cruelty to the children. What wasit the Vininese had said? "The adjustment is sometimes very severe buton the whole the casualties are light." And the very young, beforethey were taken from their parents, didn't need disks because theywere in what the Vininese had called "the instinct period."
Dirrul knew what Hurd's drawing meant. Somehow Hurd had lost hishearing, perhaps as a result of the beating the police had given himon Agron. In any case only the deaf could think rationally on Vinin.Hurd was telling Dirrul to shatter his own sense of hearing if hestill had the will to think and act for himself. The nightmare Dirrulhad witnessed in the ravine was not torture but the bravery ofdesperate men attempting to rescue rational minds.
The Rational Potential--the gift of the legendary Earthmen! Like theprocesses of thought itself it could never be wiped out by argument orreason once it was understood. The Earthmen had wasted centuriestrying to undo their own evolved rationality before they realized itcould not be done. Now, on a higher level in another plane, theVininese were struggling to submerge the Earthmen's second achievementof the Rational Potential.
It was done by their transmitters. A wave of some sort--probablysubsonic or supersonic--continuously filled the Vininese atmosphere.The Vininese who wore the disks were protected against it. The otherssuccumbed if they retained their hearing. As Dirrul himself haddiscovered in the ravine, when he did not consciously think the terrordiminished.
All Vininese children were given a basic education. It built up theirautomatic responses, established correct stimulus-response behaviorpatterns. Then, for the masses, the protective disks were eliminatedand the screeching fear pounded at them until the processes ofcreative thinking were destroyed, leaving a backlog of malleable andobedient habit patterns. The problem solving was done for them bytheir masters.
The Vininese Confederacy--half the galaxy--was peopled by billionsupon billions of robot races, ruled by a handful of men with absolutepower. To that Dirrul would have betrayed his planet! To slavery andto the destruction of the Rational Potential, all for the slipperydream of orderliness and efficiency which masqueraded as progress.
He could save Agron today--but for how long? Sorgel would bewitchcountless other discontented Agronian fools. The Movement would tryagain and one day the Vininese space fleet would penetrate theAgronian Nuclear Beams. Dirrul had to escape. He had to go home andtell the truth about Vinin.
And it was impossible. He was completely trapped with no visible wayout for himself.
VIII
Dirrul stood in front of the metal-surfaced reflector, fingering thecap of his ear. To survive as a thinking being he must deafen himself.Yet he hesitated. Self-inflicted violence was the negation of theRational Potential.
Then, slowly, he developed a new idea. He could use the power ofVinin, to save Agron if not himself!
There came a knock on his door. Dirrul drew on his tunic as a strangerentered the room.
"The Chief is impatient--you must come at once."
Durril was led through a metal-roofed tunnel into a wide sunnytransparent-walled room at the top of the building. The door closedbehind him. He was alone with a tall smooth-faced man, exoticallycostumed in a tight black suit crusted with white jewels and framed bya white cloak thrown loosely around his shoulders. He sat back of atremendous desk--behind his chair was a tilted panel of dials, leversand tiny glowing lights, running the length of the room under theceiling-high window.
"It is always a pleasure to welcome a hero of the VinineseConfederacy," the Chief said without getting up. His tone was slow,tired, emotionless. His eyes were without expression. "May I ask yourname?"
"Dirrul--Edward Dirrul."
"And you come from Agron with a message from our agent," he said,speaking Agronian. "So much we got from your teleray. In fiftydays--actually forty-nine from now, by your time--your local Movementwill have use for a Vininese space-fleet. I have already dispatchedSub-units B and C. Now, if you will give me the details of your Plan Ican code-wave them to my commander."
"There's been a mistake, sir. What I really meant when I sent themessage was--"
"So you've discovered the truth." The Chief's hand darted toward acubicle of his desk and he held a metal-barreled weapon aimed steadilyat Dirrul. "These things are always so tedious. Give me your disk."
"Of course," Dirrul agreed readily but as he felt in his pocket theChief gestured negatively with his weapon.
