We consider that our current rules provide freedom enough. The predatory races may not prey upon races we are helping, though their predation upon races they discover is not subject to our review. These are usually, though not always, nontechnological races or even nonintelligent ones. Even with them, the predators are required to exercise moderation and not to prey so heavily as to drive any species or its culture into total extinction. The Confederation submits to natural law in which the strong eat the weak, but it does not allow extinctions of any species. We regard those who wipe out other species as being, as you might say, the very bottom of the barrel.
24
benita
FRIDAY
Benita had planned to spend a couple of days in delicious sloth, though her desire for rest unraveled as she watched CNN try to explain the disappearance of the Old City of Jerusalem. She knew at once who’d done it, though she had no idea why. With such an uproar going on, she thought it would probably be impolite to inquire from any of the people from Wednesday night’s dinner, even Mr. Riley, and she had no way to reach the two individuals she really wanted to ask.
When she went out for lunch, there were sign carriers on the street, most of them claiming the imminent end of the world. Newspaper headlines were huge, and the stories about Jerusalem took up the first four pages of the Washington Post. Everyone was chattering about what it meant or who had done it, being either angry or awed or both. Benita tried to ignore it as she made a stop at the bank and went shopping for work clothes. She had to haul a saleswoman away from a group with their heads together in the corner. First things first. Until the world actually ended, people still had to go to work, and Benita had not brought enough clothing to get through a work week.
That evening the panic continued, with all the world’s pundits appearing over and over, different combinations of them, most of them contradicting one another and some even contradicting what they’d said earlier in the day. Elaine Pagels was asked to comment on the happening in the light of Gnosticism. The head of Union Theological Seminary warned against nihilistic millennialism. The news covered nuts in Jerusalem, both Jewish and Islamic, who were protesting or affirming God by throwing themselves into the hole, only to turn up unhurt out in the desert a little while later. While the religious scholars were careful not to cast doubt on divine motives, the religious profiteers were soliciting money like mad so they could “carry the message of salvation in these final days.” Most of the TV partisan-pundits were blaming more earthly forces. The left wingers agreed that secret research must have taken place, that secret weapons had been developed, and that the military industrial complex might be responsible, though the right wingers thought other countries had probably done it. For a wonder, nobody accused ETs, possibly out of fear of ridicule. Benita wondered how long the president could or would keep the truth under his hat.
Simon left a peremptory voicemail message at the hotel, asking her to come to the shop. When she arrived, he was obviously unnerved as he showed her upstairs to the apartment.
“These people showed up at the crack of dawn yesterday,” he said in the elevator, shaking his head. “Their spokesman said they were from some Sephardic Foundation I’ve never heard of. They provide services for worthy Hispanics of all faiths who are, as they put it, ‘Hard working and honest.’ They quoted Maimonides at me. Evidently he advocated anonymity in philanthropy. Are you Jewish?”
She gaped. “Well…a lot of Spanish settlers in the new world were secretly Jewish, because of the Inquisition, you know. But if my family was, they kept it a secret from me.”
“No lighting candles on Friday nights? No keeping two sets of dishes?”
She shook her head. Actually, Grandma had lighted candles on Friday night, and every other night. They hadn’t had electricity until just a few years before she died.
Simon continued, “I just thought it might explain something. The spokesman wouldn’t tell me how they found out about you, and he said you knew nothing about them, but nonetheless, the crew poured in all day yesterday, nobody would talk to me except the one older guy—who looked awfully familiar, come to think of it—and they didn’t leave until dawn.”
“What on earth were they doing?”
“Wait until you see!”
She smelled it first. A strong combination of new paint, new carpet and sawdust. The loft had been transformed. The ceiling had been lowered and covered with drywall dotted with recessed light fixtures. Along the line of columns, all the way to the ceiling, a substantial partition had been built that included bookshelves on the living room side as well as a built-in desk with computer terminal and modem. The bedroom had a closet and a door and both rooms were now furnished tastefully. Curtains on traverse rods covered the windows, and two colorful oriental rugs covered most of the living room floor, which had obviously been sanded and waxed. Another big rug softened the bedroom.
A washer–dryer had been installed. New light fixtures glowed discreetly. The bed was made up and covered by a colorful spread. Extra linens and towels were stacked in the cabinet. Kitchen equipment, dishes, pots and pans were on the shelves. Here and there were Mami’s things. Her sewing basket. The little carved box she’d kept her few treasures in. A quilt Mami’s grandmother, Benita’s great-grandmother, had made. Everything had been furnished, even a large dog bed and FIDO food and water dish.
“They got everything,” she said. “Except the dog.”
He muttered in a dazed voice, “The guy said he had specific instructions how it was to be finished, and he told me to tell you the dog would be here as soon as you move in.”
“What was this outfit called?” she asked, awed.
He pulled a scrap of paper from his breast pocket. “Fundacion Circulo del Alto Mando. He said in English it means the Brass Ring Foundation.” Simon tented his eyebrows at her.
