Asimov's Future History Volume 3

by Isaac Asimov

  He would have done better with an audience. To whom could he otherwise appeal? His glance fled hopelessly from each face it touched, but could find nothing better.

  “First,” he said, “I deny the legality of this meeting. My constitutional rights of privacy and individuality have been denied. I have been tried by a group without standing as a court, by individuals convinced, in advance, of my guilt. I have been denied adequate opportunity to defend myself. In fact, I have been treated throughout as an already convicted criminal requiring only sentence.

  “I deny, completely and without reservation, that I have been engaged in any activity detrimental to the state or tending to subvert any of its fundamental institutions.

  “I accuse, vigorously and unreservedly, this Committee of deliberately using its powers to win political battles. I am guilty not of treason, but of disagreement. I disagree with a policy dedicated to the destruction of the larger part of the human race for reasons that are trivial and inhumane.

  “Rather than destruction, we owe assistance to these men who are condemned to a harsh, unhappy life solely because it was our ancestors and not theirs who happened to reach the Outer Worlds first. With our technology and resources, they can yet re-create and redevelop-”

  The chairman’s voice rose above the intense near-whisper of Moreanu, “You are out of order. The Committee is quite prepared to hear any remarks you make in your own defense, but a sermon on the rights of Earthmen is outside the legitimate realm of the discussion.”

  The hearings were formally closed. It was a great political victory for the Independents; all would agree to that. Of the members of the Committee, only Franklin Maynard was not completely satisfied. A small, nagging doubt remained.

  He wondered-

  Should he try, one last time? Should he speak once more and then no more to that queer little monkey ambassador from Earth? He made his decision quickly and acted upon it instantly. Only a pause to arrange a witness, since even for himself an unwitnessed private communion with an Earthman might be dangerous.

  Luiz Moreno, Ambassador to Aurora from Earth, was, to put not too fine a point on it, a miserable figure of a man. And that wasn’t exactly an accident. On the whole, the foreign diplomats of Earth tended to be dark, short, wizen, or weakly-or all four.

  That was only self-protection, since the Outer Worlds exerted strong attraction for any Earthman. Diplomats exposed to the allure of Aurora, for instance, could not but be exceedingly reluctant to return to Earth. Worse, and more dangerous, exposure meant a growing sympathy with the demigods of the stars and a growing alienation from the slum-dwellers of Earth.

  Unless, of course, the ambassador found himself rejected. Unless he found himself somewhat despised. And then, no more faithful servant of Earth could be imagined, no man less subject to corruption.

  The Ambassador to Earth was only five foot two, with a bald head and receding forehead, a pinkish affectation of beard and red-rimmed eyes. He was suffering from a slight cold, the occasional results whereof he smothered in a handkerchief. And yet, withal, he was a man of intellect.

  To Franklin Maynard, the sight and sound of the Earthman was distressing. He grew queasy at each cough and shuddered when the ambassador wiped his nose.

  Maynard said: “Your excellency, we commune at my request because I wish to inform you that the Gathering has decided to ask your recall by your government.”

  “That is kind of you, councilor. I had an inkling of this. And for what reason?”

  “The reason is not within the bounds of discussion. I believe it is the prerogative of a sovereign state to decide for itself whether a foreign representative shall be persona grata or not. Nor do I think you really need enlightenment on this matter.”

  “Very well, then.” The ambassador paused to wield his handkerchief and murmur an apology.” Is that all?”

  Maynard said: “Not quite. There are matters I would like to mention. Remain!”

  The ambassador’s reddened nostrils flared a bit, but he smiled, and said: “An honor.”

  “Your world, excellency,” said Maynard, superciliously, “displays a certain belligerence of late that we on Aurora find most annoying and unnecessary. I trust that you will find your return to Earth at this point a convenient opportunity to use your influence against further displays such as recently occurred in New York, where two Aurorans were manhandled by a mob. The payment of an indemnity may not be enough the next time.”

