A woman stood up then. She looked Chinese, but she had an African hair style. Fourth world? "Dr. Foreman," she said. "I protest."
Foreman looked at his watch. "Hm. We're ahead of schedule." He stepped off the podium toward the woman. She was one of those in a plain brown jumpsuit. "Yes, Dr. Chin?"
"Isn't it presumptuous to assume that this group has the right to represent the entire human species? I have eyes. I can see that the representation of Africans and Indians and Chinese and Arabs is well below the global percentage. How can you justify that this group should make decisions about people they are not qualified to represent? There are too many white faces in here." She spoke politely, but she looked angry.
"Mm-hm," he said. "Do you want a response to that?"
"Yes, I do."
Foreman looked remarkably patient-or was it an expression of superiority? He said, "The only answer I can give you is an unsatisfactory one. You won't like it."
"Let me be the judge of that," she said.
Foreman nodded thoughtfully. He glanced around the room, as if to confirm Dr. Chin's observation. "Yes, it's true. There are too many white faces in here. Particularly since the Chtorran plagues were far more devastating in their effects against members of the Caucasian and Asian races than they were against Negroes. So you can certainly look at the proportion of skin colors in this room and see that as evidence of discrimination-if you want to. And if that's what you want to do, then no assertions that race was not a consideration in the selection process will satisfy you. If you're looking for discrimination, you can always find evidence."
"Is that it?" she asked. Her tone was accusatory.
He met her gaze directly. "I told you that the answer would be unsatisfactory."
He was right. She didn't look satisfied. She said, "May I ask what justifications were used in the selection process?"
"Yes, you may-but it's the wrong question. No justifications at all were used. We didn't select you. You selected yourselves." Foreman returned to the podium. He looked at a page of notes. "The only criterion that we-that is, the agency responsible for this course-established for your participation is that you speak English and that you be willing to be here. After that, it was all up to you."
Foreman stepped off the dais on the fourth side to whisper something to an assistant. When he finished, he turned back to Dr. Chin and spoke to her from across the formation of chairs, but he was no longer speaking only to Dr. Chin. He was speaking to all of us. "You are here, you were invited to participate, because you have demonstrated your commitment to excellence. In some way you have made a contribution to your species. Whatever it was, it was sufficient to attract the attention of the agency. That was how you earned your invitation. That you have come here to this room of your own free will is the completion of the selection process. Everything else is irrelevant."
"Are you saying that you didn't choose who got to be here?"
"Yes, exactly. We put out five hundred and twelve chairs, Dr. Chin. And we declared that five hundred and twelve of the best asses on the planet would sit on them. It is in the nature of chairs to attract asses. If you'll look around, you'll see that's exactly what happened. Chairs attract asses like honey attracts flies. Yours are the asses that got caught. And yours are the best because we say so."
There was a spattering of laughter in the room. Foreman ignored it. He said to Dr. Chin, "But I suppose you want the four-dollar answer, right?"
"If you don't mind." She said it stiffly.
"Not at all. We can take all day for this if we have to. But it's really very simple. When you pour out half a cup of laundry detergent, you don't care which particles of detergent fall out of the box, do you? You just want to know that the particles you get will do the job, right? We have a job to do here, and you are the particles of the human family that we expect to do the job. That's all. Next time we pour, we'll get five hundred and twelve different particles."
He accepted a note from one of the assistants, unfolded it, glanced at it, shook his head and handed it back. He moved around to the back of the section I was sitting in. I had to turn around to see him; that was uncomfortable, so I turned forward again and continued to watch him on the overhead screen. Dr. Chin's image was also split-screened in.
She was still standing at her seat. She looked very angry. She said, "That's all very clever, Dr. Foreman. But I still don't agree with the results of the selection process."
Foreman stopped smiling. "That's too bad. But we're not here to have an election. We already had one. The bad news is you're one of the winners."
There was more laughter at this, even some applause. Foreman held up a hand to stop it. "Don't get cocky;" he warned us. "What you've won is custody of the biggest disaster in human history." The laughter stopped.
Foreman added quietly, he was speaking to all of us, "Now here's the really bad news-it may turn out that you are not the very best qualified individuals to be here. You may all be fuck-ups and failures. We won't know that until it's too late to change it. But we have to start somewhere."
Dr. Chin had remained standing. She still didn't look satisfied, perhaps she never would be. Foreman looked across the rows and rows of interested faces at her. "Yes?"
"I don't know if I want to be here," she said.
"It's a little late for that, isn't it? You're already here."
"I'm having second thoughts."
"I see," said Foreman. He came around the chairs and up the aisle and stood face to face with Dr. Chin. He had circled the entire room. He spoke softly. "You're waiting to see how it works out, right? You have to know that you like it here, or that you agree with what happens here, before you'll participate. That's a good excuse to keep one foot out the door just in case it gets rough. You'll leave yourself a justification for quitting, right?"
"No!" she said, a little too vehemently. She looked as if she were being attacked. Foreman merely looked bored. "You don't know what I'm thinking!" she said. "I don't make decisions until I think things over-and I'm still thinking!"
"I see. You don't make commitments-you think about them."
"To make sure they're right!"
"Uh-huh-that's very clear. Thinking things over is one of the best forms of denial-because it masquerades as responsibility. 'I'm thinking it over' is the polite way to say no, to put someone off: You see, there's a lie in that sentence. What you're really saying is, 'I don't want to think about this at all. Please stop forcing me to."' He looked around the room. "How many of you have done that?"
At least half the people in the room raised their hands. I raised mine.
Foreman didn't even bother to look. He turned back to Dr. Chin. "But the Chtorrans aren't going to wait for you to think this one over, Dr. Chin. Neither are we. There isn't any more time. You have to choose now. Are you going to be here or not?" He waited patiently.
"I don't like being browbeaten!" Dr. Chin snapped at him. Her eyes were blazing.
"Terrific. I don't like enemas. But what either of us likes or dislikes is irrelevant to the commitment to be made here." Foreman retained an easy control. "Now, are you going to be here, or do you just want to dither? Let me tell you, people who dither never finish dithering. They just find new things to dither about. And it really pisses off the other people in their lives."
Dr. Chin looked frustrated and close to tears. If I hadn't been so annoyed with her for holding things up, I would have felt sorry for her. She wailed, "Why does this have to be decided now?"
"Because this is the part of the course where Dorothy Chin chooses to be here. Or not. We cannot proceed until each and every one of us takes responsibility for his or her participation. That means you don't get to hide behind 'I have to think it over' any more."