The Intervention (Omnibus)

by Julian May

  ELLSWORTH: Thought police! Good heavens, what an idea.

  REMILLARD: [laughs hollowly] You should see my hate mail! The com­mon folks aren't quite so sure anymore that operants belong to the League of Superheroes. Have you ever watched that Alabama TV evangelist, Brother Ernest? According to him, we're nothing less than the vanguard of Antichrist, the mystery of iniquity, with all power and signs and lying wonders... and the Last Judgment is only five years away! It's to laugh — until you realize how many viewers the man has. And there are other antioperant movements poking their noses out of the woodwork. That outfit in Spain, Los Hijos de la Tierra, the Sons of Earth. And the Muslim fundamentalists are fully convinced we're the agents of El Shaitan. You know, Jared, operancy will bring about a profound social revolution during the Third Millennium — but only if we operants manage to survive the Second! There's a real possibility that militant normals might opt for the easy way out of the dilemma we pose...

  ELLSWORTH: [waving out a match and snorting smoke] Don't give me that eschatological bullshit! Defeatism? From somebody who had the finest Jebbie education lavished on him? [Gestures to photo portrait of Teilhard de Chardin by Karsh of Ottawa.] From somebody who sopped up Papa Pierre's nostalgie de l'unité and global consciousness and optimistic expectation of Omega like a thirsty young sponge? Don't talk poppycock! You swelled heads are a challenge for us normals, but we're going to work it out. This isn't the Dark Ages, and the hysterical fools don't rule.

  REMILLARD: No. Thank God, they don't. You'll have to make allow­ances for me, Jared. I'm afraid I've always had a tendency to fall into negativism and intellectual agonizing when the going gets tough. That's more or less why I came to see you.

  ELLSWORTH: And here I thought it was to atone for your shameful neglect of your old teacher all these years.

  REMILLARD: I need a very specialized kind of moral advice. None of the ethicists at Dartmouth had the foggiest notion of what I was talking about. Their counsel was worthless.

  ELLSWORTH: Was it really! Oh, the arrogance of the intellectual elite. Nobody has problems like you have problems. I always think of John von Neumann on his deathbed, deciding to convert. Is he thinking humbly about making his peace? Is he awed at the imminence of the Infinite? No. He says, "Get me a smart priest. "

  REMILLARD: [smiling] So they brought him a Jesuit, of course.

  ELLSWORTH: [sighs] I'll bet it still cost him an extra half hour in pur­gatory. But never mind that. What's your bitch?

  REMILLARD: There are two of them, Jared, with both universal and particular application. The first goes under the seal of confession.

  ELLSWORTH: Uh-huh.

  REMILLARD: It concerns a matter we've already touched on. Suppose I know the identity of a metapsychic criminal. But the way I found this person out was by mental intrusion: reading the secret thoughts. A deliberate violation of which our crook was unaware.

  ELLSWORTH: This is your great moral dilemma ? Same thing as stealing a letter that incriminates. The theft is wrong.

  REMILLARD: I acknowledge the guilt. That's not the problem. If it was a letter I stole, I could send it to somebody in authority who could take action. When you steal thoughts things aren't so easy.

  ELLSWORTH: No.

  REMILLARD: Aside from my reading this person's mind and discover­ing the general fact of wrongdoing, there is no proof whatsoever of the person's guilt. He was not fantasizing, because I can see the effects of his crimes quite clearly. But the perpetrator is ordinarily an excellent screener — you know about that? okay — and most probably no other honest operant person has the least inkling what he has been up to. There is no corroborating evidence of crime, nothing that would stand up in a court of law. Some of the things he's done wouldn't even fall under our present criminal code. For instance, there's no law against mind-to-mind mayhem; at most, our courts would view it as simple or aggravated assault, with the injury not provable. So what am I going to do?

  ELLSWORTH: [expels smoke slowly] Neat.

  REMILLARD: I thought you'd like it. Objectively, that is. It's Shit City when you're on the inside looking out.

  ELLSWORTH: This metapsychic monster of depravity. He's intimately known to you? I mean, you're close enough so that there's absolutely no possibility that you've misunderstood the situation?

  REMILLARD: The person is a relative.

  ELLSWORTH: Uh-huh. And we are dealing with very serious moral matters?

  REMILLARD: The most serious.

  ELLSWORTH: Obviously, you can't haul this person down to your local police station and — uh — turn his mind inside out.