“Yes, it means that, sort of,” she said, hiding her amusement. It sounded like General Wallace was the alto mando, or “big brass,” who had done the talking. She couldn’t imagine General McVane making puns for her benefit.
“He said you caught the brass ring on the merry-go-round. Have you ever heard of them?”
“Never before now,” she told him. “How strange. And wonderful, of course. For me.”
“Well, me too. It saved me a hell of a lot of work. And money. I never knew the place could look this great. I told the guy I’d have to raise your rent, and he told me not to try it unless I wanted a great deal of trouble. When he said it, he sounded more like a…commanding officer than a representative of some charity. With the dark glasses and the hat pulled down, I couldn’t really see who he was.”
She said sympathetically, “They’d gone to so much trouble, I suppose they didn’t want anything to spoil it.”
There was no reason not to move in at once and no reason to go back to the hotel except to pick up her bag. Simon drove her over and waited for her. As she paid the bill, however, she remembered the furniture and supplies she’d ordered by catalogue. From a lobby pay phone she called the store and spun them a story. Family emergency. She had to go back to Colorado. Would they refund? Yes, the woman said, on nonsale items. Where would the check come from? From their warehouse complex in Atlanta, where all the computers were. Fine, said Benita. Cancel the order and refund what they could, please, in care of Angelica Shipton, at such-and-such an address in California.
After dropping her bags in the apartment and opening the windows to air out the fresh paint smell, she went down to the bookstore to start learning the routines. It differed from the store in Albuquerque in many details, but basically it was the same old job. She thought it would be more fun, however, since many of her pet gripes were eliminated. The computers were better, faster, and the software was easier to use. The bookkeeping system was very high tech and three-quarters automatic, and there were scanners for perpetual inventory. She had been telling Goose for years that they needed scanners. These shops even had a reorder program integrated with the
inventory, one that printed out the reorder lists by jobbers for any books that had sold off the shelves within a specified period of time. All the stores were coordinated, for accounting purposes, and all the accounting was done here.
The Washington store stayed open until 7:00, to catch the afterwork shoppers and late calls or Web orders, many of them from congressional offices.
“The legislature being here, with all the lobbyists in the world hovering like bees over honey, that’s where we got the name, The Literary Lobby,” Simon muttered, interrupted by a huge yawn. “Sorry. I suppose I could have gone home to bed last night, but I didn’t want to leave the workmen alone in the building, even with the connecting doors locked. I bunked in the office, but with this Jerusalem thing, I left the TV on in case the world ended. I didn’t want to sleep through it.”
“Why don’t you go on home now,” she suggested.
“I am. Your keys are on your desk: they’re labeled. Don’t unlock the outside front door until ten, Monday through Saturday. Sundays, we don’t open until noon. First one in makes the coffee.”
He left, locking the door behind him, and she went back through the stockroom to the elevator and up to her own apartment, where she found two dead male movie stars sitting next to one another on the couch. She screamed and her balance shifted, making her stagger.
They apologized in Chiddy and Vess’s voices.
She couldn’t name either of their likenesses, but the faces were familiar. “You startled me,” she cried, collapsing on the sofa. “You know, it’d really be helpful for me if you’d settle on a shape. If you won’t do that, at least give me a way to know which of you is which. You know you’ve got everyone in the world upset. Why are you doing it?”
“Why are we doing what?” asked the larger famous person, smiling tenderly at her. Benita had seen that smile somewhere. Late movie. Old movie, black-and-white. She shook her head, trying to concentrate. Not Cary Grant. Gregory Peck? No. Who was that other one? The dark, incredibly handsome one? Like the heartthrob guy on ER, only more so. She came to herself with a start.
“Why did you do that thing in Israel? And why are you being men?” she cried. “I was just getting used to the Indian ladies.”
“Which question do you want answered?” asked the larger man gradually morphing into Indira, complete with sari.
“Why Jerusalem?”
“We did it because General McVane challenged us. We had to show your people that we have powers, that we can do things you can’t. Your president mentioned that the Middle East was a powder keg, as he put it, which makes Jerusalem a focal point. So, we removed it. We can remove more of the city if the modest hole we’ve created so far isn’t sufficient to calm the storm.”
“I should think it would only agitate things,” she said.
“Oh, it may. Temporarily. We’ll do some suspensions, too. That’s usually quite efficacious.”
“Suspensions?”
“We’ll tell you when you need to know.”
“What did you do with the Temple Mount?”
“It’s intact. It isn’t destroyed, just…sequestered. We put the whole city away, for now. In another…realm. We can transport the entire population of the area to that same place. Or, we can pick and choose. All the Jews. Or all the Palestinians. We may even give it back, in time. If the people earn it.”
“Can I tell them that?”
“You may tell them anything we tell you,” said Vess, indifferently. “We’re very careful about what we tell you. We don’t want to put you in the position of lying to your people, or withholding information.”
