“Such is to be expected of a child, but not of an adult, who is capable of taking the word of one who has been there before!”
“There are two things wrong with your argument,” said Hockley. “First of all, there is no essential difference between the learning of a child who must indeed explore the dark corners and strange growths by which he passes—there is no difference between this and the probing of the scientist, who must explore the Universe with his own senses and with his own instruments, without taking another’s word that there is nothing there worth seeing.
“Secondly, the Rykes themselves are badly in error in asserting that they have been along the way ahead of us. They have not. In all their fields of science they have limited themselves badly to one narrow field of probability. They have taken a narrow path stretching between magnificent vistas on either side of them, and have deliberately ignored all that was beyond the path and on the inviting side trails.”
“Is there anything wrong with that?” demanded Markham. “If you undertake a journey you don’t weave in and out of every possible path that leads in every direction opposed to your destination. You take the direct route. Or at least ordinary people do.”
“Scientists do, too,” said Hockley, “when they take a journey. Professional science is not a journey, however. It’s an exploration.
“There is a great deal wrong with what the Rykes have done. They have assumed, and would have us likewise assume, that there is a certain very specific future toward which we are all moving. This future is built out of the discoveries they have made about the Universe. It is made of the system of mathematics they have developed, which exclude Dr. Silvers’ cherished Legrandian Equations. It excludes the world in which exist Dr. Carmen’s series of unique compounds.
“The Rykes have built a wonderful, workable world of serenity, beauty, scientific consistency, and economic adjustment. They have eliminated enormous amounts of chaos which Earthmen continue to suffer.
“But we do not want what the Rykes have obtained—if we have to pay their price for it.”
“Then you are complete fools,” said Markham. “Fortunately, you cannot and will not speak for all of Earth.”
Hockley paced back and forth a half dozen steps, his eyes on the floor. “I think we do—and can—speak for all our people,” he said. “Remember, I said that all men are scientists in the final analysis. I am very certain that no Earthman who truly understood the situation would want to face the future which the Rykes hold out to us.”
“And why not?” demanded Markham.
“Because there are too many possible futures. We refuse to march down a single narrow trail to the golden future. That’s what the Rykes would have us do. But they are wrong. It would be like taking a trip through a galaxy at speeds faster than light—and claiming to have seen the galaxy. What the Rykes have obtained is genuine and good, but what they have not obtained is perhaps far better and of greater worth.”
“How can you know such an absurd thing?”
“We can’t—not for sure,” said Hockley. “Not until we go there and see for ourselves, step by step. But we aren’t going to be confined to the Rykes’ narrow trail. We are going on a broad path to take in as many byways as we can possibly find. We’ll explore every probability we come to, and look behind every bush and under every pebble.
“We will move together, the thousands and the millions of us, simultaneously, interacting with one another, exchanging data. Most certainly, many will end up in blind alleys. Some will find data that seems the ultimate truth at one point and pure deception at another. Who can tell ahead of time which of these multiple paths we should take? Certainly not the Rykes, who have bypassed most of them!
“It doesn’t matter that many paths lead to failure—not as long as we remain in communication with each other. In the end we will find the best possible future for us. But there is no one future, only a multitude of possible futures. We must have the right to build the one that best fits our own kind.”
“Is that more important than achieving immediately a more peaceful, unified, and secure society?” said Markham.
“Infinitely more important!” said Hockley.
“It is fortunate at least, then, that you are in no position to implement these insane beliefs of yours. The Ryke program was offered to Earth, and it shall be accepted on behalf of Earth. You may be sure of a very poor hearing when you try to present these notions back home.”
“You jump to conclusions, Senator,” said Hockley with mild confidence. “Why do you suppose I proposed this trip if I did not believe I could do something about the situation? I assure you that we did not come just to see the sights.”
Markham’s jaw slacked and his face became white. “What do you mean? You haven’t dared to try to alienate the Rykes—”
“I mean that there is a great deal we can do about the situation. Now that the sentiments of my colleagues parallel my own I’m sure they agree that we must effectively and finally spike any possibility of Earth’s becoming involved in this Ryke nonsense.”
“You wouldn’t dare!—even if you could—”
“We can, and we dare,” said Hockley. “When we return to Earth we shall have to report that the Rykes have refused to admit Earth to their program. We shall report that we made every effort to obtain an agreement with them, but it was in vain. If anyone wishes to verify the report, the Rykes themselves will say that this is quite true: they cannot possibly consider Earth as a participant. If you contend that an offer was once made, you will not find the Rykes offering much support since they will be very busily denying that we are remotely qualified.”
“The Rykes are hardly ones to meekly submit to any idiotic plan of that kind.”
“They can’t help it—if we demonstrate that we are quite unqualified to participate.”
“You—you—”
“It will not be difficult,” said Hockley. “The Rykes have set up a perfect teacher-pupil situation, with all the false assumptions that go with it. There is at least one absolutely positive way to disintegrate such a situation. The testimony of several thousand years’ failure of our various educational systems indicates that there are quite a variety of lesser ways also—
“Perhaps you are aware of the experiences and techniques commonly employed on Earth by white men in their efforts to educate the aborigine. The first procedure is to do away with the tribal medicine men, ignore their lore and learning. Get them to give up the magic words and their pots of foul smelling liquids, abandon their ritual dances and take up the white man’s great wisdom.
“We have done this time after time, only to learn decades later that the natives once knew much of anesthetics and healing drugs, and had genuine powers to communicate in ways the white man can’t duplicate.
“But once in a long while a group of aborigines show more spunk than the average. They refuse to give up their medicine men, their magic and their hard earned lore accumulated over generations and centuries. Instead of giving these things up they insist on the white man’s learning these mysteries in preference to his nonsensical and ineffective magic. They completely frustrate the situation, and if they persist they finally destroy the white man as an educator. He is forced to conclude that the ignorant savages are unteachable.
“It is an infallible technique—and one that we shall employ. Dr. Silvers will undertake to teach his mathematical lecturer in the approaches to the Legrandian Equations. He will speculate long and noisily on the geometry which potentially lies in this mathematical system. Dr. Carmen will elucidate at great length on the properties of the chain of chemicals he has been advised to abandon.