The Gods Themselves (13 page)

It would be wonderful, if only Tritt could be made to understand the necessity. He would have to talk to Tritt, somehow persuade him to be patient.

2c

Tritt had never felt less patient. He did not pretend to understand why Dua acted the way she did. He did not want to try.. He-"did not care. He never knew why Emotionals did what they did. And Dua didn't even act like the other Emotionals.

She never thought about the important thing. She would look at the Sun. But then she would thin out so that the light and food would just pass through her. Then she would say it was beautiful. That was not the important thing. The important thing was to eat. What was beautiful about eating? What was beautiful?

She always wanted to melt differently. Once she said, "Let's talk first. We never talk about it. We never think about it."

Odeen would always say, "Let her have her way about it, Tritt. It makes it better."

Odeen was always patient. He always thought things would be better when they waited. Or else he would want to think it out.

Tritt wasn't sure he knew what Odeen meant by "think it out." It seemed to him it just meant that Odeen did nothing.

Like getting Dua in the first place. Odeen would still be thinking it out. Tritt went right up and asked. That was the way to be.

Now Odeen wouldn't do anything about Dua. What about the baby-Emotional, which was what mattered? Well, Tritt would do something about it, if Odeen didn't.

In fact, he was doing something. He was edging down the long corridor even as all this was going through his mind. He was hardly aware he had come this far. Was this "thinking it out"? Well, he would not let himself be frightened. He would not back away.

Stolidly, he looked about him. This was the way to the Hard-caverns. He knew he would be going that way with his little-left before very long. He had been shown the way by Odeen once.

He did not know what he would do when he got there this time. Still, he felt no fright at all. He wanted a baby-Emotional. It was his right to have a baby-Emotional.
Nothing
was more important than that. The Hard Ones would see he got one. Hadn't they brought them Dua when he had asked?

But who would he ask? Could it be any Hard One? Dimly, he had made up his mind
not
any Hard One. There was the name of one he would ask for. Then he would talk to
him
about it.

He remembered the name. He even remembered when he had first heard the name. It was the time when the little-left had grown old enough to begin changing shape voluntarily. (What a great day! "Come, Odeen, quickly! Annis is all oval and hard. All by himself, too. Dua, look!" And they had rushed in. Annis was the only child then. They had had to wait so long for the second. So they rushed in and he was just plastered in the corner. He was curling at himself and flowing over his resting place like wet clay. Odeen had left because he was busy. But said, "Oh, he'll do it again, Tritt" They had watched for hours and he didn't.)

Tritt was hurt that Odeen hadn't waited. He would have scolded but Odeen looked so weary. There were definite wrinkles in his ovoid. And he made no effort to smooth them out.

Tritt said anxiously, "Is anything wrong, Odeen?"

"A hard day and I'm not sure I'm going to get differential equations before the next melting." (Tritt didn't remember the exact hard words. It was something like that Odeen always used hard words.) - "Do you want to melt now?"

"Oh, no. I just saw Dua heading topside and you know how she is if we try to interrupt that. There's no rush, really. There's a new Hard One, too."

"A new Hard One?" said Tritt, with distinct lack of interest. Odeen found sharp interest in associating with Hard Ones, but Tritt wished the interest didn't exist Odeen was more intent on what he called his education than any other Rational in the area. That was unfair. Odeen was too wrapped up in that. Dua was too wrapped up in roaming the surface alone. No one was properly interested in the triad but Tritt.

"He's called Estwald," said Odeen.

"Estwald?" Tritt
did
feel a twinge of interest. Perhaps it was because he was anxiously sensing Odeen's feelings.

"I've never seen him, but they ail talk about him." Odeen's eyes had flattened out as they usually did when he turned introspective. "He's responsible for that new thing they've got."

"What new thing?"

"The Positron Pu— You wouldn't understand, Tritt It's a new thing they have. It's going to revolutionize the whole world."

"What's revolutionize?"

"Make everything different."

Tritt was at once alarmed. "They mustn't make everything different."

