It would not occur to Bones for a long time that the Observer’s sensory impressions were just as much a coded representation of reality as were human words. So were the molecular patterns which recorded those impressions, and passed them from one Observer unit to another. The species was a good scientist, but not yet a philosopher.
Genda was finally persuaded to settle, for the time, for Bones’ concession that her belief was possible; it was one of those things which a scientist could not call knowledge. All the human listeners except Genda could see this viewpoint easily enough. Such terms as UFO and Chariot of the Gods had not survived. Common sense had, of necessity, though the teachers might have been bothered if anyone had called their attitude scientific. They were, in their own way, as religious as Genda, though far less bigoted.With the collective nature of Bones’ mind now fairly clear, the question of what had happened to the “other” Bones had to be faced. Events up to the time the two units had shared memories through the bars were clear enough. The smaller unit had managed to escape observation by descending several levels at the first opportunity after their separation. This had been a matter of luck, since there had been no knowledge of the Hill’s population arrangement to provide guidance. Hours of unguided wandering had been ended by a decision to go up for food, based on the same logic which had guided Earrin. The Nomad had been found first. Where the original Bones might be was a matter of guesswork; the teachers had heard nothing of even one Observer wandering about the Hill, much less of two. The best guess seemed to be that Bones-One was still in the Hemenway area, free or otherwise.
Earrin, however, was starting to develop another worry. While he had no real reason to suppose that his family were anywhere but on the home raft, he knew that he should, get back there himself before long. Otherwise, his wife would take some sort of action. He didn’t know what it would be, and certainly felt more trust in her general competence than in his own, but did not want to return to find them missing.
It might be possible, of course, to guess what she would be doing and even what she was expecting him to do — they had, after all, been together for a number of years — but Earrin would feel much better and less undecided if he managed to get home before she yielded to the urge for action.
The Nomad was therefore more pleased than offended when Genda began resuming her hints about intruders who used up city air. He said nothing about being owed air or anything else.
The teachers, however, reacted differently, and even the children looked embarrassed.
“Genda!” exclaimed Zhamia. “You can’t want these people to go. It’s the first real chance we’ve had to learn — ”
“We don’t need to learn some things!” Even Earrin could see that the old woman’s personality was crystallized, but Mort felt bound to keep on trying.
“That may be so, Gen,” he said quietly, “but don’t you want to teach? I’ve heard you complain so much about the people who don’t have your firmness — not just the Hemenway kids and their heresy, but people like Zhamia and me who are a bit weak on details. You know people get tired of listening to the old words, but maybe Bones and Earrin can provide new ones which will help convince them.”
A more objective mind than Genda’s would have caught the weakness in this argument — the obvious possibility that new information was as likely to undermine the faith as to support it.
However, she was quite unable to entertain the idea that she might be wrong, so this risk never occurred to her. Earrin was tempted to point it out to her, so that she would not be persuaded to let the strangers stay. Then it occurred to him that he didn’t have to stay anyway, so he kept quiet.
Of course, if Zhamia and Mort wanted him and Bones to provide still more information, perhaps they should stay and do so; the chance of getting on really good terms with the Hillers would be too good to miss. Even Earrin, with fourteen years of Nomad life behind him and a complete confidence in his own ability to take care of life’s problems, was willing to accept increased security for himself and even more for his family. Kahvi’s first baby, and her last two, had lived only a few weeks; Fyn was ready to go a long way to improve the chances for the next one.
He did not hear Genda’s reply to the teacher’s argument; he was too deeply immersed in his own thinking. He should get back to the raft soon. He should maintain friendly contact with Mort and Zhamia.
He should get Bones-One out of the hands of the Hemenway delinquents, if Bones didn’t solve that problem by himself. It took him some time to resolve these conflicting needs — typically, as his wife would have said with a smile and Earrin himself easily admitted. Just as typically, when the plan did develop he put it into execution with no further thought. This was at least excusable in an adult Nomad; such a person had to have the right answers on file. When problems did arise, there was very seldom much time to solve them.
“Are all these people you dislike — the Hemenway ones, oxygen junkies, Genda?” he asked.
“The jail where I landed and where several of them met me has waster’s air in it. I only met one person inside, but something the others said made me think he was part of their group.”
“I didn’t know they were that bad,” sniffed the purist, “but it doesn’t surprise me much.” The reaction of the teachers was much more constructive, and Earrin congratulated himself silently.”Mort! We can’t leave a safety building in that condition! And if the young people have been responsible for their upkeep, maybe a lot of them — or all of them — we’ll have to get some nitro culture.
Earrin can — ”
“Earrin can,” Mort cut in, “but we can’t ask him to. In the first place, he has his own home to take care of. In the second, if these youngsters are all O-junkies we’ll need a lot more people to fix things over their objections anyway. If Earrin wants to help for reasonable pay, that’s one thing; but it’s a city job.”
A child’s voice cut in. The youngsters had been listening with an attention and silence which might have been startling a couple of millennia before, but which the adults present all took for granted. Even in the cities, people walked so nearly hand-in-hand with death that discipline was one of the first necessities learned. This was the chief reason why Mort and Zhamia were so concerned at the news that the Hemenway youngsters might be oxygen-wasters as well as heretics.
“You’ve been talking about practical lessons,” the child said, “for a long time now. Would this be a good time for them?” The teachers were a little startled for a moment.
“It certainly would,” Zhamia admitted, “but we could take only Betty outside. We’ll have to get the parents of you others. We can’t leave the air room here unattended, either. Let’s see. We’ll pick half of you by whack, and those can go and get their parents. We’ll meet at North-Up-Two. The rest of you will have to stay on duty here. Mort, do you have the gold?”
“Sure.” The man drew an old medal from his harness pouch. “I’m ready.” He turned his back on the others. “Face goes, inscription stays. Pick one.” Zhamia touched one of the children.
“Toss,” she said quietly.