Tau Continous said, "In other words, not possible." Nebuchednezzar brought his eyes down. "Not possible within the present state of our technology."
Kes Satrick Kes spoke for the first time. His voice was flat, crisp, and precise: "I note a symmetry in both of the world-views here. Phaethon's view is that he is being persecuted by an alien sophotechnology, which he supposes to be sophisticated enough to alter or falsify the evidence to the contrary. The other view, which the testimony of the record supports, is that Phaethon, in desperation, falsified his memory and erased his own knowledge that he had done so. Both world-views adequately explain the appearances, and are self-consistent. Occam's razor urges us, when two explanations adequately explain the phenomena, to choose the one requiring fewer hypothetical assumptions. Naturally, I estimate that it is more likely that a man could falsify himself (which is something we see all the time) than that an alien, utterly unknown civilization (which is something we have never seen) could adopt a hostile posture toward us; single out Phaethon for attack; and yet be familiar enough with all of our protocols and systems to forge multiple sealed records and memories without being detected by the Earthmind. Without additional evidence, I will assume Phaethon's version of events is false.
A Noetic examination of his brain directly could provide the additional evidence we need to reverse this opinion. But I anticipate that Phaethon, in order to be consistent with his present beliefs, will continue to refuse such an examination."
Phaethon said, "The threat is real, even if I am the only one who sees it. I dare not reestablish a direct connection to the Mentality. The Nothing Sophotech has acted; I saw the results just now, practically in front of our eyes." But his voice was low, his eye was dull; the look of man who knows, beyond question, that he will not be believed.
The other Hortators did not bother to make so careful an analysis as Kes Satrick Kes. Most did not even bother to record a speech, or proffer a supporting opinion, but simply announced their support for an endless, permanent, and absolute exile to be imposed on Phaethon.
Helion's voice came, once again, quietly into his ear: "You are clearly suffering from a self-imposed paranoid fantasy. Open your deep structure mind to the Noetic probe, and we will be able to undo the harm. We can redact these false beliefs entire out of your mind and memory. This may be your last chance, son; the Hortators are voting."
Phaethon shook his head. He was not hallucinating.
An eerie thought struck him: what if, every time the invasions of this external foe had been detected, the victims had concluded that their memories were false, and had had them redacted? There could be a thousand unreported cases of such attacks, or a million.
Helion's voice, tense and anguished, came to his ear again: "Do not refuse me, son! Let me change your mind! I have a reconstruction program standing by; your false memories and beliefs can be removed in a moment. Don't end your life as Hyacinth Septimous ended his! I am begging you now, son. In the name of my love for you, I beg."
"No, Father. I will not change my mind. Not about this, not about my ship, not about my dream. And, as you love me, I ask you to understand me."
A pause.
Helion's voice: "I am afraid that I do, my brave, foolishly
brave, beloved son. I fear I understand all too well" The voice was cut off. Phaethon returned his attention to the scene around him.
Silence was in the chamber. One of the voters had paused to ask him a question.
"Please repeat the question," said Phaethon, "My mind was ... elsewhere." He wanted to turn his head and look at his father, but he dared not.
It was Ao Prospero Circe of the Zooanthropic Incarnation Coven. "None of the considerations of my fellow Horators, whether you bring war or hope, whether you are sane or insane, truthful or self-deluded, matters as much to me as this one question: Why did you pick your name?"
Phaethon said, "You are asking me about what? My name?"
"Of course. To know the true name of a thing is to have power over it. You named yourself after Phaethon, the child of the sun god who overreached himself. In his pride and folly, he demanded to drive his father's chariot, the sun, across the sky; but he could not control the horses. He flew high and he flew low, burning sky and burning earth, till all the world cried out for Jupiter to destroy him with a lightning bolt. Why did you name yourself after this image of recklessness and pride?"
Phaethon smiled. "That I can answer. I know the truth about that myth. Phaethon did not burn the world; after all, the world is still here, is it not? No. Jupiter was afraid when he saw a mortal at the reigns of the mighty sun chariot, and he felt jealous when he saw a mere man driving the divine steeds of fire. Jupiter was afraid that something might go wrong. Rather than give the youth a chance to prove himself, he shot down and killed the charioteer during takeoff. Before he ever even began to fly. What's the moral of the story? In my version, maybe the moral is that one should not let gods, or people who think that they can play gods, anywhere near where the lightning bolts are kept."
The Warlock smiled and turned to Nebuchednezzar. "If I vote to favor Phaethon, shall I be the only one? Nonetheless
I must favor him; he is a dreamer, and perhaps he is a paranoid madman; but his dream and his madness are stronger than our sanity and truth."
So the last vote was cast.
Nebuchednezzar Sophotech had raised his mace. "Phae-thon, once of Rhadamanthus, the votes have been counted. Have you anything to say before we pass sentence?"
"Yes," said Phaethon. "Not a statement, but a question. Do you believe I am right? You, personally, Nebuchednezzar?"
"It is outside of the duties of my office to offer personal opinions. This College was designed to preserve the human spirit, human sanity, and human dignity in the face of tremendous technological changes, changes which could easily abolish those things you living creatures find precious. There are certain things humans value for their own sake; and about such things the logic of machines has nothing to say. It is important that the College of Hortators remain in human hands; it is important that my opinions not determine the outcome of Hortator decisions."
"Then why did you oppose the Lakshmi Agreement?"
"Those agreements were hastily drafted and ill-advised. The College is intended to urge the public to avoid the self-destructive abuse of our technology, and to ostracize those who do not adhere to those standards of decent conduct. In ruling against you, the College may have overstepped the boundaries of its mandate. They are not here to prevent war but to prevent corruption. The military arm of the Golden Oecumene, the man you know as Atkins, it is his job to prevent war. You did not seem to be corrupt, and to stop you required the Golden Oecumene to undergo the largest mass-amnesia in recorded history. This also was ill-advised.
"Perhaps you are unaware of the unrest and the anger which came when you opened your memory box, Phaethon. The memories of the public opened also. Many business affairs, love affairs, conversations, works of art and works of labor had been forgotten, being too closely associated with your famous effort. And all this came rushing back, and people realized how much the Hortators had convinced them to
give up. Far too much. At Lakshmi, this danger was foreseen and accepted, risking the prestige of this College in a way I would never have advised. Was the risk worth the gain? I will not say. Where matters of human spirit are involved, human opinion should be given wide deference."