“Killed?” Vekrynn placed a chair in front of Gretana and sat down, bringing his face almost on a level with hers. “You won’t see anything like that. Believe me, you won’t. Any of my observers who finds himself in a zone which is threatened with war is immediately withdrawn from the planet.”
“That isn’t what I meant.” The concept of mass slaughter was so far beyond her comprehension as to be irrelevant. “I’m talking about murder.” Gretana felt she had defiled herself merely by uttering the word, and she was startled when Vekrynn began to laugh.
“My dear child, you really must forget any stories you have heard about the people of Earth being blood-soaked monsters.” He shook his head, obviously deeply amused. “They are uniquely handicapped, but they come from the same human stock as ourselves. The planet is hideously over-populated, and it didn’t get that way through the inhabitants going around killing each other. Some of our people have worked there for two or three centuries at a stretch without ever witnessing anything more violent than a lovers’ quarrel.”
“But I’ve heard that…”
“Gretana!” Vekrynn leaned forward and gripped her shoulders. “Are you trying to tell me about Earth?”
The realisation that Warden Vekrynn was actually holding her, that he was looking into her face with a kind of humorous amiability and no trace of revulsion, obliterated Gretana’s thoughts in a cascade of whirling emotional shards. The surge of pleasure, confusion, timidity and awe was so intense as to produce a moment of actual giddiness. She stared in Vekrynn’s gold-needled eyes, breathless, floating, unable to speak as his psychic aura enveloped her. And it was almost as an act of self-preservation, an attempt to stave off the complete submergence of her own identity, that she began the silent avowal. I’ll never go to Earth. I’ll never go to Earth.
Vekrynn released her immediately, as though telepathically aware of her reaction. “It occurs to me that I have gone about this thing in completely the wrong way,” he said, smiling apologetically. “I’ve spent most of my life away from Mollan, you see, and the Wardenship is so much a part of me that I tend to forget how strange and perhaps disconcerting it must seem to a person who leads a normal existence here on the home world. For instance, I have blithely assumed that you—in spite of being so young—are familiar with the history of the Preservationist movement and that you believe in its ideals.”
“I do, of course.” Gretana wondered uneasily if, in an abrupt change of tactics, Vekrynn had hinted that her refusal to work for him indicated disloyalty or lack of responsibility.
“I wasn’t implying anything to the contrary,” Vekrynn said reassuringly. “I was merely wondering if you appreciated the historical origins of Preservationism and how vital it is to the future of Mollan.”
Gretana’s uneasiness increased. “My parents included some politics when they were designing my tutorial programme, but…”
Vekrynn shook his head. “Please don’t use the word politics in this context—it implies there can be more than one approach to the central issue. Look, Gretana, will you allow me to make one imprint? It’s a straightforward educational outline, very simple and guaranteed to be without hidden bias. Do you mind?”
“I don’t mind.” Gretana inclined her head forward as Vekrynn reached into a pocket of his tunic and withdrew two small gold medallions linked by a short length of metallic braid. He laid the braid laterally on the crown of her head, working it down through the upswept hair, and positioned one golden disc above each ear. He moved a disc slightly to bring it into perfect alignment with its counterpart, and in that instant…
Just as the position of a single particle is governed by probability density in the form of an asymptotic curve racing to infinity, so may the position of a conglomerate of particles—a human body—be altered by conscious adjustment of probabilities. A gifted individual should be able to position himself at any location in the cosmos, but that would require assessment of infinite probabilities. There is, however, a way of bringing the number of possibilities within our mathematical scope.
The cosmos is permeated with influence lines which link star to star, galaxy to galaxy. Where two or more of these lines intersect they form nodes. Knowledge of the relationship between any two nodes enables us to make a conscious selection of probabilities, to exist at one point or the other.
There is no conclusive evidence that Mollan was the world upon which the human species originated, but the likelihood is high. In Mollan’s distant past philosophical awareness rose to a pitch at which some individuals became capable of teleportation, probably from one local minor node to another at first. Expansion into space must have begun later and continued until the radial impetus failed, establishing the human species on a known total of 172 worlds.
The significant point is that there is not one example of a civilisation having survived continuously since its establishment. Furthermore, there is no example of a civilisation which has survived as long as 20,000 years.
The implications for our own culture are obvious.
We have extended our life expectancy from the six centuries which is normal for the species to an average of fifty centuries, we have complete control of our environment—but the message from the stars is that all we have attained will some day be lost to us. The indications are that there is a latent instability in all human civilisations which, sooner or later, destroys them.
But Preservationism is not a philosophy of despair.
It is our belief that we can and will break free of the cyclic pattern of history which has characterised all other human social organisations.
Many measures have been taken towards the attainment of the Preservationist goal—one of the most positive being the founding, at the beginning of the Third Epoch, of the Bureau of Wardens. It is the continuing task of the Bureau to gather sociological data on one hundred selected human civilisations; to centralise, organise and interpret that data; and to forge from it a practical philosophical tool for the use of the World Government in its guidance of our social evolution.
There can be no more worthwhile objective, no loftier ideal.
…the knowledge was born in Gretana’s mind. Most of it had been familiar to Gretana from her general studies, but it had never occurred to her that the placid and mellow civilisation of which she was a part could ever suffer a reverse, nor had she ever viewed the Bureau of Wardens as its cornerstone.
“Did you say that was without bias?” she murmured, hoping the query would not sound too bold, as Vekrynn removed the medallions and returned them to his pocket.
“Hidden bias. I’d say that for a recruitment imprint it’s very restrained.” Vekrynn remained seated close to her, adding a distracting hint of intimacy to the exchange. “It doesn’t even refer to the fact that the social credit rating for an observer is at least four times what you’re getting now.”
“I’m sorry—it doesn’t make any difference to me,” Gretana said doggedly, wishing the Warden would move away and give her the chance to compose herself. “I don’t want…I couldn’t go to a place like Earth.”
She forced her eyes to meet his, expecting to see the beginnings of anger or disappointment, but Vekrynn’s expression was still amiable, sympathetic.
“Tell me, Gretana,” he said, “do you know what the natives of Earth look like?”
“No.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I presumed they were just like us.”