Two or three times in the course of an M-year, there were cases of assault or rape—usually associated with overindulgence in alcohol on the part of the culprit, and usually treated as psychological illness. The last murder had been committed seven M-years before Idris attacked Sirius Bourne and his colleagues at Vorshinski Farm. The murderer had anticipated the course of justice by exiling himself to the surface and, space-suited, walking into the nearest hydrogen lake, where he ‘pulled the plug’ and died instantly.
The case of Idris Hamilton was, therefore, a sensation. The crime of assault causing grievous bodily harm had been committed on Vorshinski territory and would normally have been dealt with by officers of the city council—the president acting as judge, the councillors acting as jury, and the city warden as prosecutor; the accused being allowed to conduct his own defence or to nominate any person of his choice. It was mandatory that whoever was chosen by the accused to represent him must accept the charge, irrespective of his own wishes. If the accused felt that a local trial might prejudice his interests, he had the right to demand Trial by Five. In which case the judge would still be the president of Vorshinski Council, but the jury would consist of the presidents of the other four city councils.
Idris chose Trial by Five and appointed Dr. Manfrius de Skun for his defence.
The issue to be decided was not simply whether he had attacked Sirius Bourne and injured the farm manager’s colleagues. Idris was prepared to plead guilty with a defence of unreasonable provocation. But he realised that the true aim of the trial would be to determine whether or not he was sane according to the Minervan concept of sanity. If it could be established by tricky argument that he was not wholly sane, he knew that Dr. de Skun’s immortality project would be destroyed. In a sense, two men were on trial. By appointing Manfrius de Skun as his defence advocate, Idris was not only employing the man who knew more about him than anyone else on Minerva, he was also giving Dr. de Skun a chance to present his own case.
It was not a long trial. And it was soon evident to Idris that the verdict had been reached before the trial started. He learned later that three of the presidents were Triple-T men. This was their opportunity to make speeches about long-established values and the importance of preserving the status quo.
Dr. de Skun fought brilliantly. Regardless of the fact that his own daughter was the chief witness for the prosecution, he subjected her to merciless interrogation, showing that, in the course of her professional duties, she had become personally involved with the accused and had encouraged him in the belief that she had genuine affection for him. To Zylonia’s obvious discomfort, he made her describe the physical aspect of her relationship with Idris, thus seeking to establish that what might be regarded as violence by Minervan standards was accepted behaviour by Earth standards. He then went on to show that Idris Hamilton was the product of a culture where sexual possession was the accepted norm. Thus, for such a person, it would be normal behaviour by his own standards to react violently when the woman who had become his love-object was again desired by someone who had previously possessed her in the sexual connotations normal to the Earth culture of five thousand years ago.
Dr. de Skun was a brilliant defence advocate. Logically, he had established that Idris Hamilton’s actions at Vorshinski Farm, though extravagant, were not outside the parameters of behaviour that might be expected from a typical Earth man.
But to no avail.
The verdict was guilty as charged, by reason of mental instability. In his summing up, the president of Vorshinski Council allowed himself to publicly castigate Dr. de Skun. He expressed the view that severe restrictions should be placed on aspects of research and experimentation involving the human brain. He had, he said drily, the greatest respect for Dr. de Skun as a scientist and for his motive in desiring to extend human life. But perhaps his enthusiasm had blinded him to certain psychological and moral dangers involved in transplanting the human brain. Men were not mere animals, they were creatures of finely balanced reason and emotion. The case before the court tended to indicate that, despite the technical brilliance and physical success of the resuscitation and subsequent brain transplant of the Earth man, Idris Hamilton, the danger of resulting mental abnormality was serious enough to cast grave doubts upon the value of such techniques.
And so on. The president of Vorshinski Council, Arman Bilas, was a pompous man. He went on at great length about the role of science in society. Science, he said, making a feeble joke which was noisily appreciated by his colleagues, was much too serious a matter to be left to the scientists. He hoped that, in view of this particular case—which, mercifully was not as serious as it might have been—the Five Cities Council might opportunely question the value of current research projects. It may well be that some scientists could find more useful employment in other fields.
Dr. de Skun bravely sat through the assassination of his immortality project, his face blank, expressionless. Idris felt immensely sorry for him and immensely ashamed. A lifetime’s work had been destroyed because one stupid Earth man had failed to control his emotional reactions. Manfrius de Skun had given him a new life—and this was his reward.
Finally the president came to the sentence.
“Idris Hamilton, you have been found guilty of the crime of violent and unprovoked aggression, causing injury to persons who did not in any way attempt to injure you. Were you a Minervan, without any previous history of mental abnormality, this court would prescribe a rigorous course of treatment. However, there are extenuating circumstances—unique circumstances, I may say. You are an Earth man, a resuscitated Earth man, whose brain has been transferred from its dead body to a life-support system, and from the life-support system to a new body. It is the opinion of this court that such procedures can cause great psychological distress, and that therefore you cannot be held to be wholly responsible for your actions. Therefore, I sentence you to ninety days’ confinement, during which time you will receive psychiatric treatment, and at the end of which time you will be examined by a panel consisting of myself and two qualified advisers. We shall then determine if you are in a condition which justifies our releasing you, so that you may resume your place in society. Have you anything to say?”