  “But that is emotional overflow, Councilor Maynard. Surely, you cannot consider youngsters shouting in the streets to be adequate representations of belligerence.”

  “It is backed by your government’s actions in many ways. The recent arrest of Mr. Ernest Keilin, for instance.”

  “Which is a purely domestic affair,” said the ambassador, quietly.

  “But not one to demonstrate a reasonable spirit toward the Outer Worlds. Keilin was one of the few Earthmen who until recently could yet make their voices heard. He was intelligent enough to realize that no divine right protects the inferior man simply because he is inferior.”

  The ambassador arose: “I am not interested in Auroran theories on racial differences.”

  “A moment. Your government may realize that much of their plans have gone awry with the arrest of your agent, Moreanu. Stress the fact that we of Aurora are much wiser than we have been prior to this arrest. It may serve to give them pause.”

  “Is Moreanu my agent? Really, councilor, if I am disaccredited, I shall leave. But surely the loss of diplomatic immunity does not affect my personal immunity as an honest man from charges of espionage.”

  “Isn’t that your job?”

  “Do Aurorans take it for granted that espionage and diplomacy are identical? My government will be glad to hear it. We shall take appropriate precautions.”

  “Then, you defend Moreanu? You deny that he has been working for Earth?”

  “I defend only myself. As to Moreanu, I am not stupid enough to say anything.”

  “Why stupid?”

  “Wouldn’t a defense by myself be but another indictment against him? I neither accuse nor defend him. Your government’s quarrel with Moreanu, like my government’s with Keilin-whom you, by the way, are most suspiciously eager to defend-is an internal affair. I will leave now.”

  The communion broke, and almost instantly the wall faded again. Hijkman was looking thoughtfully at Maynard.

  “What do you think of him?” asked Maynard, grimly.

  “Disgraceful that such a travesty of humanity should walk Aurora, I think.”

  “I agree with you, and yet... and yet-”

  “Well?”

  “And yet I can almost find myself able to think that he is the master and that we dance to his piping. You know of Moreanu?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, he will be convicted, sent to an asteroid. His party will be broken. Offhand, anyone would say that such actions represent a horrible defeat for Earth.”

  “Is there doubt in your mind that such is the case?”

  “I’m not sure. Committee Chairman Bond insisted on airing his theory that Pacific Project was the name Earth gave to a device for using internal traitors on the Outer Worlds. But I don’t think so. I’m not sure the facts fit that. For instance, where did we get our evidence against Moreanu?”

  “I certainly can’t say.”

  “Our agents, in the first place. But how did they get it? The evidence was a little too convincing. Moreanu could have guarded himself better-”

  Maynard hesitated. He seemed to be attempting a blush, and failing. “Well, to put it quickly, I think it was the Terrestrian Ambassador who somehow presented us with the most evidence. I think that he played on Moreanu’s sympathy for Earth first to befriend him and then to betray him.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. To insure war, perhaps-with this Pacific Project waiting for us.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “I k
now. I have no proof. Nothing but suspicion. The Committee wouldn’t believe me either. It seemed to me, perhaps, that a last talk with the ambassador might reveal something, but his mere appearance antagonizes me, and I find I spend most of my time trying to remove him from my sight.”

  “Well, you are becoming emotional, my friend. It is a disgusting weakness. I hear that you have been appointed a delegate to the Interplanetary Gathering at Hesperus. I congratulate you.”

  “Thanks,” said Maynard, absently.

  Luiz Moreno, ex-Ambassador to Aurora, had been glad to return to Earth. He was away from the artificial landscapes that seemed to have no life of their own, but to exist only by virtue of the strong will of their possessors. Away from the too-beautiful men and women and from their ubiquitous, brooding robots.

  He was back to the hum of life and the shuffle of feet; the brushing of shoulders and the feeling of breath in the face.

  Not that he was able to enjoy these sensations entirely. The first days had been spent in lively conferences with the heads of Earth’s government.

