"What's the difference? And realize, it's done for your betterment."
"Just a bunch of murderous little altruists," Donald sneered. "Out of
the kindness of your cold-blooded hearts--"
"That's the trouble with you lower orders," I interrupted. "You get
emotional. Your observations have no basis in logic. Actually, the
Galaxy wouldn't even quiver if the lot of you disappeared tomorrow. Yet
you think the universe rotates about your heads."
"I didn't--"
"Don't interrupt," I snapped. "You--your race--your whole pitiful
little civilization is ready mentally and almost ready technologically
to commit suicide. If we came and saved you, you would owe us eternal
gratitude, but I doubt if we'd get it."
"You wouldn't," Donald assured me. "There wouldn't be a human alive who
wouldn't hate you."
"I realize that--and that is one of the reasons I should report your
world unfavorably to the council. We could hardly take on an altruism
mission like this unless we felt that our work would be appreciated. It
would be better to let you kill yourselves."
"Altruism!"
"In a sense. At least your race would be the greater gainers. All we'd
get would be your excess population."
"And what would you want them for--slaves?"
"Authority, no!" I said, shocked in spite of myself. "We'd merely
process them for food."
He was silent after that.
* * * * *
Donald was away again, at a publisher's meeting. Our new book laid
in Restoration England was going to be an even greater success than
the first if the advance notices were any criterion. Edith was at a
studio party celebrating the completion of the picture in which she was
working. And Ven was bored.
For awhile she sat in on Donald's conference in a city called New York,
but that proved to be uninteresting. I was busy with a faulty fuel feed
in the drive chamber. The sun was hot, and the day was promising to be
extremely warm even though it was not yet noon. It was one of those
days when nothing happens, and I was grateful for it. I had had enough
of emotional tangles to last me for some time. It was almost soothing
to work with the robots on insensate machinery rather than supervise a
pair of highly charged mammals and a hardly less unstable mate.
The association with these entities hadn't done Ven a great deal
of good. In fact, I could notice a deterioration of her character
that bothered me. She no longer looked at me with respect. Indeed,
her yellow eyes at times held a pitying amusement that I should be
so weak as to argue with Donald. I didn't bother to point out that
the three tons of power metal had virtually all been brought aboard
through Donald's efforts, and that our conveniences, our defenses, our
robots and our very lives were due to the working arrangements I had
established.
The only useful thing Edith had done in the past month was to help me
change the tube liners in the steering jets. Her size and strength had
made the job easy--and it was normally a hard one, since the robots
didn't have the flexibility or balance that Edith, with her dancer's
body, possessed. The job had taken two days. It would have taken better
than a week if I had to use robots.
The mammals, I thought, would be of distinct value as members of
spaceport maintenance crews. Their combination of immense strength
and high intelligence would be useful to our society. I made a note
of it and added it to the data I was assembling for the Council. It
was foolish, perhaps, but I couldn't help feeling an interest in these
creatures.
I looked across the little valley that was our domain. It was an
idyllic life we were leading. Unhurried--peaceful--the sort of life I
thoroughly enjoyed. It would have been perfect if it wasn't for the
insane and dangerous world on which it was being lived.
Of course it was too good to last. Idylls invariably are. The peace
of ours was shattered abruptly when Ven came into the drive room and
disturbed my work. Her aura blazed a rich violet.
"Eu," she said. "Come up to the control room. Something's wrong!"
"What," I asked.
"It's Edith. I can't do a thing with her."
"You're not supposed to. She's working now."
"She is not! Her studio has finished the picture and they're having a
party."
"That's nice. I hope you're letting her have a good time."
"I told her to. But I never imagined what they'd be doing!" Ven's voice
was anguished.
"Well, what _are_ they doing?"
"Ingesting ethanol to excess!"
"Ethanol!" I gasped. "Oh no!"
I hadn't realized that normal mammals consumed excess amounts of the
stuff, although there were references to it in the literature. I
thought that was merely literary exaggeration. After all, we had been
here scarcely half a year, and we hadn't really learned too much about
the details of mammalian society. Donald's kidneys had forced him to
lead a quiet life, and the passing of Edith from his control to Ven's
had caused no remarkable alterations in her doings.
I should have paid more attention to their customs. But I had been
too busy. I swore as I reached for my control helmet. I'd have to stop
this before it became serious. Donald would be of no help to me. He was
several thousand vursts away, and even under the best circumstances
couldn't be expected back for a day.
I didn't bother to call him, but instead adjusted the controls to
Edith's setting.