by David Karp
ii
Lark was not a man and not a boy. He was not a scientist nor was he a mystic. Lark was something infinitely subtler, enormously wiser—part woman, part serpent, part magician, part seer, part lunatic. The Department had its specialists, its investigators, its clinical technicians, its psychologists, its policy makers, its administrators, and had them all by the scores. But it had just one true inquisitor. Lark was its inquisitor. Lark was the core of the Department—a fact that virtually no one understood. He certainly did not have the title, or the salary, or the prestige. He had only the soul, the brain, and the intuitive grasp of the real inquisitor. In Burden he saw the worst, the very worst of all heresy. In Burden, Lark saw the destruction of an empire, the dissolution of a way of life, the lever by which a world could be torn loose from its moorings. In Burden Lark saw the gleaming, terrible essence that wakes the true inquisitor as a lion might be roused from sleep by the tantalizing scent of warm, living flesh. As he watched Burden and listened to him, Lark felt his skin crawl, the roots of his long, silky hair stiffen. There was within him the sudden frantic scramble of his heart, the sense of blood thinning and rushing with enormous speed through his body. Burden was the ultimate heretic. Burden was the pure and living embodiment of all that an inquisitor hates and fears and desires. No one understood it as well as Lark. Conger did not smell anything but difficulty. Lark’s assistants sensed nothing but complexity and the chance of eventual failure. The examiners in the hearing room were amiable props who understood nothing. Only Lark knew the danger, the hideously exciting peril that Burden represented. He had to have Burden. Lark had sworn to himself that Burden must be given to him. But he would have to act slowly, cautiously, feeding his superiors a bit at a time. To gobble down at one swallow all that Lark knew of Burden would be too much for his superiors. They would gag, rebel, spit the professor out. They would miss the perfection of the heretic.
“Will you please tell me why you don’t want Burden destroyed?” the Commissioner asked Lark finally.
“For one thing, it would put us over last year’s figure,” Lark said calmly. Slowly, slowly, he told himself.
“Oh, I don’t think so. We’ve got at least six cases to play with until the end of the year.”
“Six aren’t many, sir. That’s why I feel we ought to work with Burden as much as we can.”
“But a totally integrated heretic has always been automatically marked for destruction. That is our policy, Lark. You’ll correct me if I’m wrong?” The Commissioner’s eyes remained calm.
“But by doing that we’ll never be able to find out whether or not we can do anything with those people.”
“It seems to me that we have tried in the past.”
“Our techniques keep getting better, sir. There’s been a great deal of work done since the last time we tried. It seems to me that there’s been a tendency to skirt the difficult cases by at once declaring them totally integrated when, quite possibly, that may not be true at all.”
“Well, does it matter very much, Lark? After all, how many cases warrant execution?”
“I know there aren’t many, sir. But we have reason to believe that heretics are increasing in number.”
“Oh, the mild, delusory cases,” the Commissioner said, looking at his nails, trying to hide the interest he always felt when he watched Lark maneuver.
“Yes, sir. And we’ve been successful with them. It’s no trick to do the easy cases. Our problem has been to increase the scope of our abilities to salvage heretics. If we keep our standards at their present levels there will always be twelve to fifteen heretics a year who must be destroyed. It’s my feeling that the number should be brought down.”
“Do you propose that we waste time and effort on those twelve or fifteen integrated heretics?” the Commissioner asked blandly.
“I’d hardly call time and effort wasted in bringing our results up to the highest standards,” Lark said innocently.
The Commissioner laughed. “Right from the book. What’s that ancient fencing term for a good stroke?”
“Touché?”
“Yes, that’s what I’d call a touché. Well,” the Commissioner leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his stomach, “you’ve got me on the defensive. Continue with your attack.”
“I wouldn’t dream of suggesting that what I’m saying constitutes an attack, sir,” Lark said evenly, soberly.
“No, you wouldn’t. But continue.”
