They came to the end of the parapet and entered a small cupola marking an angle in the perimeter wall. Inside was a seat, an intriguing design of tiled mosaics on the walls, and a g-well going down to the arched cloister below. They emerged onto the continuing ambulatory on the far side. Calazar paused to admire the garden below, where one of the staff was cleaning the edge of a fish pond at the base of stepped lawns leading up to the house. Showm allowed him time to ponder on what she had said. He seemed to have no questions or demurrals so far. When they began moving again, she resumed.
"I believed that humans suffered from an inherent, ineradicable flaw. Now I find I can no longer be so certain. They have undergone cataclysms and traumas that our ancestors never knew. I suspect now that something else which once existed and should have flowered might have been destroyed. Something noble and magnificent, with the potential to transcend everything we have become, just as their ability to endure what they have defies our imagination. But it's still there. I see glimpses of it in their tenacity, their determination, the way they will always come back and rebuild again after the worst calamities the universe can throw at them, and refuse to give in against odds that every Thurien would know are impossible. And if so, then perhaps the damage can be undone. We abandoned them when we left them as primitive hominids on Minerva. We abandoned them to the savagery of Earth after Minerva was destroyed. They were denied their right to grow into what they could have become, just as Minerva was. Let us not abandon them again, Calazar. This time, let us show the patience and guidance that we failed to before. We owe it to them. Not the punishment of isolation from the rest of the universe."
"Profound words, indeed, Frenua," Calazar commented, clasping his hands behind his back and glancing out over the clouds.
"I've been doing some profound thinking."
Calazar looked down for a few moments longer, measuring his steps. "But we're not talking about isolating them now. That goes back to the time when we were laboring under the deceptions perpetrated by the Jevlenese."
"The stressors are still there at the construction centers-thousands of them. They're an abomination. It's to our shame that we ever could have conceived such a deed, let alone commenced implementing it. We went against our own nature and let ourselves be corrupted by the Jevlenese."
"They're no more than a precaution now…"
Showm shook her head firmly. "No, Calazar. They represent far more. Their existence says that we have yielded to the same arrogance of power that we condemn in the Jevlenese and in the Terrans: the right to impose our will; to equate superiority of force with superiority of virtue. For us to remain true to ourselves, they must be destroyed."
Calazar frowned and made an appealing gesture, in the manner of one reluctant to explain something that should have been obvious. "But you said yourself, you cannot be certain. The human problem could be impossible to rectify, something that goes all the way back to their origins. What would you have me do, Frenua? You, yourself had the strongest misgivings about our decision to adopt an open policy of making our knowledge available to the Terrans. You said it would only enable them to make more ghastly and powerful weapons. Are you saying now that we should leave them with that capability, but take away our one means of protecting ourselves, should our worst fears prove true? Would you want such weapons unleashed upon the Galaxy?"
"No, of course not. But what remains is a relationship that at the bottom is based on suspicion and distrust. What poisons it is uncertainty. If we knew for a fact that the cause was hopeless, we could avoid the disillusionment that would be inevitable sooner or later by going ahead with the containment option now, and at least be consoled in knowing there was no choice.
"But if we knew we were dealing with a sickness that was acquired, we could commit ourselves positively to a future grounded in optimism-which might well prove to be the most important ingredient for succeeding-without need for an escape option that we have to keep secret, the very existence of which demeans us. Terrans call it 'burning your boats.' It's a good phrase. It signifies determination and the commitment to press on, without the choice of being able to run back again."
"It could also be construed as signifying certifiable recklessness," Calazar pointed out. "It would be a bit late to decide you'd made the wrong guess when you've got planets being overrun, looted, despoiled, blown up, and who knows what else all the way from here to Sol and out to Callantares, wouldn't it? Your boats are gone, and a volcano just erupted in front of you. What do you do then?" Calazar threw out his hands. "We can't be certain. So we try to be prudent. We're giving the humans the benefit of the doubt, and yes, I agree we owe it to them. But we have insurance if we are wrong. We owe ourselves at least that much."
"All of which is inarguable on the basis of the premise that you advanced to support it," Showm conceded. "But the premise is invalid. There is a way in which we can be certain." She stopped, compelling Calazar to do likewise and face her directly.
Calazar's features creased into non-comprehension. "How. What way? What are you talking about?"
"The Multiverse project," Showm said. "What it points to, if it succeeds, is being able to contact other realms that exist-or have existed! And I think it will succeed. We already know that it's possible to reach the time of ancient Minerva." Showm looked at Calazar unwaveringly. She had never been as serious in her life. "What were the Lunarians like before Broghuilio and the Jevlenese arrived? Supposedly, they were industrious and cooperative, but nobody knows for sure. Were they, in fact, and was that the beginning of a chain of events that changed them? Or is it just a fable, and were they already showing traits that the Jevlenese merely exploited? Your argument presumes that we have to try and guess as best we can. But maybe we will soon possess the means to know for certain."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Gregg Caldwell was in trouble on the home front again. His wife, Maeve, said she had told him two weeks before that Sharon Theakston's wedding would be on May 15, before he'd arranged his getaway golfing weekend in Pennsylvania. He was certain he had heard nothing about it. Maeve insisted that he had assured her he wouldn't forget (again). He had no recollection of any such fact. The battle lines at breakfast had been unyielding. She'd said that he must have been in one of these other realities that everyone was talking about. And suddenly Caldwell grasped what Hunt had been getting at in these reports about "lensing" and time lines coming together instead of branching apart.
He was still turning it over in his mind when he came out of the elevator at the top of the Advanced Sciences building after having lunch with some visiting Brazilians, and ambled back to his office. Mitzi was watering the plants in the miniature Thurien rock garden that Sandy Holmes had sent back on behalf of Danchekker. Apparently, Danchekker didn't trust Ms. Mulling to tend it with the requisite love and care until they returned. "Well, at least they haven't turned into monsters that run around the building eating people," Caldwell commented, inspecting the colorful array of fronds, flowers, and cactuslike lobes.