by David Brin
“And when you get right down to it, could you blame them?”
Jacob’s uncle, James, cleared his throat to gain their attention.
“We can try to put the entire episode under seal,” he suggested. “I am not without influence in some circles. If I put in a good word. . .”
“You can’t put in a good word, Jim,” Jacob said. “You’re a participant in this mess, in a minor way. If you try to involve yourself the truth will eventually come out.”
“What truth is that?” Nielsen asked.
Jacob frowned at his uncle then at LaRoque. The Frenchman had imperturbably begun to nibble on more hors d’oeuvres.
“These two,” Jacob said. “Are part of a cabal whose aim is to undermine the Probation laws. That’s the second reason I asked you to come. Something’s going to have to be done and Secrets Registration is a better first step than going to the police.”
At the mention of the police, LaRoque stopped nibbling at his tiny sandwich. He looked at it then put it down.
“What kind of cabal?” Nielsen asked.
“A society, consisting of Probationers and certain citizen sympathizers, dedicated to the secret manufacture of spaceships . . . spaceships with Probationer crews.”
Nielson sat upright. “What?”
“LaRoque is in charge of their astronaut training program. He’s also their chief spy. He tried to measure the calibration settings of a Sunship’s Gravity Generator. I have the tapes to prove it.”
“But why would they want to do such a thing?”
“Why not? It’d be the most powerful symbolic protest imaginable. If I were a Probationer, I’d certainly participate. I’m sympathetic, I don’t like the Probation laws one bit.
“But I’m also realistic. As it stands the Probationers have been made into an underclass. Their psychological problems are a stigma that follows them everywhere. They react in a very human way, they gather together to hate the ‘docile and domesticated’ society around them.
“They say, ‘You Citizens think I’m violent, well then by damn I will be!’ Most of the Probationers would never do anything to hurt anybody, whatever their P-tests say. But faced with this stereotype they become what they’re reputed to be!”
“That may or may not be true,” Nielsen said. “But given the situation as it stands, for Probationers to get access to space . . .”
Jacob sighed. “You’re right, of course. It can’t be allowed to happen. Not yet.
“On the other hand, we can’t allow the Feds to whip up public hysteria over this either. It’d just aggravate matters and put off a later, more severe form of rebellion.”
Nielsen looked worried. “You aren’t going to suggest that the Terragens Council get involved in the Probation laws, are you? Why that’d be suicide! The public would never stand for it!”
Jacob smiled sadly. “That’s right, they wouldn’t. Even Uncle James would have to recognize that. Today’s Citizen won’t even consider changing the status of Probationers and as things stand the Terragens has no authority.
“But what is the domain of the Council? Currently it’s administration of extrasolar colonies. Eventually it’s to include supervision of all extrasolar affairs. And there’s where they can meddle in the Probation laws, symbolically at least, without threatening anyone’s peace of mind.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well now I don’t suppose you’ve ever read Aldous Huxley, have you? No? His works were still popular when Helene was brought up, and my cousins and I were . . . required to study some of them in our youth—damned difficult at times; because of the strange period referents, but worth it for the man’s incredible insight and wit.
“Old Huxley wrote one piece titled Brave New World. . .”
“Yes, I’ve heard of it. Some sort of dystopia, wasn’t it?”
“Of a sort. You should read it. There are some uncanny prophecies.
“In that novel he projects a society with some unpalatable aspects but with, all the same, a self-consistency and its own form of honor—akin to the ethics of a hive, but ethics nonetheless. When man’s diversity keeps throwing up individuals who don’t fit into the conditioned pattern of the society, what do you suppose Huxley’s state does with them?”
Nielsen frowned, wondering where this was leading. “In a hivelike state? I’d guess that the deviants were eliminated, killed.”
Jacob raised a finger. “No, not quite. The way Huxley presents it, this state has wisdom, of sorts. The leaders are aware that they’ve set up a rigid system that might fall before some unexpected threat. They realize that the deviants represent a control, a reserve to fall back on in times of trouble, when the race would need all of its resources.
“But at the same time, they can’t keep them hanging around, threatening the stability of the culture.”
“So what did they do?”
“They banished the deviates to islands. There they were allowed to pursue their own cultural experiments undisturbed.”
“Islands, eh?” Nielsen scratched his head. “It is a striking idea. Actually, it’s the inverse of what we’re already doing with the Extraterrestrial Reserves, exiling the Probies from geographically controllable areas and then allowing E.T.’s in to mingle with the Citizens who come and go at will.”
“An intolerable situation,” James muttered. “Not only for the Probationers, but for the extraterrestrials, as well. Why, Kant Fagin was just telling me how much he’d like to visit the Louvre, or Agra, or Yosemite!”
“All shall come in time, Friend-James Alvarez,” Fagin trilled. “For now I am grateful for the dispensation which enables me to visit this small part of California, an undeserved and extravagant reward.”