“I think I understand what you mean when you say it might be a waste of time. But something may be efficient but not sufficient, if you will excuse the play on words. I don’t say that we haven’t worked the greatest good for the greatest number. But when a society can comfortably provide for the bulk of its members, it turns its attention to the small groups which have been neglected for the sake of the majority. My feeling is that now is the time we started to work with the cases we have always had to dismiss.”
“You’re right,” the Commissioner said, smiling, “and I only interrupt at this point to remind you that there is such a concept in human endeavor known as the submarginal return.”
Lark paused. The Commissioner was a difficult man to understand. Sometimes he played with a subject as an idle man toys with a bit of thread and then, with a startling speed that suggested he gave the matter no thought, made up his mind one way or the other. Lark didn’t believe that the Commissioner was a capricious person, but he didn’t want to run the risk of losing the professor. Lark wanted Burden because he was a rarity. Another such heretic might not come along in Lark’s lifetime. Lark decided to try boldness.
“It is my understanding that our branch of the Department is devoted to the resolution of heresies and the purging of heretics. It is also my understanding that if the resolution of heresy and the reclamation of the heretic cannot be successfully accomplished, our society is doomed.”
“I didn’t realize the situation was quite so dramatic,” the Commissioner said softly, smiling.
Lark pressed on, ignoring the smile. “I would put it even more dramatically, sir. Heresy breeds rebellion in the presence of suppression. Heresy, in a free society, is meaningless and feeble. But in a society that is rigidly joined, heresy is an explosive force. The benevolent state has a long way to go, whole areas of supervision ahead of it. Our society is slowly being poured into the mold. If we cannot successfully remove heresy at this stage of the game, then we may as well give up any idea of continuing the creation of a new society.”
“You think heretics are as important as all that?”
Lark could not decide just what lay behind the Commissioner’s eyes, the tone of his voice. It might be amusement, or mockery, or thoughtfulness. “I know they are,” Lark said flatly. “The history of earth is filled with examples. The Judean heresy of one God put the first crack in the pagan world. From the Judean heresy arose the Christian heresy that split the Roman world. The Protestant heresy split the world that was Catholic. Heresies have shattered empires—the Russian, the English, the Dutch. The heresy of self-determination broke the empire concept. And the heresy of democratic representation in the affairs of government sent royalty out of power forever. It always begins in the mind, sir. There the seed of heresy flourishes. From thought to attitude, from attitude to action.
“This state of ours is going to extend its powers upon the behalf of the people. It’s going to insist that the individual good is completely and utterly identified with the national good. Eventually we must erase the concept of individuality. Ultimately we must come to the stage where no man bears a separate, private identity. The final stage of our society calls for conformity both from within and from without by each of its members. You may breed them eugenically to be equals, and school them to feel equal, but the closer you come to the last stage the tighter the vise is going to close. And when that happens, the heretics will come springing out of the ground like mushrooms after a heavy rain. You will be forcing up into the light all the buried ego
s, all the hidden heresies. And then you will have to deal with thousands of heretics. Are you going to kill them all? Violence breeds violence, and with each heretic you kill you create two others. It gets completely out of hand. If we cannot now reclaim Burden, then we’ll fail seventy-five years from now—and our society will crack down the middle because of the intolerable task of ridding ourselves of the last, desperate heresies of the individual.”
Lark’s eyes were large and intense, and his face so pale that it seemed almost translucent, betraying the delicate blue tracery of veins in his throat. There was about him the air of a man possessed. He had said a dozen dangerous things, predicted several doubtful conclusions, and made at least three serious charges against the State. It had been a desperate and dangerous thrust. In the past the Commissioner had encouraged him to speak freely but Lark had always moved carefully, cautiously, tentatively, testing his way for firmness. This time he had been rash, and now had exposed himself to the Commissioner’s considerable power and intellect.
“You make out a strong case, Lark,” the Commissioner said. “Not a valid case on all its points, but a strong one.” The Commissioner looked at Lark with eyes that appeared to twinkle with caprice. “You have a gift for rhetoric, Lark. That’s something I’ve noted before.”
