But what? What could make all this suffering worthwhile?
"Freedom," he said aloud, and turned again to the clustered shape that confronted him. "You see, it's a standoff. If you don't leave us alone you will be destroyed yourself."
The silence protracted itself, and then the Great Being spoke—its voice slower than before, almost hesitant, "your galaxy is doomed," it protested.
"No!" Babylon said sharply. "It is in danger, but it is not doomed. You failed to control the explosion in the core of your own galaxy, but we will not fail. We will find a way to contain the explosion."
Pause. Then, "how?"
Babylon cried angrily, "I don't know how; I only know that there must be a way. Somehow! Maybe a super-Dyson sphere, enclosing the core—" "such technology does not exist."
"Of course not! Not yet! But it can. I know that no race in the galaxy has the structural materials or the engineering skill—they're both orders of magnitude beyond anything that has ever been attempted. But they are not impossible! And we have time! Thousands of years at least! Especially . . . especially if we work together." And when Babylon had said that he stopped. He had said it all. The decision was no longer his.
The silence was longest of all, while Doc Chimp stood firm but fearful at the keyboard of the strange weapon, skinny arms poised like the mad organist under Notre Dame, while all the other beings waited—while a galaxy waited.
And at last the Superbeing spoke. "i do not know if it is possible. but it is true that there is time."
There was an unheard sound, like a great worldwide sigh. Babylon pressed his advantage: "And you'll let us do it? You'll release the Kooks and let them return to normal life? Withdraw your slave machines from the galaxy?"
"i will."
"And we'll try to build a wall around the core together?"
"we will."
"And when it's done—"
"when it's done- "
"You will leave us alone?"
"no. will make copies. will take copies. will leave originals."
Babylon thought hard. Take copies?
He said slowly, "And then you will leave our galaxy forever?"
"forever. with copies."
Babylon nodded. Ten thousand years at least, maybe more. Time in which great changes could occur.
"All right,' he said, "we have agreed. You will help us try to contain the core. Whether it succeeds or fails, you will then go on to another galaxy, making copies of every intelligence in our galaxy and taking them into yourself . . ."
And he did not add:
If you can.