Short Stories Vol.1

by Isaac Asimov

  snapped back in sudden anxious realization that he was losing the thread of what was going on.

  The Novian was saying, "-doesn't hold water. Novia has a civilization as complicated and advanced as Earth's. We're not Zeston, after all. It's ridiculous that we have to come here for individual technicians."

  Ingenescu said soothingly, "Only for new models. There is never any certainty that new models will be needed. To buy the Educational tapes would cost you the same price as a thousand technicians and how do you know you would need that many?"

  The Novian tossed off what remained of his drink and laughed. (It displeased George, somehow, that a Novian should be this frivolous. He wondered uneasily if perhaps the Novian ought not to have skipped that drink and even the one or two before that.)

  The Novian said, "That's typical pious fraud, Ladislas. You know we can make use of all the late models we can get. I collected five Metallurgists this afternoon-"

  "I know," said Ingenescu. "I was there."

  "Watching me! Spying!" cried the Novian. "I'll tell you what it is. The new-model Metallurgists I got differed from the previous model only in knowing the use of Beeman Spectrographs. The tapes couldn't be modified that much, not that much" (he held up two fingers close together) "from last year's model. You introduce the new models only to make us buy and spend and come here hat in hand."

  "We don't make you buy."

  "No, but you sell late-model technicians to Landonum and so we have to keep pace. It's a merry-go-round you have us on, you pious Earthmen, but watch out, there may be an exit somewhere." There was a sharp edge to his laugh, and it ended sooner than it should have.

  Ingenescu said, "In all honesty, I hope there is. Meanwhile, as to the purpose of my call-"

  "That's right, you called. Oh, well, I've said my say and 1 suppose next year there'll be a new model of Metallurgist anyway for us to spend goods on, probably with a new gimmick for niobium assays and nothing else altered and the next year- But go on, what is it you want?"

  "I have a young man here to whom I wish you to speak."

  "Oh?" The Novian looked not completely pleased with that. "Concerning what?"

  "I can't say. He hasn't told me. For that matter he hasn't even told me his name and profession."

  The Novian frowned. "Then why take up my time?"

  "He seems quite confident that you will be interested in what he has to say."

  "I dare say."

  "And," said Ingenescu, "as a favor to me."

  The Novian shrugged. "Put him on and tell him to make it short."

  Ingenescu stepped aside and whispered to George, "Address him as 'Honorable.'

  George swallowed with difficulty. This was it.

  George felt himself going moist with perspiration. The thought had come so recently, yet it was in him now so certainly. The beginnings of it had come when he had spoken to Trevelyan, then everything had fermented and billowed into shape while Ingenescu had prattled, and then the Novian's own remarks had seemed to nail it all into place.

  George said, "Honorable, I've come to show you the exit from the meny-go-round." Deliberately, he adopted the Novian's own metaphor.

  The Novian stared at him gravely. "What merry-go-round?"

  "You yourself mentioned it, Honorable. The merry-go-round that Novia is on when you come to Earth to-to get technicians." (He couldn't keep his teeth from chattering; from excitement, not fear.)

  The Novian said, "You're trying to say that you know a way by which we can avoid patronizing Earth's mental supermarket. Is that it?"

  "Yes, sir. You can control your own Educational system."

  "Umm. Without tapes?"

  "Y-yes, Honorable."

  The Novian, without taking his eyes from George, called out, "Ingenescu, get into view."

  The Historian moved to where he could be seen over George's shoulder.

  The Novian said, "What is this? I don't seem to penetrate."

  "I assure you solenmly," said Ingenescu, "that whatever this is it is being done on the young man's own initiative, Honorable. I have not inspired this. I have nothing to do with it."

  "Well, then, what is the young man to you? Why do you call me on his behalf?"

  Ingenescu said, "He is an object of study, Honorable. He has value to me and I humor him."

  "What kind of value?"

  "It's difficult to explain; a matter of my profession."

  The Novian laughed shortly. "Well, to each his profession." He nodded to an invisible person or persons outside plate range. "There's a young man here, a protйgй of Ingenescu or some such thing, who will explain to us how to Educate without tapes." He snapped his fingers, and another glass of pale liqueur appeared in his hand. "Well, young man?"

  The faces on the plate were multiple now. Men and women, both, crammed in for a view of George, their faces molded into various shades of amusement and curiosity.

  George tried to look disdainful. They were all, in their own ways, Novians as well as the Earthman, "studying" him as though he were a bug on a pin. Ingenescu was sitting in a corner, now, watching him owl-eyed.

  Fools, he thought tensely, one and all. But they would have to understand. He would make them understand.

  He said, "I was at the Metallurgist Olympics this afternoon."

  "You, too?" said the Novian blandly. "It seems all Earth was there."

  "No, Honorable, but I was. I had a friend who competed and who made out very badly because you were using the Beeman machines. His education had included only the Henslers, apparently an older model. You said the modification involved was slight." George held up two fingers close together in conscious mimicry of the other's previous gesture. "And my friend had known some time in advance that knowledge of the Beeman machines would be required."

  "And what does that signify?"