"They'll make everything
better.
Different isn't always worse. Anyway, Estwald is responsible. He's very bright. I get the feeling."

"Then why don't you like him?"

"I didn't say I didn't like him."

"You
feel
as though you don't like him."

"Oh, nothing of the sort, Tritt. It's just that somehow— somehow—" Odeen laughed. "I'm jealous. Hard Ones are so intelligent that a Soft One is nothing in comparison, but I got used to that, because Losten was always telling me how bright I was—for a Soft One, I suppose. But now this Estwald comes along, and even Losten seems lost in admiration, and I’m
really
nothing."

Tritt bellied out his foreplane to have it just make contact with Odeen, who looked up and smiled. "But that's just stupidity on my part. Who cares how smart a Hard One is? Not one of them has a Tritt."

After that they both went looking for Dua after all. For a wonder, she had finished wandering about and was just heading down again. It was a very good melting though the time lapse was only a day or so. Tritt worried about meltings then. With Annis so small, even a short absence was risky, though there were always other Parentals who could take over.

After that, Odeen mentioned Estwald now and then. He always called him "the New One" even after considerable time had passed. He still had never seen him. "1 think I avoid him," he said one time, when Dua was with them, "because he knows so much about the new device. I don't want to find out too soon. It's too much fun to learn."

"The Positron Pump?" Dua had asked,

—That was another funny thing about Dua. Tritt thought. It annoyed him. She could say the hard words almost as well as Odeen could. An Emotional shouldn't be like that.

So Tritt made up his mind to ask Estwald because Odeen had said he was smart. Besides, Odeen had never seen him. Estwald couldn't say, "I've talked to Odeen about it, Tritt, and you mustn't worry."

Everyone thought that if you talked to the Rational, you were talking to the triad. Nobody paid attention to the Parentals. But they would have to this time.

He was in the Hard-caverns and everything seemed different. There was nothing there that looked like anything Tritt could understand. It was all wrong and frightening. Still, he was too anxious to see Estwald to let himself really be frightened. He said to himself, "I want my little-mid." That made him feel firm enough to walk forward.

He saw a Hard One finally. There was just this one; doing something; bending over something; doing something. Odeen once told him that Hard Ones were always working at their—whatever it was. Tritt didn't remember and didn't care.

He moved smoothly up and stopped. "Hard-sir," he said.

The Hard One looked up at him and the air vibrated about him, the Odeen said it did when two Hard Ones talked to each other sometimes. Then the Hard One seemed really to see Tritt and said, "Why, it's a right. What is your business here? Do you have your little-left with you? Is today the start of a semester?"

Tritt ignored it all. He said, "Where can I find Estwald, sir?!"

"Find whom?"

"Estwald."

The Hard One was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "What is your business with Estwald, right?"

Tritt felt stubborn. "It is important I speak to him. Are
you
Estwald, Hard-sir?"

"No, I am not.... What is your name, right?"

"Tritt, Hard-sir."

"I see. You're the right of Odeen's triad, aren't you?"

"Yes."

The Hard One's voice seemed to soften. "I'm afraid you can't see Estwald at the moment. He's not here. If anyone else can help you?"

Tritt didn't know what to say. He simply stood there.

The Hard One said, "You go home now. Talk to Odeen. He'll help you. Yes? Go home, right."

The Hard One turned away. He seemed very concerned in matters other than Tritt, and Tritt still stood there, uncertain. Then he moved into another section quietly, flowing noiselessly. The Hard One did not look up.

Tritt was not certain at first why he had moved in that particular direction. At first, he felt only that it was good to do so. Then it was clear. There was a thin warmth of food about him and he was nibbling at it.

He had not been conscious of hunger, yet now he was eating and enjoying.

The Sun was nowhere. Instinctively, he looked up, but of course he was in a cavern. Yet the food was better than he had ever found it to be on the surface. He looked about, wondering. He wondered, most of all, that he should be wondering.

