"Why go on being Gods? Why dominate humanity?"
"I suppose I could answer your question with another question--why not?
But I won't. Instead, let me remind you of some things. Look what we've
done during the last century. The great wars that wrecked Europe--you
don't see any possibility of more of those, do you? And the threat of
atomic war is gone, too, isn't it?"
"Well, yes," Forrester said, "but--"
"But we still have wars," Diana said. "Sure we do. The male animal just
wouldn't be happy if he didn't have a chance to go out and get himself
blown to bits once in a while. Don't ask _me_ to explain that--I'm not a
male."
Forrester agreed silently. Diana was not a male. It was the most
understated statement he had ever heard.
"But anyhow," Diana said, "they want wars, so they have wars. Mars sees
that the wars stay small and keep within the Martian Conventions,
though, so any really widespread damage or destruction, or any wanton
attacks on civilians, are a thing of the past. And it's not only wars,
kid. It's everything."
"What do you mean, everything?"
"Man needs a god, a personal god. When he doesn't have one ready to
hand, he makes one up--and look at the havoc that has caused. A god of
vengeance, a god who cheers you on to kill your enemies.... You've
studied history. Tell me about the gods of various nations. Tell me
about Thor and Baal and the original bloodthirsty Yahweh. People _need_
gods."
"Now wait a minute," Forrester objected. "The Chinese--"
"Oh, sure," Diana said. "There are exceptions. But you can't bank on the
exceptions. If you want a reasonably safe, sane and happy humanity, then
you'd better make sure your gods are not going to start screaming for
war against the neighbors or against the infidels or against--well,
against anybody and everybody. There's only one way to make sure, kid.
We've found that way. We _are_ the Gods."
Forrester digested that one slowly. "It sounds great, but it's pretty
altruistic. And while I don't want to impugn anybody's motives, it does
seem to me that--"
"That we ought to be getting something out of it ourselves, above and
beyond the pure joy of helping humanity. Sure. You're perfectly right.
And we _do_ get something out of it."
"Like what?"
Diana grinned. She looked more like a tomboy than ever before. "Fun,"
she said. "And you know it. Don't tell me you didn't get a kick out of
playing God at the Bacchanal."
"Well," Forrester confessed, "yes." He sighed. "And I guess that
Bacchanal is going to be the one really high spot in a very shortened
sort of life."