Odeen felt only contempt for them and there was no answering stir along his own smooth curves at all. He thought of Dua instead and of how different she was from all of them. Dua never thinned for any reason other than her own inner needs. She had never tried to attract anyone and was the more attractive for that. If she could have brought herself to join the flock of empty-heads she would be easily recognized (he felt sure) by the fact that she alone would not thin, but would probably thicken, precisely because the others thinned.
And as he thought that, Odeen scanned the sunning Emotionals and noted that one indeed had not.
He stopped and then hastened toward her, oblivious to the Emotionals in his way, oblivious to their wild screeching as they flicked smokily out of his path and chattered desperately in their attempts to avoid coalescing one with the other—at least not in the open, and with a Rational watching.
It was Dua. She did not try to leave. She kept her ground and said nothing.
“Dua,” he said, humbly, “aren’t you coming home?”
“I have no home, Odeen,” she said. Not angrily, not in hate—and all the more dreadfully for that reason.
“How can you blame Tritt for what he did, Dua? You know the poor fellow can’t reason.”
“But you can, Odeen. And you occupied my mind while he arranged to feed my body, didn’t you? Your reason told you that I was much more likely to be trapped by you than by him.”
“Dua, no!”
“No, what? Didn’t you make a big show of teaching me, of educating me?”
“I did, but it wasn’t a show, it was real. And it was not because of what Tritt had done. I didn’t know what Tritt had done.”
“I can’t believe that.” She flowed away without haste. He followed after. They were alone now, the Sun shining redly down upon them.
She turned to him. “Let me ask you one question, Odeen? Why did you want to teach me?”
Odeen said, “Because I wanted to. Because I enjoy teaching and because I would rather teach than do anything else—but learn.”
“And melt, of course.... Never mind,” she added to ward him off. “Don’t explain that you are talking of reason and not of instinct. If you really mean what you say about enjoying teaching; if I can really ever believe what you say; then perhaps you can understand something I’m going to tell you.
“I’ve been learning a great deal since I left you, Odeen. Never mind how. I have. There’s no Emotional left in me at all, except physiologically. Inside, where it counts, I’m all Rational, except that I hope I have more feeling for others than Rationals have. And one thing I’ve learned is what we really are, Odeen; you and I and Tritt and all the other triads on this planet; what we really are and always were.”
“What is that?” asked Odeen. He was prepared to listen for as long as might be necessary, and as quietly, if only she would come back with him when she had said her say. He would perform any penance, do anything that might be required. Only she must come back—and something dim and dark inside him knew that she had to come back voluntarily.
“What we are? Why, nothing, really, Odeen,” she said lightly, almost laughing, “Isn’t that strange? The Hard Ones are the only living species on the face of the world. Haven’t they taught you that? There is only one species because you and I, the Soft Ones, are not really alive. We’re machines, Odeen. We must be because only the Hard Ones are alive. Haven’t they taught you that, Odeen?”
“But, Dua, that’s nonsense,” said Odeen, nonplused.
Dua’s voice grew harsher. “Machines, Odeen! Made by the Hard Ones! Destroyed by the Hard Ones! They are alive, the Hard Ones. Only they. They don’t talk about it much. They don’t have to. They all know it. But I’ve learned to think, Odeen, and I’ve worked it out from the small clues I’ve had. They live tremendously long lives, but die eventually. They no longer give birth; the Sun yields too little energy for that. And since they die very infrequently, but don’t give birth at all, their numbers are very slowly declining. And there are no young ones to provide new blood and new thoughts, so the old, long-lived Hard Ones get terribly bored. So what do you suppose they do, Odeen?”
“What?” There was a kind of fascination about this. A repulsive fascination.
“They manufacture mechanical children, whom they can teach. You said it yourself, Odeen. You would rather teach than do anything else but learn—and melt, of course. The Rationals are made in the mental image of the Hard Ones, and the Hard Ones don’t melt, and learning is terribly complex for them since they already know so much. What is left for them but the fun of teaching. Rationals were created for no purpose but to be taught. Emotionals and Parentals were created because they were necessary for the self-perpetuating machinery that made new Rationals. And new Rationals were needed constantly because the old ones were used up, were taught all they could be taught. And when old Rationals had absorbed what they could, they were destroyed and were taught, in advance, to call the destruction process “passing on” to spare their feelings. And of course, Emotionals and Parentals passed on with them. As long as they had helped form a new triad there was no further use for them.”
“But that’s all wrong, Dua,” Odeen managed to say. He had no arguments to pose against her nightmare scheme, but he knew with a certainty past argument that she was wrong. (Or did a little pang of doubt deep inside suggest that the certainty might have been implanted in him, to begin with?—No, surely no, for then would not Dua be certain with an implanted certainty, too, that this was wrong?—Or was she an imperfect Emotional without the proper implantations and without— Oh, what was he thinking. He was as crazy as she was.)
Dua said, “You look upset, Odeen. Are you sure I’m all wrong? Of course, now they have the Positron Pump and they now have all the energy they need, or will have. Soon they will be giving birth again. Maybe they are doing so already. And they won’t need any Soft-One machines at all, and we will all be destroyed; I beg pardon, we will all pass on.”
“No, Dua,” said Odeen, strenuously, as much to himself as to her. “I don’t know how you got those notions, but the Hard Ones aren’t like that. We are not destroyed.”
“Don’t lie to yourself, Odeen. They are like that. They are prepared to destroy a whole world of other-beings for their benefit; a whole Universe if they have to. Would they stop at destroying a few Soft Ones for their comfort?— But they made one mistake. Somehow the machinery went wrong and a Rational mind got into an Emotional body. I’m a Left-Em, do you know that? They called me that when I was a child, and they were right. I can reason like a Rational and I can feel like an Emotional. And I will fight the Hard Ones with that combination.”
Odeen felt wild. Dua must surely be mad, yet he dared not say so. He had to cajole her somehow and bring her back. He said with strenuous sincerity, “Dua, we’re not destroyed when we pass on.”
“No? What does happen then?”
“I—I don’t know. I think we enter another world, a better and happier world, and become like—like—well, much better than we are.”
Dua laughed. “Where did you hear that? Did the Hard Ones tell you that?”
“No, Dua. I’m sure that this must be so out of my own thoughts. I’ve been thinking a great deal about it since you left.”
Dua said, “Then think less and you’ll be less foolish. Poor Odeen! Good-by.” She flowed away once more, thinly. There was an air of weariness about her.