Idris had a great deal to say. But he glanced at Manfrius de Skun. Dr. de Skun shook his head. With considerable reluctance, Idris remained silent.
“It is our judgement also,” went on the president, “that though you will be allowed visitors during your confinement, under no circumstances can you be allowed to see Zylonia de Herrens. This court is now adjourned.”
24
THE IMPRISONMENT WAS not rigorous. By Earth standards it was positively luxurious. Idris was the only occupant in a group of three cells that were really part of Vorshinski Hospital. His room was comfortable and well-furnished. He had tri-di and book tapes. Every day he was taken under escort to a gymnasium for exercise. Every day a psychiatrist visited him. Sometimes, he was allowed a solitary swim in the hospital pool. He liked the swimming sessions enormously. Apart from the sheer pleasure of splashing about freely in water, the feeling of apparent weightlessness reminded him of the time he had spent in space.
The psychiatrist was a mild-mannered old man who seemed far more interested in Idris’s recollections of Earth and in playing chess than in any overt analysis. But perhaps that was part of the treatment, thought Idris. Lull the patient into feeling secure, then start the heavy stuff when he least expects it. He didn’t mind. The psychiatrist didn’t look the kind who would do his patient a great deal of harm. In fact during the whole of his imprisonment there never was any ‘heavy stuff’—no drugs, no probing of childhood passions, no seeking of repressed desires. His brain rhythms were monitored regularly, along with heart, blood pressure, weight and general physical condition. The psychiatric treatment—if, indeed there ever was any psychiatric treatment—was painless and unnoticeable.
For a while, Idris thought a great deal about Zylonia. For a while, he des
perately wanted to see her, talk to her, make love to her. But as time passed, the desire lessened. Perhaps, he told himself grimly, the Minervans were loading his diet with sedatives. It didn’t seem to matter.
Manfrius de Skun came to see him early in his confinement. He brushed aside Idris’s apologies impatiently.
“My dear friend—I hope I may call you my friend—you must not think so badly of yourself. It is we Minervans who are at fault. We should have educated you more fully in Minervan customs and attitudes—that was my responsibility. And we should have made more allowance for your violent behaviour.” He shrugged. “But, as you know, the matter became political rather than scientific, and so we have both suffered. I am sorry.”
“Your kindness is unnerving. You spend years of your life bringing me back from the dead, whereupon I make love to your daughter, involve you and her in a public scandal, and succeed in destroying your life’s work. I would not blame you if you wanted to tear my brain out of its new head and toss it back into the void.” Idris gave a bitter laugh. “There are some things that do not change. On the Earth I knew, as here on Minerva, men of your stature were frequently thrown to the wolves.”
“Please, what is wolves?”
“A wolf is—was—a ferocious quadruped that hunted in packs.”
Dr. de Skun smiled. “Ah, yes. I perceive the metaphor. Do not be distressed, Idris. My immortality project will rise again. Science is never permanently defeated.”
Idris was silent for a moment or two. Then he said: “You are an honest man, Dr. de Skun. The least I can do is to be honest with you. I hope your immortality project is never brought back.”
Manfrius de Skun raised an eyebrow. “Why? It has benefited you. Why can it not benefit thousands of Minervans? You are aware, surely, that our life expectation is decreasing?”
“It may be a good thing for any individual, but it is not a good thing for mankind. You see, it offers absolute security. Mankind must expand or perish. It is an ancient law. Minervan society is already static, inward-looking not outward-looking. The promise of extended life will reduce what is left of mankind to the level of living fossils, whose only purpose is to prolong individual existence … Perhaps I am just a simple barbarian, Dr. de Skun, or perhaps I am psychotic; but I believe that man must continually try to extend his dominion or perish. Minerva is the last outpost of the race that once flourished on the third planet. If your people do not attempt to re-colonise the solar system, billions of years of evolution will have been in vain. And they will not make such an effort unless they are threatened with extinction. Do you follow me?”
“Yes, I follow your reasoning, Idris. It hurts, but it has the ring of truth.” Dr. de Skun’s face registered pain. Then suddenly he smiled. “But, in any case, my work has been of value, Idris, because it has produced you. You are the catalyst. You are the only person who can change our overall thinking. It is a heavy responsibility … How are you getting along with your psychiatrist?”
Idris said: “Do you think this room is bugged?”
“Bugged? I do not understand.”
“Do you think there are any listening or recording devices? I have had a good look round, and I can’t find any. But I am not an expert.”
Dr. de Skun looked shocked. “Of course it is not bugged, as you call it. Everyone—even a person in detention—is entitled to privacy. It would be unethical not to allow you to talk to your friends in complete freedom.”
“It will take me some time to understand Minervan ethics,” retorted Idris drily. “My simulated cabin was bugged, you may recall.”
“You were not bugged, as you call it,” said Dr. de Skun, making a fine distinction. “It was a monitoring system, vital to your treatment.”
Idris laughed. “The same philosophy may apply now.”
“I assure you it does not. You are now being treated as an ordinary Minervan would be treated, if he had committed an act of transgression.”