“Thank you, sir. But I hope I’ve done more than exercise my talent.”
“You’ve also a gift for sharpness,” the Commissioner said dryly. Lark flushed, accepting the rebuke and reminding himself to curb his impatience the next time. “Well,” the Commissioner said, leaning forward, putting his elbows on his desk, “you’ve touched on so many points that I hardly know where to begin.”
“Yes, sir,” Lark said politely, knowing that it was a lie.
“As you say, heretics are our primary concern—wherever they are, of whatever degree of heresy they possess. They are sick people, Lark—desperately sick people. For their own good, for the good of the State, they must be healed, they must be reclaimed. My orders now, as they always have been in the past, are these: Go as deep as necessary—root out heresies, cleanse the heretics, make them useful citizens of the State.”
“I would like to start with Professor Burden, sir,” Lark said, an incipient sense of triumph making him feel light and alive, as he hadn’t in years of dully tracking the puny, defenseless, and stupid delusory heretics.
“Professor Burden.” The Commissioner mused for a moment. “He hardly seems to be a very difficult case, Lark.”
“With your indulgence, sir, I think he is.”
“My dear Lark, I may be as indulgent as your own father, but that still does not convince me that he would be worth expending a great deal of effort upon.” The Commissioner paused, watching Lark carefully.
“May I suggest, sir, that there are a number of reasons why Burden should be a logical first choice?”
“Suggest as much as you please, Lark,” the older man said, “but that still tells me nothing.”
“Very well, then.” Lark steeled himself not to flush or reply sharply. Evidently the Commissioner was in a mood to be difficult. He would have to be handled carefully. “Very briefly, sir, here are the reasons I feel Burden is unique.” Lark detailed them carefully and at length, but as he spoke he knew that none of the reasons proved Burden to be a unique or even an exceptional heretic. And Lark could not advance as a sane consideration that Burden raised wild, shrilling, psychic alarms within him. It was not a reason Lark could put into words. He had already exposed himself to the Commissioner, but he did not intend to make the exposure complete.
The Commissioner listened and nodded occasionally, watching Lark closely, admiring the young man’s drive, and his ability to quarter and tack intellectually with a finesse that would have done tribute to a mind of twice the age, cultivation, and experience. “And that’s the basis on which you think we should work on Burden?”
“Yes, sir,” Lark said, his throat dry, a sense of failure already chilling the triumph he had known a short time ago.
The Commissioner turned a hand in an oddly helpless gesture. “I’m baffled, Lark. I’m truly baffled. I’ve always thought you a genuinely perceptive and acute investigator. I’ve thought highly of you and spoken highly of you. In fact, I’ve bragged about you in official circles. But this demonstration—” the Commissioner shrugged his shoulders. “It’s most disappointing. You’ve gathered together a seedy grab bag of phrases and words that mean nothing. You’ve told me nothing I could not read in the summary of the report—a summary that makes Burden look like every integrated heretic who has gone before him. Frankly, I’m at a loss to understand this fixation of yours.”
Lark’s face rose in color as he listened to the Commissioner. He knew he had failed, but he did not expect the Commissioner to point it up so cruelly. It was another facet of his superior that he must file away for future reference.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Lark said. “Those were my thoughts.”
“Perhaps,” the Commissioner said, deciding now he would ease Lark out of the situation gracefully, “but I have the feeling that the most important thought you’ve had on the subject you’ve somewhat selfishly refused to share with me.”
“Sir?”
“Or perhaps you think I don’t appreciate intuition?”
Lark regarded the older man carefully. He had never thought the Commissioner a fool, but he was unprepared for this brilliant divination. “I wasn’t sure, sir,” Lark admitted.
“Raises the hair on your scalp, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, sir,” Lark said, his eyes fixed on his superior.