  REMILLARD: Obviously not. Firstly, he would probably kill me if I tried it. Secondly, even if I did succeed in wringing a confession out of him — say with the help of operant friends — it would be inadmissi­ble evidence. In the United States, one may not be forced to incrim­inate oneself.

  ELLSWORTH: The only logical recourse is to try to nail him with some evidence that's concrete. Do as the government snoops do: use the illegally obtained information to scratch up other stuff that will hold up in court. You understand — hem! — that I'm not advising you to do anything sinful.

  REMILLARD: But... I couldn't.

  ELLSWORTH: You couldn't, or you wouldn't? Do you mean you're too busy to see justice done? You've got other things to do?

  REMILLARD: [doggedly] Yes. I have duties. Obligations to the metapsychic operant community. To evolving humanity as a whole. To find evidence against this one miserable bastard might be impos­sible. There might not be any. Searching for it could alert him and endanger me. Endanger my work.

  ELLSWORTH: You seriously believe he'd try to kill you?

  REMILLARD: Or do me grave mental damage.

  ELLSWORTH: You are never morally obligated to put yourself in danger in order to do good. Caritas non obligat cum tanto incommodo. One can assume such an obligation freely, as officers of the law do, but a private individual does not have such a duty.

  REMILLARD: [sighs] I thought not.

  ELLSWORTH: On the other hand, Christ told us we're blessed when we give up our life for our friends. It is the ultimate magnification of love. Of course, he was propounding a behavioral ideal... The valiant thing is not always the prudent thing. As you say, you have your work, and it is undoubtedly important.

  REMILLARD: I — I can't just stand by and let him get away with what he's done! He may do it again.

  ELLSWORTH: You could be patient. Bide your time and watch.

  REMILLARD: I'm so distracted by other things. This is... so small compared to the other problems I have to deal with. So damned per­sonal. I pushed it aside earlier when all I had were suspicions, and that was wrong. My negligence cost lives. Now that I'm certain about him, there doesn't seem to be anything I can do.

  ELLSWORTH: You think you're the only one who ever faced this? It's old, Denis! Old as the human race. Listen to King David: "Be not vexed over evildoers. Trust in the Lord and do good. Commit to the Lord your way; trust in him and he will act. He will make justice dawn for you like the sun; bright as the noonday shall be your vin­dication. "

  REMILLARD: This evildoer is my brother.

  ELLSWORTH: Oh, son.

  REMILLARD: It may be my fault he's like this. I never liked him. I never tried to show him that what he was doing was wrong. When I was a kid, I was relieved to get away from home and come here, away from him. When I was a grown man I still avoided him, even though I knew he had deliberately suppressed the mind-powers of my other young brothers and sisters. I was afraid. I still am.

  ELLSWORTH: You should get your siblings away from his influence.

  REMILLARD: I tried. Only one of them is legally an adult, and she won't come. He's mesmerized her. The others... I tried to convince my mother to come away with them. I know she wanted to, but she still refused. He's influenced her, too. I can't force them.

  ELLSWORTH: Then you've done all you can for now. Keep working on your mother and the older sister but don't do any
thing to endanger them... You really do think there's further danger from this brother of yours?

  REMILLARD: I suspect that he's killed certain individuals who were a threat to his business. I know for a certainty that he killed three of my sisters who defied him.

  ELLSWORTH: Oh, my God. If I was in your shoes, I expect I'd go for the sonuvabitch with a shotgun and a bag of rifled slugs.

  REMILLARD: No, you wouldn't. Neither would I. That's the hell of it ... All right, Jared, let's table this one. All I can do is follow your advice and wait. Now this second problem is by no means as grave, so let's discuss it ex confessio —

  ELLSWORTH: Don't you want your absolution?

  REMILLARD: Oh... I didn't really think of this dialog as an actual confession. I only put you under the seal to protect you from any hazardous obligation you might otherwise have felt constrained to assume.

  ELLSWORTH: The mention of grace embarrasses the learned psychia­trist! It never occurs to you to accept the forgiveness of Christ. You're like millions of other educated Catholics, Denis. You've kept the sense of guilt but not the sense of sin, and absolution without solu­tion looks like a cop-out to you. It seems too damned easy.

  REMILLARD: Maybe.

