treated them as enemies, regarded them as monsters. Their reactions were animalistic; a great shock to a race that had long ago abandoned any trace of animalism.
"Soon, this race found itself in a shooting war it neither started nor asked for. Technologically more advanced than its adversaries, it conquered them. But what to do now?" Ponder threw up his hands in despair. He was a good lecturer.
"The only thing possible," he answered himself, "was to teach the conquered people how to become a part of the wonderful new civilization of the first race, to teach them the joys of lif e and to rid them of the animalistic behavior the conquerors had dreamed of beating, but had been unable to beat on their own.
"Oh, there were doubts. Doubts that such a vast project could succeed. And it took a long time, and a lot of mistakes were made, but it worked! It worked!" His eyes shone with fire. "A true interstellar brotherhood of unrelated races was forged. And, as this new combined culture expanded still further, it began to discover its uniqueness in the universe, and its mission. Every time they met a new race, the reaction was the same. War. They came to expect it. And, after victory, they faced a new set of challenges, for each race was different, and had to be handled differently. But our system has worked! There are now over fifty thousand races to the Machist Association, some very human in appearance, some extremely, wildly different—outside. Inside, they are one."
"And now it's our turn," someone in the back said less than enthusiastically.
Ponder smiled. "Yes, now it's .your turn. And, to rid you of those psychological illnesses you are only vaguely aware of in your dreams, emotions, and the writings of your poets and philosophers, we had to start at the beginning again. On some primeval planet your ancestors developed from the great apes of the forests. So to this state have you been returned."
"Humanity's come a long way from the ape stage," someone objected.
Ponder smiled. "Oh, has it now? Look how easily you returned to that state. Remove the artifacts, the machines, and the soft products of what you call civilization and you revert easily to a pack of wild apes. A serious look at one another in this room will show you just how weak and thin your veneer of civilization really was." They shifted uncomfortably and murmured a little. What the old man was saying came a little too close. They were becoming introspective and self-conscious about their past few months' living.
Ponder reached over and picked up a stack of newspapers. "These are a collection of newspapers from the week before Ondine fell. And these," he grabbed another stack, "are the same week's papers from so-called civilized Authrarium.. Anybody here from Authrarium?"
They looked at each other, but no one spoke.
"Anyone ever been there?"
A few people nodded assent.
"Well, they'll tell you, those who have, that it's a pretty typical human world, supposedly the best humanity can do. Let's see . . ." He leafed through a newspaper.
"The city served by this paper has a population of twenty-three million, crowded but not above average these days. We look through and we find suicides at the rate of five or six percent a year. Suicides! That's over a million people in that city taking their own lives each year! A million!"
He rummaged through the papers some more.
"Well, let's see. They appear to average about two to three hundred murders a week judging from the sample, and there are loads of other crimes. We still have rapes there, it seems. And thefts by the score! The papers don't even mention them anymore unless they're big or fancy or flashy!" He turned back and faced them, leaning against the stage.
"Ondine's much better, of course. But not much. Suicides, for example, are much higher here—so much so that a lot of technology was devoted to preventing them."
He sighed. "So what do we have? A society with all the nice things technology has to
"Soon, this race found itself in a shooting war it neither started nor asked for. Technologically more advanced than its adversaries, it conquered them. But what to do now?" Ponder threw up his hands in despair. He was a good lecturer.
"The only thing possible," he answered himself, "was to teach the conquered people how to become a part of the wonderful new civilization of the first race, to teach them the joys of lif e and to rid them of the animalistic behavior the conquerors had dreamed of beating, but had been unable to beat on their own.
"Oh, there were doubts. Doubts that such a vast project could succeed. And it took a long time, and a lot of mistakes were made, but it worked! It worked!" His eyes shone with fire. "A true interstellar brotherhood of unrelated races was forged. And, as this new combined culture expanded still further, it began to discover its uniqueness in the universe, and its mission. Every time they met a new race, the reaction was the same. War. They came to expect it. And, after victory, they faced a new set of challenges, for each race was different, and had to be handled differently. But our system has worked! There are now over fifty thousand races to the Machist Association, some very human in appearance, some extremely, wildly different—outside. Inside, they are one."
"And now it's our turn," someone in the back said less than enthusiastically.
Ponder smiled. "Yes, now it's .your turn. And, to rid you of those psychological illnesses you are only vaguely aware of in your dreams, emotions, and the writings of your poets and philosophers, we had to start at the beginning again. On some primeval planet your ancestors developed from the great apes of the forests. So to this state have you been returned."
"Humanity's come a long way from the ape stage," someone objected.
Ponder smiled. "Oh, has it now? Look how easily you returned to that state. Remove the artifacts, the machines, and the soft products of what you call civilization and you revert easily to a pack of wild apes. A serious look at one another in this room will show you just how weak and thin your veneer of civilization really was." They shifted uncomfortably and murmured a little. What the old man was saying came a little too close. They were becoming introspective and self-conscious about their past few months' living.
Ponder reached over and picked up a stack of newspapers. "These are a collection of newspapers from the week before Ondine fell. And these," he grabbed another stack, "are the same week's papers from so-called civilized Authrarium.. Anybody here from Authrarium?"
They looked at each other, but no one spoke.
"Anyone ever been there?"
A few people nodded assent.
"Well, they'll tell you, those who have, that it's a pretty typical human world, supposedly the best humanity can do. Let's see . . ." He leafed through a newspaper.
"The city served by this paper has a population of twenty-three million, crowded but not above average these days. We look through and we find suicides at the rate of five or six percent a year. Suicides! That's over a million people in that city taking their own lives each year! A million!"
He rummaged through the papers some more.
"Well, let's see. They appear to average about two to three hundred murders a week judging from the sample, and there are loads of other crimes. We still have rapes there, it seems. And thefts by the score! The papers don't even mention them anymore unless they're big or fancy or flashy!" He turned back and faced them, leaning against the stage.
"Ondine's much better, of course. But not much. Suicides, for example, are much higher here—so much so that a lot of technology was devoted to preventing them."
He sighed. "So what do we have? A society with all the nice things technology has to
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