"I want your help in securing me a grand overseer's position."
"We'll see. It might be done."
"Who must we convince?"
"Convince? Only the aptitude machine."
"A machine?" asked Wan Nes Stan.
"Certainly. You are rated on your ability alone, and the aptitude
machine has been devised to best select those with the greatest
aptitude."
"I see."
Wan Nes Stan said no more. He spent more time in his mind machine,
and he took increased and accelerated doses, checking each time to
the maximum. He knew his machine to the last decimal place, and in
six-hour-periods, Wan Nes Stan energized his brain; increasing its
capacity by mighty leaps and bounds.
He took his aptitude test, then, and the result caused mild wonder. His
name was bandied back and forth across the galaxy, and he was requested
to appear at the great Grand Council of the Galactics.
"Len Dor Vale, what is the real meaning behind this request?" asked Wan
Nes Stan, as the message was handed to him.
"You do not know?" laughed the overseer.
"Frankly, no. I suspect--but again I presume."
"Not at all. No man presumes when his statements and beliefs are fact."
"I have surpassed the tests required for this sector?"
"You have surpassed all tests," smiled Len Dor Vale.
"All tests?"
"All tests. You are to be installed into the office of the Galactic
Governor."
"Galactic Governor?" gloated Wan Nes Stan.
"Oh no. Aptitude is not all. Your aptitude is the highest in our
race. Therefore you are to be installed in the office of the Galactic
Governor as Governor-select."
"And?"
"When your experience-ability factor exceeds that of the Galactic
Governor, you will automatically be installed in office. You
understand, of course, that higher ability will offset lacking factors
in experience, but you must have experience, Wan Nes Stan--a wealth of
it. You will gain it by being in the governor's office, working with
him, studying his methods, and--well, gaining experience."
"As simple as that," said Wan Nes Stan, brushing his hands.
Len Dor Vale nodded.
"How long will it take?" asked Wan Nes Stan.
"That depends upon you--and you alone. It depends entirely upon the
rapidity and accuracy you exhibit in forming correct evaluations."
"I've heard that last remark before," smiled Wan Nes Stan. "A
psychiatrist once mentioned that philosophy--personal philosophy is a
man's evaluation of personal data."
"Precisely."
Wan Nes Stan nodded complacently. Len Dor Vale then started to help
Wan Nes Stan to pack his bag for the long journey across the galaxy to
Planet One.
When they raced into space, Len Dor Vale went along as Wan Nes Stan's
personal advisor.
* * * * *
"This is routine, but a necessary part of your training," explained Len
Dor Vale. "I may as well tell you, I once was selected for a minor post
in this office and was subsequently replaced by a better-equipped man.
Therefore I know my way around here, and was selected to act as your
advisor. Each governor-select enjoys a personal advisor, you know."
Wan Nes Stan smiled quietly. The job was strictly that of a super file
clerk. This would not last long and he knew it. With Len Dor Vale's
help, he rose swiftly, learning the intricate details with ease. By the
month, Wan Nes Stan went from department to department, learning the
basic function of each, and when his education was complete, Len Dor
Vale took him to meet the governor of the Galactic Council.
"He is ready," said Len Dor Vale.
"I'm glad to meet you," said the governor.
He offered a hand, and as Wan Nes Stan took it, the grip was firm and
honest. They shook, and Wan Nes Stan went swiftly over his emotions,
asking himself the purpose of this heartiness.
He knew that the Galactic Governor was genuinely glad to meet him. That
was against Wan Nes Stan's grain. To greet a possible--no, _positive_
successor to such a position was not done with heartiness. It should
be done with false heartiness, a completely counterfeit facade,
behind which false front the machinery necessary to destroy was being
brought to bear. Yet Wan Nes Stan knew that no such intent was in the
governor's mind. Apparently the Galactic Governor was quite content to
be replaced by a better man--and accepted the presence of the better
man with good will and friendship.
Wan Nes Stan wondered whether the governor's henchmen might not
lead him astray in his experience-gaining program so that he would
get a false start, or even useless and detrimental data. His
super-intelligence told him that this was not the case. Like all the
rest of the Galactics, the governor was willing that a better man be
found, and insisted that when, as, and if a better man is discovered,
that he be placed properly, even though it meant stepping aside.
It was a philosophy that Wan Nes Stan never entertained. It was
completely altruistic. It offered with no consideration of self, the
most good for the greatest number. It was a fool's philosophy--but
then, all the Galactics were fools.
