Richard Russo - Ship of Fools

“But if we leave, we would never know either way,” Costino said.

“Does that make it okay? That we wouldn’t know if we’d left anyone to die?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Costino said defensively.

“Then what did you mean?”

“I was just pointing out that there is no way for us to know. We could spend the rest of our lives searching for survivors that don’t exist. When do we stop?”

Toller spoke up. “We certainly don’t stop right after finding one survivor. That makes no sense at all.”

“Perhaps it’s like Schro¨dinger’s Cat,” the bishop said with an amused expression. “As long as we don’t look for them, as long as we don’t explore any more of the alien ship, then there’s no one really there. Or if they are there, they are neither dead nor alive. Finding them could be the worst thing for them.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” asked a man named Wexler. “What’s Schro¨dinger’s Cat?”

Cardenas answered, shaking her head. “The bishop misunderstands it, either deliberately or through ignorance. I won’t speculate on which.” The bishop’s expression hardened. “It’s an ancient, theoretical paradox suggested by quantum theory,” she added. “First, it’s theoretical, as I said, and probably has no actual application in the physical world. Second, it’s completely irrelevant to the discussion. It has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not there are any more people on that ship, and nothing to do with whether they are alive or dead.”

I was afraid someone was going to ask her to explain it, anyway, but thankfully no one did. The bishop leaned forward as if to say something, then thought better of it. He settled back in his chair, eyelids lowered, his expression not at all softened.

“Let’s get back to it.” This was said by Renata Tyler, a dark-haired woman blind in one eye from a wild bird attack in one of the nature rooms when she was a child. “While I have sympathy with Bartolomeo and others concerning the possibility of survivors, there are some important considerations. Even if we assume there are other survivors, and I suspect that’s actually unlikely, how much are we willing to pay to search for them? Look at the cost so far.” She looked down at her hand screen. “Six dead, and another ten or twelve with severe psychological problems. All to save one woman who has lost her mind and may never recover. At that rate, we’ll have half the population of the Argonos dead or deranged in another year, and we’ll have rescued a few dozen traumatized men and women who will need to be cared for the rest of their lives.”

A few people laughed, but most realized Renata was essentially serious. I could feel Maria getting angry beside me, could sense her trying to keep her anger under control. She stood and spoke, her voice tight but steady.

“We also might find a section with a hundred survivors tomorrow, if we go back in. We have to take that into consideration as well.”

The dynamics in the room shifted, and several people started talking at once. Suddenly everyone wanted in.

I sat silently in my chair for the next hour as the discussion and arguments swirled back and forth and all around. For a long time it didn’t seem that any one point of view was dominant, but during the last part of that hour I began to sense a subtle coalescing of opinion—most people wanted to stay and continue searching for more survivors; but the majority of those who wanted to stay also felt the risks and dangers were too great, and the possible benefits did not outweigh the probable costs.

I had to get back into the discussion before it was too late. I’d been hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but I’d known it probably would. I stood and waited for the talking to subside as the committee members turned to look at me.

“I have a proposal to make,” I finally said. There must have been something in my voice because I could sense a palpable intensifying of their attention.

As I stood there preparing to speak, I wondered at how much had changed in the last year. Before, these same people would have been listening to me, but only to gauge what Nikos was thinking and planning, to assess the political currents and to aid their own ambitions. Now, I felt certain that many of them were listening to me with a genuine interest in what I had to say. It was different for me, too. My proposal was coming from me , from what I believed, and not simply to achieve some subtle (or even unsubtle) manipulation of people and actions.

“A full-scale, comprehensive exploration of the alien starship is beyond our capabilities,” I began. “We do not have the time, or the human and physical resources necessary to do it properly. But I will reiterate what I passionately believe—that the alien starship is too important to abandon. I’ve already explained why, and more than once.”

I paused, looking around the room. “There is also the question of more survivors. But that, too, is problematic. Even if we could agree that it was worthwhile to spend more time searching, it is clear that we can’t agree on how to decide when we have done enough.”

“We have already done enough,” the bishop interjected.

“So you’ve said,” I replied. “But there is no universal agreement about that.”

“Give us your damn proposal,” Costino demanded.

“All right,” I said. “We leave, but we take the alien ship with us.”

That set them off. For five minutes the meeting room was a demented, disorganized chorus of voices. Finally Nikos stood, and held up his hands until the babble faded.

“There will be plenty of time for… discussion,” he said. “Later. For now, let’s hear from Bartolomeo, let him explain what it is he’s suggesting.”

I nodded my thanks. “Just what I said. We take the alien ship with us.” I paused for a moment, organizing my thoughts. “I don’t know how, but I’m fairly certain it can be done. We would ask the experts—Cardenas and her crew, I’d say. Tether it to us with cables, maybe. The details aren’t important at the moment—”

“The details are always important,” someone interrupted.

“They will be important, but not right now. For the moment, let’s assume it can be done. The question becomes, To what purpose?”

“As I said, we don’t have the resources for a thoroughgoing exploration of the alien starship. But it needs to be done. It must done, or too much will be lost. What we do, then, is take it with us so someone else, someone who does have the time and resources, can do it properly.” I paused again, looking around at everyone. “We need to rediscover civilization.”

I was surprised by the restraint, by the rapt attention. There was some squirming, and I could sense the struggle within a few people to refrain from throwing questions at me.

I sensed Nikos’s excitement and anticipation. Cardenas was nodding to herself, both waiting for me to continue and, I knew, trying to work out the logistics of taking the alien ship with us. And Bishop Soldano steamed silently, his half-closed eyes radiating something close to hatred.

“There are worlds out there,” I said, gesturing expansively with my right hand, “worlds we haven’t seen in centuries, if ever. Worlds with millions, billions of people, huge thriving cities of advanced civilization, powered by wonders of technology, and with the resources to explore the alien starship in a way we never can. All we need to do is find one of those worlds.”

“Yes,” the bishop said, nodding and smiling. “That should be an easy task.”

Someone snickered, but choked it off quickly. No one was really sure where this was going to end.