Jenna Starborn by Sharon Shinn

first place render him superior to that rosebush, that tiger, and that piece of metal?”
    â€œHow do you know they do not have souls as well?” I countered.
    â€œHow do I—but of course a spaceship has no soul!”
    â€œBut how do you know?”
    â€œBecause it does not! Because it does not live!”
    â€œAnd a rosebush? A tiger? They do not live?” I asked.
    â€œThey live, but not as we do. Certainly they do not live at such a level that they espouse a religious doctrine, and surely, if there is any purpose for a soul at all, it is to be converted by faith.” He half-smiled as he said this; he knew he was muddling his arguments by this slight introduction of humor.
    â€œI understand that it is difficult for you to accept a soul in a piece of machinery or a flowering bush,” I conceded. “But surely even you must acknowledge that animals may be suspected of possessing such a commodity. Why, throughout the history of mankind, animals have been worshiped as gods, or seen as the receptacle of human souls as they make a slow journey from atheism to enlightenment. They meet all your criteria for living creatures—they move, they breathe, they think, they fight. Are you alone to decide that even so, they have no souls?”
    â€œI do not believe they do, but very well! I will admit it is a possibility, though remote. Even so, I will not concede that this—this tiger of yours is any way equal to the man whom he consumes.”
    â€œAnd why not?”
    â€œWhy not? What has a tiger achieved in comparison to what man has achieved? Men have continually refined their environments to sustain a greater and greater explosion of population. That is the most remarkable achievement in the human canon. They have moved from caves to continents to galaxies, always adapting their worlds to suit themselves. No tiger has done that. No tiger has replanted his native rainforest with a more salutary crop or bred a food source that more exactly met his requirements. No tiger has been able to expand his population base exponentially and still managed to support his numbers—and mankind has done that, over and over and over.”
    â€œAnd that is a good thing?” I asked gently. “The proliferation of mankind?”
    â€œWell, of course it is!” he exploded, and again I saw both Mrs. Farraday and Miss Ayerson look in our direction. They exchanged puzzled glances, then returned their attention to Ameletta. “What sort of question is that?”
    I shrugged. “If mankind’s greatest achievement is to produce more spaces for mankind to live in, I do not think I am so impressed,” I said. “Particularly since he has continued to need those new spaces because he has fouled his old ones. What men have done is found ways to endlessly reproduce themselves—and that is not such an amazing ability. The smallest, least complex amoeba can do that. Men do it on a larger scale, but they do not do it with any more grace. I will not concede superiority on that score. Indeed, I will not concede it on any.”
    Mr. Ravenbeck again put a hand to his brow, but this time he seemed to be offering his own head a precarious means of support. “You, Miss Starborn, are an anarchist,” was his next unexpected observation.
    I felt an involuntary smile come to my lips. “I, sir? Merely because I am defending tigers?”
    â€œNo. Because you do not recognize social order. That is, in fact, the philosophy that is at the heart of the PanEquist doctrine. If there is no superiority in species or substance, then there is equality throughout the system. The servant is the equal of the master. Everything is level.”
    I smiled again. “But surely a desire for social equality abides in the heart of every creature who does not have it?”
    â€œPerhaps, but few of them state it so openly!”
    â€œI assure you, I am very well aware of how society works, and