said. Loose on the grip, and gentle on the reins. Use your knees and your weight as a guide. She can read it.... You’re doing great. Try opening it up a bit back here to me.” Jerri urged the horse into a slow canter to complete the circuit. “Are you sure you’ve never ridden before?” Nick asked her as she drew up.

  “I dabbled a bit here when I was a kid, but never anything serious.”

  “Then you’re a natural.”

  “Although I did try a camel once.” Jerri heeled Sheila into motion again and set off on another round. Nick stood and watched, his hands on his hips.

  “You’re joking! A camel? That puts you one ahead of me,” he called.

  “When I was in Algeria. It’s like trying to stay on a roller coaster. They can be mean brutes too. Do they have anything like them here?”