“But even a single-faith group would be liable to splinter,” said Elle Strekalov. “Think of Sunni versus Shia, Catholic versus Protestant-”
The conversation took off. The Candidates, growing interested, abandoned their other projects and started accessing social-dynamics software suites to study how different religious and social configurations might prosper in the enclosed environment of a starship-purely Christian or Muslim or Buddhist crews, or crews guided by an attic full of squabbling gods.
Magnus Howe let the explorations run for a while. Dark-haired, intense, he was quite young, under thirty. Rumor had it he’d once studied to become a Jesuit. He was actually a pretty good teacher, given the dry nature of his subject matter, and young enough to share his students’ sheer pleasure in learning, in acquiring new knowledge.
Holle didn’t join in. The engineering of the ship rather than its crew was her sphere of interest. But she felt a kind of warm gravity as she sat here with this group of smart, eager kids. It was heartbreaking to think that many of them were likely to be discarded long before the Ark ever got off the ground.
Magnus clapped his hands to bring them back together. He glanced down at his own laptop, on which he’d been monitoring their improvizations. “I can tell some good work’s emerging here. Come back tomorrow with a presentation on your results.” He didn’t specify the assignment further; it would, as always, be up to the students to define their goals properly, to organize the work, to figure out how it would be reported and who by. “For now, let’s concentrate again on the decision that’s actually been made-to exclude anybody with strong religious convictions from the crew.”
“What about atheists?” Wilson called.
“Including atheists.”
Don Meisel said, “It’ll be hard to police. You know how desperate people are to get their kids on the Ark. If it means covering up your faith for a few years, people will do it.”
“You’d be found out,” Zane Glemp said. He pointed to cameras mounted in the corners of the ceiling, silently watching as always.
Holle frowned. “And though we might exclude religion, we can’t leave religiosity behind.”
They seized on that new thread. Susan Frasier, small, plump, generous and popular, spoke up now. “Maybe that’s true. Maybe we humans have a tendency for religious thinking programmed into us. It might be a consequence of our need to figure out cause and effect in the world around us.”
“Don’t forget theory of mind,” Miriam Brownlee said.
“We’ll take all that with us into space,” Holle said. “Whatever else we leave behind we’ll take the essence of our humanity.”
Magnus Howe nodded his head. “That’s a good contribution. All of you, all save Holle, are talking in the abstract-of how ‘the crew’ will react to various stimuli, or the lack of them. It’s only Holle who says we. Only Holle who seems to be grasping, today, that you’re not predicting the behavior of some bunch of victims in a psychological experiment. We’re talking about you — some of you, at least, who might survive to board the Ark. How will you react? Look inwards.”
That shut them up, briefly. Then Susan Frasier said, “Earth. I think no matter how far I travel, even light-years, I will always look back to Earth. As I look back to my mother.”
“Yes,” Magnus Howe said, nodding vigorously. “Earth, the planet that shaped its cargo of life for four billion years before any of us in this room were born. Surely none of you will ever shut her out of your mind and heart.”
“But Earth has betrayed us,” said Wilson Argent. “She may be our mother, but she’s drowning us now.”
“It’s not a betrayal,” said Susan. “Not necessarily. It’s just a change, an evolution in Earth’s own conditions. A transition from one climatic state to another.”
Howe said, “This is a class in which we’re discussing the discarding of religion. It wouldn’t be appropriate to start deifying the Earth herself; Earth is surely a self-organizing system, but not a conscious entity. But there is a school of thought that we should simply accept the wisdom of the unconscious adjustment of Earth’s biological and physical cycles.”
Don Meisel leapt on that. “That’s abider talk. Are you an abider, Mr. Howe?”
There was immediate tension. The loosely defined philosophy that had come to be known as “abider thinking” came from a biblical quotation: “One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the Earth abideth forever”-Ecclesiastes 1:4. It was born of a kind of exhaustion, twenty years after the global flooding had first begun to interfere in human affairs. Maybe, some argued, humankind should just give in. The federal government saw such ideas as a reason not to pay your taxes, and cracked down hard.
And abider talk was frowned on in the Academy as the kind of thinking that could sabotage the project as surely as the actions of disaffected eye-dee terrorists. So Don’s was a serious charge; Howe could lose his job.
Howe just smiled. “The question is, what is in your hearts-and what will be there in the future, when Earth is no more than a memory to you? You see-” His phone chimed. In class phones were supposed to be set to accept only the most high-priority calls. Howe frowned and dug the phone out of his pocket.
Then Kelly Kenzie’s phone rang.
And Don’s. And Wilson’s. The screens of laptops and handhelds began to flash too.
And, at last, Holle’s phone rang. It showed a simple text message from her father: she should come to the Capitol building right away, where President Vasquez was going to speak.
15
The crowd that had gathered around the clean obelisk of the veterans’ monument, before the steps of the State Capitol, was smaller than Holle might have expected, only a couple of hundred. A selected group, but most of those close to the heart of the Ark project seemed to be there.
President Vasquez herself was already in place by the time the Candidates got there. She was a stocky woman in a dark blue suit, standing behind a lightweight podium bearing the presidential seal. She had a backing of military people, cops, city officials and suited security officers. Periodically checking her watch, Vasquez spoke to a man in a blue air force uniform. Stern-faced, tanned, very fit, he might have been sixty.
The day was dull, overcast, but warm, humid. Not a typical midsummer Colorado day, old-timers said, but then no day was typical any more. The Capitol looked the worse for wear, the pale stone streaked by years of dirty rain, but two big Stars and Stripes hung on poles to either side, stirring in the fitful breeze. Holle glanced back over the park, which was fenced off from the government buildings around it. Marble pavements had been dug up to reveal raw earth, and shabby residents worked on rows of potatoes. Potatoes were the Food of the Flood, according to official government advice.
Standing in the crowd, Holle felt self-conscious in her colorful uniform, aware of resentful glances from those around her. The Candidates were becoming celebrities, of a sort, even to their coworkers. Though hundreds worked on various aspects of the project, such as the huge construction sites out at Gunnison, few even knew that the whole idea was to build a starship. But even so it was clear the Candidates were being groomed for some great adventure. Not many in Denver were leading aspirational lives, and a lot of people liked to follow the Candidates’ activities, their ups and downs, as if they were characters in some reality TV show. Some of the Candidates played up to it. Kelly and Don competed over hits on their blogs. But the downside was resentment and envy.
Holle recognized a lot of the faces around her, including the rich men and women of LaRei, some of them parents of Academy students themselves. The parents, huddled in little knots talking seriously, were mostly men, fathers. The Candidates had observed that many of their number came from families without a mother, like Holle, Kelly, Zane. Maybe only fathers dreamed of shooting their children off into space. Edward Kenzie, Kelly’s father, wasn’t here, however. Holle had heard rumors that he was spending a lot of time at Yellowstone Park, pursuing a different Ark project-Ark Two, maybe. But if Kelly knew anything about that she wasn’t saying. Secrecy was everywhere, endemic.