Enemies of the System by Brian W. Aldiss Page B

prisoners sat in their cage.
    In a minute, Kordan began speaking again. His voice trembled at first. “I know I am a poor leader. Equally, you are poor followers. Our situation is unparalleled. I see that Rubyna Constanza is ideologically correct. I also see that Ian Takeido is right. We have to think in more than one context, and that is always uncomfortable; inevitably, such is often my duty as historian.
    â€œBy the way, I must apologize if my earlier remarks about language-failure causing evolutionary breakdown sounded unorthodox. I did speak unguardedly. I was thinking out what I would say when I got back to the Academy …
    â€œWe must sometimes look beyond our necessary vigilance against enemies of the system. What we have witnessed here, I believe, is a ritual which dates back to that seminal event in the generations of these debased creatures: an attempt to get their damaged ship off this planet and back into space. Over the ages, that ambition lost its force; urgency has become ceremony; the meaning is now in the means; but the means reinforces their besieged sense of identity. Though the idea of space travel has dwindled to no more than a religion, that religion helps them remain human.”
    â€œRemain capitalist, you mean,” said Constanza, with contempt.
    â€œ Religion !” exclaimed Takeido. “That’s the word I was after. Jaini Regentop mentioned religion. It means a kind of faith. We have just witnessed a religious ceremony.” His eyebrows twitched again. “Religion was another of those ancient enemies of the state. Before Biocom, the internal workings of man’s nervous systems were so confused—dating back as they did to his animal past—that he was haunted by specters, one of which he dramatized as an external supernatural being of great power who ordered things randomly, to man’s advantage or disadvantage. These people have reverted to that state of superstition.”
    â€œWell, it’s no concern of ours,” said Burek, dismissing the subject, and yawning. “I shall follow our sagacious little Constanza’s example, and then try to sleep. May I suggest we all do the same?”
    â€œThere may be a way of using these—hypotheses to our advantage,” said Sygiek, ignoring him and addressing Kordan. “If these religious or ritualistic ideas you advance are near the truth, then the question to ask is, do these brutes know that we are from another world? If so, what will their attitude to us be?”
    â€œA proper question, Millia,” said Kordan. “I already had it in mind. Tomorrow, we may get a chance to impress them. There could be a way of working on their superstitious nature to our advantage. We are weary now; as Che Burek says, it is best that we should sleep if we can and face tomorrow with fresh hope.”
    â€œAgreed,” said Dulcifer. “At least as far as the bit about sleep goes. Hope must look after itself.”
    They settled down uncomfortably within the confines of their prison.
    Sygiek allowed Dulcifer to put his arms about her as she curled with her blistered shoulders against the bars of the cage. Close against his ear, she whispered, “I sense a change in Kordan. He is in command of himself again. I believe he stole my gun. There was a moment when he tried to caress me after the bureaucrat Morits died—that was when he took it from me.”
    Dulcifer nodded without commenting. “Sleep, my darling,” he said. “Think of ancient peach trees and fat bare-armed women, and sleep.”
    The fires in the center of the cavern guttered in a clammy draft.
    After the slow night, a slow day.
    As soon as a faint grey light stole into the cavern, the cave-dwellers commenced various ritualistic attendances. Warriors came and went, blessed by minor dignitaries in the ceremonial building before proceeding further—presumably to hunt or patrol. Children were marshaled and taken