“I notice you say wisest men, ” she said carefully. “Then it is the men who run things here?”
The secretary’s bill opened slightly in surprise. He was not ready for the question and thought a moment.
“There is a division of responsibility, culturally,” he replied. “Exterior maintenance of the tree, cultivation of leaves and fruits and the careful management of the harvest, are the responsibility of the males, who also assume the role of protector of the tree and family against anything. They also represent the family group to the outside. Females have the responsibility for internal maintenance, including cleaning, furnishing, and decorating, as well as food preparation and distribution and the bearing and rearing of the young.”
It didn’t sound like such a logical deal to Yua, but she let it go for now.
“What about professions?” she asked. “Surely not everyone is a tree farmer.”
“There are some,” the secretary told her. “I am of the professions. There are, after all, a large number of excess males for whom there is nothing in family life to offer support. Doctors, lawyers, traders, and maintenance personnel are needed. Those books had to be written by someone and printed and bound and distributed by others, for example.”
She frowned. “Excess males? No females?”
He cleared his throat lightly. “I know that there are some cultures where the females have a different role, but not here. I mean, after all, one male can, ah, service a number of females but not the other way around. It is only logical, you see.”
She didn’t see the logic of it at all. It was more than a slight shock to come from a culture where males were almost nonexistent and used for only one purpose, anyway, to such a culture as this.
“So what is my place in such a culture?” she asked warily.
“Tonight you’ll sleep here as the guest of the Elders,” he responded casually. “Tomorrow you’ll be interviewed by them, then placed with a family willing to accept you.”
She didn’t like that. “And suppose I don’t want to go with that family—or any other?”
He actually chuckled. “Oh, there is no choice. After all, what would you eat? And where? Where would you sleep at night? You see? Here you must have a family and a tree or you starve and die. Don’t worry, though. There are potions, things like that, to help you adjust, forget your former cultural patterns and fit in.”
The fact was that it did worry her. She didn’t want to be drugged and passed on to some oppressive, nasty male to whom she was only a bearer of babies. She couldn’t afford to be. She had been sent to the Well World not as a refugee but as a soldier. She had things to do, and this sort of life was not part of it, would never be a part of her existence.
But—she had no really clear idea of what it was she was supposed to do once here. Obie had said that things would work out so that she’d know when the time was ripe, but when would that be? What if he was wrong? What if Awbri wasn’t where and what she was supposed to be?
She didn’t know what to do, and, worse, she had only one night to figure something out.
She only knew that this wasn’t what she expected, not at all…
South Zone
“They’ve been coming through steadily,” ortegasaid to the Southern ambassadors and the representative from the North. “So far we’re processing about one hundred an hour and there’s no sign of stoppage. In fact, the number continues to grow. Already we’ve called upon some of you to supply extra manpower, even army units, to keep everything orderly—but that won’t last. We’re literally being flooded with people!”
“What about simply leaving them in the chamber?” an ambassador asked. “Won’t that block the arrival of newcomers?”
“For a time,” Ortega acknowledged. “But the place isn’t set up as a living area. We have no way to feed them or eliminate their wastes.”
“You say it’s an entire planetary population?” another voice chimed in. “Good heavens, man! That could mean billions! Do you realize what that will do to us? The world can’t support such a population! It’ll be chaos, social, political, and economic. It could destroy us! Something must be done!”
The massing of mutterings indicated that this ambassador had a lot of support.
“In all the history of the Well World,” one said, “there has never been such an event. An entire planetary population! It’s like the Markovians all over again, but the planet is already populated. Many of our ecosystems are in a very delicate balance, which this influx will tip. I say we have no choice. For our own well-being, we must kill these newcomers as they arrive.”
His conclusion shocked a lot of them. Silence reigned for a moment, although Ortega knew that many of the ambassadors would overcome their shock and start thinking just that way.
“This isn’t a random occurrence,” Ortega suddenly announced. “It is deliberate. You all know that there is a surviving Markovian technician, Nathan Brazil. He is behind this. I think for a particular reason.”
There was quiet on the other end. They were listening.
“You all know the standing rule if Brazil were to appear today. His mental state wasn’t all that great the last time. I know—I was there. Even then he was claiming to be God, the one creator of the Universe, Markovians, and all. We don’t know what another thousand years have done to his mind. Should he get into the Well of Souls again he might take a different course. Suppose his god complex has grown? Suppose he decides to play god for real next time? You know the fear is a real one. You know that once inside he could do anything he wants. Procedures have long been established to stop him and keep him captive should he arrive.
“Well, colleagues, I believe the time has come. Brazil is going to appear again, this time deliberately, and all this confusion is but a smokescreen. He may be mad, but he’s not stupid. He knows we’re laying for him. What better way to mask his coining and increase his chances of success than by camouflaging his actions in this way? By finding a planet in trouble, dying, and running its population through. He knows what chaos the overcrowding will cause. And while we’re coping with total disruption, he’ll try to sneak past us. Kill them? No, I don’t think that’s the solution. What would we do with the bodies? Better we cope with the mob, for the moment putting up the newcomers in our home hexes as local conditions allow. The genocide option is open to us at any time as long as we keep track of these Entries. Right now let’s just concentrate on orderly processing—but send in some really good troops to guard the Well Gate. He must go through it. Once he’s through I’ll wager the flood of new Entries will slack off. But he must not pass!”
All present murmured agreement to that.
“For now I’ll set up what procedures I can,” Ortega told them. “I hope all you air-breathers will cooperate by sending whatever personnel in whatever quantities are necessary. Troops will be posted with adequate weapons. If Brazil tries to sneak through, they will be instructed to shoot to kill.”
Dillia
Mavra Chang awoke. it was slightly chillybut not unpleasant; a peaceful forest with the sound of a running stream nearby. She was relieved; going through the Well hadn’t been any trouble at all.
She began to move forward and instantly stopped. She turned to examine her body, then she started cursing.
Damn Obie! she thought angrily. She was still a centaur! He had known it—that had been why he’d insisted she keep the Rhone form. He was getting her used to it.