  ELLSWORTH: But that's what grace is all about. It's a gift and a mys­tery. We're allowed to take it if we're sorry — even if we can't undo the evil we've done. A psychiatrist tries to offer solutions to guilt, but very often, as in your case, there are no solutions. That's where we priests have the advantage. We can channel the grace even if you feel you don't deserve it.

  REMILLARD: [laughs softly] A spatiotemporal sexternion.

  ELLSWORTH: Say what?

  REMILLARD: God can be coerced. Never mind. It's just a dynamic-field-theory in-joke.

  ELLSWORTH: You want the absolution or not? For the neglect and the violation.

  REMILLARD: Lay it on me.

  ELLSWORTH: [Prays in a low voice and gestures.] All right, what's the second problem?

  REMILLARD: Do I have an obligation to reproduce? To have offspring?

  ELLSWORTH: You're serious?

  REMILLARD: It's been pointed out to me — by my busybody Uncle Rogi, as well as by an esteemed Soviet colleague named Tamara Sakhvadze — that inasmuch as I'm going to be twenty-eight years old next week, I should marry and father children in order to propagate my undeniably superior genes.

  ELLSWORTH: Uh — the idea doesn't appeal to you?

  REMILLARD: Not really. I've always been much more interested in intellectual stimulation than sex. The occasional biological urge dis­tracted me, but it was easily squelched. I've never felt passionately attracted to a woman — or to a man, either. Frankly, the whole sexual thing seems rather a nuisance. You squander so much energy in it that could be devoted to more productive pursuits. God knows, I don't seem to have enough hours in the day for the work that has to be done!

  ELLSWORTH: The Jews of the Old Testament were given the solemn duty to increase and multiply. But this part of the Old Law wasn't carried over into the New. No one is obliged to procreate now.

  REMILLARD: Two persons whose opinion I value highly think other­wise. One is Tamara, who is a Neo-Marxist. The other is Urgyen Bhotia, who was a Tibetan lama and now professes an idealistic hu­manism.

  ELLSWORTH: I can see why both of them might believe as they do. The good of society, as opposed to that of the individual, is paramount in both their faiths. Christianity — and Western civilization as a whole — gives the individual sovereignty in reproductive matters. On the other hand, having disposed of obligation, let us proceed to the more delicate matter of the most perfect choice... Let me ask you a question that's cheeky but not impertinent: Just how special are you?

  REMILLARD: My metapsychic armamentarium has been rather pains­takingly assayed. It was compared with that of known metapsychics all over the world in a study just completed by the University of Tokyo. My higher faculties exceed those of everyone else by several orders of magnitude. I am fertile, and there's a reasonable expectation that I would pass my alleles for powerful metafunction on to my offspring — particularly if my mate were highly endowed mentally herself.

  ELLSWORTH: [breaks off in coughing fit and sets pipe aside] Well! In general, one might compare your case to that of certain royal alliances in the old days. When marriages were made for beneficial political considerations. Peacemaking and the like. I recall that Queen Jadwiga of Poland was deeply in love with a certain prince but married Jagiello, the Grand Duke of Lithuania, in order to unite the two countries, bring the pagan Lithuanians to Christianity, and save her kingdom from the threat of the Teutonic Knights. Her act was self-sacrificing — the more perfect choice. She had no moral obligation to do it, though.

  REMILLARD: And what about me? I'm a free man, not a goddam opti­mal phenotype!

  ELLSWORTH: You have a right to your individuality. If marriage is repugnant, you may certainly remain single. On the other hand —

  REMILLARD: Well?

  ELLSWORTH: Your preference for the solitary life may be selfish. Even

  unhealthy. You were always too cerebral as a boy, and now — forgive me — you've grown up to be a rather atypical man.

  REMILLARD: Tamara and Glenn Dalembert say I'm a cold fish. Urgyen says I have an unfortunate proclivity for the inward-trending spiritu­ality of the East, which is contrary to the loving globalism that must characterize those in the forefront of mental evolution.

  ELLSWORTH: Good heavens... I wonder if your lama has read Teilhard?

  REMILLARD: It wouldn't surprise me a damn bit.

  ELLSWORTH: I won't belabor an obvious point. But much is expected of those to whom much is given. In the matter of the more perfect choice. And there is the love. Your Tibetan friend was right about that. I'm sure you feel that you love humanity in the abstract, Denis. Your sense of duty testifies to it. But a person like you... you need to know love in the concrete sense as well. Marriage and family life are the most usual pathway to love's fulfillment. But if you are cer­tain it would be impossible for you —

  REMILLARD: I'm — I'm not certain.

