was a science devised by Man. Why is it that your race made only minimal use of it?”
“We preferred to do things ourselves,” said Breece. “True.” Milnor nodded. “Man never gave quarter, but he never asked for it either. A fascinating race.”
“What was it that led you to devote so much time to the study of my race?” asked Breece.
“So many of the sentient species are so busy blindly making war against Man that I felt that somebody ought to try to understand you.”
“I thank you for the sentiment,” said Breece. “And what have you learned about us that has increased your understanding?”
“That is a very difficult question,” said Milnor. “Oh? Why?”
“Because the more I discover about your race, the less I am able to comprehend it.” “Welcome to the club,” said Breece with a bitter laugh. “Perhaps you can enlighten me on some points,” said Milnor eagerly—or at least he looked eager. The words coming through the T-pack were totally devoid of emotion. “I'll try,” said Breece, “but please don't be too disappointed if I'm just as puzzled as you are.” “Well, for example,” said Milnor—and now they were not Man and non-Man, but merely two professionals discussing their field of expertise—'very few races of the galaxy have believed in religion, though many accept the philosophical notion of deity. Yet Man had not just one religion, but literally hundreds of them. Many of them issued very reasonable ethical codes and directives, from which most civil law on Earth, and ultimately the Commonwealth, was derived; Also, the great religious figures, from Jesus and Buddha almost to the end of human history, have preached a doctrine of love and tranquility.” “You forget Moses, who figuratively took the sword of God in his hand to slay the Egyptians.” “But even Moses did not allow his people to fight,” said Milnor, “and it was Moses who gave his nation the Ten Commandments. Now, my question is this: given such ethical codes and moral leaders, and threatening what seemed to most Men to be the very real alternative of hellfire and eternal damnation, it would seem to me that Man would have evolved socially and morally into the most peaceful and ethical of species. And yet this obviously is not the case, despite rare examples to the contrary. Can you possibly explain this to me from a Man's viewpoint?” “Not as an archaeologist, I can't,” said Breece. “But perhaps archaeology is the wrong science to apply to that question.”
“Which science would suit it better?” asked the Rinn. “Anthropology, perhaps. Or psychology. Or possibly even philosophy. At any rate, I think the answer lies in more than one place. First of all, Man was a carnivore. He still is, though he calls himself an omnivore. The conditions of ancient Earth were such that Man either had to evolve certain seemingly physically impossible abilities, such as geometrically multiplying his strength and speed, or he could develop into an intelligent being. No evolution occurs without prior environmental need, and in this case the need was for a physical equalizer, some method by which Man could kill the animals he had to kill in order to survive. This led to the creation of weapons. Some people, in fact most people, would say that all human history follows from that.”
“But this is not necessarily so,” said Milnor. “Man is not the only intelligent carnivore in the galaxy.”
“True,” said Breece. “As I said, that's only part of the answer, only one influence upon the race.” “And what of religion, of the noble philosophic systems Man devised?” asked the Rinn. “Religion was an emotional crutch, and an emotional weapon as well. It was a crutch in that it offered a catch-all explanation for the inexplicable, and a weapon in that farsighted men such as Moses were able to invoke the authority of God Himself to gain acceptance of their ethical systems.” “This I realize,” said Milnor. “But where did it break down?” “That's hard to say. But every time Man achieved something new, such as air travel, the birds and clouds were no longer things of wonder to us and another page of the Bible became just so much pretty poetry. As for the ethical systems, I can't really give you an answer. Possibly when Man moved out into the galaxy he felt he was greater than God, and hence under no ethical imperative to obey his Earthbound and Earthmade laws.”
“But Man ignored these two laws during most of his existence on Earth,” Milnor pointed out. “I know,” said Breece. “Maybe the laws were made for perfect things, and Man is not perfect. If I knew the answers, I wouldn't be here.”
“I understand,” said Milnor. “If you could tell me what period you are most interested in, perhaps I could be of some assistance in directing you to the most likely places to begin your digging.” “That's very generous of you, Milnor,” said Breece, “but the truth of the matter is that I simply don't know where to begin. My race is dying, falling back on every front, losing everything it once held dear. I want to know why. I want to know what made us do it all in the first place, why we succeeded, why we failed. If you can point to a spot anywhere in the galaxy and say, ‘Dig there and you'll discover what it is that makes Man Man,’ I'll be forever in your debt. But I don't think you can do that, can you?” “Alas, I cannot,” said Milnor.
“Then I suppose I'll just have to proceed in my own haphazard way.” She turned her head into the mild breeze, breathed in the cold, clean air. “This very spot we're standing on might have been the Garden of Eden. I wonder if we'll ever know why Man wanted to leave it. He didn't slink out of Paradise, you know; he walked out proud and erect. Isn't that curious?” “You are not like most Men I have met,” said Milnor after a thoughtful pause. “There's a little of me in all Men, and a little of them in me,” said Breece. “I want to know. Isn't that the very trait that started Man on the path that led him to where he is now?” “Was it truly the urge to know?” asked the Rinn. “Or was it the drive to possess?” “I don't know,” said Breece with a shrug. “And yet, with all my race has done that I feel ashamed of, I can still feel pride at their accomplishments. From the Pioneers to the Olympians to the Warlords, they bucked the odds. Maybe they went places they had no business going, maybe they stepped on some toes—and far worse—but they won, and in a perverse way I'm proud to be one of them. Is that sinful, I wonder?”
“I cannot offer an answer,” said Milnor. “But let me in turn ask you one final question, and then I shall
leave you to the sleep you must need by now. Granting all that you have said is true to one degree or another, why is it that you are spending your life studying a species that we both admit is in its twilight? What will an understanding of Man's virtues and flaws and foibles benefit you?” “You mean me personally?”
The Rinn nodded.
“I'm not sure,” said Breece. “If I am to be totally honest about it, I could very well be doing this because I'm resentful.”
“Resentful?” asked Milnor. “Of what?”
“Of all the Men who lived during the zenith of our race. There was a time when we owned it all, and we let it slip away. Or, rather,
“Perhaps,” said Breece. “Or perhaps it's the feeling I get when I look out across the Serengeti, and see it as primitive Man must have seen it eons ago. But with one difference: his future, as a race, lay before him; mine lies behind me. I think it's very sad that nothing will ever grow here again except grass: no animals, no birds, and no Men.”
“To use an expression of your species, you weep for the passing of your race,” said the Rinn. “Is that not correct?”
“No,” said Breece. “First I want to know how and why it happened, what made it inevitable. Then I'll decide whether or not to shed a few tears. And now, if you'll excuse me, Milnor, I must get some sleep.” “I understand,” said the Rinn. “However if it will not offend you, I should like to present you with a gift.” “A gift?”
“Yes,” said Milnor. “It is a human artifact.” Suddenly her face radiated interest. “I think,” continued the Rinn, “that if you study it until you know it in its entirety, a number of your questions may be answered.” “I very much doubt that any one artifact can do that,” said Breece. “This one can,” said Milnor. He removed his shoulder pouch, stuck a stubby hand into it, searched around for a moment, and withdrew the artifact, which he rubbed carefully with a soft cloth and then handed to her.
It was a mirror.
24: THE PRIESTS
...About the middle of the Seventeenth Galactic Millennium, as the race of Man was in danger and disarray everywhere, there was a rebirth of interest in religion, though this incarnation had none of the trappings of Man's ancient, Earthbound religions. It was simple, straightforward, possessed of very few