  "It was my friend's lifelong ambition to qualify for Novia. He already knew the Henslers. He had to know the Beemans to qualify and he knew that. To learn about the Beemans would have taken just a few more facts, a bit ~more data, a small amount of practice perhaps. With a life's ambition nding the scale, he might have managed this-"

  "And where would he have obtained a tape for the additional facts and

  data? Or has Education become a private matter for home study here on Earth?"

  There was dutiful laughter from the faces in the background.

  George said, "That's why he didn't learn, Honorable. He thought he needed a tape. He wouldn't even try without one, no matter what the prize. He refused to try without a tape."

  "Refused, eh? Probably the type of fellow who would refuse to fly without a skimmer." More laughter and the Novian thawed into a smile and said, "The fellow is amusing. Go on. I'll give you another few moments."

  George said tensely, "Don't think this is a joke. Tapes are actually bad. They teach too much; they're too painless. A man who learns that way doesn't know how to learn any other way. He's frozen into whatever position he's been taped. Now if a person weren't given tapes but were forced to learn by hand, so to speak, from the start; why, then he'd get the habit of learning, and continue to learn. Isn't that reasonable? Once he has the habit well developed he can be given just a small amount of tape-knowledge, perhaps, to fill in gaps or fix details. Then he can make further progress on his own. You can make Beeman Metallurgists out of your own Hensler Metallurgists in that way and not have to come to Earth for new models."

  The Novian nodded and sipped at his drink. "And where does everyone get knowledge without tapes? From interstellar vacuum?"

  "From books. By studying the instruments themselves. By thinking."

  "Books? How does one understand books without Education?"

  Books are in words. Words can be understood for the most part. Specialized words can be explained by the technicians you already have."

  "What about reading? Will you allow reading tapes?"

  "Reading tapes are all right, I suppose, but there's no reason you can't learn to read
the old way, too. At least in part."

  The Novian said, "So that you can develop good habits from the start?"

  "Yes, yes," George said gleefully. The man was beginning to understand.

  "And what about mathematics?"

  "That's the easiest of all, sir-Honorable. Mathematics is different from other technical subjects. It starts with certain simple principles and proceeds by steps. You can start with nothing and leam. It's practically designed for that. Then, once you know the proper types of mathematics, other technical books become quite understandable. Especially if you start with easy ones."

  "Are there easy books?"

  "Definitely. Even if there weren't, the technicians you now have can try to write easy books. Some of them might be able to put some of their knowledge into words and symbols."

  "Good Lord," said the Novian to the men clustered about him. "The young devil has an answer for everything."

  "I have. I have," shouted George. "Ask me."

  "Have you tried learning from books yourself? Or is this just theory with you?"

  George turned to look quickly at Ingenescu, but the Historian was passive. There was no sign of anything but gentle interest in his face.

  George said, "I have."

  "And do you find it works?"

  "Yes, Honorable," said George eagerly. "Take me with you to Novia. I can set up a program and direct-"

  "Wait, I have a few more questions. How long would it take, do you suppose, for you to become a Metallurgist capable of handling a Beeman machine, supposing you started from nothing and did not use Educational tapes?"

  George hesitated. "Well-years, perhaps."

  "Two years? Five? Ten?"

  "I can't say, Honorable."

  "Well, there's a vital question to which you have no answer, have you? Shall we say five years? Does that sound reasonable to you?"

  "I suppose so.''

  "All right. We have a technician studying metallurgy according to this method of yours for five years. He's no good to us during that time, you'll admit, but he must be fed and housed and paid for all that time."

  "But-"

  "Let me finish. Then when he's done and can use the Beeman, five years have passed. Don't you suppose we'll have modified Beemans then which he won't be able to use?"

  "But by then he'll be expert on learning. He could learn the new details necessary in a matter of days."

  "So you say. And suppose this friend of yours, for instance, had studied up on Beemans on his own and managed to learn it; would he be as expert in its use as a competitor who had learned it off the tapes?"

  "Maybe not-" began George.

  "Ah," said the Novian.

  "Wait, let me finish. Even if he doesn't know something as well, it's the ability to learn further that's important. He may be able to think up things, new things that no tape-Educated man would. You'll have a reservoir of onginal thinkers-"

  "In your studying," said the Novian, "have you thought up any new things?"

  "No, but I'm just one man and I haven't studied long-"

  "Yes. -Well, ladies, gentlemen, have we been sufficiently amused?"

  "Wait," cried George, in sudden panic. "I want to arrange a personal interview. There are things I can't explain over the visiphone. There are details-"

  The Novian looked past George. "Ingenescu! I think I have done you your favor. Now, really, I have a heavy schedule tomorrow. Be well."

  The screen went blank.

  George's hands shot out toward the screen, as though in a wild impulse to shake life back into it. He cried out, "He didn't believe me. He didn't believe me."

  Ingenescu said, "No, George. Did you really think he would?"

  George scarcely heard him. "But why not? It's all true. It's all so much to his advantage. No risk. I and a few men to work with- A dozen men training for years would cost less than one technician. -He was drunk. Drunk! He didn't understand."