The governor said: "You have shown a most magnificent level of
intellectual aptitude. I congratulate you."
"You have no resentment?"
"Can a man resent that which he knows to be right and honest--unless he
himself is unright and dishonest?"
"I suppose not," said Wan Nes Stan. He was safe. Continued use of his
mind machine would keep him far and above all comers. "But the usual
question comes: What are you going to do?"
"When that time arrives, I will become your aide--unless one better
fitted for the position arrives first."
"Mind if I ask how I--"
"Replace me? I don't mind, at all. You replace me whenever you gain
sufficient experience to balance your superior intelligence."
"How do I get experience?"
"By being governor," laughed the governor.
"Look," snorted Wan Nes Stan, "prerequisite for the position is
experience in the position itself? That's a fool's statement."
"It is the rule of the Galactic Council."
"It remains a fool's rule."
"Is it not sensible," asked Len Dor Vale, "to demand experience before
one is given the chance to rule a galaxy-wide civilization such as
this?"
Wan Nes Stan could see no real objection to that and said so.
"Then is it a fool's rule?"
Wan Nes Stan thought. It was no fool's rule, really. But instead of
making him operate as substitute during the governor's infrequent
absences; handling the minor matters of state; and covering the lesser
functions and passing rulings on the items of secondary importance, he
should be placed in the governor's chair and advised intelligently.
This advice should come from experienced men, and as the years rolled
on, the advice should become less and less necessary until Wan Nes Stan
was handling the entire proposition himself. They were doddling old
fools, the entire cosmos of them.
He would change that ruling as soon as he could. There would be some
changes made once he became governor--they must be shown the proper way
to administrate. After all, it was an accepted fact that Wan Nes Stan
had the highest intellect of them all. His judgment must be infallible;
his decision would be correct. Their incompetent manner in this matter
was an index of their own entire lack of integration. A period of
teaching, perhaps, one that would give them better integration of
thought, would be advisable.
The governor excused himself as the communicator buzzed, and Len Dor
Vale took that moment to draw Wan Nes Stan out of the office. As they
passed the door, the governor called after them:
"Good luck, Wan Nes Stan."
* * * * *
Len Dor Vale returned to the governor-select's quarters. "Wan Nes
Stan," he said, "you realize that your machine has done its work."
The other nodded. "It has had practically no effect for a couple of
weeks, now."
"Your mind is apt. In fact its increase in capacity surpasses even
our greatest dreams. But like the untutored genius, you lack the
manipulatory facility. Your mind--like the false fiction of the farmer
that suddenly composes the brilliant symphony; the unlearned blacksmith
that becomes world-acclaimed as a genius with the paintbrush; or the
completely untutored grammar-failure that turns up with the galaxy's
finest novel--is untrained. You do not want to be a flash in the pan,
Wan Nes Stan.
"In order that you use that vast storehouse you have, you must fill
it. It is like the galaxy's finest filing system--but it is empty. The
drawer files haven't even collected dust, and the cross-index cries for
its cards to be notated. Understand?"
"Of course. Intelligence is not sufficient. Experience can and will
prepare a man for--"
"Be careful," smiled Len Dor Vale. "In gaining experience one gains
also knowledge."
"My mind," said Wan Nes Stan sharply, "has the ability to contain ...
a capacity for learning far above all. I know that the prime factor
is the capacity. Without capacity, one cannot fill it with experience
and knowledge. But get the knowledge--proper and well-balanced--and
experience is really unnecessary."
"Providing that your knowledge is gained from one having the
experience. Then you will get experience vicariously. The practise
necessary to use that experience will come similarly. You are most
fortunate, Wan Nes Stan. I want to know, can you keep yourself busy for
a few days? I must make a short trip to a conference. I must not miss
it. Can you--"
"I can, and will. I am going to see if I can make a machine that will
transfer knowledge and experience from one mind to another. I shall
convert my own gadget, here. I will not wait five centuries before I
take my next step."
Len Dor Vale smiled in agreement. "I'd suggest that you take some time
for amusement."
"Amusement? Spend my time in play when there are things to be done?"
"We think it best to balance the mind's work with the mind's ability to
play. You'll find that our fun and games are just as advanced as are
our aims and our day's work. You'll not be doing anything childish, Wan
Nes Stan."
