An unpublished story from Annita

[Keith Henson]

Not much traffic here in a while. Found a need recently for a pointer
to this story and it was not where I could find it on the web. Enjoy,
Keith

An L-5 short story

Ezekial's Wheel

Ezekial's Wheel won the 1976 Cultural Futuristics contest of the
American Anthropological Association. Dr. Annita Harlan presented it
on Nov. 18, 1976 at the annual meeting of the American Anthropological
Association.

Keith Henson writes (May 20, 2005): This story was written in fits and
starts in the year after the L5 Society was started--in those heady
days when we could envision Solar Power Satellites paying for space
colonies. Not long ago I found a typed copy, scanned it and converted
to HTML. The technical elements are long out of date, particularly
with respect to nanotechnology and life extension, though the computer
descriptions were not so far off what has come to be. Think of it as
being found in a time capsule buried in 1978.

Carolyn Meinel writes (June 6, 2005): The plot for Ezekial's Wheel was
inspired by a paper Gerard K. O'Neill wrote on an interferometric
telescope which would get a baseline longer than Earth by putting the
optical elements into orbit. Physicist Brad Barber pointed this paper
out to me and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I had studied
interferometry in a physics course, and knew about oxygen as a marker
of photosynthesis in a planetary atmosphere, and voila! Note that to
detect photosynthetic life on another planet -- this is important --
getting an atmospheric analysis from the spectrum of the light coming
from the planet should be enough, but only if such life is widespread.
This would not apply to conditions before widespread photosynthesis.

By
Annita Harlan
Keith Henson
Carolyn Meinel
with
Brad Barber

Copyright by the authors.

Standing before the triangular emblem of the L-5 Colony and the orbed
symbol of World Science, acting chairman Brian Smith began droning out
"a few announcements." The murmur of a dozen male and female voices
died down as the meeting began.

"What a joy to be 72 and human," thought Jessie with her eyes
peacefully closed. "Everyone thinks that the eminent biologist
giggling in the front row during the solemnities is just senile." She
snickered softly. A sharp poke in the ribs brought her eyes wide open.
She also opened her mouth to give acid reply but stopped when she saw
that the once empty chair on her right was now filled with a very
large man on whose face a smile of greeting was spread. It was no less
than Ezekial Rivas, the Mayor of Model One.

"Be quiet, Old Bag," he whispered, settling his bulk closer to her,
"or there will be no tour of the zoo for you when this is over."

She beamed at him and subsided into the chair, delighted by the warmth
of her companion and the surprise of a pros­pective excursion. Could
Model 1 really be acquiring a zoo? Clearly, she had been out of touch
with the recent planning on the colony.

Her attention focused on the chairman. His voice had changed with his
subject matter. "Right now I'll turn this meeting over to Bob
Carmichael, Director of the Interlibration Infrared Interferometer
Project. He's got the big announcement."

Carmichael, clearing his throat amid gathering up a sheaf of papers,
glanced anxiously at the chairman and asked, "Are the cameras
running?"

Jessie's eyebrows shot up. This was supposed to be a scientific, not a
political, meeting. Turning to her com­panion she hissed, "Zeke, who's
watching this?"

"Just tape. Historical record."

"Greetings to Greater Earth. The L-5 Space Colony Academy of Science,
seated in regular session, on this sig­nificant afternoon of October
7th, 2006 A.D., extends to all people on and around the Earth our
recognition of the unity of humankind. We have an announcement for
humanity. But before I make it I feel it is important to give a
con­cise history of the last ten years of astronomical research at the
extraterrestrial facilities here which have been made possible by the
cooperation and vision of scientists

Jessie sank into her chair, envisioning a long voyage to the "Big
Announcement". "Zeke, why don't you send out for sandwiches?"

He laughed, "I cut this presentation down from his usual twenty pages."

"Why did you bother?"

"I didn't want you to sleep through the part where he gives a shot in
the arm to your stagnated profession."

"My profession is not stagnated. It's only moldy. What has
Carmichael's computer got to do with exobiology? Did he find a nest of
UFO's on one of his runs?"

Carmichael droned on. "As is well known, Project Cyclops has not yet
located intelligent life. In listen­ing to over 15,000 stars, we have
not yet picked up even a commercial or soap opera ...."

Jessie resumed dreaming of a cress-sprout and cheese-on-rye sandwich.

"...This is not surprising considering the speed with which the radio
output of our own home planet is decreasing as we use tighter and less
powerful communications beams. Even the power satellites don't radiate
enough to be detected at the ranges with which we are concerned."

"We did, however, pick up signals originating from 15 nearby planets,
almost all of Jupiter type. As everyone knows, these signals are
caused by the interactions of charged particles and planetary magnetic
fields."

"Then why did he say it?" grumbled Jessie.

"Ssh," Zeke replied. "He has to be chummy; he's reporting negative results."

"Cyclops is still looking. But knowing that these planets were there,
and being ever hopeful of finding other intelligent life in our
universe, the planetary scientists decided to have a look at them.
Money was needed. Appropriately, the colonies came to the rescue. In
compensation for the ruined radio telescope reception on earth, 1/10
of 1 percent of the revenue from our orbit­ing power satellites was
made available for astronomical purposes. The ILPIT Project was
conceived and the Inter­libration Point Infrared Interferometer
Telescope was built with a baseline between L-5 and L-4.

"Many shuddered at the projected cost. As an example, the ILPIT and
the cryogenic computer was needed for the Fourier analysis cost more
than the GNP of Australia this year. But building power satellites
with lunar resources at L-5 has proved more profitable than Midas'
golden touch. The vision of the early financiers has been vindicated
again." Carmichael paused triumphantly.

Jessie rolled her eyes to the ceiling and cracked, in a loud enough
whisper to generate scattered laughter around the room, "We're making
history with this? Anyone with L-5 stock hears that every year--it's
the printed greeting with the dividend check."

Zeke, with his 'Mayor of Model One' voice of authority, shook his
head, "Be quiet, or he'll explain why he's explaining."

Carmichael was continuing, unaware of his unruly audience. "ILPIT
looked at all of the planets that Cyclops found. And while the
planetary scientists are happy to see Jupiter-type planets, there
seems no need to roll out the welcome wagon for extraterrestrial
entities on their account. Then we started looking at all other nearby
planets of Earth-size or larger, starting with the closest. As you
doubtless remember, we were announcing new planets at the rate of two
per week when we started three years ago. As we search farther and
farther from the earth, the computer time required to resolve these
planets increases drastically. At present, our rate of discovery is
down to about one per month."

"Now, as we are all aware, each non-binary star has an average of
about ten planets, but Earth-type planets seem to be extremely rare.
In a survey last year, we picked up a monster Venus-type planet about
ten Earth masses located about seven-tenths of an AU from its sun, 82
Eridani, and except for its size, utterly uninteresting."

Jessie was squirming in her chair. Zeke whispered, "Now for the
dramatic pause....”

