“Parked right in the middle of the Terran-type food production area,” Travis was continuing.
That was worrying him. Maybe he wasn’t used to planets where the biochemistry wasn’t Terra-type and a Terran would be poisoned or, at best, starve to death, on the local food; maybe, as a soldier he knew how fragile even the best logistics system can be. It was something to worry about. Travis excused himself and went off in the direction of the bridge. Going to call H.Q. and find out what was happening.
Excitement among the shoonoon; they had spotted the ship on which they were riding in the westward screen. They watched it until it had vanished from “sight of the seeing-oomphel,” and by then were over the upland forests from whence they had been brought to Bluelake. Now and then one of them would identify his own village, and that would start more excitement.
Three infantry troop-carriers and a squadron of air cavalry were rushing past the eastward pickup in the right hand screen; another fire had started in the trouble area.
The crowd that had gathered around the globe that had been brought aboard began calling for Mailsh Heelbare to show them how they would go around the world and what countries they would pass over. Edith accompanied him and listened while he talked to them. She was bubbling with happy excitement, now. It had just dawned on her that shoonoon were fun.
None of them had ever seen the mountains along the western side of the continent except from a great distance. Now they were passing over them; the ship had to gain altitude and even then make a detour around one snow-capped peak. The whole hundred and eighty-four rushed to the starboard side to watch it as they passed. The ocean, half an hour later, started a rush forward. The score or so of them from the Tidewater knew what an ocean was, but none of them had known that there was another one to the west. Miles’ view of the education program of the E.E.T.A., never bright at best, became even dimmer. The young men who have gone to the Terran school … who listens to them? They are fools.
There were a few islands off the coast; the shoonoon identified them on the screen globe, and on the one on deck. Some of them wanted to know why there wasn’t a spot of light on this globe, too. It didn’t have the oomphel inside to do that; that was a satisfactory explanation. Edith started to explain about the orbital beacon-stations off-planet and the radio beams, and then stopped.
“I’m sorry; I’m not supposed to say anything to them,” she apologized.
“Oh, that’s all right. I wouldn’t go into all that, though. We don’t want to overload them.”
She asked permission, a little later, to explain why the triangle tip of the arctic continent, which had begun to edge into sight on the screen globe, couldn’t be seen from the ship. When he told her to go ahead, she got a platinum half-sol piece from her purse, held it on the globe from the classroom and explained about the curvature and told them they could see nothing farther away than the circle the coin covered. It was beginning to look as though the psychological-warfare experiment might show another, unexpected, success.
There was nothing, after the islands passed, but a lot of empty water. The shoonoon were getting hungry, but they refused to go below to eat. They were afraid they might miss something. So their dinner was brought up on deck for them. Miles and Travis and Edith went to the officers’ dining room back of the bridge. Edith, by now, was even more excited than the shoonoon.
“They’re so anxious to learn!” She was having trouble adjusting to that; that was dead against E.E.T.A. doctrine. “But why wouldn’t they listen to the teachers we sent to the villages?”
“You heard old Shatresh—the fellow with the pornographic sculpture and the yellow robe. These young twerps act like fools, and sensible people don’t pay any attention to fools. What’s more, they’ve been sent out indoctrinated with the idea that shoonoon are a lot of lying old fakes, and the shoonoon resent that. You know, they’re not lying old fakes. Within their limitations, they are honest and ethical professional people.”
“Oh, come, now! I know, I think they’re sort of wonderful, but let’s don’t give them too much credit.”
“I’m not. You’re doing that.”
“Huh?” She looked at him in amazement. “Me?”
“Yes, you. You know better than to believe in magic, so you expect them to know better, too. Well, they don’t. You know that under the macroscopic world-of-the senses there exists a complex of biological, chemical and physical phenomena down to the subnucleonic level. They realize that there must be something beyond what they can see and handle, but they think it’s magic. Well, as a race, so did we until only a few centuries pre-atomic. These people are still lower Neolithic, a hunting people who have just learned agriculture. Where we were twenty thousand years ago.
“You think any glib-talking Kwann can hang a lot of rags, bones and old iron onto himself, go through some impromptu mummery, and set up as shoonoo? Well, he can’t. The shoonoon are a hereditary caste. A shoonoo father will begin teaching his son as soon as he can walk and talk, and he keeps on teaching him till he’s the age-equivalent of a graduate M.D. or a science Ph. D.”
“Well, what all is there to learn—?”
“The theoretical basis and practical applications of sympathetic magic. Action-at-a-distance by one object upon another. Homeopathic magic: the principle that things which resemble one another will interact. For instance, there’s an animal
