"Positively dripping with good health," boomed Gerd in a resonant
voice. "And yourself?"
"Fair to middling."
"Good. I'm glad to hear it. Will you have refreshment?"
"A cigarette, perhaps."
Gerd opened an ornate box on the table and offered Andrew a cigarette.
Andrew puffed it into illumination and exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"Busy?" he asked.
"Yes," drawled Gerd. "I'm always busy, more or less. But being busy or
un-busy is my own desire. Being without something to do would drive me
crazy, I'm sure." Gerd laughed at the thought. "At the present time I'm
busy seeing you. Is this a business visit or a personal visit?"
"Partly pleasure, partly business. There's something been bothering me
for some time."
"Glad to help--That's what I'm here for, you know."
"Now that I'm here," admitted Andrew with some abashment, "I have a
feeling that the same question has been asked and answered before.
But I want to hear, firsthand, why your race denies us the secret of
interstellar travel."
"Because you have not developed it yet," said Gerd. "Yes, we could give
it to you. You couldn't use it."
"You're looking down at us again."
"I'm honestly sorry that I give you that opinion. I have no desire to
look down at anything or anyone. Please believe me."
"But--"
"May I offer an hypothetical case?" asked Gerd, and then went on
because he knew the answer to his own question: "A hundred years ago,
the Terrans were living without directive power. You used solar phoenix
power. It brought you out of the mire of wire and machinery under which
Terra writhed. You were, you thought, quite advanced. You were. But,
Andy, could you have used directives? Supposing that I had given you
the secret of directive power? What would have happened?"
"Um--Trouble, perhaps. But with supervision?"
"I can not give you supervision. I am but one. Consider, Andy. A planet
filled with inventive people, a large quantity of which are highly
trained technically. What would they say to a program which restricted
them to any single phase? We came, and all that we could do to assist
was to let your race know that directive power was available. The
problem of power is an interesting thing, Andy. The initial steps into
any realm of power are such that the discoverers are self-protected by
their own lack of knowledge, and their investigations lead them into
more and more knowledge; they gain the dangerous after learning how to
protect themselves against it. The directive power could destroy not
only Terra but the entire Solar System if improperly applied."
"What you're saying is that we could not understand it," objected
Andrew.
"I admit it. Could a savage hurt himself if permitted to enter a
powerhouse--even one of the primitive electronic places? Obviously he
could. Even were he given the tools of the art, his survival might
be a matter of guesswork. Only study permits any of us to work with
power, Andy. When the Terrans are capable of handling the source of
interstellar power, it shall come to them--be discovered by them, if
you will. Meanwhile I can but watch and wait, and when I am approached
I can and will try to guide Terra. That, Andy, is my job."
"We'll hunt for it!"
"I know," said Gerd Lel Rayne with a smile. "Your fellows are hunting
now. I approve. But I may not point the way. Your race must only find
it when you are ready to handle it."
* * * * *
Gerd arose from his chair and flexed the muscles across his back. The
reason for his arising was not clear to Andrew immediately, but it came
less than three seconds later--It was Gaya Lel Rayne, Gerd's mate.
Andrew arose and greeted her with genuine pleasure.
Her smile was brilliant and genuine. "Business?" she asked.
"Yes," answered Gerd. "But do not leave, because the discussion is
interesting. Andy, the perfect example of the persistent newsman, is
holding forth on the interstellar power."
"They've discovered it?" asked Gaya in hopeful pleasure.
"No," answered Tremaine. "We'd like to, though."
"You will," said Gaya. "I know you will."
"We know we will, too," said Andrew. "Our irritation is not that we
shall be denied it, but that it takes us so long to find it when there
is one on Terra that knows it well."
"Please, Andy. I do most definitely not know it well. I am no
technician."
Gaya looked at her husband quickly. "He's excusing himself," she said
with a laugh.
"He's hoping that we'll believe that his knowledge is no better than
ours and that we'll be content. But, Gerd, I know that you know enough
to give us the answer."
"You know? How, may I ask?"
"It is inconceivable that you would not know."
"Perhaps I do," came the slow answer. "Perhaps I do." The tone of the
speech was low and self-reflective. "But again, perhaps I, too, am
in the dangerous position of not knowing enough. You Terrans have a
saying--'A little knowledge is dangerous.' It is true. Again we strike
the parallel. I give you stellar power and you, knowing nothing about
its intricacies, use it. Can you hope to know down which road lies
total destruction?"
"You are possibly right. We could learn."
"But not from me," said Gerd with finality. "That I cannot and will not
do. One can not supervise and control the inventiveness of a planet
such as yours. Your rugged individualists would be investigating in
their small laboratories with inadequate protection, and inevitably one
or more of them would strike the danger-spot."
"I'm answered," said Andrew reluctantly. "Answered negatively. I'm
forced into accepting your statements. They are quite logical--and
Gaya's willingness to be glad for us when she thought that we had
discovered it is evidence that you are not withholding it with malice.
But logic does not fill an empty spot, Gerd."
Gerd laughed. "If you had everything you want, your race would have
died out before it came out of the jungles."
Tremaine laughed. "I know," he admitted. "Also--and I'm talking against
my own race--there is the interesting observation that if Heaven is the
place where we have everything we want, why are people always trying to
live as long as they can?"
"Perhaps they're not certain of the hereafter."
"Whether they are firmly convinced yes or as firmly convinced no, they
still view death with disfavor. I'd say their dislike was about even.
All right, Gerd. I'll take your statements as you made them and with
reluctance I'll return to my work and ponder."
"Stay for dinner," urged Gaya. She gave him the benefit of a brilliant
smile, but Andrew shook his head.
"I've got to write an editorial," he said. "I've got to change one
already written. I was a bit harsh about you, and I feel it was unfair.
Perhaps you'll join us at dinner tomorrow?"