She demanded, “I really need names I can use all the time. And please warn me if you’re going to be people I know are dead!”
“Very well,” said Lara, with a smile that appeared perfectly genuine. “I am always Vess, that is, the shorter or smaller one of whatever we are. The taller or larger will always be Chiddy.”
The other said, “As we told you, these are childhood names, from our undifferentiated years. Your people are very undifferentiated, and for that reason, these names are probably suitable. A Chiddy is a small plant that makes people itch—you would say ‘nettle,’ and a Vess is an insectlike creature with beautiful wings, like a butterfly. You are now wondering whether we are really male or female, and the answer is no, we aren’t.”
“Chiddy, why did you scatter those people all over Israel?”
“Well, that’s rather an overstatement, don’t you think? None of them were farther than ten miles from the place they were taken. None of them were injured. No small children were separated from parents. People of one ethnic group were separated from other ethnic groups that might have been inimical. If we’d put them all in one place, there would have been injuries, violence.” As he spoke, Chiddy gradually morphed back into the man he had appeared to be before. Tyrone Power. It came back to her. Mami, sighing over old movies of Tyrone Power.
“By the way,” said Vess, also re-morphed, as he got up to look at himself in the mirror on the far wall. “When you speak to the president, tell him not to worry about Afghanistan. The effects are reversible.”
She opened her mouth to ask what about Afghanistan, but Chiddy was already speaking.
“I have been eager to tell you how much we admire your race’s artistic achievements! While we were looking over the problems in the Middle East, we stopped in Italy to view some of your famous artworks.”
Vess enthused, “The Sistine Chapel. There are simply no words!”
Benita nodded, understandingly. She had coveted a book of Michelangelo reproductions done shortly after the ceiling was cleaned, and Goose had given it to her for a birthday present. A huge, lovely thing. She’d never taken it home, afraid it would be ruined by Bert in one of his rages.
She said, “Most people agree that the cleaning was very well done. They were able to eliminate a number of changes that other artists had made in succeeding times. In fact they discovered that one figure they’d always thought was male was, in fact, female.”
Chiddy turned away from her, his face turning a curious shade of sick green, his body slightly curved, as though he had been taken by sudden nausea. He trembled. “I didn’t know it had been cleaned,” he murmured.
Benita reached out to him, but he gestured her away. After a moment’s silence, he turned to face her, saying brightly, “Ah, Benita, ah, yes, we have an errand for you.” He took several deep breaths. “We need you to deliver a message to the president.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier for you to just—”
Chiddy glanced at Vess with what Benita understood to be impatience.
Vess said firmly, “Benita, please. We’ve already said. Please concentrate your attention. Once we’ve made contact and proved that we exist by allowing recordings to be made, once we’ve proved that we have power, as I imagine we have now done, we prefer not to talk to those in authority. Those in authority always want to argue. Or complain. We have never approached any planet where those in power did not want to do one or both. If we speak to any person directly, or give any reason to think we might speak to people directly, everyone in the world will want an individual audience to complain about what we’ve done or suggest we do something else! You, on the other hand, have nothing to argue about, and they can’t argue with you because you merely deliver the message. You won’t know anything except what we tell you, so bothering you is pointless.”
Fascinated despite herself, she asked, “What’s the message?”
“Firstly: Two days from now, on Sunday night at ten P.M., Eastern Time, we will announce over national television what we are doing here and how we will proceed.
“Secondly: Once they know we are present, the populace of a planet almost always sends us messages. The messages are to be accumulated somewhere to be picked up. Someone will tell you where they are, and we will pick them up. Tell the powers that be that you will not transmit spoken messages. Even if you were constrained to do so, we would ignore
them. This is to prevent your being inundated and our being influenced by discourtesies that might be blurted in anger, such as General McVane’s outburst the other evening.”
“Are you going to rewrite our laws or something? That could make it difficult for some people.”
“No, no. Your laws will still be in effect, more or less. They’ll probably be needed less as we go along, but we won’t fool with them, at least not just yet. Tell the president not to worry about it. Any confusion we cause will be temporary and minimal. Tell him, also, that we will make any further announcements to the public on television, just as we will do this first time.”
“At regular intervals?”
“Not necessarily, no. Whenever we have something to say. At this time, we plan only the first announcement, and it won’t be lengthy.”
They rose and moved together out into the hall, pausing there long enough for Chiddy to say, “When the government people fixed your apartment, they put in a great many listening and looking devices. We have made the ones in the bathroom inoperable, as we understand your culture to prefer. The others we left intact. However, they will show only you, fully clothed in whatever you choose to wear on any given day, moving about, reading, fixing food, whatever is appropriate to the hour when you are here. If you change clothes, the viewers will show you selecting the clothes and then going into the bathroom to change. Whatever you are really doing, they will not see. They are not seeing us here tonight. They are seeing you seated on the couch, reading a book.