DISPOSITION: Standing affirmed. Any citizen may complain of categorical border violations.
Probability illegal importation across open border: .967.
Penalty assessed, Enarae. Fine of cr. 1,000.
Probability illegal importation perpetrated by category-ten dinka-jin tourist in return for gambling credit: .978.
Penalty assessed, City Fifteen. Fine of cr. 1,000.
“Aye,” said the committee, a few of them smiling slightly. C&D machines sometimes seemed capable of a sly humor.
ITEM 4: Complaint by High Priest, closed-border province of Molock on Panubi. Inhabitants avoiding child sacrifice by escaping via riverboats trading in foodstuffs with neighboring provinces.
DISPOSITION: Enforcer will investigate and will if necessary assess penalty against riverboat owners or workers or provinces involved. Enforcer will reaffirm to persons in Molock that inhabitants of closed-border provinces have no rights of escape.
“Aye,” the committee muttered.
Jacent looked out the window, his mouth moving but making no sound, full of an obscure discomfort. A quick look at the faces around the table showed them unchanged. Obviously, the other members felt the matter of Molock was merely routine.
“Diversity,” Aunt Syrilla had preached at him. “We neither approve nor disapprove of individual provinces, Jacent. Some of them are, no doubt, quite distasteful, but our interest is higher than approval or disapproval. Even provinces that murder their own children are accorded favorable recognition by us, and in so doing, we continue a chain of diplomacy that has come unbroken from remotest times on Earth itself. We assure the diversity of humanity. No one system has within it all answers to all human needs. So much we know from history. The task set before us is to answer the Great Question of man’s destiny, and from diversity the answer will emerge. So we are taught. So I believe. Only here, on Elsewhere, does diversity exist, and our lives, yours and mine, are given to assuring its continuance.”
Her tone had been one of auntly concern and lofty assurance. The Great Question and the value of diversity had been drummed into him since childhood, so he’d agreed with her. Of course he’d agreed with her; what member of Council Supervisory could disagree? But still, when one heard the words “child sacrifice,” it did make one pause. He looked around the table again. No one else had even blinked. Well, he would undoubtedly get used to it.
ITEM 5: Complaint by hemi-province Salt Maresh that hemi-province Choire is overbreeding in order to obtain a few very fine voices, thereby burdening Salt Maresh with supernumerary children, including many who can carry a tune.
DISPOSITION: Council will suggest to Salt Maresh that it (1) refuse acceptance of children; or (2) that it petition Council for full provincial status, thereby abrogating its agreements with Choire and insuring the integrity of its borders; or (3) that it request Enforcer review of Salt Maresh/Choire mutuality agreements together with whatever solution Enforcer thinks most suitable.
“Like what?” Jacent whispered to his neighbor, a much older, plumper individual who assented to each disposition in a subdued monotone. Jacent, who had spent the previous year monitoring the C&D machines, had only recently been appointed to this, his first assignment by Council, and was still unfamiliar with it. “What would an Enforcer think suitable?” he asked.
“Oh, he might decide on a small plague in Choire that would reduce their population to the point they’d need all their children, or maybe a small plague in Salt Maresh to do likewise, or he might decide on a fine against Choire for every child sent to Salt Maresh who isn’t tone-deaf. There’s lots of possibilities.” Jacent’s neighbor scratched his nose. “I’d say the likelihood in this case is a fine, since there’s no real abrogation of contract to get nasty about. You’ve watched the machines for a while, haven’t you? You’ve learned then that before the machines make a disposition, they consider every precedent we’ve accumulated for hundreds of years. We very, very seldom overrule the machines.”
Jacent put his hand over his mouth to keep from yawning.
His neighbor looked at him sympathetically. “I know. By the time we get to item number fifty, it’ll really get boring.”
ITEM 6: Complaint by citizens of New Athens that a tyrant has gained power and is depriving citizens of basic human rights and freedoms.
DISPOSITION: Constitution of New Athens (q.v., appended) assures all citizens basic human rights and freedoms. Enforcers dispatched to Attend to tyrant and supporters.
“Aye,” murmured the committee with some satisfaction. Later they would see the recorded consequence of this vote. Some such assassinations made rather exciting viewing.
ITEM 7: Complaint by citizens of Derbeck that torture and executions by chimi-hounds of suspected malcontents has reached unconscionable numbers.
DISPOSITION: Derbeck is a theocracy based on religious and political orthodoxy. Arbitrary executions and torture are integral to such systems.
No penalty.
“Aye,” said Jacent, yawning once again behind his hand.
ITEM 8: Complaint by a citizen of Denial …
“So, what’ve you decided?” asked Danivon Luze. He was sitting on one of Fringe’s fishbone chairs, staring at the object on the nearest stone pedestal.
She shrugged, as though she hadn’t made up her mind.
He sighed, shaking his head at her lack of decisiveness. “Don’t wiffle around,” he said, surprising her. “What’s that thing?” He was pointing at the pedestal.
“A shell,” she replied.
“It isn’t pretty,” Danivon commented.
“No,” Fringe admitted. The thing wasn’t pretty. It was the shell of a turtle, one of the Earthian animals man had carried with him throughout all his generations. Fringe had found the shell at the top of a very tall tree on one of the Seldom Isles. Turtles did not climb trees, and yet the shell had been there, sun-faded and empty.
“Why do you keep it?” Danivon asked.
Fringe shrugged. He might have read her Book, but that gave him no right to her thoughts. The shell meant mystery. Wonder. How had it come where she had found it? It was like herself, a strangeness, and none of his damned business.
“And this thing?” Danivon said, stroking a curved element at the top of another pedestal. It was one of
