"No… but how does that make them dangerous?"
Nimbus did not answer right away. Finally he said, "Think about people on your planet, Oar — the ones with Tired Brains. Suppose that instead of lying dormant in towers, they actually moved around. Suppose they had parties, they traveled to other cities, they pretended to practice spiritual devotions… but their brains were still Tired. It was all just sleepwalking. They never built or manufactured anything, they never did anything new, they never dreamed of change; they simply lived in automated habitats filled with machines that did the bothersome work of keeping everyone alive. Wouldn’t that be a form of hell?"
I did not answer immediately. The conditions Nimbus described were perilously close to the reality of my world not just the state of my ancestors, but my own state through much of my life: creating nothing, and living by the grace of machines. "It would be most suffocating to the soul," I said at last. "But I do not see how it could be dangerous to other persons."
"It’s dangerous," Nimbus whispered, "it’s terrifyingly dangerous. Because after seeing the Cashlings, everyone else wants to be that way too."
The Resentment Of Vassals
"Everyone would wish to be Cashlings?" I whispered. "How can that be? They are awful."
"Other species agree with you," Nimbus replied, his whisper most gloomy. "They despise the Cashlings… then try to live exactly like them."
"That is nonsense!"
"Yes, it is. But nevertheless, it’s happening. Believe me, I know — belonging to a vassal race teaches you a lot about your masters."
"But you work for Uclod, not Cashlings."
His mist fluttered. "Do you know how old I am?"
"No."
"Over two hundred Terran years. I’ve worked for all the local races."
I stared at him. "You are two hundred years old? That is quite most astonishing."
"Why?" the cloud man asked. "You and I are Shaddill technology; you’re virtually immortal, so why shouldn’t I be? In fact, I should be more immortal than you — the Shaddill created your race 4,500 years ago, while my race is less than a thousand. If the Shaddill continued to make scientific advances all that time, my design is 3,500 years more sophisticated than yours."
"Oh foo!" I exclaimed in outrage. Then I remembered we were supposed to be whispering and glanced around guiltily to see if anyone else had heard me. The other people in the transport bay showed no signs of noticing — the room was large, and we were quite some distance removed. Besides, everyone was still listening intently to Festina speak of Alexander York… though mostly they were listening to the Cashlings ask irrelevant questions about the whole business. Festina could only utter a few words at a time before Bell and Rye interrupted with more pointless quibbles.
I turned back to Nimbus and whispered sharply, "You are not more advanced than I!"
"Maybe not," he agreed. "I’m only a vassal race."
"Do not pretend to be pitiable. I do not see anyone persecuting you."
"Apart from the fact that I’m owned? That I’m a slave? That I’m sent to impregnate females I’ve never met before, I stay long enough to deliver the baby and get a bit attached to it, then off I go to some new master fifty lightyears away, never to see my mates or children again? You don’t call that persecution?"
I stared at him… or perhaps I was staring at the infant Starbiter clutched tight in his belly. Perhaps it was not coincidence that he carried the child as a pregnant woman does — not in his hands but in the center of his being, at his body’s core. "Very well," I whispered, "it is persecution. Your species is callously mistreated… though I shall not call you a vassal race, for I do not think of you that way."
"Everyone else does," he said, "and that’s how I know about Cashlings. Not to mention it’s how I know that all other sentient races are hell-bent on becoming Cashlings."
"Explain," I said.
And he did.
Coveting Folly
Though the majority of Zarett ships were owned by Divians, a number had been sold to alien races as well. More precisely, Divian breeders sold female Zaretts to non-Divians; they then leased male Zaretts (at high cost) to the aliens whenever paternalish services were required.
Therefore, as Nimbus said, he had spent his life drifting from one stud position to another, only staying long enough to mate with a Zarett female, help with the birth, and attend the first months of motherhood. Such a forced impermanence saddened him deeply; but it had also given him a unique chance to observe alien species at their most unguarded. Most of the time, the aliens did not know they were being watched — male Zaretts were microscopic eyes and ears hiding in a starship’s walls, watching their "masters" at work and play.
Very much play. Very little work. Especially in alien species who had been Scientific for a long long time.
Nimbus spoke of diverse alien races — Earthlings and Divians and Cashlings and several other species whose names did not stick in my mind — but they all had two qualities in common. First, they had been "uplifted" by the Shaddilclass="underline" approached in their native star systems, given new homes elsewhere in the galaxy, and presented with sophisticated Science Gifts as a welcome to the League of Peoples. Second, ever since their uplift, these species had all grown more decadent, temperamental, and culturally sterile… particularly those uplifted for the longest period.
As a simple example, one could compare Cashlings with humans. Cashlings had been uplifted four thousand years ago; with humans, it was only four hundred. You therefore might expect the Cashlings to be more sophisticated in the ways of technology, having had so much longer to develop… but in fact, the Cashlings were not superior at all. Partly, this was because Cashling civilization had lost all interest in Scientific Research. In addition, whatever advanced knowledge they did once possess they had speedily bartered to Homo sapiens in exchange for VR adventures, situation comedy broadcasts, and glossy picture books.
The Cashlings had sold their technology to other alien races as well — which meant every species now possessed the know-how to build self-repairing cities that could satisfy the physical requirements of inhabitants without those inhabitants needing to work. ( Much like our cities on Melaquin, I thought.) And gradually, such places were being constructed by other species, humans and Divians and all.
Most of these other species declaimed loudly they were not imitating the despised Cashlings but simply exploiting Cashling technology… yet little by little, these races declined into lifestyles indistinguishable from the Cashling mode. Idle entertainment. The pursuit of faddish excuses for profundity. A deadened inner emptiness, reinforced by a self-righteous conviction there was no more worthwhile way to live — not that they felt satisfied with their own way of life, but they held an unquestioned certainty that no one possessed anything better.
So the diverse races of the galaxy were drifting toward the feckless ways of the Cashlings. Was this not the case with the human navy? Filled with venal admirals like Alexander York and puffed-up captains like Prope, not to mention foolish but inept saboteurs like Zuni. As for Divians, what could one say about the villainous marriage brokers who threatened to kill Lajoolie’s family if she did not perfectly satisfy Uclod? Wicked, arrogant, and self-centered.