Now, as she was slowly gathering life out of the energy supply, the Hard Ones stood silently near them.
Odeen rose; a new Odeen who knew what was happening exactly. Imperiously, he ordered them away with an angry gesture—and they left. Silently. Without objection.
Dua stirred.
Tritt said, “Is she all right, Odeen?”
“Quiet, Tritt,” said Odeen. “Dua?”
“Odeen?” She stirred, spoke in a whisper. “I thought I had passed on.”
“Not yet, Dua. Not yet. But first you must eat and rest.”
“Is Tritt here, too?”
“Here I am, Dua,” said Tritt.
“Don’t try to bring me back,” said Dua. “It’s over, I’ve done what I wanted to do. The Positron Pump will—will stop soon, I’m sure. The Hard Ones will continue to need Soft Ones and they will take care of you two, or at least the children.”
Odeen didn’t say anything. He kept Tritt from saying anything, either. He let the radiation pour slowly into Dua, very slowly. He stopped at times to let her rest a bit, then he started again.
She began to mutter, “Enough. Enough.” Her substance was writhing more strongly.
Still he fed her.
Finally, he spoke. He said, “Dua, you were wrong. We are not machines. I know exactly what we are. I would have come to you sooner, if I had found out earlier, but I didn’t know till Losten begged me to think. And I did; very hard; and even so it is almost premature.”
Dua moaned and Odeen stopped for a while.
He said, “Listen, Dua. There is a single species of life. The Hard Ones are the only living things in the world. You gathered that, and so far you were right. But that doesn’t mean the Soft Ones aren’t alive; it merely means we are part of the same single species. The Soft Ones are the immature forms of the Hard Ones. We are first children as Soft Ones, then adults as Soft Ones, then Hard Ones. Do you understand?”
Tritt said, in soft confusion, “What? What?”
Odeen said, “Not now, Tritt. Not now. You’ll understand, too, but this is for Dua.” He kept watching Dua, who was gaining opalescence.
He said, “Listen, Dua, whenever we melt, whenever the triad melts, we become a Hard One. The Hard One is three-in-one, which is why he is hard. During the time of unconsciousness in melting we are a Hard One. But it is only temporary, and we can never remember the period afterward. We can never stay a Hard One long; we must come back. But all through our life we keep developing, with certain key stages marking it off. Each baby born marks a key stage. With the birth of the third, the Emotional, there comes the possibility of the final stage, where the Rational’s mind by itself, without the other two, can remember those flashes of Hard One existence. Then, and only then, he can guide a perfect melt that will form the Hard One forever, so that the triad can live a new and unified life of learning and intellect. I told you that passing on was like being born again. I was groping then for something I did not quite understand, but now I know.”
Dua was looking at him, trying to smile. She said, “How can you pretend to believe that, Odeen? If that were so, wouldn’t the Hard Ones have told you long ago; told all of us?”
“They couldn’t, Dua. There was a time, long ages ago, when melting was just a putting together of the atoms of bodies. But evolution slowly developed minds. Listen to me, Dua; melting is a putting together of the minds, too, and that’s much harder, much more delicate. To put it together properly and permanently, just so, the Rational must reach a certain pitch in development. That pitch is reached when he finds out, for himself, what it’s all about: when his mind is finally keen enough to remember what has happened in all those temporary unions during melting. If the Rational were told, that development would be aborted and the time of the perfect melt could not be determined. The Hard One would form imperfectly. When Losten pleaded with me to think, he was taking a great chance. Even that may have been— I hope not—
“For it’s especially true in our case, Dua. For many generations, the Hard Ones have been combining triads with great care to form particularly advanced Hard Ones and our triad was the best they’d ever obtained. Especially you, Dua. Especially you. Losten was once the triad whose baby-mid you were. Part of him was your Parental. He knew you. He brought you to Tritt and me.”
Dua sat up. Her voice was almost normal. “Odeen! Are you making all this up to soothe me?”
Tritt broke in. “No, Dua. I feel it, too. I feel it, too. I don’t know what exactly, but I feel it.”
“He does, Dua,” said Odeen. “You will, too. Aren’t you beginning to recall being a Hard One during our melt? Don’t you want to melt now? One last time? One last time?”
He lifted her. There was a feverishness about her, and though she struggled a bit, she was thinning.
“If what you say is true, Odeen,” she gasped. “If we are to be a Hard One; then it seems to me you are saying we’ll be an important one. Is that so?”
“The most important. The best who was ever formed. I mean that... Tritt, over there. It’s not good-by, Tritt. We’ll be together, as we always wanted to be. Dua, too. You, too, Dua.”
Dua said, “Then we can make Estwald understand the Pump can’t continue. We’ll force—”
The melting was beginning. One by one, the Hard Ones were entering again at the crucial moment. Odeen saw them imperfectly, for he was beginning to melt into Dua.
It was not like the other times; no sharp ecstasy; just a smooth, cool, utterly peaceful movement. He could feel himself become partly Dua, and all the world seemed pouring into his/her sharpening senses. The Positron Pumps were still going—he/she could tell—why were they still going?
He was Tritt, too, and a keen sharp sense of bitter loss filled his/her/his mind. Oh, my babies—
And he cried out, one last cry under the consciousness of Odeen, except that somehow it was the cry of Dua. “No, we can’t stop Estwald. We are Estwald. We—”
The cry that was Dua’s and yet not Dua’s stopped and there was no longer any Dua; nor would there ever be Dua again. Nor Odeen. Nor Tritt.
7abc
Estwald stepped forth and said sadly to the waiting Hard Ones, by way of vibrating air waves, “I am permanently with you now, and there is much to do—”
3. ...contend in vain?
1
Selene Lindstrom smiled brightly and walked with the light springy touch that was startling when first seen by the tourists, but was soon recognized as having a grace of its own.
“It’s time for lunch,” she said, cheerfully. “All home-grown, ladies and gentlemen. You may not be used to the taste, but it’s all nourishing.... Right here, sir. You won’t mind sitting with the ladies, I know.... One moment. There will be seats for all.... Sorry, there will be a choice on the beverage, but not on the main course. That will be veal. ... No, no. Artificial flavor and texture, but it’s really quite good.”
Then she sat down herself, with a slight sigh and an even slighter wavering of her pleasant expression.
One of the group sat down across from her.
“Do you mind?” he asked.
She looked at him, quickly, penetrating. She had the faculty of making quick judgments, of course, and he did not seem troublesome. She said, “Not at all. But aren’t you with someone in this group?”