  ELLSWORTH: Perhaps you're only afraid.

  REMILLARD: My uncle, the matchmaker, has even suggested a woman he felt would be the perfect mate. She's a colleague of mine at Dartmouth. I laughed at him, of course. But then I checked out her assay, and it was amazing how her metafunctions were strong in areas where my own are weakest. Psychocreativity, for example. She's a brilliant woman. She's my temperamental opposite, however, and — and sexually experienced, whereas I am not.

  ELLSWORTH: Oh. Does the poor girl have any notion that you're consid­ering her as the royal consort in this grand eugenic scheme?

  REMILLARD: Certainly not. I did the analysis with complete objectivity and discussed it with my closest colleagues, who concurred as to the young woman's suitability. My — my larger obligations to evolving humanity were also a subject of discussion. My genes. There is an undeniable tendency of evolution to proceed in jumps, rather than small, gradual increments. And I'm one of the jumps.

  ELLSWORTH: Are you, by George! Denis, there's something terribly surreal about this conversation. You aren't a set of privileged gonads and this young woman you evaluated is not a mere source of superior ova. You can't ask her to marry you if you don't love her.

  REMILLARD: Why not? Arranged marriages have been the rule among most human societies from time immemorial. She would have to agree, of course. But I presume that she would see the genetic advan­tages of our union as readily as my other colleagues did.

  ELLSWORTH: Denis! Listen to me. You're not prize cattle. You'll have to live and work together and raise children.

  REMILLARD: I don't know why one couldn't research marriage just like any other subject. There have been intensive studies of the psychodynamics of stable, mutually satisfying conjugal relationships. The most questionable factor would be Lucille's sexual sophistica­tion. We'd have to deal frankly with its potentially inhibitory influ­ence up
on my libido.

  ELLSWORTH: Lucille! So she does have a name. And do you think she's attractive?

  REMILLARD: [surprised] Well, yes. I guess she is, in a rather austere way. Funny — her character isn't austere at all. I think one might call her passionate. She has a temper, too. I'd have to — to modify some of my mannerisms. I'm kind of a snot, you know.

  ELLSWORTH: [laughs] By all means, modify. Does Lucille like you at all?

  REMILLARD: She used to actively despise me... I was a trifle tactless in urging her to join our group in the early days. We hit it off better now. She's accepted her own operancy, which was quite a problem for her when she was younger. She may still be somewhat afraid of me. I'd have to work on that.

  ELLSWORTH: Denis — you've made your decision. Just let love be part of it.

  REMILLARD: I'm sure we'll work very hard learning to love one an­other. The children will help. It'll be fascinating to analyze the penetrance of the various metapsychic traits in the offspring. And she and I would begin operant conditioning of the fetuses in utero, of course, and evaluate preceptorial techniques as we train the infants. It'll be the metapsychic equivalent of Piaget's research. Lucille should be fascinated.

  ELLSWORTH: I'm going to pray my head off for your poor little kids. And for you and Lucille, too.

  REMILLARD: Do better than that, Jared. Marry us. I'll let you know the date just as soon as Lucille and I work everything out. It shouldn't take long.

  8

  FROM THE MEMOIRS OF ROGATIEN REMILLARD

  ON THE FACE OF IT, their marriage should have been a disaster.

  Decreed by inhuman entities from another star, sordidly abetted by me, arranged in a coolly rational agreement between two mature young persons who were not even faintly fond of one another, and undertaken for the sake of an abstraction, the union of Denis Remillard and Lucille Cartier, when judged by the sentimental criteria of the late twentieth century in the United States of America, was peculiar to the nth degree.

  The media came breathlessly scurrying to chronicle what they hoped was the first great metapsychic affaire d'amour... only to have the principals dismiss all inquiry into the romantic aspects of their be­trothal and dwell instead upon the heritability of mental traits. The eyes of the interviewers glazed over as the putative lovebirds discussed assortative mating, the differentiation between penetrance and expres­sivity on the one hand and dominance and epistasis on the other, and the uncertainty of positive eugenics. Confronted with such esoterica, gossip columnists and "human interest" video scavengers beat a hasty retreat. A sedate article dealing with the genetic rationale of the Remillard-Cartier nuptials eventually appeared in Nature.