face?”
“Over and over again, rhythmically. Each time she raised her face from the griddle, Margaret said
time
, and before she slammed it down again, she repeated that word.
Time, time, time, time, time
—with much the same urgency that you heard William say
tick, tock, tick, tock
.”
“How mystifying,” said Erika.
“It won’t be…when you’ve lived long enough.”
Frustrated, Erika said, “Speak plainly to me, Christine.”
“Plainly, Mrs. Helios?”
“So I’m fresh out of the tank and hopelessly naive—so
educate
me. All right? Help me understand.”
“But you’ve had direct-to-brain data downloading. What more could you need?”
“
Christine
, I’m not your enemy.”
Turning away from the sink, blotting her hands on a dish towel, Christine said, “I know you’re not, Mrs. Helios. And you’re not my friend, either. Friendship is akin to love, and love is dangerous. Love distracts the worker from maximum accomplishment, just as does hate. None of the New Race is a friend or enemy of the other.”
“I…I don’t have that attitude in my program.”
“It’s not in the program, Mrs. Helios. It’s the
natural result
of the program. We are all workers of identical value. Workers in a great cause, subduing all of nature, building the perfect society, utopia—then onward to the stars. Our value isn’t in individual accomplishments, but in our accomplishments as a society. Isn’t that correct?”
“Is it?”
“Unlike us, Mrs. Helios, you have been allowed humility, and shame, because our maker likes those qualities in a wife.”
Erika sensed a revelation coming from which she wished to turn away. But she, not Christine, had insisted on opening this door.
“Emotions are funny things, Mrs. Helios. Maybe it’s better, after all, to be limited to only envy and anger and fear and hate—because those feelings are circular. They turn endlessly back on themselves, like a snake swallowing its tail. They lead to nothing else, and they keep the mind from hope, which is essential when hope will never be fulfilled.”
Shaken by the bleakness in Christine’s voice and in her eyes, Erika was overcome with sympathy for the housekeeper. She put a hand consolingly on the woman’s shoulder.
“But humility and shame,” Christine continued, “can grow into pity, whether he wants you to feel pity or not. Pity to compassion. Compassion to regret. And so much else. You will be able to feel more than we feel, Mrs. Helios. You will learn to hope.”
A heaviness came into Erika’s heart, an oppressive weight, but she could not yet grasp its nature.
“Being able to hope—that will be terrible for you, Mrs. Helios, because your destiny is fundamentally the same as ours. You have no free will. Your hope will never be realized.”
“But William…How does this explain William?”
“Time, Mrs. Helios. Time, time, tick, tock, tick, tock. These disease-resistant, amazing bodies we possess—how long have we been told they will last?”
“Perhaps a thousand years,” Erika said, for that was the figure in the self-awareness package of her downloaded education.
Christine shook her head. “Hopelessness can be endured…but not for a thousand years. For William, for Margaret—twenty years. And then they experienced an…interruption of function.”
The housekeeper’s hard shoulder had not softened under her mistress’s touch. Erika withdrew her hand.
“But when you
have
the capacity for hope, Mrs. Helios, yet know beyond all doubt that it will never be fulfilled, I don’t think you can make even twenty years. I don’t think you can make five.”
Erika swept the kitchen with her gaze. She looked at the soapy water in the sink. At the dishes in the drying rack. At Christine’s hands. At last, she met Christine’s eyes again.
She said, “I’m so sorry for you.”
“I know,” Christine said. “But I feel nothing whatsoever for you, Mrs. Helios. And neither will any of the others. Which
“Over and over again, rhythmically. Each time she raised her face from the griddle, Margaret said
time
, and before she slammed it down again, she repeated that word.
Time, time, time, time, time
—with much the same urgency that you heard William say
tick, tock, tick, tock
.”
“How mystifying,” said Erika.
“It won’t be…when you’ve lived long enough.”
Frustrated, Erika said, “Speak plainly to me, Christine.”
“Plainly, Mrs. Helios?”
“So I’m fresh out of the tank and hopelessly naive—so
educate
me. All right? Help me understand.”
“But you’ve had direct-to-brain data downloading. What more could you need?”
“
Christine
, I’m not your enemy.”
Turning away from the sink, blotting her hands on a dish towel, Christine said, “I know you’re not, Mrs. Helios. And you’re not my friend, either. Friendship is akin to love, and love is dangerous. Love distracts the worker from maximum accomplishment, just as does hate. None of the New Race is a friend or enemy of the other.”
“I…I don’t have that attitude in my program.”
“It’s not in the program, Mrs. Helios. It’s the
natural result
of the program. We are all workers of identical value. Workers in a great cause, subduing all of nature, building the perfect society, utopia—then onward to the stars. Our value isn’t in individual accomplishments, but in our accomplishments as a society. Isn’t that correct?”
“Is it?”
“Unlike us, Mrs. Helios, you have been allowed humility, and shame, because our maker likes those qualities in a wife.”
Erika sensed a revelation coming from which she wished to turn away. But she, not Christine, had insisted on opening this door.
“Emotions are funny things, Mrs. Helios. Maybe it’s better, after all, to be limited to only envy and anger and fear and hate—because those feelings are circular. They turn endlessly back on themselves, like a snake swallowing its tail. They lead to nothing else, and they keep the mind from hope, which is essential when hope will never be fulfilled.”
Shaken by the bleakness in Christine’s voice and in her eyes, Erika was overcome with sympathy for the housekeeper. She put a hand consolingly on the woman’s shoulder.
“But humility and shame,” Christine continued, “can grow into pity, whether he wants you to feel pity or not. Pity to compassion. Compassion to regret. And so much else. You will be able to feel more than we feel, Mrs. Helios. You will learn to hope.”
A heaviness came into Erika’s heart, an oppressive weight, but she could not yet grasp its nature.
“Being able to hope—that will be terrible for you, Mrs. Helios, because your destiny is fundamentally the same as ours. You have no free will. Your hope will never be realized.”
“But William…How does this explain William?”
“Time, Mrs. Helios. Time, time, tick, tock, tick, tock. These disease-resistant, amazing bodies we possess—how long have we been told they will last?”
“Perhaps a thousand years,” Erika said, for that was the figure in the self-awareness package of her downloaded education.
Christine shook her head. “Hopelessness can be endured…but not for a thousand years. For William, for Margaret—twenty years. And then they experienced an…interruption of function.”
The housekeeper’s hard shoulder had not softened under her mistress’s touch. Erika withdrew her hand.
“But when you
have
the capacity for hope, Mrs. Helios, yet know beyond all doubt that it will never be fulfilled, I don’t think you can make even twenty years. I don’t think you can make five.”
Erika swept the kitchen with her gaze. She looked at the soapy water in the sink. At the dishes in the drying rack. At Christine’s hands. At last, she met Christine’s eyes again.
She said, “I’m so sorry for you.”
“I know,” Christine said. “But I feel nothing whatsoever for you, Mrs. Helios. And neither will any of the others. Which
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