Birthright

Practical

politicians determine our public ethics and behavior whether we like it or not, and half a hundred sciences tend to our hungers and comforts. Philosophy, true philosophy, is concerned with the soul, and I use the word in a nonreligious sense. Or, if you prefer a more palatable definition, it is concerned with that section of the mind—and notice that I didn't say thehuman mind—that is not the concern of the psychiatrist or biologist. Its purpose is to give an overview of the Universe and of Life and of Being, all spelled with capital letters. Its purpose is no more to answer questions than to ask them, no more to solve problems than to give new insights into them. I repeat: Pragmatism is a philosophy, but it is not the only philosophy, nor even among the most important.” “Then why do the vast majority of our philosophers seem to disagree with you?” asked Hillyar. “Because they've been conditioned by men like you,” said Belore bluntly. “Besides, this isn't a field like politics, where the majority rules. The fact that most of them agree with you means nothing except that more of them are wrong than might reasonably be expected to be wrong under other circumstances.” “I perceive,” said Brannot, “that neither of us is about to convince the other of the correctness of our viewpoint.”

“I suppose not, more's the pity,” said Belore. “Gentlemen, I think we might as well cut this short before tempers begin rising. You may send more dissertations to me, and I shall comment on the correctness of the arguments, since I have said I would do so. However, I think we would all be happier if I had nothing further to do with them, or with you.”

And with that she arose and walked from the building, alternately feeling younger and older than her years.

“Well!” said Hillyar after a few minutes’ silence. “What do you make of that?” “She was a brilliant woman in her day,” said Brannot slowly. “It's rather disconcerting to see her so out of touch with reality. Philosophy would forever be an art rather than a science if she had her way.” “What gall!” said Hillyar. “As if we had no knowledge at all of Plato and Kant and Aquinas. What does she want us to do—insist that every doctoral candidate spend half a lifetime contemplating the lint in his navel?”

“Let's not be too harsh in our judgment of her,” said Brannot loftily. “Remember—that frail, wrinkled shell of a body once housed a truly superb mind.” And with that, he picked up the next thesis, which presented some telling arguments justifying the economic subjugation of the natives of Broward III, and was soon lost in rapturous fascination at the intricate chain of reasoning put forth.

20: THE ARCHITECTS

...Unquestionably the greatest of the Commonwealth's architects was Ebar Mallow (6700-6755 G.E.), who for reasons unknown seems to have vanished from the ranks of the profession after the completion of the unfortunate Bureau of Alien Affairs project. Nonetheless, that single edifice assures him a place in the vanguard of the history of human architecture... —Man: Twelve Millennia of Achievement ...The ill-conceived Bureau still stands today, and is in many

respects quite the most remarkable building ever erected by any race.

Much of the credit for its design, if not its ultimate fate, must go to Ebar Mallow, perhaps the most brilliant architect to come on the scene since the creation of Caliban. Even now, the Bureau still functions as it was designed to do; the pity of it, of course, is that... —Origin and History of the Sentient Races, Vol. 9 “What the hell isthat ?” asked Mallow, gesturing toward the huge structure that was being moved into his office.

“That, my bookish friend, is a chair,” said Verlor, walking into the office as the workmen left. “A chair forwhat ?” demanded Mallow, trying to picture the type of creature that could fit comfortably into the thing and failing dismally.

“The ambassador from Castor V,” said Verlor. “I didn't even know Castor had any intelligent life,” said Mallow. “According to our psychologists, they crossed over from nonthinking beast to thinking beast about three thousand years ago. According to the Castorites, they've been an intelligent species for longer than Man has been around.”

“Surely he's not coming here to debate the issue,” said Mallow disgustedly. “I'll be happy to grant his species intelligence since the Big Bang if it'll make him happy. Especially if he can fill that chair.” “He's got other reasons for seeing you,” said Verlor. “As I understand it, he wants to talk about the Bureau.”