"Len Dor Vale, I eschewed a future long years ago. I gave up my right
to wife and family. Women have little lure for me since all women per
se look upon men as possible fathers for their children. Games have as
their fundamental concept the desire to excel in the mind or the body
as an exhibition of desirability to the female. I shall continue to
work."
"Then I'll be returning as soon as I can. Sorry, but it is necessary."
"No resentment," smiled Wan Nes Stan affably. "I can get along."
Len Dor Vale smiled at the governor-select and left. He went to his
quarters, packed, and within the hour was on his way into the depths of
space.
* * * * *
Two days later, he was given the "come-in" signal at a distant planet
on the rim of the galaxy. He dropped his ship quickly and obediently
and made his way with deference through the city.
The Galactic waited until he was growing impatient before the attendant
signaled him to enter the inner sanctum.
"Before you enter ... Len Dor Vale, is it?... you have the rules?"
"I have been here before," answered Len Dor Vale. "I have also reviewed
the rules."
"Good. Be not disturbed if any of your questions go unanswered.
Students will not reveal anything of dangerous nature and will remain
silent rather than give false answer."
Len Dor Vale entered the apartment.
"I seek advice and knowledge."
"Ask."
"Wan Nes Stan is about to take his next step."
"I know."
"I ask, will it be violent?"
"There may be violence, but it will not be a major problem."
"Can I prevent violence?" asked Len Dor Vale.
"No."
Len Dor Vale nodded. "He is a violent man. I see no reason why violence
should be permitted."
"Could you prevent it? You, admittedly, are psychologist number four
among all the Galactics."
"I am here asking your advice."
"What is he doing now?"
"Attempting to convert his machine to a device that will transfer
knowledge from one brain to another. He desires that he gain the
governor's place as soon as possible."
"He wants the next step to come at once," mused the Student.
"As his psychologist--and number four of all--I know when the next step
will take place. I know, or can predict fairly well how Wan Nes Stan's
next move will manifest itself. Were I of his mental caliber to five
percent, I would block it!"
"Along that road lies danger--cease following that thought!"
"I shall, immediately."
"Wan Nes Stan has obtruded his philosophy upon you already, Len Dor
Vale. The next step will take place soon enough that no replacement of
you will be necessary, that you know. Completion of his investigations
on the conversion of the mind machine will bring about the next
step--as you predict--sooner than it would if he were not so
single-minded in his purpose."
"Why was Wan Nes Stan permitted to proceed?"
"Every man gets his chance. Every man must be permitted his opportunity
to excel as long as he does no irreparable harm."
"His actions on Terra prior to being forced out were not beneficent or
benevolent."
"There were no permanent scars," mused the Student. "As for his use of
the machine--it has done all Students good. Evidence to the effect that
the mind is limitless is valuable, Len Dor Vale."
"But his is not the type that should use such a machine."
"Agreed. One should have a purely theoretical mind before one uses the
machine. Otherwise the mind becomes agile and capacious with nothing
for it to do. A complete theorist cares nothing for reduction of theory
into practice; manipulation of ultra-theoretical concepts into solution
is the end-all for us, and the obtaining of impractical mathematics can
be handled in a super-energized mind without unbalance.
"But Wan Nes Stan's philosophy includes violence where necessary, and
there will be violence. But not dangerous violence. No man can do
anything irreplaceably devastating."
"Frankly," offered Len Dor Vale, "I feared that in taking his next step
he might take Planet One with him."
"Unless he can control all of the Galactic minds there, he will not
cause change in any but himself. Have no fear, even for those within
his reach."
"I thank you. I was worried."
The Student nodded, and turned away from Len Dor Vale by a slight
amount. The Student's eyes closed part way as he immersed himself in
thought. As Len Dor Vale turned to go, the Student aroused himself
briefly--long enough to add:
"Wan Nes Stan will take his next step and the Galaxy will be a better
place for it."
* * * * *
Wan Nes Stan shook his head with annoyance as the machine remained
mute. For three days he had been working on it with all of his
mind-capacity. In the empty crevasses of his capable mind, Wan Nes Stan
was packing enormous quantities of information and education gained on
the spot. With perfect memory, he stored the details away and reviewed
them with perfection before he tried another change in the circuits of
his machine. Sheer reasoning power had failed to solve his problem,
not even unreal mathematics served. There was no solution to the
problem of how to transfer knowledge from brain to brain.
What is knowledge? he asked himself again and again.