  George looked about breathlessly. "How do I get to him? I've got to. This was wrong. Shouldn't have used the visiphone. I need time. Face to face. How do I-"

  Ingenescu said, "He won't see you, George. And if he did, he wouldn't believe you."

  "He will, I tell you. When he isn't drinking. He-" George turned squarely toward the Historian and his eyes widened. "Why do you call me George?"

  "Isn't that your name? George Platen?"

  "You know me?"

  "All about you."

  George was motionless except for the breath pumping his chest wall up and down.

  Ingenescu said, "I want to help you, George. I told you that. I've been studying you and I want to help you."

  George screamed, "I don't need help. I'm not feeble-minded. The whole world is, but I'm not." He whirled and dashed madly for the door.

  He flung it open and two policemen roused themselves suddenly from their guard duty and seized him.

  For all George's straining, he could feel the hypo-spray at the fleshy point just under the corner of his jaw, and that was it. The last thing he remembered was the face of Ingenescu, watching with gentle concern.

  George opened his eyes to the whiteness of a ceiling. He remembered what had happened. He remembered it distantly as though it had happened to somebody else. He stared at the ceiling till the whiteness filled his eyes and washed his brain clean, leaving room, it seemed, for new thought and new ways of thinking.

  He didn't know how long he lay there so, listening to the drift of his own thinking.

  There was a voice in his ear. "Are you awake?"

  And George heard his own moaning for the first time. Had he been moaning? He tried to turn his head.

  The voice said, "Are you in pain, George?"

  George whispered, "Funny. I was so anxious to leave Earth. I didn't understand."

  "Do you know where you are?"

  "Back in the-the House." George managed to turn. The voice be-longed to Omani.

  George said, "It's funny Ididn't understand."

  Omani smiled gently, "Sleep again-"

  George slept.

  And woke again. His mind was clear.

  Omani sat at the bedside reading, but he put down the book as George's eyes opened.

  George struggled to a sitting position. He said, "Hello."

  "Are you hungry?"

  "You bet." He stared at Omani curiously. "I was followed when I left, wasn't I?"

  Omani nodded. "You were under observation at all times. We were going to maneuver you to Antonelli and let you discharge your aggressions. We felt that to be the only way you could make progress. Your emotions were clogging your advance."

  George said, with a trace of embarrassment, "I was all wrong about him."

  "It doesn't matter now. When you stopped to stare at the Metallurgy notice board at the airport, one of our agents reported back the list of names. You and I had talked about your past sufficiently so that I caught the significance of Trevelyan's name there. You asked for directions to the Olympics; there was the possibility that this might result in the kind of crisis we were hoping for; we sent Ladislas Ingenescu to the hall to meet you and take over."

  "He's an important man in the government, isn't he?"

  ''Yes, he is.''

  "And you had him take over. It makes me sound important."

  "You are important, George."

  A thick stew had arrived, steaming, fragrant. George grinned wolfishly and pushed his sheets back to free his arms. Omani helped arrange the bed-table. For a while, George ate silently.

  Then George said, "I woke up here once before just for a short time."

  Omani said, "I know. I was here."

  "Yes, I remember. You know, everything was changed. It was as though I was too tired to feel emotion. I wasn't angry any more. I could just think. It was as though I had been drugged to wipe out emotion."

  "You weren't," said Omani. "Just sedation. You had rested."

  "Well, anyway, it was all clear to me, as though I had known it all the time but would
n't listen to myself. I thought: What was it I had wanted

  Novia to let me do? I had wanted to go to Novia and take a batch of un-Educated youngsters and teach them out of books. I had wanted to establish a House for the Feeble-minded-like here-and Earth already has them-many of them."

  Omani's white teeth gleamed as he smiled. "The Institute of Higher Studies is the correct name for places like this."

  "Now I see it," said George, "so easily I am amazed at my blindness before. After all, who invents the new instrument models that require new-model technicians? Who invented the Beeman spectrographs, for instance? A man called Beeman, I suppose, but he couldn't have been tape-Educated or how could he have made the advance?"

  "Exactly."

  "Or who makes Educational tapes? Special tape-making technicians? Then who makes the tapes to train them? More advanced technicians? Then who makes the tapes- You see what I mean. Somewhere there has to be an end. Somewhere there must be men and women with capacity for original thought."

  "Yes, George."

  George leaned back, stared over Omani's head, and for a moment there was the return of something like restlessness to his eyes.

  "Why wasn't I told all this at the beginning?"

  "Oh, if we could," said Omani, "the trouble it would save us. We can analyze a mind, George, and say this one will make an adequate architect and that one a good woodworker. We know of no way of detecting the capacity for original, creative thought. It is too subtle a thing. We have some rule-of-thumb methods that mark out individuals who may possibly or potentially have such a talent.

  "On Reading Day, such individuals are reported. You were, for instance. Roughly speaking, the number so reported comes to one in ten thousand. By the time Education Day arrives, these individuals are checked again, and nine out of ten of them turn out to have been false alarms. Those who remain are sent to places like this."