"Our guys ...uhm, technicians ...did not run an image on it. As you
know, if you've seen one Venus type planet, you've seen them all."

No one laughed, so Carmichael continued reading. "The original survey
was cursory once we'd determined the size and atmospheric composition
because it clearly could not support life. But last month, one of our
graduate students who was reviewing the data for a thesis noticed that
one of the spectral photometry runs showed some weak oxygen lines. We
took another look at the planet then since any oxygen on a Venus type
planet is unusual. Our first pictures, after deconvolving the data,
looked strange. And for a while, we were wondering whether we'd found
a non-spherical planet. Of course, a planet with its satellite is a
lot more likely than a square planet, so we tried that assumption."

Conversation broke out in the room.

"Do you mean to tell me that you knew we had found an oxygen planet
and you made me suffer through all this?" Jessie's indignation was
loud enough to make some of the other scientists in the room turn
toward her. Carmichael started to say something gracious to the
white-haired lady who, of all those present, best understood the
implications of his finding.

Zeke smiled very sweetly at her. "It's a satellite, not a planet."

"But, Zeke, it means large-scale life:"

Zeke's smile grew wider. She could see that he was feeling very
pleased with himself. He said, "See, while you were washing petri
plates and cooking bacteria in incuba­tion chambers last year, we were
working hard to find you a new place to go field-tripping."

Carmichael, intimidated by Jessie's expression and the Mayor's
tête-à-tête, decided to continue his presentation. "This satellite
orbits its primary every five days. Like the moon, its period of
rotation is exactly equal to its orbital period and it always presents
the same face to the primary. We have been unable to get a reading on
its mass, but it is about the same size as the Earth. 82 Eridani is a
star of .86 to .88 solar masses, slightly redder than the sun, located
about 21 light-years from here."

"That means it could have been there a long time," Jessie mused softly.

"It is approximately 12 billion years old. There is no evidence of
intelligence that we can discover, but if we were to look at the Earth
from a similar distance, we wouldn't be able to spot any sign of
intelligence here either. But the data does allow us to conclude
that--at long last--we have found a planet outside of our solar system
with life."

One enthusiastic council member rose to his feet, nod­ding to Jessie
as he did so, and said warmly, "Congratulations, Dr. Carmichael. This
is the birth of a new age of explora­tion..."

Jessica stared blankly at him, then suddenly covered her face with her
hands and began to cry.

The mayor's smile fled. "What's the matter, Jess? What's happened? Are
you in pain?" He waved off the nearest person coming to assist.

Carmichael hastily shut off the TV camera.

"Jessie, speak to me." Zeke pleaded.

Her reply was a half-comic, half-tragic squeak. "Oh, Zeke, I'm too old to go."

* * * * *

Jessie sat in the emptied conference hall. One of Zeke's arms was
around her shoulders as he chewed the finger­nails of his free hand.
His brows were drawn together in a frown.

"Zeke, it just isn't right to sit on it like this-­how can you stand
to keep a discovery like this from the rest of the world?"

"I told you why. In two years the 20-year mortgage will be paid off,
if the people of Earth hold with the original agreement. Things are
looking better down there. If they're happy in two years, their
affluent colonies, including Model One, will be in a much better
position to propose wild schemes."

"Sending a probe to 82 Eridani isn't a wild scheme. It's the dream of
humanity to go where others of our kind might be. Think what it could
do for exobiology: The kin­dred of men might be waiting for us. Even
if this planet were at a stage similar to earth's Age of
Reptiles...just imagine the flight of a pterodactyl...." Jessie sighed
wistfully.

"They might have us for lunch, too."

Jessie, beginning to revive from the emotion of the discovery, began
to think politically. "What will you do if I blab?"

Zeke took her hand in his and looked into her eyes. "You won't."

Jessie dropped her gaze. It wasn't much use trying to outbluff him.
"You're too much of a dictator. Not one of the Academy stood up to
you."

He shook his head in disagreement. "I had already talked to the ones
with strong opinions. I was able to convince them that bringing up a
probe project now would jeopardize our chances of being independent
after the founding debt is paid."

"You mean that everyone but me knew before the meeting?"
"No, only the ones that I believed would have strong opinions:"

"You set that meeting up to go your way?" Jessie was aghast.

Zeke smiled. "That's part of my job."

"The hell you say:"

"Jessie, I love Model One. It could be the stepping-stone to the
stars. It's already my island among the stars."

"But, Zeke, don't you want to go out there and see life that no human
has ever beheld?

"Look, if you're too old to go, so am I. We could start, but we'd
never finish." Then, with a laugh, he added,

"There's life here that's incomprehensible enough. Want to come home
with me and see the children? They're different people every day. I
never know who is going to speak to me, or in what language, when I
walk in the door."

"I thought Marcell was at the Sorbonne."

"He is, I think, but April decided to finish school here. And she's
playing with versatility. She'll be anxious to see you again. She
really grew up last year, and she wants everybody who knew her earlier
to see the 'new' April."

Zeke spoke to the communications terminal, asking for any messages for him.

The terminal responded with one. Jessie recognized April's voice but
not the language. There was a twinge of regret that she had not
availed herself of the Break the Language Barrier courses that were
ubiquitous on evening TV. She spoke Swedish, her native English, and
quite a lot of Japanese, which made it easier to talk with April's
mother, but what was April speaking that sounded like French and
Spanish mixed--perhaps Portuguese?

"April's left me a message that no one's going to be home for a while,
Jess," said Zeke. "Let's pick up a sand­wich at the zoo site kitchen
and then go where the action is."

"Where's that?" They left the conference hall and found one of the
little community electric cars with the "take me" flag up.

"The Rec Hall. April and most of the kids who are off work will be there."

Jessie found that funny. "I Love that name. It sounds like bobby sox
and awkward high school kisses and gymnasium floors with shiny wax and
crepe paper streamers and band music and..."

"The Firstborn would get a charge out of your endless reminiscences.
They are into historical sociology. But I don't think you will get a
chance to talk this evening."

"No? What are they doing tonight?"

Zeke glanced at the dome of the colony. The shutters were closing
across the mirrors, creating the artificial twilight. The true night
of space was not far off. "They're going to heal a boy."

"What did he do? Break a leg?"

"I wish he had. But no, he went to Earth on a crusade."

"What? To the Holy Land and everything? What did he get? Syphilis? Cholera?"

"Jessie," the Mayor chided, "plagues aren't funny."

"I'm only envious that you don't have to cope with them." She pressed
Zeke's hand. "What did happen to him?"

"It's not a physical disease. At least it didn't start that way. The
boy is black. His biological parents were originally from Nigeria, and
he went to Earth on his first trip believing he could teach group
healing to a Christian congregation in El Paso, Texas. He got a dose
of bigotry, selfishness, and skepticism that was bone deep. One of the
things that hit him hardest was that the techniques that we use here
wouldn't work on sick people there. He's just 15 and he doesn't really
understand the importance of the col­lective consciousness. He'd never
been out of it before."

