terror, squeezed to bursting by the approaching end. Fear is ever-present, waiting to be called to the surface.
Change brought fear, and fear brought destruction.
The Republic, in the end, was a rational response to an irrational problem. To arrest change is to arrest decay. To bury the individual beneath the weight of the state, is to bury too the individual’s fears. It was possible to see what they were trying to do, but easy too to see, from this distance, that no state can ever weigh that heavily. Always, the individual’s fears will wriggle free. Adam had wriggled free.
It was only now, in the time of The Academy, that the problems had been solved. Following the Great War, the citizens had known a great and lasting peace.
Anax thought of her own upbringing. She thought of the life outside. Her friends treated her with respect, and that respect was returned. Her teachers were kindly, and work was a duty gladly received in a land where leisure time was plentiful. The streets were safe now, day and night. The individual was trusted, no bounds were placed upon one’s curiosity. Anax only had to look at herself to see that. Hadn’t she been given unlimited access to the files of Adam Forde even when it became clear that her findings would challenge the orthodoxy? The fear had not gone, the fear could never go, but it had been the great contribution of The Academy to balance fear with opportunity.
Why did she want to join The Academy? Because The Academy had achieved that thing which no other group had achieved. Anax had studied history keenly, and understood that this claim could be made with confidence. The Academy had turned back evolution. The Academy had tamed the Idea.
It would be a great honor to be selected, of course, but Anax was clear that it was not honor that motivated her. To join The Academy was to serve the society. The society she loved. The finest society the planet had ever seen. To join The Academy was to take responsibility for the peace that settled over the shelters, and the laughter that echoed in the streets. The Academy designed the education program. The Academy moderated technology’s march. The Academy managed the balance between the individual and the cause, between the opportunity and the fear. The Academy pored over the details of the past, and learned from each advancement and every mistake. The Academy had met the Idea head on, and negotiated with it a lasting peace.
Anax spoke the answer, and felt the familiar swelling of patriotic pride. She looked to the doors, willing them to slide open again. “Ask me your questions,” she wanted to shout. “My answers are ready.”
FINAL HOUR
They left her waiting twenty minutes more. The room was darkened when she returned, as if in preparation for another hologram, which couldn’t be right, for they had seen all she had prepared.
EXAMINER: Anaximander, we have asked you to consider why it is you would like to join The Academy. Is your answer ready?
ANAXIMANDER: It is. And to understand it fully —
The Examiner halted her explanation by raising his hand.
EXAMINER: Not yet, Anaximander. First, there are other matters to address.
Anax looked at the three of them, and again considered the dimming of the lights.
ANAXIMANDER: I don’t think I understand.
EXAMINER: The story of Adam is not yet fully told.
ANAXIMANDER: Would you like me to explain my interpretation of The Final Dilemma? As you know, I have no hologram prepared for this episode, but I am ready to discuss its detail and implication.
EXAMINER: How much time passes, between the last scene you showed us and The Final Dilemma?
ANAXIMANDER: Three months and a day.
EXAMINER: And you have nothing to offer, on what took place during this period?
ANAXIMANDER: Only speculation. It is well known that whatever records may have existed of this time have all been lost.
EXAMINER: Does it seem strange to you, that not a single shred of detail has been found?
ANAXIMANDER: Such holes are common in our story, especially in the period immediately leading up to the Great War. Many historians have suggested that there was a deliberate attempt on the part of The Republic, to deprive us of their records. Certainly, as the outcome became clear, there was a sustained attempt to erase many important files.
EXAMINER: And you accept this explanation?
ANAXIMANDER: I have not considered any others.
EXAMINER: Whynot?
ANAXIMANDER: I suppose I took the lead of those who went before me.
EXAMINER: Would it surprise you if you found that you were wrong to do this?
Anax looked along the line of Examiners. Their features had turned rigid and threatening in the darkened room. “It is possible to know without understanding,” Pericles had told her once. “Knowing starts as a feeling. Understanding is the process of excavation, of clearing a path from feeling to daylight.” This is what he was talking about. Anax knew that something had changed. The future gathered, beyond her field of vision. And was it just imagining, a foolish, frightened shiver, or did she also know that she was in some sort of danger?
ANAXIMANDER: I try not to be surprised. Surprise is the public face of a mind that has been closed.
The Examiner nodded, but his face remained solemn. Everywhere now, Anax saw shadows. She told herself to concentrate on the questions.
EXAMINER: The records have not been lost. Rather, they were never released.
Anax’s mouth dropped. How could that possibly be true? All records were released. It was the one central dogma. A society that fears knowledge is a society that fears itself. What they were telling her was not an aside, a piece of technical trivia of interest only to a select group of historians.
Their suggestion was more shocking, more dangerous, than any she could imagine. And it might have been obvious to ask “why would you hide this?” but another, more pressing question rose to her lips.
ANAXIMANDER: Why are you telling me this?
EXAMINER: What we are about to showyouhas only everbeen seen by those who undertake the examination. It is impossible for us to pass judgment on you, without your responding to what really happened.
And if I should fail this test? Anax wanted to ask. How then could it be safe to release me, knowing what it is I know? The answer though was plain, and had about it the dank stench of a truth deprived of sunlight. The room darkened further. Anax was gripped by fear. She turned toward the hologram, fascinated, horrified, understanding at last how high the stakes were.
Anax heard laughter as the figures formed: Art and Adam, enjoying a joke together. They sat across from one another, a small table between them. There was food in Adam’s mouth. A bright red robe was draped about Art’s stumpy body and reached as far as the floor, sparing his companion the sight of his mechanical details. Adam looked older, darker in his features, no longer softened by Anax’s whimsical hand. Both man and machine held a hand of playing cards. They were in the middle of a game.
EXAMINER: The following conversation takes place ten days before The Final Dilemma.
Adam slammed down a card and whooped in celebration, hands held high above his head. He turned one finger down, pointing it at Art. “Man three, machine two. What does that tell you? Eh, what does that tell you?”
“It tells me,” Art replied, unmoved by the show, “that you are too quick to leap to conclusions.” Art displayed his own cards, all three, face up, triumphant. “You’ve been black cast.”
Adam stared down at the hand, uncomprehending. “You’ve cheated,” he accused.
“Prove it” the android smiled.
“We both know it,” Adam replied. “So what’s to prove?”
“Without evidence, we know nothing. How often must I tell you that?”
There was a beat, like the interference stutter in a transmission. Adam’s face turned serious. He looked closely at Art then scanned the room. He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Have you done it?” he asked.
Art nodded.