  In fact, it was not till nearly a week had passed, that an hour came in which he could consider himself truly relaxed.

  He was in the rarest of all appurtenances of Terrestrial Luxury-a roof garden. With him was Gustav Stein, the quite obscure physiologist, who was, nevertheless, one of the prime movers of the Plan, known to rumor as the Pacific Project.

  “The confirmatory tests,” said Moreno, with an almost dreadful satisfaction, “all check so far, do they not?”

  “So far. Only so far. We have miles to go.”

  “Yet they will continue to go well. To one who has lived on Aurora for nearly a year, as I have, there can be no doubt but that we’re on the right track.”

  “Um-m-m. Nevertheless, I will go only by the laboratory reports.”

  “And quite rightly.” His little body was almost stiff with gloating. “Some day, it will be different. Stein, you have not met these men, these Outer Worlders. You may have come across the tourists, perhaps, in their special hotels, or riding through the streets in inclosed cars, equipped with the purest of private, air-conditioned atmospheres for their well-bred nostrils; observing the sights through a movable periscope and shuddering away from the touch of an Earthman.

  “But you have not met them on their own world, secure in their own sickly, rotting greatness. Go, Stein, and be despised a while. Go, and find how well you can compete with their own trained lawns as something to be gently trod upon.

  “And yet, when I pulled the proper cords, Ion Moreanu fell-Ion Moreanu, the only man among them with the capacity to understand the workings of another’s mind. It is the crisis that we have passed now. We front a smooth path now.”

  Satisfaction! Satisfaction!

  “As for Keilin,” he said suddenly, more to himself than to Stein, “he can be turned loose now. There’s little he can say, hereafter, that can endanger anything. In fact, I have an idea. The Interplanetary Conference opens on Hesperus within the month. He can be sent to report the meeting. It will be an earnest of our friendliness-and keep him away for the summer. I think it can be arranged.”

  It was.

  Of all the Outer Worlds, Hesperus was the smallest, the latest settled, the furthest from Earth. Hence the name. In a physical sense, it was not best suited to a great diplomatic gathering, since its facilities were small. For instance, the available community-wave network could not possibly be stretched to cover all the delegates, secretarial staff, and administrators necessary in a convocation of fifty planets. So meetings in person were arranged in buildings impressed for the purpose.

  Yet there was a symbolism in the choice of meeting place that escaped practically nobody. Hesperus, of all the Worlds, was furthest removed from Earth. But the spatial distance-one hundred parsecs or more-was the least of it. The important point was that Hesperus had been colonized not by Earthmen, but by men from the Outer World of Faunus.

  It was therefore of the second generation, and so it had no “Mother Earth.” Earth to it was but a vague grandmother, lost in the stars.

  As is usual in all such gatherings, little work is actually done on the session floors. That space is reserved for the official soundings of whatever is primarily intended for home ears. The actual swapping and horse-trading takes place in the lobbies and at the lunch-tables and many an irresolvable conflict has softened over the soup and vanished over the nuts.

  And yet particular difficulties were present in this particular case. Not in all worlds was the community-wave as paramount and all-pervading as it was on Aurora, but it was prominent in all. It was, therefore, with a certain sense of outrage and loss that the tall, dignified men found it necessary to approach one another in the flesh, without the comforting privacy of the invisible wall between, without the warm knowledge of the breakswitch at their fingertips.

  They faced one another in uneasy semi-embarrassment and tried not to watch one another eat; tried not to shrink at the unmeant touch. Even robot service was rationed.

  Ernest Keilin, the only accredited video-representative from Earth, was aware of some of these matters only in the vague way they are described here. A more precise insight he could not have. Nor could anyone brought up in a society where human beings exist only in the plural, and where a house need only be deserted to be feared.

  So it was that certain of the most subtle tensions escaped him at the formal dinner party given by the Hesperian government during the third week of the conference. Other tensions, however, did not pass him by.