"Why did his folks let him go?"

"His mother was the engineer who was killed in the electrical fire
five years ago. His biological father has never been that close to the
kid. The family thought it was a good idea for him to try his wings.
He's smart and strong and has a gift for healing. And very few of the
kids want to go to the Earth."

"Did you say anything to him before he left?"

"I gave him Transport Fare to come back when he was ready."

While talking they had driven about 20 degrees around the curve of
Model One, and had ridden the elevator up to the zero g axis and
caught a shuttle pulled by a thin cable out to the zoo. The shuttle
stopped short of the despin ring. There was a pressure change lock
with a sign warning of the low nitrogen pressure beyond. Clearly the
zoo was incomplete. Inside the lock, a chart gave the spinup schedule.
Jessie, always delighting in the freedom of weightlessness, noted that
this week the spin gave 0.45 g at the cylinder wall.

The Mayor helped Jessie out of the lock when it had cycled and they
floated out into the zoo cylinder. Inside, they were in the shadow of
the terminal light scattering disc.

"You built this for the kids? I'm impressed. Looking at it as my
transport came in, I couldn't decide whether it was a huge farm area
or some kind of industrial plant. And now it turns out to be a zoo."

The Mayor looked slightly embarrassed. "No, we didn't build it for the
kids. The Firstborn themselves are putting it together."

Jessie was surprised. The Mayor went on. "In fact, they helped finance it."

"The kids?"

"Sure. The first children born in space are 15, 16 and 17 now. You can
go to work when you're sixteen. The pay is $150,000 a year for 20 hour
weeks on construction. Twice that for the moon mine. There are 496
kids in the Firstborn group. About 5 months ago they put up $30
million for a zoo with very big animals in a simulated natural
setting. The colony matched it 10 to 1. They picked African Savannah,
did the library research and figured out how to make the bios stable.
A structure like this doesn't take much labor to build. Some of the
older generation pitched in and helped because there still is a
problem with not enough interesting things to do after work. But the
Firstborn organized it." He laughed at her pensive face. "You
shouldn't stay away so long; the times get away from you."

The incomplete zoo looked like the inside of the big­gest concrete
drainpipe ever made. A concentrated beam of sunlight entered the far
end. It struck rings guyed in the center and illuminated the interior
brightly. Since construction work was going on around the clock, no
twilight mood was in process.

"I've got at least 500 questions: Do you really have an elephant
already here? And how could you subject one to 6 gravities coming up
and not get mashed elephant? Why did they pick African savannah?"

"Hold it, I haven't got a recorder running. See the elephant? It's
overhead now. Look over there." He directed her gaze. She saw that
younger children were riding it under the guidance of several older
ones. "As to why, the children really go flan over living things,
large and small."

"Jessie made a face "What is it to 'go flan'?"

The Mayor enjoyed having to explain. "Flan is custard. When you go
flan, you go sweet and soft inside, like a pud­ding. Very emotional
experience. The ones who go to Earth say the redwood forests make
anyone from here go flan. They almost make up for L. A."

Jessie and the Mayor went down the hemispherical end cap by ladder,
then onto stairs, and finally down a ramp to the snack bar. The
gravity increased to what the schedule said it would be, a bouncy less
than half that of Earth. As they climbed and walked the several
hundred meters, Zeke said, "They're damned stubborn sometimes. They
got the elephant here by shipping it in a tank of water, then drugged
it for the zero g part of the trip out. This place was only spun up to
1/8 of a g at the time and 20 of them just hand-carried the elephant,
down here and withdrew the drug. The orientation of the landscape
doesn't seem to bother the beast. It was used to circuses. When they
get several hundred hectares leached and planted, they plan to bring
in a bull and two more cows."

Jessie began to giggle.

"What's funny?"

"Elephants mating in low g."

"That's not funny. That's very pleasurable." The Mayor purred, "Have
you forgotten already?"

Jessie blushed and smiled simultaneously, then changed the subject to
money. "Are they getting the CNH from asteroids? Even on power plant
salaries I don't see how they could afford enough nitrogen for this
place."

"Right. It's asteroid nitrogen. And there's not enough yet. The new
colonies take precedence."

Jessie could see that the moon soil was sprouting with innumerable
plants. Near the snack bar was a stack of acacia trees with their
roots wrapped in wet. Spanish moss, and around the curve of the zoo
she could see several people planting the trees. In the distance was a
strip of lake running completely around the cylinder. "A ring lake,"
she thought. "Just like Clarke's vision of Rama." The lake wasn't
finished, either. A lot of ammonia would have to be burned for water
and nitrogen.

The beauty of the developing land that rose up on either side and
arched overhead made her shiver, and for the thousandth time she was
filled with awe at the craftsmanship these people put into their homes
among the stars.

The elephant came bouncing around the zoo from overhead, to the side
of an impossibly steep valley, to up close on the level. A number of
the young adults were with it, and hanging on to straps attached to a
basket on the elephant were a laughing group of the smaller children.

The elephant expected, and got, peanuts from the Mayor. As it was
evening for the main shift, the smaller children were hustled home by
the older ones who had been tending them. They left like a swarm of
monkeys up the ladders and into the lock. The remaining Firstborn
removed the basket and supplied the elephant with hay and a crate of
carrots.

Jessie had gravitated to the snack bar, which turned out to be a "cook
it yourself" operation instead of the automats everywhere else on the
colony. "Help," said Jesse, looking around.

"Of course," one of the kids replied. "What'll it be?"

Before Jessie could finish ordering, a group came up and began asking
about giraffes. "How can we bring them up safely?"

"You did hear about the water bath for Maud?"

"Maud's the elephant."

"How about the lions?" Jessie queried.

"Not enough biomass for predation."

Jessie smiled and nodded. "Very good." Having won a space in the
flurry of inquiries, she added mournfully, "Isn't anyone going to take
my order?"

Apologies were profuse.

"Is there going to be a fee for the zoo?" Jessie asked while looking
for the money for her sandwich.

"Sure," Zeke supplied both answer and change. "After all, it's the
only zoo for half a million kilometers."

Jessie, who had become vegetarian after 65, contemplated the frying of
rabbitburgers with great nostalgia. "Just like the old days building
Model l."

"What will it be, your Honor?" asked a tall youngster of easy grace
who was self-appointed short order cook.

"Three chombas and a liter of warm goat's milk." He added to Jessie,
"You should try one of these."

Jessie shook her head and laughed. "As far as I can tell from looking,
they're made of a haunch of goat meat, chilies, bean-sprouts, tomato
and bok choy, rolled in a big flour tortilla and fried in a zillion
kilos of chicken fat, and they have about a thousand calories apiece,
and if you don't quit eating so much you'll be dead of a heart attack
before you're fifty."

Zeke chuckled and dispatched the first of the chombas.

"I was fifty in May. Anyway, it's safflower oil." He poked his finger
at her cress and cheese smorbrod. "What about your heart attack? Those
little plants are bad for you. You should eat more meat."