“It isn’t something you can put into a report. But that’s no reason to ignore it, Lark,” the Commissioner smiled. “You know, we were animals long before we were rational human beings, and there are some who think that we’re more animalistic than rationalistic. I appreciate the instincts that make a man’s scalp crawl. I appreciate them—and I trust them just as you do.”
“Then Burden will be acceptable?”
“You’re the one who will have to work on him, Lark. Will he be acceptable to you?”
“Yes, sir, eminently so.”
“Well, then, we’ll have to let you have your heart’s desire, Lark.” The Commissioner smiled.
Lark felt his blood leap in his body.
“However,” the Commissioner held up a warning forefinger, “I still hold to the belief that there is such a thing as sub-marginal return. And I am inclined to think that we will get less back from Burden than we are entitled to by way of balancing work done against results achieved. More than anyone else in this Department, you know the enormous amount of work we must do day in and day out. You also know that we can’t indefinitely tie up the resources, the personnel, and the equipment of this Department for the sake of one heretic.”
“But it isn’t just one heretic, sir. It’s the pattern of the future we’ll be developing.”
“Possibly,” the Commissioner went on, still cautioning with his finger. “But after all, this is something that proceeds from your somewhat dubious evaluations on the growth of heresy and your sheer instinct with regard to this one man.” Lark’s lips tightened impatiently, a movement that did not escape the Commissioner. “I know, we old men move damnably slow. But someday you’ll be sitting here and you’ll have a deputy breathing fire into your face, and you’ll tell him to calm down, to reconsider, to wait. Then you’ll be the damned old man, and when you are remember that compromise is the heart of government, and if you keep dividing your money before you bet it you’ll never be completely out of the game.” The Commissioner smiled warmly. “I’m sure you’ll forgive my tendency to homily. It’s a prerogative that comes with the office.”
Lark wanted to ease himself enough to smile, but he was too keyed, too intent on what conditions the Commissioner would place upon the project.
“Very well,” the Commissioner said, realizing that he could not hope to cool Lark down at this point. “Let’s do this. Take Burden. Take him
for, let’s say, two weeks. Do as much as you can during that time, and at the end of the two weeks—whether you fail or succeed in reclaiming him—the project is ended. What we’ll do with him then depends upon what success you’ve had with him. If you fail, he goes through as an integrated heretic to execution. If you succeed—well, we’ll see. Now, is that fair enough?”
“Yes, sir,” Lark said, without pausing to evaluate the limitation, “that will be enough time.”
“All right. Today’s the 16th of October,” the Commissioner said, consulting his calendar. “I’ll set the target date for Saturday, October 31st. That gives you a little over two weeks in which to do what you can with Burden. Fourteen days and twelve hours to be exact.”
Lark nodded his head. They would have to be enough. He would see to it that they would be.
“I hate to place the element of a race into this, Lark,” the Commissioner said, “but you know I do have the rest of the Department’s work to consider.” The Commissioner began to wonder if he had set the time limit too arbitrarily. After all, Lark was attempting an enormous job. The Commissioner knew its possible importance, but he also knew that Lark worked best under pressure. There were men who might take years to refine a job, but who would do the same job in a week if forced to that limit.
“Don’t worry, sir,” Lark said beginning to feel his body throb, “I’ll reclaim him. I’ll break his heresies one by one, I’ll dig out his soul and squeeze it between my fingers. Give me the fourteen days and twelve hours and all the resources of the Department and I won’t fail with Burden.” His voice rose with excitement and anticipation. “I’ll reclaim him, I’ll heal him, I’ll cleanse him. I’ll make him fit for a Paradise.”
“Yes, I think you will, Lark.” The Commissioner, caught up with Lark’s fervor, watched his deputy with frankly admiring eyes, certain now that one day he would recommend Lark for his own position.
Lark, beyond caring or hearing what the Commissioner said, knew that something crucial in his own being clung to his success with Burden. He had Burden—for fourteen days and twelve hours—only until the 31st of October. But he had Burden.