"No, keep it." After a pause he added, "You're certain that you know,Dirrul?"
"I've seen the transmitters."
"Then why aren't you afraid? Why do you consent so readily? The othersare always terrified--they'll confess to anything if I promise to letthem keep the disks. Have you ever heard the sound, Dirrul? Do youreally know what it's like?"
"You want information from me. You have no chance of getting it if youdeprive me of the ability to think."
"Granted. And otherwise?"
"You won't get it either."
The Chief sighed wearily. "You are simply trading one romanticillusion for another. You have somehow convinced yourself that oneman--one lone Agronian--can hold out against us. Let me tell you alittle about our system, Dirrul, so you'll understand how futile it isto waste your time and mine like this." Not a trace of feeling cameinto his voice. He sounded slightly bored, reciting a matter-of-factchronology of statistics.
"As you have guessed we create our leader-class on each of our planetsby protecting them from the sound waves with the disks. If scatteredgroups among the general public should ever gain immunity--as far aswe know only idiots and the deaf can do that--they could never carryout a successful revolt. The only way would be for the transmitterstations to be silenced.
"However, every unit operates independently on its own power. We havethousands of them on every planet. All but one could be destroyed, andthat one transmitter would still be enough to control the planet. Youbegin to see, I think, that any kind of resistance is foolish. In timeyou can be made to do as I ask. Unfortunately, we have no time tospare.
"Perhaps you're thinking that outsiders--tourists, let's say--couldcome here and overthrow us. All rational beings in the galaxy aresubject to the same physical laws. They still must hear and if they dothey're powerless.
"Besides, our secret is remarkably well-kept. The tourists andmerchants come to our planet in droves. They notice nothing--becauseof the amusing idiosyncrasy of Vininese customs men, who are requiredto stamp the hand of each visitor with an identification mark. Thecoloring material is atomically constituted to act as a temporary diskwhile the tourist is among us. He notices nothing amiss. He sees whatwe want him to see--he goes home favorably impressed--and by that timethe mark has worn away. You get the general picture, Dirrul? Nothingcan ever defeat us."
"Nothing but yourselves."
"Romantic nonsense! Let me show you what I can do, Dirrul, even whenyou wear a disk. I think you'll bargain then." The Chief turned alittle to face the panel behind his desk, feeling over the dials whilehe kept Dirrul framed in his gunsight.
"The young man you went to this morning for help is a sadist. Thereception was his idea--so was your bath. He likes to have ourtraitors--and you are a traitor, of course, to your own people--helikes to have them discover the truth before we take their disks away.It's an exquisite torture but in your case annoying, since it puts youin a position to bargain. Now it occurs to me that your host should bedisciplined for his bungling."
The Chief pointed to the surface of his desk. "Watch the screen,Dirrul." An opaque rectangle glowed with light, slowly came intofocus, and revealed a large mirrored lounge, where a number ofofficial Vininese stood talking and drinking. The Chief twisted adial, pulled a lever and one of the Vininese collapsed, writhing onthe glassy floor in violent agony.
The screen went blank.
"I have not only decontrolled your friend's disk," the Chief explainedblandly, "but I have doubled his receptability to sound. I cancontinue the treatment until he goes mad--or I can snap it off and letit serve as a warning.
"From this panel here I control every disk-wearer on Vinin--includingyourself, Dirrul. You understand, I think, that there can never beany disloyalty among our leaders--they're consciously aware of theconsequences. And revolt in the ranks is physically impossible. We'resafe, you see, even from ourselves."
Once again there was a slight trace of emotion in the weary voice. "Nodoubt you also gather, Dirrul, who is the real ruler of Vinin. Thereare a hundred thousand of us, more or less, scattered throughout theConfederacy. All right--tell me what I need to know. If your Plansucceeds I'll deputize you for Agron when we annex it."
Suddenly Dirrul saw the answer. His heart leaped with joy and it wasdifficult to keep the feeling out of his voice when he said,
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