He had sometimes been impatient with Odeen because Odeen wondered about so many things that didn't matter. Now he himself—Tritt!—was wondering. But what he was wondering about
did
matter. Suddenly, he saw that it
did
matter. With an almost blinding flash he realized that he wouldn't wonder unless something inside him told it
did
matter.

He acted quickly, marveling at his own bravery. After a while, he retraced his steps. He moved past the Hard One again, the one to whom he had earlier spoken. He said, "I am going home, Hard-sir."

The Hard One merely said something incoherent. He was still doing something, bending over something, doing silly things and not seeing the important thing.

If Hard Ones were so great and powerful and smart, Tritt thought, how could they be so stupid?

3a

Dua found herself drifting toward the Hard-caverns. Partly it was because it was something to do now that the Sun had set, something to keep her from returning home for an additional period of time, something to delay having to listen to the importunities of Tritt and the half-embarrassed, half-resigned suggestions of Odeen. Partly, too, it was the attraction they held for her in themselves.

She had felt that for a long time, ever since she was little in fact, and had given up trying to pretend it wasn't so. Emotionals weren't supposed to feel such attractions. Sometimes little Emotionals did—Dua was old enough and experienced enough to know that—but this quickly faded or they were quickly discouraged if it didn't fade quickly enough.

When she herself had been a child, though, she had continued stubbornly curious about the world, and the Sun, and the caverns, and—anything at all—-till her Parental would say, "You're a queer one, Dua, dear. You're a funny little midling. What will become of you?"

She hadn't the vaguest notion at first of what was so queer and so funny about wanting to know. She found, quickly enough, that her Parental could not answer her questions. She once tried her left-father, but he showed none of her Parental’s soft puzzlement. He snapped, "Why do you ask, Dua?" and his look seemed harshly inquiring.

She ran away, frightened, and did not ask him again.

But then one day another Emotional of her own age had shrieked "Left-Em" at her after she had said—she no longer remembered—it had been something that had seemed natural to her at the time. Dua had been abashed without knowing why and had asked her considerably older left-brother, what a Left-Em was. He had withdrawn, embarrassed—clearly embarrassed—mumbling, "I don't know," when it was obvious he did.

After some thought, she went to her Parental and said, "Am I a Left-Em, Daddy?"

And he had said, "Who called you that, Dua? You must not repeat such words."

She flowed herself about his near corner, thought about it awhile, and said, "Is it bad?"

He said, "You'll grow out of it," and let himself bulge a bit to make her swing outward and vibrate in the game she had always loved. She somehow didn't love it now, for it was quite clear that he hadn't answered her, really. She moved away thoughtfully. He had said, "You'll grow
out
of it," so she was
in
it now, but in
what?

Even then, she had had few real Mends among the other Emotionals. They liked to whisper and giggle together, but she preferred flowing over the crumbled rocks and enjoying the sensation of their roughness. There were, however, some raids who were more friendly than others and whom she found less provoking. There was Doral, who was as silly as the rest, really, but who would sometimes chatter amusingly. (Doral had grown up to join a triad with Dua's right-brother and a young left from another cavern complex, a left whom Dua did not particularly like. Doral had then gone on to initiate a baby-left, a baby-right, in rapid succession, and a baby-mid not too long after that. She had also grown so dense that the triad looked as though it had two Parentals and Dua wondered if they could still melt. . . . Just the same Tritt was always telling her, pointedly, what a good triad Doral helped make up.)

She and Doral had sat alone one day and Dua had whispered, "Doral, do you know what a Left-Em is?"

And Doral had tittered and compressed herself, as though to avoid being seen, and had said, "It's an Emotional that acts like a Rational; you know, like a left. Get it! Left-Emotional—Left-Em! Get it!"

Of course Dua "got" the phrase. It was obvious once explained. She would have seen it for herself at once if she had been able to bring herself to imagine such a state of affairs.

Dua said, "How do you know?"

"The older girls told me." Doral's substance swirled and Dua found the motion unpleasant. "It's dirty," Doral said.

"Why?" asked Dua.

"Because it’s
dirty.
Emotionals shouldn't act like Rationals."