"Both Clemons and Vonnegut railed against evil, but they ignored the fact that their own philosophies removed blame for evil from evildoers. According to them, a person couldn't help the way he or she acted. So, why should they write so much about evildoers and condemn them when the evildoer was not at all responsible? Could murderers be held responsible, could the rich help themselves if they exploited the poor, could the poor help it if they allowed themselves to be exploited, could the child-beater be blamed for his brutality, the Puritan for his intolerance and narrow and rigid morality, the libertines for their sexual excesses, the judge for his corruption, the Ku Klux Klanner for his racial prejudice, the liberal for his blindness to the openly declared goals and obvious bloody methods of the communists, the fascist and capitalist for using evil means to achieve supposedly good goals, the conservative for his contempt for the common people and his excuses for exploiting them? Could Ivan the Terrible and Gilles de Rais and Stalin and Hitler and Chiang Kai-shek and Mao Tse-tung and Menachem Begin and Yasser Arafat and Genghis Khan and Simon Bolivar and the IRA terrorist who drops a bomb into a mailbox and blows legs off babies, could any of these be blamed? Not if you accept Clemens' and Vonnegut's basic philosophy. The murderer and child-abuser and rapist and racist are no more to blame for their actions than those who do good are to be praised. All behave the way they do because of genes or their chemical or psychosocial conditioning. So why did they bother to write about evils when they themselves could not blame the evildoers?
"They did so, according to their own philosophy, because they had been determined to do so. Thus, they get no moral credit."
Burton had been waiting patiently for the results. Now he said, "Those two said, then, that we are just billiard balls waiting to be struck by other balls and so sent into whatever pocket is determined for them?"
"Yes."
"I'm well aware of that philosophy. As you know, I wrote a poem about it. However, even those who don't believe in free will always act as if they had it. It seems to be the nature of the beast. Perhaps our genes determine that. Now, would you mind getting to the point?"
"There is more than one," Frigate said. "First, the Ethical studies prove that mental potential is equal among races. All have the same reserves of geniuses, highly intelligent, intelligent, fairly intelligent, and stupid. In 1983, when I died, there was still a lot of controversy about that. Intelligence tests seemed to show that the average Negro intelligence was a few points below that of the Caucasian. The same tests also indicated that the Mongolian IQ was a few points higher than the Caucasian. A lot of people claimed that these tests were not accurate and that they ignored social conditioning, economic opportunity, bias against race, and so forth. These objectors were right. The Ethical tests prove that all races have an equal mental potential.
"That goes against the grain of your observations on Earth, Dick. You claimed that the Negro was less intelligent than the Caucasian. Oh, you admitted that perhaps the American Negro might be capable of becoming more 'civilized' and brighter than the African Negro. But the implication was that, if this was so, it was because the Yankee black had a lot of white blood, that is, Caucasian genes from racial mixing."
"I said many things on Earth that I now admit were wrong," Burton said heatedly. "After sixty-seven years of intimate, though often forced, socializing with every race and every nationality and tribe you could imagine, and some you couldn't, I have changed my mind about many things. I'm perfectly willing to call Sambo my brother."
"I wouldn't use 'Sambo' myself. It shows a lingering trace of bad thinking."
"You know what I mean."
"Yes. I remember a line in your poem, 'Stone Talk,' where you criticized the American white because he wouldn't call . . . ah, Sambo . . . his brother. You were in no position to throw stones."
"What I was is not what I am. Rubbing elbows with many people causes you to rub in some of their skin. And vice versa."
"You did a lot of elbow-rubbing on Earth. Very few people traveled as much as you did and came into contact with all classes, rich and poor."
"It wasn't long enough. Not only are conditions different here, I wasn't only just rubbed here. I was shaken and knocked about. That does something to the machinery, you know."
"Let's not use mechanistic terms," Frigate said.
"Psychic machinery is perfectly appropriate."