Jessie's temper flared. "I didn't have a heart attack. There's nothing
wrong with me more serious than an ingrown toenail and I absolutely
won't discuss it."

Zeke changed the subject. "Don't laugh, but did you hear? The L.A.
zookeepers didn't want us to bring the animals here. They tried to get
an injunction to prevent it. They said the trip up would kill any wild
terrestrial beast."

The cook added, "They said nobody but a nut would think giraffes and
elephants are important to a space ecosystem, anyway."

The Mayor was serious while the kids laughed and made scornful remarks
about "Earth thinking." "They only think that because the animals are
commonplace to Earth. But the Firstborn who haven't been to Earth have
never seen big animals walking around." He set down the milk
container. "Come on, Jess, you can finish your sandwich on the way."

* * * * * * *

Jessie entered the Rec Hall in reverie. At first no one took any
notice of the two adults. The Rec Hall, its ceiling open to the
colony's window to the sky, was hemis­pherical like a planetarium, and
the stars in that setting overwhelmed the viewer. There was little
light inside, and what there was, glowed pink, like a faded sunset.
Jessie wondered if the Firstborn had done the lighting system
them­selves, and if they had a golden dawn in their repertoire of
lighting moods. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, she saw
the children, in groups at different levels, scattered throughout the
interior space like stars themselves. There were many esthetic
advantages to this hall at the zero ­gravity end of the residential
area.

Evidently, the healing sessions had not yet begun. There seemed to be
a lot of quiet visiting going on. Zeke floated off to get April.
Jessie took off her shoes and sat, cross-legged, about three feet off
the floor, near the door, feeling suddenly alert as though something
very import­ant were about to happen. When she searched for cause, she
realized the sense of waiting was not inside her, but was in the room
itself. It must be the state of mind of the kids. And it came to her,
out of context, that if she could not go to the stars, these were the
people who could. It was their birthright.

But they were too young. Or were they? At least they were too young to
know that the day of leaving had been post­poned in favor of security.
Her growing dislike for the

Scientific Council's decision was interrupted by the approach of
April, who sailed gracefully across the room and sat abruptly in front
of Jessie with her shining eyes fastened on the old lady's face.

Jessie regarded April in turn and liked what she saw. Zeke's daughter
had his eyes but everything else was Sufi Moto's precise, Japanese
grace. Altogether stunning. "Your father said you had grown up."

"Did he say he liked the effect?"

"Well, no, he didn't say."

"He usually tells everyone he thinks I'm smashing. It's true, of course."

Jessie had to laugh.

April touched her arm. "Don't be embarrassed. Beauty has to believe in itself."

"It's true," Jessie agreed, composing herself. "And it needs
cultivation and encouragement, too."

"You've almost forgotten." It was an accusation. "You've been living
on Earth too long. Can't you culture your extraterrestrial biota here?
Earth's an evil place. No one who has lived here should go
back--except for visits." April's ocean green eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, you must be close to..." Jessie faltered for a name.

"Wade."

"The boy who went to Texas?"

"That's him." April pointed to a group of young men. Jessie could just
barely discern a dark figure in their midst.

"Why is he dressed in black?" It was a hallmark of the Firstborn to
always dress in bright colors. Even as little children they had always
scorned things drab and sad.

"It's just since he came back from Earth. He can't forget he's black.
They thought it was the most important thing about him. Now he does,
too."

"Can you help him?"

"I--don't know. We all hope so. It. was hard to get him to even come here."

Jessie understood. If he couldn't be healed, he would be a cancer in
the group body. A terrible disease in a closed, recycling system. She
thought of the terrestrial fungus that had wiped out the spores of
Ganymede life last week in her California lab. "Oh, dear, what a mess
to clean up in that chamber when I get home."

"Pardon me?" April inquired.

"Oh, it's nothing. I just have some dishes to do when I get home."

April's puzzled frown did not clear up.

Music, beginning as a whisper of sound, seeped out of the walls and
filled the halls as though water were being poured into a goblet.
Jessie hesitated about 60 seconds before letting herself go up with
it, soaring into the sound like nothing on Earth had ever done in all
the ages of humanity. For her, before biology there had been dance,
and intermittently in her years, it had come back to restore her body
and to remind her that the vital threads which draw the living whole
together are tuned to some ancient and everlasting song. She danced in
the three-dimensional pink space of the Rec Hall and in the
multidimensional space of Existence, that expressed and that yet to be
manifested.

She was aware of the others. At first their dance was individual, then
the music and the group response changed. She allowed herself to go
with it, becoming part of the Firstborn. She was not surprised to see
Zeke in the assembly. There could be no non-participants in the hall.
April and an auburn-haired boy Jessie remembered from previous trips
were beside him.

The movement was coalescence. "We must look like a globular star
cluster," Jessie mused. "Or a cloud of flies around a corpse." She
could almost feel Zeke's disapproval of her irreverence.

A kind of chant began, and as she began to understand the words,
Jessie perceived that Wade was joining hands with the people on either
side of him. The linking of bodies spread around the cluster until
everyone was connected physically to everyone else. In a few minutes
Jessie, too, began to sing the refrain:

"I am life

You are life

Gifts to all the world."

Wade allowed himself to be carried by the motion of the others. Jessie
began to feel strongly toward him. She perceived his hurt, his damaged
spirit, the disappointment in his own ability to cope. She also
perceived the power of the group. Single people began to sing to him,
using whatever words and melody they chose. The background music had
become a jazz rhythm upon which the solos sparkled like sequined
embroidery. Jessie was thrilled by the quality of the improvisation.
It was good. So very good.

Abruptly, her heart sank within her. It was all very beautiful. But
she could see, with antiseptic clarity, that Wade was outside it. A
deep part of him was enjoying his alienation. He really did have the
mark of Earth on him. Self-destruction. That stupid, ancient
substitute for real satisfaction in the Universe. Jessie began to get
angry. Very angry. Long ago and far away she had faced that mortal
fascination, on its own grounds inside herself, and she knew its
source, its cure, and what belonged there instead. The anger in her
heart would prevent her from doing anything constructive, so she
abruptly broke out of the interlocked hands, which linked again behind
her. She sat alone, suspended in a corner of the hall. and allowed the
fury to pass through her. Then she began to collect her will, drawing
upon herself and her spiritual connections in the world. When she was
ready, she went quietly down and rejoined the group. By this time,
Wade was resting in a horizontal position in the center of the group,
no longer joined to them, but set apart. "It's a standoff," Jessie
thought. Silently, she asked permission of the group to minister to
the afflicted. In her mind she recalled Christ's words, "Heal
yourselves:" and nearly laughed out loud. "Oh dear," she thought to
herself, "I'm getting drunk with power again."

But she had to have the will of the group, too, now distressed by
their own failure. She bent her will to them and waited.

She began to feel a kind of movement in the room, as though many
streams of thought blended together in one flowing river of cogitation
and desire. It was a movement that she perceived with her mind.

