Fiasco by Stanislaw Lem Page A

Head Physician, we will be asking the Commander for certain navigational changes. May we assume, Father, that in this you will be on our side?"
    "I cannot participate in the voting."
    "True, but a position taken by you may have influence—"
    "On what the council decides? But it has already decided. I cannot imagine that there would be any opposition. The majority has declared itself 'pro.' The Commander has the resolution in hand, and I would be surprised if the doctors did not know what it was."
    "We are asking for more changes than were first agreed upon. Ninety-nine percent is not enough for us. Even the tenth decimal place is important. The energy cost, along with the delay in the expedition, will be enormous."
    "This is news to me. And the second matter?"
    "The selection of the corpse. We are at a complete loss as to identities, since gross negligence—to which the radio technicians have given the more elegant designation of 'communication-channel overload'—has made it impossible for us to determine the names, functions, or histories of these people. In reality, something more than negligence was going on. When we took these containers on board, we were not aware that the memory not only of the old units of that mine—Grail—but of the digital machines at Roembden, too, had suffered considerable destruction in the course of the dismantling operations. The persons responsible for the fate of those that our Commander, with our consent, took on board said that the facts could be obtained from Earth. But it is not known who gave the orders for information storage, or when, or to whom. It's evident that everyone, so to speak, washed his hands."
    "That happens whenever the jurisdictions of people overlap. Which is no justification…"
    The monk stopped, looked Gerbert in the eye, and said softly:
    "You were opposed to having the victims on the ship?"
    Gerbert nodded reluctantly.
    "In the excitement before takeoff no single voice—let alone that of a doctor, not an expert astronaut—could carry any weight. If I was opposed and entertained certain fears, I am not any easier in my mind, now.
    "But, then, what do you intend to go by? A flip of a coin?"
    Gerbert stiffened.
    "The choice will not depend on anyone but us. After the council, if our requests are met in the purely technological area—of navigation—we will conduct a new autopsy and go through the entire contents of the vitrifaxes, down to the last hair."
    "What influence on your choice of the one to be reanimated could his identification have?"
    "Probably none. It would not be, in any case, a quality, a factor, of any significance in the domain of medicine."
    "These people," the monk weighed his words carefully, speaking slowly, as if venturing out on thinner and thinner ice, "perished in tragic circumstances. Some while performing their ordinary duties, as employees of the mines there, or of the companies. Others when attempting to rescue the former. Would you accept such a distinction—if it could be discovered—as a criterion?"
    "No."
    The answer was immediate and categorical.
    The wall of books facing them parted, and Davis entered, with an apology for being late.
    The monk rose. So did Gerbert.
    "I have learned everything that it was possible to learn," said Arago. He stood taller than both physicians. Behind his back, Eve turned to Adam, and the serpent crawled up the tree of Eden. "I thank you, gentlemen. I have confirmed what I should have known anyway. Our fields touch. We do not pass judgment on a man according to his virtues and vices, just as you do not consider these when you save his life. I won't detain you: it's time now. See you at the council."
    They left. In a few words, Gerbert gave to Davis the gist of his conversation with the apostolic observer. At a perfectly circular intersection of corridors they got into an egg-shaped, dull-silver vehicle. The appropriate well opened up and swallowed the wheelless car with a long sigh. In the