"The psyche is not an engine but a subtle and complex field of waves. Many fields, in fact, a superfield. Like light, it can be described as being both wave and particle, a psychic wavicle, wavicles forming a hypercomplex."
"The results."
"All right. Every person is a semirobot. That is, each is subject to the demands of the biological machine, the body. If you hunger, you eat or try to find food. No one can rise above himself enough to go without food and not starve to death. Injuries to the cerebroneural system, cancer, chemical imbalances, these can cause changes in mentality, make you crazy, make your motives and attitudes change. There's no way the will can suppress the effects of syphilis, poisons, brain damage, and so on. And everyone is born with a set of genes that determine the particular direction his interests take. His tastes, too, I mean in food. Not everybody likes steak or tomatoes or Scotch.
"Also, some are born with chromosomal complexes that make them more emotionally rigid than others. I mean, they can't adapt to new things or changes as well as others. They tend to stick to the old and to the cultural elements that affected them when they were young. Others are more adaptable, less rigid. But sometimes reason, logic, can affect the will and the person can overcome his rigidity, defossilize himself, as it were.
"Take as an example a person who's been brought up in a fundamental Christian faith. That is, a sect in which he believes that every word of the Bible has to be taken literally. Thus, the world was created in six days, there was a worldwide deluge, a Noah and an ark, God did stop Earth's rotation so that Joshua and his bloodthirsty genocidal Hebrews could have enough daylight to defeat the bloodthirsty Amorites. Eve was seduced by a snake and in turn got Adam to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Jesus did walk on water. And so on. Like others in his sect, he ignores the vast accumulation of data establishing the fact of evolution. He reads the Bible but does not see that, though the Bible nowhere states that the Earth is flat, it clearly implies that the Earth is flat. Nor does he take literally Christ's injunction to hate your father and mother. He ignores those. Puts them in a separate compartment of his brain. Or erases them as if they were on a tape.
"But some fundamentalists do come across evidence that they'd like to ignore. Iron strikes flint, and the spark falls on inflammable material. The fire is off to the races, as it were. He reads more of the evidence, perhaps loathes and curses himself for his 'sinful' curiosity. But he learns more and more. Finally, his reason convinces him that he's been wrong. And he becomes a liberal Christian or an atheist or agnostic.
"Something in his genetic defenses made a hole or the hole already existed waiting for water to pour through it.
"In any event, he was able to use his reason only because his genetic makeup permitted him."
"I thought you said that Homo sapiens was a semirobot," Burton said. "You're describing one hundred percent robots."
"No. Robots don't have reason. They can use logic, if they've been programmed to do it. But, if presented with new evidence that says that their program is wrong, they can't reject the already installed program. Humans can. Sometimes. Nor do robots have to rationalize their reasons for the way they behave. They just do, but humans have to explain why they're doing such and such. They construct a system of logic to excuse their behavior. The system may be founded on wrong premises, but it's usually logical within its own frame of reference. Not always, though.
"What the Ethicals claim, and they can prove it, is that even the most genetically rigid, the most severely conditioned person has the ability to free himself — partially, anyway — from these constraint
s, these molds. That a few can do this but most don't . . . the Ethicals say that this is a demonstration of free will. The restrained, the strait-jacketed, don't want to change. They are happy in their misery."
"They can prove this?"
"Yes. I'll admit I'm not educated enough to validate their findings. I don't understand the higher mathematics or the extremely involved biology. I accept their proofs, however."
"There is no such thing as absolute or final certainty, is there?" Burton said. "Unless you can see clearly, as through a crystal, exactly what evidence they present, you won't ever really know if they have the truth, will you?"
"Put that way, no. Some things have to be accepted on faith."
Burton laughed uproariously.
The American, red-faced, said, "Unless you're competent to do the research yourself, how do you know that what you read in a chemistry or astronomy or biology book is true? How do you know that anything is true unless you duplicate the research? Even then, you may be in error or clinging to the opposite viewpoint because . . ."
"Because you're genetically inclined to it?" Burton said scornfully. "Because you're predetermined to believe in one thing and not in another?"