And then she was aware of a physical movement in the space around her.
She began to smile for she had known it before and welcomed it back
into her experience. From the first she had said, when trying to
describe its nature, that it was a directional pressure, but had no
edges. Not like the touch of a human, and not like the wind, it was a
steady, gentle, formless force. It pushed her and she gladly gave in
to it. She broke her position in the linkage again, and pushing off
very slightly, allowed the pressure to take her to Wade, suspended in
dim light, his eyes wide open and full of pain.

Jessie passed her hand in front of Wade's face, and drew his gaze to
her own eyes. "Gotcha:" she thought to herself. She held his eyes in
hers and began to form a belief in their two minds. It was an image of
Wade, the human being. It was a faithful picture. They looked at him
together; Jessie did not allow him to shrink from the truth, or to
change it. His present negative ego trip, his premature attempts at
being a messiah to Earth, his lack of tenacity in the face of
adversity were all there, intact. It was evident that there was a lot
of room for work on Wade, the better human being. But where was the
desire to become a better human being to come from? Jessie prayed. The
image of Wade the whole person, secure in his own uniqueness and in
his position as a part of all that is, came into her mind. With it
came a lot of rather intense light. "Somebody still cares," she
thought cheerfully. "What a relief." Like a powerful carrier wave,
love swept away the images and filled them both with undoubting
cer­tainty of Wade's completeness.

Jessie spoke to Wade. "I would like to massage your neck." Reaching
out with both hands, she gently brushed the hair away from the center
of his forehead, continuing the motion over the top of the head. Then,
with two fingers, she gently massaged the muscles at the base of his
skull.

Wade yelped. "I didn't know how sore my neck was."

Jessie put a hand on his cheek. "You still have a body. Listen to it."

Wade put his own hand on the back of his neck and tried to rub out the
soreness. Jessie waited about two seconds and then she helped out,
employing all the skill traditional in her family.

Afterward, Wade just smiled at her. It was a smile of pure happiness,
not twisted by doubt or false modesty or thoughts of cleverness. He
was just living in joy. Jessie smiled back, knowing that there would
always be something very special between them. Then, in her buoyancy
and native frolicsomeness, she swooped up to the top of the walls and
hung there, like a sea otter on its back, experi­encing the night and
the stars.

After awhile she noticed April nearby. As their eyes met, April asked
solicitously, "Are you hungry, Jessie?"

"She's always hungry," interrupted the Mayor, from a short distance away.

"At least if it's yummy," corrected Jessie, "what do you have?"

"Custard apples, ladyfinger bananas, and blueberries with cream."

"Blueberries? Really? Jessie was enthralled. "Real blueberries?"

April smiled winningly and nodded. "I'll bring you some." Jessie was
so pleased by this gesture that she never noticed how Zeke was
beginning to chew his nails and watch the two of them carefully. When
April returned with the blueberries, Jessie dove right in with relish.
"Do you want something, Zeke?" He shook his head negatively and said
nothing.

During her repast, the lighting of the Rec Hall had been slowly
changing. It was no longer pink; instead there was a suggestion of
dawn, a kind of mother of pearl effect. There was a hint of music
coming over the sound system, but Jessie couldn't place it. Probably
some electric composition by one of the group. It suggested cool
morning breezes on a mountain top. Someone had changed the panels in
the walls and a large TV screen was now set up and someone else was
running kaleidoscopic designs across it. "What a great toy," Jessie
said aloud.

April just smiled. Zeke said quietly, "It's not a toy."

The auburn-haired boy approached. April drew him near to Jessie. "Dr.
Bergson, do you remember Thane?"

Thane came over and sat in the group. "Would you like to look at some
designs we've been playing with for a star­ship, Dr. Bergson?"

Jessie glanced inquiringly over her shoulder at Zeke. His expression
didn't change. She wondered if his silence meant that he wanted to
leave. She didn't. "Yes, who has been interested in designing
spacecraft?"

Thane seemed embarrassed. "Actually, most of us have had a hand in it.
We started a model-building society about five years ago, 'Citizens
and Builders of the Galactic Fellowship.' At first, you know, it was
raring machines and heavier-than-air ships for earth travel. Other
kids have used balsa wood, paper and glue in the past, but we had
computers, a big advantage." He indicated the screen and console.

"This is part of the computer net that includes the big cryogenic
computer ...we've been using the computer for school work since we
were four or so."

"Really?" Jessie was astonished. She was 25 before she'd even seen a computer.

"Sure. At first paper was too expensive and then it was easier to just
keep on using the computer."

Jessie missed the prepared speech quality of Thane's conversation.

"The designs I'd like you to look at were made with the same programs
in use for other space projects like colonies and power plants." On
the screen appeared a perspective drawing of a Model 1 shaped starship
attached to a huge sphere. "George, let's fly around it," he commanded
to the person at the console. The effect on Jessie was to feel that
she was traveling around the ship on the, screen, looking at it from
every angle.

In the background, Zeke cleared his throat. "That's beautiful
resolution, Thane. Is it a painting?"

Someone answered from a group on their right. "Nah, that's Ed-P."

Thane interjected quickly, "That's Engineering Drawing-Perspective,
Dr. Bergson."

Zeke immediately inquired, "How big is the data file for that picture?
Ed-P requires complete engineering details to make a model like that."

"About half a trillion bytes."

There was a pause. "How did you hide the computer time?"

"Oh, it all went in the school's practice-time fund," Thane replied
innocently. The viewpoint on the screen shifted. "Watch this, Jessie,"
Thane urged, some excitement in his voice. It appeared that the viewer
was entering the giant ship through the airlock. "The biggest part of
the ship is fuel storage. But I'm sure you'd like to see the closed
ecosystem. It's based on Model 1 in the early days. Gee, that was when
you worked here, wasn't it? Except, to avoid the problems you had
then, like the plague of mosquitoes, we'd probably keep the ship in
quarantine for a year before we took off."

The details of the interior life-support were remark­able. Jessie was
caught up in memories of mistakes and triumphs. "You'll never get
grapes and bananas in the same agricultural compartment like you show
there. They require incompatible climatic controls, Thane."

Thane peered thoughtfully at the screen. "You know, you're right.
Somebody goofed. Jenine, fix that, will you?"

Jenine tapped out a series of corrections on the con­sole. The banana
tree vanished and a peach tree appeared in its place. Jessie laughed.
"I wish it had been that easy to fix things when we were building
Model 1. How fast will the ship go?

"Twenty percent of the speed of light, on the average."

Jessie was figuring in her head. "105 years to 82 Eridani," she sighed
longingly.

There was dead silence in the room. Jessie suddenly was aware that the
lighting was at high noon. Horrified at what she had said, she turned
to Zeke.

He wasn't looking at her. "How long have you kids known about this?"

Thane checked the clock on the console. "Seventeen days, 5 hours and
43 minutes."

