There was nodding from all quarters, even from Wang Sau-leyan. Wei Feng looked about him, satisfied, then spoke again.
"It is, of course, why we are here today. The attack on Bremen and the planned Uttmnwn Plantations are significant enough in themselves, but they have far wider implications. It is to these wider implications—to the underlying causes and the long-term prospects for Chung Kuo—that we must address ourselves."
Wei Feng looked briefly to his old friend Li Shai Tung, then lifted one hand from the arm of his chair, seventy-five years of command forming that tiny, almost effortless gesture. All of his long experience, the whole majesty of his power, was gathered momentarily in his raised hand, while his seated form seemed to emanate an aura of solemn purpose and iron-willed determination. His eyes traced the circle of his fellow T'ang.
"These are special circumstances, my cousins. Very special. I can think of no occasion on which the threat to the stability of Chung Kuo has been greater than it is now."
There was a low murmur of agreement, a nodding of heads. To Li Shai Tung it felt suddenly like old times, with the Council as one not merely in its policy but in its sentiments. He looked across at Wang Sau-leyan and saw how the young T'ang of Africa was watching him, his eyes filled with a sympathetic understanding. It was unexpected, but not, when he considered it, surprising, for this—as Wei Feng had said—threatened them all. If some good were to come of all that horror, let it be this—that it had served to unify the Seven.
He looked back at Wei Feng, listening.
"Not even in the darkest days of the War was there a time when we did not believe in the ultimate and inevitable triumph of the order that we represent. But can we say so with such confidence today? Bremen was more than a tragedy for all those who lost friends and family in the attack—it was a show of power. A statement of potentiality. What we must discover is this—who wields that power? What is that potentiality? The very fact that we cannot answer these questions immediately concerns me, for it indicates just how much we have lost control of things. For Bremen to have happened ought to have been unthinkable. But now we must face facts—must begin to think the unthinkable."
Wei Feng turned slightly, the fingers of his hand opening out, pointed toward Li Shai Tung.
"Cousins! It is time to say openly what has hitherto remained unexpressed. Li Shai Tung, will you begin?"
Their eyes turned to the T'ang of Europe expectantly.
"Cousins," Li Shai Tung began softly. "I wish I had come to you in better days and spoken of these things, rather than have had adversity push me to it. But you must understand that what I say here today is no hasty, ill-considered reaction to Bremen, but has matured in me over many years. Forgive me also if what I say seems at times to border on a lecture. It is not meant so, I assure you. Yet it seemed to me that I must set these things out clearly before you, if only to see whether my eyes, my brain, deceived me in this matter, or whether my vision and my reason hold good."
"We are listening, Cousin Li," Tsu Ma said, his expression willing Li Shai Tung to go on—to say what had to be said. Li Shai Tung looked about him, seeing that same encouragement mirrored in the faces of the other T'ang, even in the pallid, moonlike face of Wang Sau-leyan.
"Very well," he said, keeping his eyes on Wang Sau-leyan, "but you must hear me out."
"Of course," Wei Feng said quickly, wanting to smooth over any possibility of friction between the two T'ang. "There will be ample time afterward to discuss these matters fully. So speak out, Shai Tung. We are all ears."
He looked down, searching inside himself for the right words, knowing there was no easy way to put it. Then, looking up, his face suddenly set, determined, he began.
"You have all read Major Ebert's report, so you understand just how close the Ping Tiao came to succeeding in their scheme to destroy large areas of the East European Plantations. What you haven't seen, however, is a second report I commissioned. A report to ascertain the probable economic and social consequences had the Ping Tiao succeeded."
He saw how they looked at each other and knew that the matter had been in all their minds.
"It was, of necessity, a hastily compiled report, and I have since commissioned another to consider the matter in much greater detail. However, the results of that first report make fascinating and—without exaggerating the matter—frightening reading. Before I come to those results, however, let me undertake a brief resume of the situation with regard to food production and population increase over the past fifteen-year period."
He saw how Wang Sau-leyan looked down and felt his stomach tighten, instinct telling him he would have to fight the younger T'ang on this. Well, so be it. It was too important a matter to back down over.
He cleared his throat. "Back in 2192 the official population figure for the whole of Chung Kuo was just short of thirty-four billion—a figure that excludes, of course, the populations of both Net and Clay. I mention this fact because, while the figure for the Clay might, with good reason, be overlooked, that for the Net cannot. The relationship of Net to City is an important one economically, particularly in terms of food production; for while we have no jurisdiction over the Net, we nonetheless produce all of the food consumed there.
"Unofficial estimates for 2192 placed the population of the Net at just over three billion. However, the growing number of demotions over the period, added to an ever-increasing birth-rate down there, have given rise to latest estimates of at least twice that number, with the highest estimate indicating a below-Net population of eight billion.
"Over the same period the population of the City has also climbed, though not with anything like the same rate of growth. The census of 2200 revealed a rounded-up figure of 37,800,000,000—a growth rate of just under a half-billion a year." Li Shai Tung paused, recalling the reports his father had once shown him from more than two hundred years ago—World Population Reports compiled by an ancient body called the United Nations. They had contained an underlying assumption that as Man's material condition improved, so his numbers would stabilize, but the truth was otherwise. One law alone governed the growth of numbers—the capacity of Humankind to feed itself. As health standards had improved, so infant mortality rates had plummeted. At the same time life expectancy had increased dramatically. With vast areas of the City being opened up yearly, the population of Chung Kuo had grown exponentially for the first century of the City's existence. It had doubled, from four to eight billion, from eight to sixteen, then from sixteen to thirty-two, each doubling a matter of only thirty years. Against such vast and unchecked growth the United Nations estimate of the world's population stabilizing at 10.2 billion was laughable. What had happened was more like the ancient tale of the king and the uiei chi board.
In the tale the king had granted the peasant his wish—for one grain of rice on the first square of the board, twice as much on the second, twice as much again on the third, and so on—not realizing how vast the final total was, how far beyond his means to give. So it was with the Seven. They had guaranteed the masses of Chung Kuo unlimited food, shelter, and medical care, with no check upon their numbers. It was madness. A madness that could be tolerated no longer.
He looked about him, saw how they were waiting for him, as if they knew where his words led.
"That rate of growth has not, thankfully, maintained itself over the last seven years. However, births are still outstripping deaths by two to one, and the current figure of thirty-nine-and-a-half billion is still enough to cause us major concern, particularly in view of the growing problems with food production." So here he was, at last, speaking about it.