"An attitude like yours makes a man believe in almost nothing."
"Right," Burton drawled.
"You certainly voiced enough opinions based on the observations of others while you were on Earth. Often very wrong opinions."
"That was on Earth."
They were silent for a while. The women were talking about their mothers. Frigate could tell, however, that Sophie was listening to them at the same time. She winked at him and made a gesture that he could not interpret.
Frigate picked up the subject again as if it were a football and he was going to make a ninety-yard run. Doggedly, he said, "About 1978, I think it was, I read in a psychology book that one out of ten men seemed to be a born leader. It was implied that this trait was genetically determined. The Ethical study has validated that and moreover pinpointed the genetic complex responsible.
"Also, it said that ten percent of Homo sapiens had always inclined to a certain degree towards homosexuality. The ten percent had certain inclinations, that is. Not all of the ten percent were practicing homosexuals, but the tendency was there. This had been the rule since the Ethicals started making duplicate records of humanity. And it was assumed that this had been so since Homo sapiens originated.
"The tendency is genetically determined. What interested me about this is that in 1983, a few years before that, too, the militant homosexuals claimed that they had made a free and conscious choice to be homosexuals. In other words, they weren't born homosexuals, they had deliberately chosen to be such because they preferred that sexual way of life.
"They talked as if, when you reached the age of reason, you made up your mind about your path of action. What they ignored or failed to consider, was that, if this were true, then heterosexuals also made their free and conscious decision to be heterosexual. But this just wasn't so. A heterosexual was so because he was born so."
"What about . . . ?" Burton said.
"You were going to say, 'What about those who have homosexual tendencies but behave heterosexually? Or those who are bisexuals? Or those who marry women but have homosexual affairs on the side?' There are varying degrees of homosexuality . . . and heterosexuality . . . of course. And in any society where it was dangerous to be openly homosexual, the homosexual had to hide his or her tendency. In any event, homosexuality or heterosexuality is not a matter of choice. It's inborn.
"That makes no difference. Being homosexual or not is not a matter of morality. It's not a person's decision. It's what you do with your homosexuality or heterosexuality that matters, that is moral. Rape, sadism, violence are evil whether or not you're homosexual."
Sophie spoke up. "I can't help overhearing you two, you're so loud. What's all this about free will and determinism and genes and choice? I was very interested in those subjects when I went to college. Really interested. I got passionate about such things, I used to enjoy getting angry at those who didn't agree with me, the stupid jerks! But when I graduated, no, some time before that, I saw that . . . well . . . thinking you can solve anything by discussing philosophy or those other matters was foolish. There's no end to it, no possible irrefutable conclusions. Fun, maybe, but profitless. Sophomoric. It really is. So I quit talking about it. If somebody wanted to discuss such things, I steered them to some other subject or just walked away, though I wasn't rude about it."
"Sure, that's right!" Frigate said. "You were right! But the point is that the Ethicals have put these subjects beyond the range of discussion or opinion. They've proved these points. We're no longer in the dark!"
"Maybe I have to agree with Dick about that. Maybe. But that doesn't matter. What was it Buddha said? 'Work out your own salvation with diligence. Whoever Mr. or Mrs. Diligence is. I've been looking for Mr. Diligence for a long time. I even borrowed Diogenes' lantern to help me. Which, by the way, the old Greek didn't need. He was honest, why should he go out looking for another honest person?
"Anyway, as Dick said, we all act as if we had free will. So who cares if there is such a thing? All I know is that only I, I alone, am responsible for my moral behavior. Heredity, environment, excuses. Excuses, alibis: scorned. Race, nationality, tribe, parents, religion, society: excuses. I decide what I am. And that's that!"
"Was that why you burned your soufflé yesterday?" Frigate said. "You didn't just forget about watching it. You decided to cremate it?"
Frigate and Lefkowitz burst out laughing. Burton said, "You cook?"