"And exactly how long did you spend setting up Jessie to suit your plans?"

Thane didn't reply to that. A flush came to his cheeks. In the silence
he half whispered, "I'm sorry, Jess. I did set you up. I knew we
couldn't trip Zeke. And besides," he looked squarely into the Mayor's
eyes. "Momo doesn't believe in the stars anymore."

Jessie forgot her own part in the just completed fiasco. The
antagonism between Zeke and Thane could be cut with a knife. She found
herself wondering if Thane could scrape together the maturity to argue
his case as an adult. He had lost ground when he called Zeke "Momo."
That was the half-resentful, half-respectful nickname the kids had
given the Mayor of Model One when they were about 9 and feeling sassy.

Zeke took the initiative. "A society of less than 5,000 people will be
unstable over a 100 year period. What's the capacity of your ship?"

Thane replied steadily, "10,000 people."

"What's the mass ratio?"

"100 units of fuel to 1 vehicle unit."

Zeke's eyes were half closed. He looked as insolent as any adolescent
lolling on a sofa. "Oh, yeah? What's your p.m.?"

"What?"

"Propulsion mechanism."

"Fusion. The Alpha Centauri probe launched three years ago is the
prototype for ours."

"You must have run the dollar cost program. Let's see it."

On the TV screen, an itemized cost table appeared. "Let's see the
overall figures. I don't want the nuts and bolts." The screen ran
through a series of tables and stopped. "One trillion dollars," Zeke
summarized.

Thane let his breath out with a sigh. Jessie hoped the worst was over.
She started to ask a question, but Zeke warned her with his eyes to
keep still.

"Why not an automated probe?" Jessie heard everyone's heart crack in
two. The Mayor's sharp glance caught no uplifted eyes in the room.
"Why do you have to go yourselves? Don't you realize none of you will
live to see it?" Thane hesitated. But answers broke out from other
people in the room.

"Why not?"

"What else is there to do?"

"We'll take our chances."

"20% of c is everywhere, man."

"We'll be taking our home with us. It's just a change of scene."

"How is this different from what you did?"

"There's no adventure left in the solar system."

Zeke broke in, his voice cold. "Anybody remember the story of the
dodos? Know what happened to them when people with their adventuring
curiosity came along on voyages of exploration?" He repeated the
lesson:

"The Mascarene Islands had been isolated for no one knows how many
ages in the middle of the Indian Ocean. As a result the ecosystem was
quite simple, with very few species. Large numbers of gigantic
flightless pigeons, the dodos, roamed the islands. Since there were no
predators, they had no defenses for eggs and young.

"When the 16th century came along, so did the Portu­guese adventurers.
The Portuguese themselves did not particularly endanger the dodos.
They had better things to do than run around exterminating pigeons.
However, they were careless. Some of their domestic pigs and pet
monkeys escaped. Those animals found the dodo eggs and nestlings to be
delectable. Extinction followed."

"You don't have to damage the ecosystem," Jessie began.

"No, you can sample by robot. Those can be sterilized before entry.
And you can generate an orbiting zoo to study ecological interactions
in detail," Thane offered.

"And when will you have the resources to do this all by yourselves?"
Jessie sensed that the Mayor was at the bottom of his list of
objections. He had saved the biggest for last. Everyone else was
silent.

Thane was glum. Finally he replied, "Too long. It would take twice as
much time as the actual trip for 10,000 people to save that much
money."

More silence. Jessie wanted to speak, but she thought that neither of
the two antagonists wanted her to come to the rescue.

"You know we have to have your help," Thane stated. "Earth and the
colonies together have the funds."

Jessie was miserable. She knew all the political arguments against the
venture from listening to Zeke. Thane must, too. She searched Zeke's
face. She could see no sign, though. He was watching Thane.

Thane looked around the room. "At his future constitu­ency," Jessie
thought. It seemed there were more Firstborn in the room than there
had been before. She wondered idly just how many of the 500 ever met
in the Rec Hall at one time, staggered work shifts not withstanding.
Thane turned 360 degrees and looked at the crowd of youngsters. Then
he floated closer to Zeke and spoke so softly as to be audible only to
the three of them. "The Charter of L-5 says that 28 of the voting
population is enough to call for an opinion vote on any proposal of
interest to the colony. I can call for a vote on whether the Mayor of
Model One should address the Greater Earth Council on the subject of
launching an inhabited interstellar probe to 82 Eridani, to
investi­gate the life-bearing satellite discovered by ILPIT Sept. 20,
2006."

Jessie was surprised. She had forgotten entirely that not only could
kids start working at 16, they could also vote. Zeke was caught at
first. She looked quickly at him, but there was no defeat on his face.
There was, instead, a strange light as of memory in his eyes, and the
beginnings of a smile. He stood up, never taller than at this moment,
and went slowly to the video console. Jessie's heart went out to
him--no wonder there had never been another mayor since Zeke first
took office. He regarded Thane over his shoulder, and then all the
others. "You can force my hand, but if you will think of me as your
mayor, too, and work with me instead, there's a better chance of
winning."

No one interrupted, so he continued, "Do you know what the opinion of
your parents will be?"

A babble of discussion broke out. Almost a roar. Thane finally tried
shouting down the confusion. Zeke was patient.

He only commented dryly, "I'm surprised you don't have a better polling system."

"Well, we've never had a harder question to answer," April replied
defensively on behalf of her associates. "I'll bet you don't know what
the older hard hats will say, either."

Her father grinned at her and waited for the consensus. After a long
delay, it was quickly stated: "Zeke, we aren't sure."

"Enter the greatest tool the democratic politician ever had." Zeke
patted the computer. "We'll ask the people who do know, first. And
then, just to be sure, we'll ask everybody else in the colony. The
precinct leaders from 3, 42, 11, 37 and 26 have better connections
with public opinion in their circles than any of us. Do you have a
background statement on the project ready to put on the screen for
them?"

"We can run the tape we just showed Jessie."

"And the tape of Carmichael's announcement."

"And we can throw in this: 'An Historical Justifica­tion of Space
Exploration' by Ezekial Rivas."

Zeke hardly blinked. "April, that's private property. Take it out of
the memory bank."

"Please leave it, Dad. It's good."

"Yes, it's good. Take it out."

"But what will we use instead?"

"Something simpler." Zeke sat down and concentrated on programming the
selective poll. Consumed with curiosity, Jessie pulled at April's
sleeve. "What was that? An essay? I only saw it for an instant."

"It's something he wrote when he was a sophomore in high school in
1968. It was a generation before its time. It was even before the
first colony design. Even before the first moon landing. All that ever
came of it was a nick­name for the project he proposed."

"What was that?"

"They called it 'Ezekial's Wheel.' You know, there's an old Negro
spiritual all about how 'Ezekial Saw De Wheel' of fire in the sky."

Zeke was punching out numbers on the computer. In a few moments a
60-i.sh woman appeared on the screen. "Hi, Zeke."

