Showm gestured. The word politics had appeared on the label above the drawer handle. "The inside will organize itself according to the structure you create as you use it. Suppose you wanted to collect material on, say, how various services across Thurien are managed…" In response to her vocal cue, a subhead Planetary Administration added itself to the label below politics. Inside the drawer, a group of folders acquired contents, along with suitable tabs to mark them. Showm lifted one of the folders out, riffled briefly through the papers inside, and handed it to Mildred. "And you can take it back to your desk and use it in the way you are used to, with no screens or confusing dialogs to worry about," she said.
"Splendid!" Mildred exclaimed. The folder was marked "Regional Congresses," and contained a selection of articles, maps, charts, and tables that VISAR had compiled together as a starting point on the subject.
"Everything is very local here," Showm commented. "Nothing as bureaucratic as the kind of thing you're used to. Much of Earth's ways of going about things results from the need to resolve conflicts. That's not a problem that we see a great deal of. Conflict arises from competitiveness, which isn't a big part of Ganymean nature."
"Yes, I'd gathered that. On account of your different origins."
"So it would appear."
Mildred dropped the folder back into its place in the drawer. She was still finding her first experience of being able to study one of the aliens alone, at close quarters, too fascinating to make as much of the opportunity for plying Showm with questions as would have been her normal inclination. And besides, her resolution to herself to heed Christian and not talk too much still held sway. There would be other times.
Showm not only towered over Mildred in height, but was built more broadly and massively in proportion, with long, firm limbs, revealed by a short-sleeved tunic to be magnificently contoured and muscled in an athletic kind of way that made Mildred confess inwardly to a feeling of seeming pudgy in comparison. Her skin was a blue-gray, darkening to purplish blooms at the elbows, backs of her hands, and back and sides of her neck, blending onto the black, crinkly head covering that functioned as hair. The effect was somewhat reminiscent of an old-style Roman or Norman helmet adorning the elongated Ganymean skull with its protruding, counterbalancing jaw. It was a strange irony, Mildred thought, that a race so totally devoid of aggressiveness should possess the physique and appearance that evoked images of the warrior caste.
"Is there no competition for office?" Mildred asked. "The leaders who decide your policies. How are they appointed?"
"Terrans have asked me that before," Showm said. She frowned, evidently still having difficulty with it. "There doesn't seem to be a way of answering that is readily comprehended. What you would call leaders here are not so much 'appointed' as 'recognized.' The qualities have to be there already. Devising some process that declares someone to be suitable when in fact they're not would be pointless. Such a person would never be accepted."
"Well, let's take Calazar as a case in point," Mildred suggested. Calazar had spoken for the Thuriens in the dealings with the Jevlenese and seemed to have functioned in the capacity of a planetary ruler or figurehead. The Thurien word for his title seemed to bear out what Showm had said, the nearest translation being "father-found." Terran translators had played safe by opting for the neutral "Identified One" to describe his position. According to Christian, Calazar was due to come over to the Quelsang Institute some time in the next day or two to see the the Multiporter for himself and add his own personal welcome to the team from Earth. "How did he come to occupy the position that he has?" Mildred asked. "What kind of process put him there?"
"He was selected and trained from an early age. The process…?" Showm seemed at a loss. "How could I describe it? It embodies much tradition and experience that has come together over a long time. I suppose that the form of Terran government that comes closest would be a form of monarchy… but not hereditary or elective. The nearest word would probably be 'consensual.'"
This still wasn't getting to the core issues that Mildred wanted to probe. "What if others were able to organize enough supporters with the ability to place one of their own there regardless?" she said.
"You mean forcibly?"
"Yes."
Showm made a gesture of incomprehension. "Why would anyone want that? Should it please me to have the power to compel you to live your own life otherwise than as you would choose?"
"But when all have to live by the same decision, there have to be differences at times," Mildred persisted. "How do you resolve them?"
"You're thinking in terms of Terran militarism and commerce," Showm replied. "They are both systems for allying against threats and rivalries that arise from the competitiveness that Ganymeans don't have. Our enemies are ignorance, delusion, suffering, and the natural hardships that the universe throws against all of us. Why would we pit ourselves against each other? This is where the gap between our cultures becomes unbridgeable. You have to be Ganymean to understand. It isn't something that can be explained, and you then know. It's something that you grow up with; that you feel."
Mildred pushed the file drawer closed and gazed at the skyline of mountain peaks beyond the window. "Actually, I do think I know exactly what you mean." She sighed. "The people of Earth have been blundering around for thousands of years, perfecting systems for following the absolute worst kinds of individuals. They let themselves be made to hate each other and be turned into tools for serving the narrow interests of others, when they could be building a better future for all. From what Christian tells me, I think you know enough of our history to be aware of the consequences."
"Christian?"
"My cousin: Professor Danchekker."
"Ah, yes." Showm stared for several seconds with her deep, ovoid eyes. "I don't think I've heard a Terran be that frank before. Is it truly what you believe?"
The remark was so refreshing that Mildred was unable to contain a short laugh. Christian had described to her how Frenua Showm had been the least credulous among the Thuriens in the face of Jevlenese duplicity, and the most suspicious of all human declarations and motives thereafter. "Some of us Terrans are able to see reality as it is, and not as we're told it is, you know," she replied. "It's not a question of believing anything; it's seeing with your own eyes and common sense what is… Or until quite recent times, what was, anyway. It could be starting to change." She meant since the Jevlenese scheming that had gone on for centuries was exposed. "Victor thinks so. You've met him, of course."
"Hunt, the Englishman? Yes."
"But as for our parade of illustrious princes, conquerors, and shapers of society?" Mildred made a sad face. "The worst of the thieves and the scoundrels. None of their fortunes was ever amassed honestly. They all came from living off the backs of the real producers of anything, however else it might have been camouflaged. There's something defective about people who find satisfaction in that or admire it in others; they're not complete as human beings. But they're the ones who have always had the positions of power. Very rational materialists, no doubt, and highly capable when it comes to pursuing this goal of 'efficiency' that they seek in everything. But lacking in the emotional capacity and feeling for human values that a healthy and sane culture needs to be founded on."