"Why, yes," Sophie said. "I like to cook. When it's not required of me, that is. I was making our dinner last night, and I forgot to watch the soufflé. I was reading a book, and . . ."
They started talking about food and that led to other subjects and finally to dinner. Eating together was a custom more ancient than conversation.
26
* * *
On Christmas Day, many guests stood before the door of Turpinworld. Burton was not the only one surprised at the number of Gull's companions. There were forty at least, all Dowists whom Gull had known in The Valley. They looked Roman in their long white togas and sandals, but it was unlikely that Romans had ever worn headbands with a big aluminum D.
"D," Gull said. "D for Dow and Deliverance. D for Deus, too."
"Death and Damnation also begin with D," someone muttered.
Gull was not affronted or, at least, did not seem to be so. "True, my friend, whoever you are," he said dignifiedly. "Death and Damnation for those who do not follow the true way."
"Disgusting," the same voice said.
"Drivel," someone else said.
"Dangerously Dubious," a third person said.
"Devastating Dung!"
"We are used to insults and ill-considered rebukes for 'A, double-L,-part people,' " Gull said. "But Grace abounding is always offered to the chief of sinners."
"What the hell does 'A, double-L,-part' mean?" a woman said softly.
"I do not know," Burton said. "It doesn't mean 'All-part,' as you might think. Gull and his followers refuse to define it. They say that when you understand it, then Grace has come to you and you are one of them."
"It was a pejorative often used by Lorenzo Dow to describe his enemies," Frigate said. "It wasn't much of a description, though it certainly sounds ominous, since his enemies never understood it."
De Marbot muttered, "It was a mistake to invite them. You can't carry on a decent conversation with them. They want only to convert you. Tom should have known better."
"Who resurrected Gull?" Sophie said. "No one in her right mind would."
"No one knows," Burton said. "I asked the Computer for the identity of the person who had raised Gull, Netley, Crook, Stride and Kelly, but it replied that the datum was available to only one person. It didn't say to whom."
A face appeared in the glowing circle on the door. "Santa Claus!" F
rigate cried.
The man wore a big red stocking cap trimmed with white fur, and he had a huge bushy white beard. His skin was rather dark for the conventional St. Nick, however.
Turpin said, "Yeah, I'm Santa Claus. Tom Ho-Ho-Ho! Turpin hisself to be more exact."
"Merry Christmas!" several shouted.
"And a Merry Christmas to you, too!" Turpin said. "We also got plenty of snow, folks, but it ain't what you're used to. At least, I think it ain't. You're such good folks, ho, ho, ho!"
The door swung open, and there was a jam-up as those in front tried to get their flying chairs through at the same time. These were Li Po and his group, most of them loaded three feet below their Plimsoll line with liquors of various kinds. They had never heard of Christmas until Turpin's invitation, but they were eager to learn about it. After some struggling and good-natured cursing, Li Po got them organized, and they entered one at a time. Burton and his companions went next. The Dowists followed them; they had waited politely for the first two groups at Gull's command. Burton noted that they were trading glances of disdain and sorrow with one another. Evidently, they did not care for the boisterous behavior of the Chinese.
Behind the Dowists were Stride, Kelly and Crook, dressed in elegant if somewhat flashy Victorian gowns and wearing diamond earrings and many rings bearing huge diamonds, emeralds and sapphires. He was not surprised to see unfamiliar male faces with them. Annie Crook was accompanied by one man; the other women had a man on each arm.
About twenty feet behind them was Netley, dressed like a race tout, gleaming with jewelry, with a woman clinging to each of his arms.
Behind them was a group of twenty that startled him. So, it was true that gypsies had been resurrected. They were dressed in the exotic clothes familiar to him, since he had associated with them in England and in Europe. He planned to ask them if they knew their benefactor, but he never got around to doing so. By the time he remembered, it was too late.
The party flew in a long straggling line under an early noon sun and over forests, marshes, roads and railroad tracks. Turpin had a railroad! They came down on the designated area,
Riverworld05- Gods of Riverworld (1983) Page 22