"Good evening, Inez. How are things going in the aluminum plant?"

"No fuss. That new graphite boiler prototype is working out fine.
Haven't lost a single holiday to repairs, but you're looking
up--what's going on."

"I want your opinion."

"Try me. You know I'm willing to shoot my mouth off about anything."

"Suppose ILPIT found an Earthlike, oxygen-atmosphere, life-bearing planet."

Inez whistled. After a moment she wagged her finger at Zeke, "You
know, I've heard rumors about this. But I thought it was wishful
thinking among the kids."

April was indignant. "Somebody talked."

"Well, they've already designed a starship. They want me to ask the
Greater Earth Council tomorrow to consider building a colony-size ship
to go to 82 Eridani."

"Really?"

"Really. What do you think?"

"I want to see the ship design."

"But what about the idea? The cost, the manpower commitment?"

"Oh, if you want to talk practical expense, ask Harry Sommens. That's
his meat. If they've got, a workable design, I say go do it. I'd like
to go myself. Do you think there's intelligent life there?"

Zeke shrugged. "Is there intelligent life on Earth? There's an Ed-P
simulation of the ship--Jenine, give her the number so she can look at
the ship plans. Inez, I'm going to call some others. Check in later
with me, okay?"

"The next step is Jep Tully." Zeke ran the background for him and then
asked, "Will L-5 labor oppose it?"

Tully, whose face had blanched at the trillion-dollar figure, began to
recover and think about possibilities. "Consolidated Power Satellite
Workers just ran a 10-year projection on the industry. They're
projecting trouble for us in the next 5 to 8 years."

"I hadn't seen the report."

"It's only been out 2 weeks. I've been chewing on it, but you can have
it, Your Honor. It's file PQ37 and the file lock is JEP. A big project
could be a good move. The problem is work slowdown. Lift costs are
coming down rapidly. Demand for immigration is up. But the market for
power satellite workers isn't expected to exceed 300,000. Hell, we
already have 200,000. Immigration beyond that will give us
unemployment; that's an earth problem I don't want to see here. Plenty
of scabs if we have a labor dispute."

"You see starship construction as a way to maintain a high demand for
construction workers?”

"Sure, Zeke. I hope you find dozens of Earthlike planets,
intergalactic civilizations, anything that'll justify more
construction. That's the name of my game."

The response of Soto Kyo, an electrical worker, was surprising to
Jessie. "We have nothing against this venture. It has been irritating
to us that no one has been preparing for further movement into space.
Sustained R&D would have trimmed the cost you quoted. Perhaps you
should see what we have done in our moments of speculation."

Zeke accepted the invitation and suggested bringing Thane. Soto
replied with the counter suggestion that the Mayor might want to speak
with him very soon.

More traditionally hardhat was the next response. "Damn, I like the
idea: Why not go first class? But I want to see how you're going to
feed it to Earth. Those dirt­eaters'll be scared shitless. Going to
lose their ol' meal tickets. Don't do anything to let them get their
hooks into us, Zeke. I didn't work 18 years on this project to stay
beholden to them. A lot of us want to be independent. I got a few
little ideas of my own I wanta play with when the mort­gage is paid
off."

Zeke bade Alex Scheidovitch good evening and punched in the general
opinion poll. "It'll take about two hours to run, Thane. You can
monitor it if you want. I'll be at home."

"Will Soto be helpful, Zeke?" Jessie asked when the two of them were
out of the Hall.

"Visiting Soto is like feeding fertilizer to a healthy plant. He
doesn't like crises. He likes sustained yield, thinking ahead. We'll
talk about problems 3 or 4 years into the future of the colony--and
the de facto Eridani project.

We already talked about this situation last year."

Jessie nodded her head and suppressed a smile. Clever old Ezekial. He
learns from everybody. "I suppose you'll spend all night preparing for
the Council meeting?"

Zeke laughed. "No, if I rehearse tomorrow any more, I'll forget my
lines. Want to listen to music?"

"God, what unlimited energy," Jessie sighed.

As custom dictated, the monthly Greater Earth Council meeting began
with finance, followed by engineering reports and then scientific
business. Engineering tended to take the most time, leaving the
non-hardware oriented members of the council numb and sleepy and
sometimes briefly absent. Under astronomical announcements, an edited
version of the Carmichael tape was shown. Jessie, sitting as a guest
com­mentator in the scientific row, was relieved to see that she did
not appear in it. As the lights came slowly up from the tape, she saw
that her two nearest neighbors, both Earth residents, were unabashedly
asleep.

Zeke quietly asked for the floor and then speaking from his seat
announced, "Last night an opinion referendum was held in Model 1. The
question was whether to make a proposal to the Council that it
authorize the production and launch of a full-scale inhabited probe to
82 Eridani. The results were that over 90% supported the idea. That is
not surprising considering the adventurous quality of the people we
have in the colonies. The same pioneering spirit has already put more
than a million man-hours of free-time research into planning for just
such a project whenever the astronomical community would finally
locate a suitable target for the next move into galactic exploration."

Without a break in the continuity, the computer models of the
Firstborn ship design were put on the viewing screen, followed by the
frames of cost analysis and a series of alternate analyses which
Jessie hadn't seen. She guessed that they must be input from the
previous night's poll. She knew that while she had been sleeping
through breakfast, Zeke had been viewing the results.

The computer screen blinked out and Zeke returned the meeting to the
Chair with a "Thank you."

"My God," thought Jessie. "Are they all in shock?" for no one said
anything for what seemed like five minutes.

The Chairman looked confused. "Zeke," he began, "Do you want to take
up this proposal now, or in new business?"

Zeke didn't expect to have to answer this, and he was right. Gil
Reisner, a brilliant but bitterly cynical engineer who had worked for
the Space Shuttle project, found his voice and broke into the
Chairman's question with a personal attack on the Mayor. "You'll never
get the Earth to accept this: It isn't politically feasible. They'll
never accept the financial drain. The extraction of deuterium from
their oceans:"

Zeke looked calmly on while the Chairman, called Reisner down for
being out of order.

An Earth Council member secured the floor and asked, "Why not just
send a flyby probe? Maybe the oxygen planet will just turn out to be a
ball of slime, of no interest to anyone here."

A babble of voices rose up and so did Jessie, her mind's eye full of
visions of a Precambrian Earth. "If you made a remark like that to any
biological or geological conference..." The Chair announced that she
was out of order. Jessie could see that Zeke found that a funny
statement and she glared at him.

The Chair had recognized Hafen Farell, a zoologist from Cornell. "On a
really remote probe you have an enormous feedback time. How could one
conduct a remote experiment with a time lag of over 20 years each
way?"

Jessie affirmed from her seat, "Even if you ignore the speed of light
problems, imagine trying to study even the relatively sparse biota of
Ganymede from Earth."