“Not a chance,” snapped Mallow. “I spent seven years getting those plans approved by the Floating Kingdom, and I'm not about to make any last-minute changes because of some elephantine bigwig from Castor!”

“Calm down,” said Verlor. “We don't even know what he wants.” “It doesn't matter,” said Mallow. “No changes!” “Look,” said Verlor. “We've all got orders. Yours are to design and build the Bureau. Mine are to see that our guest is treated with every courtesy. This is no small-time bureaucrat; he's the Castorian ambassador to the Commonwealth.”

“You mean Castor's not even a member of the Commonwealth?” said Mallow. “Its status is up in the air at the moment. They've been asked—politely—to join. If they decide not to...” “They'll be asked unpolitely,” concluded Mallow. “In all likelihood,” agreed Verlor. “At any rate, any unpleasantness with the ambassador is to be initiated by the Floating Kingdom, not by you. Understood?” “Understood,” said Mallow distastefully. “When do we expect this visitor of yours?”

“If I may be so bold as to intrude upon your discussion,” said the cold, noncommittal tones of a T- pack,

“I am quite ready to proceed with our meeting.” The two men turned to the doorway, and saw a huge, thick-limbed being standing there, its blunt, broad head covered by a combination plastic mask and T-pack, its heavily-armored skin exposed to the air. It had the three-legged, tripodal structure and stance common to most of the denizens of high-gravity worlds. Affixed to the mask were small medallions that obviously represented medals and official status. “How long have you been standing there?” demanded Mallow. “My name is Krotar,” said the Castorian, ignoring the question. “May we proceed?” “I'll leave you two gentlemen for a few minutes,” said Verlor. “Buzz me if you need anything.” “I object to being termed a gentleman,” said Krotar, “but since the T-pack may be translating Terran inaccurately or too literally, I shall offer no formal complaint.” Mallow shot Verlor a who-the-hell-does-he-think-he-is look, then turned back to Krotar. “Well, Mr. Krotar,” he said, “just what can I do for you?” “You may begin by referring to me as Ambassador Krotar,” said the Castorian. “Whatever you wish, Ambassador,” said Mallow, wondering what theless diplomatic Castorians must be like.

“And,” said Krotar, nodding an acknowledgment, “you can show me the plans for the Bureau of Alien Affairs.”

“Is there some particular reason why you're interested in them?” asked Mallow as he darkened the room and threw the Tri-D mockup of the Bureau's exterior into the area separating him from Krotar. “I would not ask without a reason,” said Krotar. “You will explain the plans.” “As you wish.” Mallow shrugged and began to recite the stock speech he had given perhaps a thousand times during the past two years. “The new Bureau of Alien Affairs, to be erected on Deluros IV, will be rectangular at the base, and will remain that way although tapering by almost fifty percent by the time it reaches its peak, which will be almost two kilometers above the ground. At its base the Bureau will be four kilometers long and three kilometers wide. The outer facade, as you can see, will contain various bits of art from almost all of the known cultures of the galaxy.” “Including Castor?” asked Krotar.

“If Castor is adopted into the Commonwealth, I have no doubt that its art will be incorporated into the facade,” said Mallow, devoutly hoping that the Floating Kingdom would require a better display of manners before welcoming it into the fold. He flicked a number of switches on his desk, and the Tri-D picture changed, now showing a miniaturized cross-section of the huge lobby of the building. “Now, although the Bureau will be multi-environmental, the lobby through which all entities will enter and

exit will not be so treated. The atmosphere on Deluros IV is almost nonexistent, and the gravity is about

half that of Deluros VIII. It would be an easy matter to supply it with an atmosphere and artificial gravity more to Man's liking,” he said, getting in the dig, “but there will be no favoritism in the Bureau. “Throughout the lobby will be numerous signs and recording stands, in all the known languages of the galaxy, directing the various member races to the proper areas. There will be literally hundreds of moving courseways crisscrossing and encircling the lobby, each of them ending at a designated elevator. The elevators are designed to hold a minimum of ten members of any race at a time, and in the case of some of the smaller races, they will