Knowledge is a matter of know-how. It is, in a sense, experience
whether original or vicarious. A schoolboy need not perform the
generation of calculus in order to study it; the myriad of false trails
have been weeded out. Thus schooling can pack a lifetime of learning
into a few short weeks by merely pointing the way instead of letting
the schoolboy follow all the red-herring trails that the original
thinker did. In semantics, the student is offered problems and if he
fails to solve them properly, he is immediately prevented from basing
other solutions on this false premise--pyramiding his illogic.
So Wan Nes Stan answered himself.
To trace the life-patterns of one brain onto another should not be
hard. Yet no theory would permit it.
And a thought came to the governor-select. What is philosophy?
Philosophy is a man's personal evaluation of data.
Based upon what?
Evaluation of data based upon experience and knowledge and reason.
What is reason?
The ability to extrapolate beyond present experience and knowledge so
as to apply the extrapolation correctly to a problem not yet filed in
the realm of experience.
Then philosophy is to efficiently apply one's experience in evaluation
of data.
And to apply it properly in guiding his actions.
Suppose then, I gain another man's experience and knowledge?
You will then reason like he did.
And your philosophy will be his.
Precisely.
But the Galactics are doddering old fools! With the galaxy at the tips
of their fingers, they play games. An ounce of ambition in one of
them would put that one in the governor's seat. Yet they prate about
adaptability and aptitude and experience and juggle their figures,
consult their computing tables and select a man for each job. Has
ambition no place?
Ambition is a factor. To not-want the governor's position would reduce
the aptitude factor.
* * * * *
Wan Nes Stan left the building where he lived and roamed idly through
the streets. Galactics walked in the afternoon sun oblivious to him.
Magnificent couples there were, walking through the trees that lined
each street, hand in hand, complete in their own exclusive world of
ecstasy. Others sat in self-satisfied contemplation of their problems
or presented argument to one another on points and theory.
It was a quiet scene that Wan Nes Stan entered. Even argument seemed to
be pro-rated and measured in intensity. Of earnest self-belief there
was plenty, but on each evidence of self-conviction there was the soft
stamp of willingness to permit the other his own belief. There was no
scorn for a conflicting thought, but instead there was admiration for
the other party, who had mentality enough to entertain a concept--and
believe it--that was at variance with the philosophy of the first.
A galaxy full of mild-mannered little rabbits!
A decadent, sloppily-sentimental culture!
A race of men so blind that they could not see what awaited them
once they achieved ambition--who were too busy lifting those below
to reach above and lift themselves. Lazily satisfied to advance with
the maddeningly-slow process of evolutionary development. What did it
matter if Terra received no help?
A culture of missionary-minded altruists.
Owners of the galaxy--and so mentally soft that any man could wrest it
from them single-handed.
Any man.
And yet he, Wan Nes Stan, who had the drive, the power, and the
capability was blocked. Blocked until he could spend five centuries in
service to gain the experience necessary. Five hundred years in the
second-place chair. Half a millennium of inactivity before he could
begin to take that which he should have now!
Frustrated by a machine. Frustrated by a galaxy full of fools!
"Fools!" he said aloud. No one heard him.
"You, there. Fool!"
"I?" asked the Galactic in surprise.
"You are a fool!"
"A concept I have often considered, but if you wish to belabor the
point, I'll be most glad to maintain a stout defense."
"You are a fool!"
"Resolved," said the Galactic, "that I am not. You, as affirm--"
"Fool!"
"But parroting is not presenting argum--"
"Fool! You are a fool."
"By what standard?"
"By mine!" exploded Wan Nes Stan. "You are fools! All of you! You sit
there idly, watching the years pass, with all the universe before you,
and you do nothing!"
"And you can show us the way?" asked the Galactic. "Might I ask your
philosophy, friend?"
"I'm no friend to fools. Show you the way? That I can. I am the only
one among you that can show you the way--and you sit there and ignore
me. That is why you are fools!"
"Show me and I'll follow," answered the Galactic. "Convince me and I'm
your man."
"Bah! One logical, integrated mind in a veritable sea of moronic
reason," shouted Wan Nes Stan. "Blocked by ignorance from that
which should be mine. Forestalled from my rightful station by sheer
numbers--as all great minds are restricted by the blind, mindless,
unimaginative imbeciles about him. Blocked and barred from my rightful
future--"
Wan Nes Stan leaped forward and snatched the Galactic's hand. He
reached forward and clutched the jeweled pin from the Galactic's lapel.