“Dr. de Skun, I am afraid you place too much faith in the Queensberry Rules. And, to anticipate your question, that is another metaphor. The Queensberry Rules were drawn up to establish fair play in boxing, a sport in which two Earth men tried to batter each other into insensibility by striking with their fists. But, since I have found no bugging devices, I will go along with your belief … To answer your question, I get along fine with my psychiatrist. I feed him fairy tales to keep him happy; we play chess—he lacks the killer instinct, I may say—and I tell him what it was like on Earth before darkness began to fall from the air … How is Zylonia? By Minervan standards, I seem to have treated her very badly.”
“She is well,” said Manfrius de Skun evenly. “She sends her greetings, and hopes that you are well also. She has time-paired with Sirius Bourne. I think they are happy together for the time being.”
Idris gave a deep sigh. “That figures. When you see her, tell her that I wish her all the luck in the world—this world. Tell her that I am sorry I tried to smash Sirius … No, don’t tell her that. It would only destroy her faith in barbarians.”
Manfrius de Skun shrugged. “You are a strange man, Idris. But I respect you, and I believe that you have much to give us Minervans.”
“You are essentially a good man, Dr. de Skun; and I respect you also. But, like many great scientists, you are naive. Do not expect too much of me. Then you will not be disappointed.”
“I will come again,” said Manfrius de Skun. “We will have further conversation. It is instructive—mutually so, I hope.”
“It is indeed. I shall look forward to your next visit.”
But Dr. de Skun did not come again. A few days later he died of heart failure. Apart from the revolutionary brain transplant technique, the Minervans had long ago perfected the processes of heart transplant. But, in view of the political situation, the Triple-T party held the power of veto. A suitable heart was available, its former owner having committed suicide by leaping on a monorail at the right time. But the Triple-T people ensured that the heart was used to restore life to a compatible woman capable of bearing children.
As part of his immortality project, Dr. de Skun had arranged for a cloned body to be cultured. It was ready to receive his brain. But, once more, the Triple-T party exercised the power of veto. Both the body of Dr. de Skun and the cloned body were fed into the Minervan re-cycling system.
Idris did not learn of this for some time. He regarded it as murder by default.
25
DURING THE COURSE of his ninety-day term, Idris received two more visitors. Both were women.
The first was Mary Evans, the teacher, the woman of Earth, whose hair was white, though she was still physically young, and upon whose face sadness had inscribed many fine lines.
“Well, Captain Hamilton, and how are you?”
“Well, Miss Evans. And how are you?”
“I have come to offer myself,” she said bluntly. “You must have need of a woman … I am told—I understand—that Zylonia de Herrens has other commitments. So I thought …” She faltered.
“Who sent you?”
“No one sent me. I just came. Do you want me to go away?”
“No. Stay—please. I am suspicious. Surely, it is understandable. Why did you really come?”
“I have told you. I came to offer myself.” She began to cry. “Stupid, isn’t it? Why should you want a woman with white hair and sagging breasts? When you get out of here, you can probably time-pair with every third woman on Minerva. You are a celebrity. But I thought … I thought …” She held her head in her hands and sobbed convulsively.
Idris stroked her hair. Thirty-four years old, he thought. White hair and sagging breasts. Unfulfilled. But I will make her hair glisten and her breasts proud. Because she is the last woman of Earth and I am the last man. Such a bond is stronger than sex. Such a bond is vital.
He held her close.
“You don’t love me,” sobbed Mary. “How can you love me? I am prematurely old. We don’t even know each other. W
e are complete strangers.”
“My darling Earth woman,” he said. “Forget about Zylonia. Help me to forget about Zylonia. But you and I are of Earth’s blood. For that alone we must love each other. Your white hair is a battle honour. Your breasts are Earth breasts and, therefore, beautiful … Now let us pull ourselves together and talk.”
“If you want me to stay,” she said, “I can do. I have permission from the President of Vorshinski.”
Again he was suspicious. “Did you ask him, or did he ask you?”
“I asked him. Was it wrong of me? I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing … I won’t stay unless you really want me to.”
Idris was silent for a moment or two. Then he said: “These people are being very accommodating. I wonder why? First, they give me ninety days in a de luxe cooler. Then they agree to let me have the consolations of sex. I wonder why?”
Mary gave him a sad smile. “I imagine I am supposed to be a safety valve. They regard you as a kind of half-wild animal, Idris. I think they would like you to release your inhibitions with someone of your own kind, rather than corrupt the fair women of Minerva.”
“Yes, I am a savage,” he said with grim satisfaction. “Unlike your perfectly adjusted Minervans who are never violent and who are content merely to survive in their technological ant-hill, I have delusions of grandeur. I am dangerous. I react violently when provoked. And I am determined that what is left of the human race shall live again. If it involves corrupting the fair women of Minerva—a delicious phrase—and breaking the arms of their socially adjusted males, I’ll do it. The only way they can stop me is to kill me. I understand they have no death penalty. So that’s one thing going for me … If you decide to stay with me, how do you know that I won’t beat you, or even kill you?”
The Tenth Planet Page 12
