“I think I shall go now,” he said. “If I don’t, who knows what may happen! I shall even perhaps find myself back with Elylé—I wouldn’t put it past myself, I assure you.”
“How will you call your spacecraft?” I asked.
“I shall return—in another way,” said he. “Goodbye, Sirius. And thank you. Look after your equipment—your earrings and the rest—they will be coming after it and after you, and when they find I have disappeared they may make that an excuse to take you physically… Call your spaceship in and leave. That is my advice.”
He ran out of the room, and after some time I him, small dark figure, emerge from the base of the tower. He taken no covering with him. I understood. He was going to walk off into the great snow wastes and die there. This gave me food for thought indeed—it was the beginning of a new understanding about the ways of Canopus, their different means of going and coming, of “travelling,” if you like… I did not have time to think of all this then, any more than I had time to reflect on this long conversation with Canopus, in which there were so many openings for a greater comprehension. I was watching Nasar struggle forward. I could see from the low crowding white in the northeast that soon it would snow again. But long before it did, Nasar would be lost in the billowing piling masses. He would be dead very soon, I knew. He would not be found, I could be pretty sure, until the snow melted. That was when I could be afraid of the Puttiorans coming to take me in; probably on a charge of not reporting a disappearance, and even of murder—who knew what one could expect in a place like this! But the melting of the snows was a long way off. I had hoped to wait till the spring. I stood looking out at the scene that seemed crammed with white substance, and thinking that all that was water. How it would swirl and flood around these towers when the season changed! I would stand up here in the little tip of this tower, and look down at brown floods—and then, so I believed, there would be a burst of vegetation. I had never seen anything like that.
I had no reason at all to doubt that when Canopus warned, they should be listened to. I did not want to have to face the Puttiorans, or even that degenerate smiling cruel lot—these gone-to-self-indulgence classes are always cruel in their lazy insolent way… Then why was I waiting here? Why, of course, to meet Klorathy.
I had come here to meet Klorathy…
I understood that I had met Klorathy. There was a mystery here I did not expect to unravel then, but I knew there was one.
I decided that I would call in my hovering Space Traveller and leave. I sent out the call and collected my belongings. I found a white hooded garment folded in a chest and huddled myself in it. I did not want to be seen, a dark escapee against the snows, and arrested.
Just as I was preparing to leave these high rooms at the cone’s tip, and descend to the street, I saw some writing sheets where Nasar had been stretched before I came into the room.
His despair, his misery, his self-loathing, his conflicts, were written there in broken, sometimes abusive or obscene words. I ran my eyes swiftly over them, leafing through the many sheets: there were months of comment there. But on the sheet he had been scribbling over, just before I had come into the room, was written:
I come again and again to the same thought. I may not be able to face Canopus and my own nature now, and the shame that will overwhelm me when I contemplate what I have been here, but I have only to contemplate Sirius to be strengthened in the better side of myself: thinking of Sirius I feel that perhaps I may at last force myself back to my duty. How is it possible that an Empire can be so large, so strong, so longlasting; so energetic, so inventive, so skilled; how can it be so admirable in so many ways—and yet never have any inkling at all of the basic fact? They continue; they thrive; they fall into periods of decline; they make decisions; they advance again… they let their populations rage out of control, and then suddenly limit them to practically nothing. And all this done according to a temporary balance of social forces and opinion—never according to Need. This worthy and correct and competent official who is no more capable of the shameful falling that I have shown I am only too capable of, is not able to take in anything of what the function of Canopus is. What the function of Sirius could be. Is that not a thought with enough power in it to make me whole again?
That is what I saw written there. I put this sheet of brittle yet at the same time flexible substance—it was new to me—in my clothes, and in my turn walked rapidly down the stairs and out into the cold whiteness. It had begun to snow again, though lightly. I not afraid I would not find the Space Traveller, only that I might be stopped first. I did see a couple of Puttioran guards at the base of the far tower, and I ran fast along the road I had come into the city on. It was hard to keep on the road. On either side were faint depressions to mark the ditches. I stumbled on, wondering if Nasar was still upright and walking onwards, or if he had fallen and was dying. It was strange to think in this way: we did not expect to die! Not we of the Sirian Mother Planet who can renew our bodies almost indefinitely. Death was hardly a reality to us. And that Canopus should use bodies like an equipment of garments…
I had not run forward for long when I saw the soft glitter of the Space Traveller, and was in it and up and off the white thicknesses in a moment—soon below us the brown cones stood up out of the white coverlet, and above us was the Rohandan night sky crammed with blazing stars. I looked for our own dear star, which shed such a happy glow on our Home Planet, but I was bound for the southern hemisphere. We swept on, with the white expanse below us, and then over the mountains that were white, too, and suddenly below us was the blue ocean. The experiments I was proposing to organise do not concern my purpose in this account.
And so I conclude my report of my encounter with Canopus in Koshi, of the cities of the eastern central landmass.
For long time I was nowhere near Rohanda, but at the other end of our Empire, dealing with problems, mostly psychological, arising from the reductions of population. I did not enjoy this work, and if it were not that the problems were so taxing, and, often, dangerous to the Empire, I would have visited Rohanda for a personal inspection of the experiments that were being pursued there. But none of these were of the class described sociobiological, only small-scale laboratory work on genetic engineering.
It not until the question arose of Planet 3 (1) and its future that I could with good conscience return home for the discussions on policy, and then look forward to a tour of duty on Rohanda.
The policy discussions were long and even stormy. Our decision not to acquire and develop further planets had been maintained. Planet 3 (1) was Planet 3’s moon or satellite. Planet 3 was in active use. Its moon had never been developed, was almost entirely without oxygen: but it fell within the class of planets that are considered potentially the most useful and desirable, if their atmosphere can be adjusted. At the height of our Empire’s expansion, plans had been made to force 3 (1), for it plentifully equipped all kinds of minerals. But as pursued our deliberate policy of retraction and reduction, the search for supplies of minerals became unnecessary. I think it is not far off the truth to say that we came to overlook 3 (1), even forgot it. Planet 3 itself, an adequately functioning place, was not concerned with it, except as to how it affected her gravitational situation.
The question of developing 3 (1) arose because there is a latent hunger in our Colonial Service for the old days of expansion and development. I say this knowing I shall attract criticism, and cries of “Old Imperialist!” But why avoid the truth! It is my belief that very many of the ills and problems of our Service stem from this hunger. There is something in Sirian nature that demands, that flourishes, in situations of challenge, provided best by the takeover of a new planet, its problems, it regulations, its development. To expand, I maintain, if not normal for us (in the sense that is right) is at least the most agreeable condition. To monitor and police planets kept deliberately stable, and on a low level of energy generally, is not exhilarating, does not inspire and develop the members of the Service. If this were not true, should we always have in operation so many schemes deliberately contrived to provide challenge to our Service?