The blind Lo’tfian females are known to be highly intelligent. The intellectual level of the Lo’tfian males, however, is a much-debated subject. On the one hand, until the arrival of Cecropians on Lo’tfi, no Lo’tfian exhibited curiosity toward anything beyond the planet. This is understandable for the burrowing females, but not for the males who roamed the surface and saw stars and planets every night. In addition, Lo’tfian male interpreters for Cecropians function as pure translation devices, never commenting on or adding to the statements of their masters.
On the other hand, Lo’tfian males are superb linguists, and when deprived of their Cecropian dominatrixes they are certainly capable of independent thought and action. Male Lo’tfians who are taken off-planet are illiterate, but they pick up reading and writing so easily and rapidly that these abilities are surely part of their genetic stock.
The prevailing theory to resolve this paradox comes from limited studies of Lo’tfian physiology. The male brain, it is believed, is highly organized and possesses powerful intelligence. However, it contains an unknown physical inhibitor, chemical in nature, that forbids the employment of that intelligence when in the presence of a Lo’tfian female. Confronted by such a female, the reasoning ability of the male Lo’tfian simply switches off. (A much weaker form of this phenomenon has been attributed to other species. See Human entry of this catalog.) The same mechanism is believed to be at work to a lesser extent when the Lo’tfian male encounters Cecropians and other intelligences. If this theory is true, no one is ever exposed to full Lo’tfian intelligence in face-to-face meetings with them.
History: From other evidence on the planet Lo’tfi, the planet’s dominant organisms are members of an old race, existing in their present physical form and enjoying their present life patterns for at least ten million years. If there are written records, they are maintained in the burrows by the dominant females and are unavailable to outside inspection.
Culture: Lo’tfian males living on the surface of their home planet or absent from it display no interest in mating. They are in a mature form they refer to as “Second Stage” or “Postlarval.” Since the adult form of the species possesses two well-defined sexes, and since it is highly unlikely that the burrow-dwelling larval stage prior to metamorphosis is capable to reproduction, mating presumably takes place when the males return to the burrows carrying food. At that time, male intelligence is inhibited and sex drives will dominate. Since Lo’tfian females are continuously intelligent, they define and control all Lo’tfian culture.
It is interesting to speculate on the social organization that might be set up by a group of Lo’tfian males, far removed from their females or other intelligent beings. These speculations remain academic, since such circumstance have not so far arisen and are unlikely to do so. Male Lo’tfians become agitated and exhibit irrational behavior when access to intelligent companions, of their own or other species, is denied them.
CHAPTER 6
A journey out to Gargantua sounded difficult and dangerous. Birdie Kelly had been dreading the prospect. As he got to know Julius and Steven Graves better he liked the idea even less; and when E. C. Tally’s presence on the trip was thrown in for good measure, Birdie’s level of apprehension was raised to new heights.
Yet that final addition proved to be the saver. In some way that Birdie could not explain, Steven Graves and E. C. Tally canceled each other out. Maybe it was because they never stopped arguing. The annoyance level of their arguments was enough to reduce most other irritations to background level, and it allowed Birdie to take his mind off the unpleasant reality of the journey.
That reality had started even before they lifted off from Opal. All three had gone to the edge of one of the Slings, to inspect the ship that Birdie had been offered for the journey. Tally had lagged behind the other two, showing an unnatural interest in a species of domestic waterfowl swimming just offshore.
“You’re saying he’s a bloody robot!” Birdie complained, when he was sure he could not be overheard. “Well, why didn’t somebody tell me that when he first arrived? No wonder he comes across like such an idiot.”
“He’s not a robot.” Julius Graves was eyeing the interplanetary transit vessel with disfavor. The ship was certainly big — ten times the size they needed — but the outer hull was scarred and rusted. On Miranda it would have seen the scrap heap a century earlier. “I really shouldn’t have said anything at all, except that sometime it might be important for you to know. E. Crimson Tally is an embodied computer. His available data base should be huge, even though he lacks human experience and local knowledge.”
“Same difference. Computer, robot. And data base about what? He doesn’t seem to know anything useful.”
“He’s not a computer, or a robot. He has a human body.”
Birdie shuddered. “That’s awful. Whose was it before he got it?”
“Nobody’s. It was grown for him from a library template.” Graves had climbed up to stare through a hatch into the ship’s vast and desolate interior. He sniffed. “Phew. What did you say this was used for last time?”
“Ore freighter.” Birdie peered in. “At least, that’s what they told me. Can’t imagine what sort of ore looked like that. Or smelled like it.” He pulled his head out fast. Even he was impressed by the filth inside. “But I still don’t know what Tally’s doing here.”
“Blame me for that. If I had returned to Miranda as planned, E. C. Tally would have gone with me. He tells me that he was sent to Opal with three goals. First, to determine firsthand the significance of recent events here; second, to accompany me wherever I go; and third, to bring me back with him to Alliance headquarters.” Graves rubbed his hand over the hatch cover and stared at the results with distaste. “Look, this won’t do. The whole inside will have to be cleaned out completely before it’s fit for use.”
“No problem.”
No problem, because Birdie knew that the chances of getting anyone to clean it out were zero; but there was no point in telling that to Graves. It occurred to Birdie that he would willingly settle for the last of those three stated mission objectives for E. C. Tally — all his own problems would go away if only Graves and Tally would just leave. And didn’t it display the most monstrous and the most typical gall, for the Alliance Council to sit hundreds of light-years away and try to call the shots through a half-witted robot?
Tally’s next act had not helped his popularity with Birdie. He had finished his puzzled inspection of the ducks, then wandered over to examine the inside and outside of the ship.
“May I speak?” he said at last.
Birdie swore. “Will you for God’s sake stop saying that? Even when I say no, you speak anyway.”
“My apologies, Commissioner Kelly. Since my request for some reason causes you discomfort, I will try to desist… even though politeness was a basic element of my prime indoctrination. However, I am sure you will be interested in what I have to say now. I have been engaged in computation and analysis. Based on this ship’s history and current condition, I calculate a sixty-six percent chance of catastrophic failure on any extended journey, such as that planned to the planet Gargantua.”