The Chair recognized Allen Fontini, a financier and industrialist
whose father had provided money for the first colony. "Now Mayor," he
addressed Zeke directly. "You weren't planning to leave yet. You have
22 months to go before your debt to the corporate fund is settled."
Jessie couldn't see that Zeke's expression changed at all, but Fontini
seemed to read something there. After a pause, he rephrased his
thought to the rest of the council, "Model One has only 22 months
before they are on their own, financially."

Three people requested the floor. The anthropologist who got it was
more than a little bit angry. "Don't you feel any responsibility
toward the underprivileged people of Earth? Do you realize that in 23
nations more than 5 percent of the population is living below the
poverty line? It is imperative that we solve the problems of humanity
before we go sightseeing around the Universe!"

"Oh for heaven's sake, Dr. Allison." Jessie interrupted.

"What can we do to help you with your problems other than pump more
energy into your system? In fact, if we keep it up much longer you'll
literally burn up:"

The Chairman's patience was nearly gone. "Dr. Bergson," he said
sharply. "And other council members," he frowned at everyone
uniformly. "This is a forum of international questions among
personalities whose standing in life should preclude diatribes and
temper tantrums. I appeal to you to heed parliamentary procedure. I
recognize that these intemperate remarks have been inspired by the
surprising nature both of the discovery and the proposal outlined by
Mayor Rivas. Normally I would defer this whole discussion until later
in the program, when we should be expected to vote on the proposition
from Model One, but since the argument is already underway in this
context, we will continue--provided that discussion, not shouting
matches, can be obtained."

Jessie felt put upon. Maybe she really was getting childish in her old
age. She only half-listened to the ques­tions about deuterium. Zeke
didn't have to answer them. Two council members from Earth answered
the whole thing them­selves. Clever old Zeke.

A fellow from Earth, whose name plaque Jessie couldn't read, stood up.
"This seems like a project worthy of serious consideration, if the
financial worries can be cleared up. For a long time we thought Earth
was the only habitable planet. Now we have found a new home for
humanity. A new--"

"Sir:" Jessie's authoritative voice, seldom used, but invincibly
commanding, stopped the gentleman dead in his tracks. She addressed
him directly, treading all over his time on the floor. "I will not
have you speculating on the destruction of this planet's unknown life
forms. Please recall what people have done to Earth." At last she
could read his tag. So, the fellow's name was MacKay, and he was a
geographer, was he.

"But Madam Bergson, what reason other than colonization makes you so
anxious to send humans to whatever-it-is Eridani? I can see that your
scientific curiosity is piqued. What forms are there? What are their
relationships? How long have they been evolving? And so forth, but
when that is done, the planet and all its resources will remain
exploitable. After your curiosity is satisfied, other uses remain."

Jessie was again glad that she was 72 and human. It enabled her to
meet this creature on grounds that were more fundamental than the
confines of her discipline. "Once you've climbed out of the gravity
well of a planet, it does not make sense to climb back down into
another hole, Dr. MacKay.

Humankind has paid dearly in time and resources for the privilege of
existing away from the Earth's surface. Humankind's material
creativity is what we casually refer to as technology, and the true
home of a technological civilization is in free space. Once the
species has emerged from the planetary chrysalis, the only thing
planets have to offer is informa­tion. Look at the trade between Earth
and L-5. What do we import from you? Now that we are exploiting
asteroidal and cometary resources, we primarily import art: and
entertain­ment, knowledge, news and trained people. All except the
last are information. A planet with an intact biosystem is an unending
source of information, especially if your observa­tion of it is done
so as to let the living systems continue their interwoven workings
uninterruptedly. We could observe such a system for millions of years
and not learn everything it has to offer."

MacKay did not sit down. Jessie was annoyed. "Then you propose to
treat whatever you find in the way of life as thought it were sacred,
Dr. Bergson. No matter how tempting it might be to use it?"

"Exactly, Dr. MacKay. Even if the local trader will give me $1000 a
head for young males in good field condition and $800 for young
females suitable for waiting table."

Unexpectedly, Fontini requested the floor and got it before either
Jessie or MacKay could continue. "Suppose you encounter a
technological civilization?"

Allison interrupted primly. "There are three possibili­ties. One, the
civilizations are considerably less advanced than ours. Under such
conditions the more primitive will suffer--my apologies Dr. Bergson,
but it's true. Anthro­pologists have more than enough data on that
type of interaction. Another possibility is that they are on a level
comparable to ours. Under those conditions, communication is
invaluable and both cultures may well benefit. Thirdly, they could be
more advanced than we."

MacKay almost sneered. "In which case, we will be on the slave block."

"Perhaps not. Perhaps they will take us on as apprentices to be part
of the Intergalactic Fellowship," Fontini suggested without cracking a
smile.

MacKay laughed. Jessie turned red at his reaction and her temperature
began to elevate. The Chairman took the floor before Jessie could rise
again to a point of disorder. "Interesting as these last few remarks
have been, I think it would be well to turn away from the debate of
manned vs. unmanned probes. The proposal that is before us is
specifi­cally for an inhabited spaceship. We are requested to answer
yes or no to that question. If this proposal is defeated, then the
subject of unmanned probes can be examined. It seems to be the
intention of Model One to journey to the 82 Eridani system in hopes of
being able to operate rather like Unidentified Flying Objects toward
as yet unknown life forms. Mayor, I would like to hear more about the
sociologi­cal arguments behind model one's request. I've heard rumors
of labor trouble."

Jessie's mind had hung up on the Chair's summary-­like UFO's? What a parallel:

Her eyes met Zeke's even as he opened his mouth to talk about
precocious offspring and restless construction workers. He winked.
Jessie sat back and considered. What do we know about the field
methodology of UFO's on earth? One of the earliest UFO encounters was
with poor old Biblical. Ezekial. There he had been, a prisoner on the
banks of the Chebar, and along comes this fiery wheel within a wheel,
a helicopter, or whatever it was, and he couldn't figure it out,
except as a manifestation of God. Pretty good idea, really. The aliens
must have already learned about the Judaic, preoccupation with direct
heavenly communication. Evidently, for humans, one had to fit into the
realm of the supernatural where precon­ceptions about the universe
could override the evidence of the senses and prevent speculation
about strange occurrences. What would the Firstborn, or their
offspring, have to do to maintain their observational anonymity?

"That'll keep 'em busy," Jessie muttered, half-aloud. "It will keep me
busy, too. I might as well go. Like John Tolkien said, 'There are some
journeys it is better to begin even if one has no hope of reaching the
end.'"

Jessie smiled at Dr. MacKay, who was regarding her sourly. If he
opened his mouth again, she would snow him with sterile technique
robots, orbiting lab ecosystems and the need for exotic biosystem
research in human medicine.

He looked like the kind who would have a chronic dread disease. But
until he disturbed the peace she would just rest her eyes and listen
to Zeke persuade the council that Eridani research and development
funds would find their way into the pocketbooks of Earth.

(end)

Best wishes,

Keith

[Tatiana Yatskievych]

Thank you, Keith for posting this! Regards, Tania

"Twenty percen...