  The gathering after the dinner naturally fell apart into little groups. Keilin joined the one that contained Franklin Maynard of Aurora. As the delegate of the largest of the Worlds, he was naturally the most newsworthy.

  Maynard was speaking casually between sips at the tawny Hesperian cocktail in his hand. If his flesh crawled slightly at the closeness of the others, he masked the feeling masterfully.

  “Earth,” he said, “is, in essence, helpless against us if we avoid unpredictable military adventures. Economic unity is actually a necessity, if we intend to avoid such adventures. Let Earth realize to how great an extent her economy depends upon us, on the things that we alone can supply her, and there will be no more talk of living space. And if we are united, Earth would never dare attack. She will exchange her barren longings for atomic motors-or not, as she pleases.”

  And he turned to regard Keilin with a certain hauteur as the other found himself stung to comment:

  “But your manufactured goods, councilor-I mean those you ship to Earth-they are not given us. They are exchanged for agricultural products.”

  Maynard smiled silkily. “Yes, I believe the delegate from Tethys has mentioned that fact at length. There is a delusion prevalent among some of us that only Terrestrial seeds grow properly-”

  He was interrupted calmly by another, who said: “Now, I am not from Tethys, but what you mention is not a delusion. I grow rye on Rhea, and I have never yet been able to duplicate Terrestrial bread. It just hasn’t got the same taste.” He addressed the audience in general, “In fact, I imported half a dozen Terrestrians five years back on agricultural laborer visas so they could oversee the robots. Now, they can do wonders with the land, you know. Where they spit, corn grows fifteen feet high. Well, that helped a little. And using Terrestrian seed helped. But even if you grow Terrestrian grain, its seed won’t hold the next year.”

  “Has your soil been tested by your government’s agricultural department?” asked Maynard.

  The Rhean grew haughty in his turn: “No better soil in the sector. And the rye is top-grade. I even sent a hundredweight down to Earth for nutritional clearance, and it came back with full marks.” He rubbed one side of his chin, thoughtfully: “It’s flavor I’m talking about. Doesn’t seem to have the right-”

  Maynard made an effort to dismiss him: “Flavor is dispensable temporarily. They’ll be coming to us on our terms, these little-men-hordes of Earth, when they feel the pin
ch. We give up only this mysterious flavor, but they will have to give up atom-powered engines, farm machinery, and ground cars. It wouldn’t be a bad idea, in fact, to attempt to get along without the Terrestrian flavors you are so concerned about. Let us appreciate the flavor of our home-grown products instead-which could stand comparison if we gave it a chance.”

  “That so?” the Rhean smiled. “I notice you’re smoking Earthgrown tobacco.”

  “A habit I can break if I have to.”

  “Probably by giving up smoking. I wouldn’t use Outer World tobacco for anything but killing mosquitoes.”

  He laughed a trifle too boisterously, and left the group. Maynard stared after him, a little pinch-nosed.

  To Keilin, the little byplay over rye and tobacco brought a certain satisfaction. He regarded such personalities as the tiny reflection of certain Galactopolitical realities. Tethys and Rhea were the largest planets in the Galactic south, as Aurora was the largest in the Galactic north. All three planets were identically racist, identically exclusivist. Their views on Earth were similar and completely compatible. Ordinarily, one would think that there was no room to quarrel.

  But Aurora was the oldest of the Outer Worlds, the most advanced, the strongest militarily-and, therefore, aspired to a sort of moral leadership of all the Worlds. That was sufficient in itself to arouse opposition, and Rhea and Tethys served as focal points for those who did not recognize Auroran leadership.

  Keilin was somberly grateful for that situation. If Earth could but lean her weight properly, first in one direction, then in the other, an ultimate split, or even fragmentation

  He eyed Maynard cautiously, almost furtively, and wondered what effect this would have on the next day’s debate. Already, the Auroran was more silent than was quite polite.

  And then some under-secretary or sub-official threaded his way through the clusters of guests in finicking fashion, and beckoned to Maynard.