form." Kweiros nodded emphatically. "Theywill come to a full realization that there are advanced entities runningaround the cosmos, entities that have all kinds of mysterious powers.And they'll invent still more powers and characteristics--mostly bad."He spread his hands, then laid them on the desk in front of him.
* * *
"That way, they could develop a hopeless, planet-wide trauma--a sort ofsuper inferiority complex--and they could contract on themselves, devotetheir time to an intensive study of demonology, and very possibly comeapart at the seams.
"Or, they could do something else. I was watching Elwar while I waschecking that tape. Did you notice anything peculiar?"
"He seemed disturbed."
"As though he were sensing my thoughts?"
"Something like that. But--"
Kweiros nodded. "But I had a shield up. You could detect no trace ofmental action. Right?"
"Yes, sir."
"That's what I thought." Kweiros shook his head and looked closely atJaeger.
"Can you imagine," he added, "a primitive race with the power to detecta galactic by his thoughts? And can you imagine that power developinguntil that detection is possible at interstellar ranges, with membersof that race being able to pick up faint impressions from receivedthoughts--distorted impressions? And can you imagine that same race,ignorant of the humanic equations, devoid of a stable ethic,superstitious, distrustful and fearful of advanced entities? They wouldbe undetectable by normal telepathic means, you know. And suppose theywere disposed to destroy what they could not understand." He frowned.
Jaeger looked back at him, his eyes becoming wide. Suddenly, his gazedefocused and he looked aside, to stare unseeingly at the floor.
"Something's got to be done, sir," he said reluctantly.
Kweiros nodded. "Something's got to be done," he agreed. "Of course,there's another side to the picture. If this race develops and learns,they'll be just as valuable to the galaxy as they would otherwise bedangerous." He looked toward the door.
"And our boy out there is one of the few who can help in this situation.He's going to have to work out counter stories--amusing stories--aboutall those magical creatures his people tell about. He's going to have tohint at the possibilities of close co-ordination and co-operationbetween members of his own species. And he's going to have to suggestthe possibility of friendly co-operation between his species andothers." He drew a deep breath.
"And he's going to have to do all this without taking any risk ofexposing the existence of other, more advanced species in the galaxy."He brushed a hand across his head, then pressed the back of his neck,kneading the skin.
"These stories of his, he'll have to publish. He'll have to get themcirculated all over his planet, if he can. Possibly we can give him someindirect help, but he's going to have to carry a good share of the load.
"He knows his own people as we could never hope to. And he'll have to bethoroughly educated, so he can say what he wants to. And he'll have tobe fully aware of the humanic equations and all their connotations. Ifhe's to have any direct help, he'll have to choose his helpers fromamong his own people, and he'll have to choose carefully." Kweirosthrust at his temple with the heel of a hand, then shook his headviolently.
"Somehow, he's going to have to accentuate any legends he may be able tofind which present a favorable light on co-ordination and co-operation,and he'll have to invent more. And all those other legends--the oneswhich treat of superstition and destructive force--will have to bereduced to the realm of the storybook, submerged under a layer of amusedcondemnation, and kept there. All these things, that youngster is goingto have to do.
"It's your job to help teach him."
* * * * *
Forell watched his friend closely as the critic laid aside the lastpage.
Andorra sat for a moment, his head cocked in thought. Then, he picked upthe last page and looked at it again. Finally, he laid the sheet aside.He looked at his friend with a wry smile, then picked up his wineglass,looking at it quizzically.
"Do you always give your own name to one of your characters?"
Forell's grip tightened on the small object in his hand.
"Oh, sure," he said. "Gives me a better identification. If I can getinto the story, it's easier to draw the reader in." He forced a casualsmile. "I'll change that name later, of course."
"I see what you mean." Andorra sipped from his glass.
"You know," he added, "a couple of hours ago, I was almost ready to getexcited about the idea of a cosmos full of super beings. And I evenmight have dreamed up something like this myself--and more than halfbelieved it." He shook his head.
"But when a fantasist like yourself comes up with it, and makes it lookso nicely possible, the idea almost looks foolish. After all, Elwar, ifyou actually were the guy in that little sketch of yours, you'd hardlybe asking me to read it, now would you?" He looked down at the papers,then raised his head again, frowning.
"'He'll have to choose his helpers from among his own people,'" hequoted. "'All these things, that youngster is going to have to do.'" Hesipped again from his glass, keeping a searching gaze on his friend.
"And on the other hand, if your story here should be true, you justmight be asking me to read it, for one reason or another." He raised hisglass, examining the bright liquid within it.
Elwar tensed, his hand coming part way out of his pocket.
Suddenly, Andorra set the glass down and leaned forward, hands grippinghis knees.
"Tell me, Elwar," he begged, "this isn't a hoax, is it? Surely, no onecould be so warped as to present a friend with something like this andthen to laugh it off?"
Forell drew a deep breath and examined his companion closely. At last,his left hand relaxed a little.
"It's no hoax," he admitted.
Andorra sighed and leaned back.
"And you can use help? You're asking me?"
He paused, waiting as Forell nodded, then spread his hands.
"You know," he said, "it shouldn't take me too long to fix it so I wouldnot be missed too much for a few years." He looked at the wall.
"It must be quite a training course."
THE END
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Astounding Science Fiction_ January 1956. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
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