world it visits with a full report on itself. Moving on, over the years, across the generations, this base would be broadened. Eventually, it would be able to supply the Council with reports encompassing whole sectors of the civilized galaxy. It is a living data processor, mildly telepathic-for it has been absorbing bits and pieces over the centuries it has been circulating, so that it knew to advise me on the Galactic Code and knew of the function of a certain machine. It represents a unique combination of objectivity and empathy, and because of this its reports should be of more than a little value.'
'I begin to see the situation,' he said.
'Yes. Speicus seems to have taken a liking to me, wants me to do the honors.'
'An enormous opportunity.'
'True. If I decline, though, I will still get to study many of these things as an alien culture specialist right here on earth.'
'Why should you settle for that when you can have the other?'
'I got to thinking about the petty pace, then the acceleration. A while ago we were there, now we are here. Everything in between is a bit unreal-the time between the tops of our towers. Up here, looking down, looking back, I notice for the first time that my towertops are coming closer and closer together. There is a noticeable increase in the tempo of time and the times. Everything down there, between, grows more and more frantic, absurd. You told me that when I finally thought of it I should remember the brandy.'
'Yes, I did. Here.'
I disposed of my cigarette. I remembered the brandy, drank to it.
'If the distance were not so great you could spit into the face of Time,' he observed as I passed it back. 'Yes, I did say all that, and it was true at the time. For me.'
'And where is it taking us?' I said. 'To the top of a particularly tricky spire which we already know to have been long occupied by others. They consider us a developing world, you know-primitive, barbaric. They are most likely right, too. Let's face it. We've been beaten to the top. If I take the job, I will be more of a display item than Speicus.'
'Speaking statistically,' he said, 'it was unlikely that we would be at the top of the heap, just as it is also unlikely that we are at the bottom. I believed everything that I said when I said it and some of it still. But you must remember the circumstances. I was speaking from the end of a career, not the beginning, and I spoke at a moment when one is preoccupied with such matters. There are other thoughts I have entertained since then. Many of them. Such as Professor Kuhn's notions on the structure of scientific revolutions-that a big new idea comes along and shatters traditional patterns of thought, that everything is then put together again from the ground up. Petty pace, bit by bit. After a time, things begin looking tidy once more, except for a few odd scraps and pieces. Then someone throws another brick through the window. It has always been this way for us, and in recent years the bricks have been coming closer and closer together. Not quite as much time for the cleaning up. Then we met the aliens and a whole truckload of bricks arrived. Naturally the intellect is staggered. Whatever we are, though, we are different from anyone else out there. We have to be. No two people or peoples are alike. If for no other reason than this, I know we have something to contribute. It remains to be found, but it must be found. We must survive the current brick-storm, for it is obvious now that others have done it. If we cannot, then we do not deserve to survive and take our place among them. It was not wrong of me to wish to be the first and the best, only perhaps wrong to wish to be alone. The trouble with you people in anthropology, for all your talk of cultural relativism, is that the very act of evaluation automatically makes you feel superior to whatever you are evaluating, and you evaluate everything. We are now about to be evaluees for a time, anthropologists included. I suspect that has hit you harder than you may be willing to admit, in your favorite area of thought. I would then say, bear up and learn something from it. Humility, if nothing else. We are on the threshold of a renaissance if I read the signs right. But one day the brick-fall will probably let up and Time will shuffle its feet and the sweeping of the floors will commence again. There will be opportunity to feel alone in ourselves once more. When that day comes for you, what sort of company will you have?'
He paused. Then: 'You have come for my advice,' he said, 'and I have probably offered more than was wanted. I owe it to the good company and the perfect beverage. So I drink to you now and to the time that has transfigured me. Keep climbing. That is all. Keep climbing, and then go a little higher.'
I accepted a sip. I stared out at the building across the way. I lit another cigarette.
'Why are we watching the clock?' I asked.
'For the chimes at midnight. Any moment now, I should think.'
'It seems an awfully obvious moral, even if it is well timed.'
He chuckled.
'I didn't script the thing,' he said, 'and I've used up all my morals, Fred. I just want to enjoy the spectacle. Things can be interesting in themselves.'
'True. Sorry. Also, thank you.'
'Here they come!' he said.
A little door on either side of the clock popped open. From the one a burnished knight emerged. From the other, a dusky fool. The one bore a sword, the other a staff. They advanced, the knight straight and stately, the fool with a skip or a limp-I was not certain which. They moved toward us, bobbing, frozen in frown and grin. They reached the ends of their tracks, pivoted ninety degrees and proceeded once more to a meeting before a bell that occupied a central position on that lateral way. Arriving before it, the knight raised his weapon and delivered the first blow. The sound was full and deep. Moments later, the fool swung his staff for the second. The tone was slightly sharper, the volume about the same.
Knight, fool, knight, fool ... The strokes came quite smartly at that range, so I felt them as well as hearing their tones. Fool, knight, fool, knight ... They cut the air, they killed the day. The fool delivered the final blow.
For an instant, then, they seemed to regard each other. Then, as by agreement, they turned away, moved back to their corners, pivoted, continued to their doorways and entered. The doors closed behind them and even the echoes were dead by then.
'People who don't climb cathedrals miss some good shows,' I said.
'Keep your damn morals for another day,' he said. Then: 'To the lady with the smile!'
'To the rocks of empire!' I replied moments later.
Bits & Pieces Lost in Hilbert Space, Emerging to Describe Slow Symphonies & the Architecture of Persistent Passion-
He regards the night as he had never seen it before, from atop the high Tower of Cheslerei in a place called Ardel beside the sea with the cryptic name. Somewhere, Paul Byler is chipping pieces off a world and doing remarkable things with them. Ira Enterprises, under the directorship of Albert Cassidy, is about to open offices on fourteen planets. A book called The Retching of the Spirit, by a shadowy, Traven-like author who lists as collaborators a girl, a dwarf and a donkey, has just achieved best-seller status. La Gioconda continues to receive critical acclaim with tacit good humor and traditional poise. Dennis Wexroth is on crutches as the result of a broken leg sustained while attempting to scale the Student Union.
He thinks of these and many other things behind the sky, within it. He recalls his departure.
Charv had said, 'You smoke too much, you know. Perhaps you can cut down on this trip, or quit entirely. At any rate, have a lot of good, clean fun. Along with hard, honest work, it makes the worlds go round.'
Nadler had shaken his hand firmly, smiled perfectly and said, 'I know you will always be a credit to the corps, Doctor Cassidy. When in doubt invoke tradition and improvise. Always remember what you represent.'
Merimee had winked and said, 'We'll be opening a string of cat houses around the galaxy, for traveling earthmen and adventuresome extees. It won't be long. Cultivate philosophy in the meantime. And if you get in any trouble, remember my number.'
'Fred, my boy,' his uncle had said, flipping his blackthorn aside to squeeze his shoulders, 'this is a great day for the Cassidys! I always knew that you would meet your fate somewhere among the stars above. Second sight, you know. Godspeed, and a copy of Tom Moore here for company. I'll be in touch about the Vibesper office and maybe be sending Ragma along later. You've been a proud investment, boy!'
He smiles at the absurdity, the traditions, the intentions. He feels the emotions.
=I am sorry about that spasm back on the bus, Fred. It was just that I was trying to learn how your body- worked in case I had to do any repairs. I was handicapped by the handedness barrier.=
'I guessed as much-later.'