He struck the Galactic across the face and started to run from the
scene.
Another glitter caught his eye and Wan Nes Stan leaped over to wrest a
luminous, jeweled timepiece from around the throat of a woman.
"Give--" he screamed.
And he clutched at a handbag and bore it away in his mad flight.
"--or I take!"
An ornate brooch came free in his hands with a long strip of
shimmering, diaphanous silk clinging to the pin. Her companion raced
after Wan Nes Stan to remonstrate for the insult, but the madman struck
him across the face.
He snatched the ring from the fallen man's finger.
And on he raced, through the bright afternoon sunlight, ever adding
to his pile of loot. Galactics clustered behind him, talking to one
another, in wondering, unbelieving tones.
But Wan Nes Stan, his lust to strive for power denied him, retreated
within himself and substituted the childlike desire for glittering,
beckoning things of jewel and credit. Denied even the chance to steal
in this world where all was his for the asking, Wan Nes Stan returned
to his youth and snatched things that had once been of value to himself
and to those about him.
Worthless baubles!
But still he ran, clutching here and there and ever adding to his
collection of gaudy junk.
And the final straw came when the Galactics, having no desire to be
jostled or beaten, lined the broad sidewalk and quietly unfastened
ornaments from jumper or dress or wrist or finger and held it out to
Wan Nes Stan as he ran by.
"--I take!" he screamed, and then the scream became a whimper; they
took from him the last pleasure of forcing them to part with the
baubles and it broke him.
He threw the baubles to the ground. One of the Galactics stooped and
scooped them into the handbag and offered it to him.
"I take," he blubbered, and as he saw the proffered bag, his hysteria
broke and tears started from his eyes. His mouth pouted and he
blubbered and cried like a whipped child. Sobs, deep and lung-shaking
gripped his powerful frame and his utter lack of control extended to
his motor nerves and he slumped like a rag doll.
Broken in spirit, Wan Nes Stan moved forward through the encircling
crowd and left them wondering. They did not follow.
Tears streamed down his contorted face and his steps--laggard and
weak--were dotted with drops of moisture as he made his broken way to
his office.
He entered wearily, and sat down.
"Wan Nes Stan--megalomaniac!" he said bitterly. He turned at the sound
of a step and saw Len Dor Vale watching him.
"Broken," he said.
Len Dor Vale fixed the other man with a piercing gaze. "Sorry," he
said. "Quite sorry. But it can not be done that way, you know. The
whole proposition was your idea."
"I know," said the other man. He inspected Len Dor Vale's large,
well-proportioned frame, his strong features, and his absolute poise
and wondered how any man, with all to recommend him, could be so
utterly unsympathetic. The coldness in his face set him apart from
one of the Galactic Ones. "The proposition was sensible enough, yet I
failed. Even though I failed, my manipulations were properly done, you
will agree."
Len Dor Vale nodded.
"Where did I fail?"
"You struck a snag."
"It was not my fault."
"Are you crawling?" snapped Len Dor Vale.
"Perhaps," said Wan Nes Stan bitterly. "I want to know how I failed."
Len Dor Vale smiled deprecatorily. "Wan Nes Stan, you failed because
you neglected to take everything into account. Before you can
succeed--before you can hope to plan without failure, you must learn to
take everything into account."
"One cannot take everything into account."
"Yes, one can. It is quite possible--if you know how."
"Everything's easy," said Wan Nes Stan sourly, "once you know how."
"Certainly," laughed Len Dor Vale.
"And because I made a mistake, I'm ruined."
"Had you taken everything into account, you would have known that you
could never succeed. You wouldn't have started, and now you wouldn't be
a complete and broken failure."
"You may well gloat."
"I'm not gloating," objected Len Dor Vale.
"I believe that," admitted Wan Nes Stan. "But that changes nothing."
"You understand our position, Wan Nes Stan. If we prevented you from
trying; well, you might have succeeded, and we'd never know the
benefits of your success. It was your idea, and you wanted to try. But
don't feel too broken. Others have tried."
"Small consolation. Knowing that another man is starving will not
put food in _my_ belly." Wan Nes Stan stood up, dusted his jacket
carefully, and left the office.
The report of a pistol echoed and re-echoed up and down the corridor,
reverberating and hushing until it could be mistaken for a wild cackle
of laughter.