“I don’t know if the islands idea would work that well,” Nielsen said thoughtfully. “Of course it’s worth bringing up. We can go into all of the ramifications another time. What I’m having trouble figuring out is what this would have to do with the Terragens Council.”
“Extrapolate,” Jacob urged. “It just might ameliorate the Probationer problem, somewhat, to set up some sort of island Coventry in the Pacific, where they could pursue their own path without the perpetual observation they undergo everywhere today. But it wouldn’t be enough. Many Probationers feel that they are emasculated from the start. Not only are their parentage rights limited by law, they are also excluded from the most important adventure mankind has ever undertaken, the expansion into space.
“This little imbroglio LaRoque and James were engaged in is a prime example of the problems we’ll face, unless a niche is found for them, so that they can feel they’re participating.”
“A niche. Islands. Space . . . good lord, man! You can’t be serious! Buy another colony and give it over to Probationers? When we’re still in hock up to our ears for the three we’ve got? You must be an optimist if you think that could pass!”
Jacob felt Helene’s hand slide into his own. He barely glanced at her, but the expression on her face was enough. Proud, alert, and just on the edge, as ever, of laughter. He twined his fingers with hers to cover the most area, and squeezed back.
“Yes,” he said to Nielsen, “I have become somewhat of an optimist, lately. And I think it could be done.”’
“But where would we get the credit? And how do you salve the wounded egos of half a billion Citizens who want to colonize, when you’re giving space to non-Citizens?
“Hell, colonization wouldn’t work anyway. Even the Vesarius II will carry only ten thousand. There are almost a hundred million Probationers!”
“Oh not all of them will want to go, especially if they get a place on the islands as well. Besides, I’m sure all they’re looking for is fair treatment. A share. Our real problem is that there’s not enough colony room, or transport.”
Jacob smiled slowly. “Bat what if we could get the Library Institute to ‘donate’ the funds for a Class Four, colony, plus a few Orion type transports specially simplified for human crews.�
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“How do you expect to persuade them to do that? They’re obligated to compensate us for Bubbacub’s hoax, but they’ll want to do it in a way that serves their purposes, like making us totally dependent on Galactic technology. In that they’d be supported by almost every race. What could make them change the form of their reparations?”
Jacob spread his hands. “You forget, we now have something they’ll want . . . something very precious that the Library Institute can’t do without. Knowledge!” Jacob reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper.
“This is a ciphered message I received a little while ago from Millie Martine on Mercury. She’s still restricted to a chair, but they wanted her back there so badly that they let her travel over a month ago.
“She says that full dives have been resumed in active regions. She’s already been down once, in charge of the effort to re-establish contact with the Solarians. So far she’s been able to avoid telling the Feds much about what she’s found, waiting instead to confer with Fagin and myself.
“Contact has been made. The Solarians talked to her. They are lucid and have a very long memory.”
“Incredible,” Nielsen sighed. “But I’m getting the impression you think this will have political implications relating to the problems we’ve discussed here?”
“Think about it. The Library will believe they can force us to take reparations on their terms. But if it’s handled right we can blackmail them into giving us what we want instead.
“The fact that the Solarians are talkative and can remember the distant past—Millie hints that they remember dives into the Sun by ancient sophonts, so long ago that they might have been the Progenitors themselves—means that we have found a prize of unprecedented proportions.
“It means that the Library must try to find out everything they can about them. It also means that this discovery will get a great deal of publicity.”
Jacob grinned.
“It’ll be complicated. First we’ve got to play to the impression they already have that Sundiver is one big fiasco. Get them to assign us a Library Investigation Patent to the Sun. They’ll imagine it will only make us look more idiotic. When they realize what we have, they’ll have to buy it from us at our price!
“We’ll need Fagin’s help to finesse it properly, plus all of the savvy of the Alvarez clan and the cooperation of you Terragens people, but it can be done. Uncle Jeremy, in particular, will be glad to know that I’m going to dust off my long dormant skills and get involved in ‘dirty polities’ for a while, to help.”
James laughed. “Just wait til your cousins hear! I can see them shuddering already!”
“Well tell them not to worry. No, I’ll tell them myself when Jeremy calls a family council on this. I’m going to make certain that this whole mess is settled within three years. After that I’m retiring from politics, permanently.
“You see, I’ll be going on a long trip about then.”
Helene let out a small gasp and pressed her fingernails into his thigh. Her expression was indescribable.
“One thing I’m going to insist on,” he said to her, wondering if he could, or wanted to, suppress the urge to laugh or the roaring in his ears. “We’ll have to find a way to take along at least one dolphin. Her limericks are awfully dirty; but they may buy us supplies in a few ports while we’re out there.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DAVID BRIN was born in Southern California in 1950 and attended the California Institute of Technology, where he majored in Astrophysics and History. He has worked as an electrical engineer for Hughes Aircraft Research Labs, and is currently a member of Professor Hannes Alfven’s research group at UCSD. He has published several papers on comets. Mr. Brin currently lives in San Diego, California. This is his first book.
