A. van Vogt - The Voyage of the Space Beagle

“Young man,” he said, “isn’t this a little unethical?”

Grosvenor guessed with a sinking sensation that Siedel had analysed what he had done to the men. He kept that awareness out of his voice as he said quickly, “Absolutely unethical, sir. I feel exactly as you would feel if your department were taken over in flagrant disregard of legal rights.”

He thought, Why is he here? Has Kent asked him to investigate?

Siedel stroked his jaw. He was a heavily built man with bright, black eyes. “That isn’t what I meant,” he said slowly. “But I see that you feel justified.”

Grosvenor changed his tactics. “Are you referring to the method of instruction I am using on these men?”

He felt no qualms of conscience. Whatever the reason this man was here, the opportunity had to be turned to his own advantage, if possible. His hope was to set up a conflict in the psychologist’s mind, to make him neutral in this fight between Kent and himself.

Siedel said, with a thinly sardonic edge to his words, “I am. At the request of Mr. Kent, I have examined those members of his staff who he thought were acting in an abnormal fashion. It is now my duty to report my diagnosis to Mr. Kent.”

“Why?” said Grosvenor. He went on earnestly. “Mr. Siedel, my department has been invaded by a man who dislikes me because I have openly stated that I will not vote for him. Since he acted in defiance of the laws of this ship, I have every right to defend myself as best I can. I beg you, therefore, to remain neutral in this purely private quarrel.”

Siedel was frowning. “You don’t understand,” he said: “I am here as a psychologist. I regard your use of hypnosis without the permission of the subject as completely unethical. I am surprised that you expect me to associate myself with such an act.”

Grosvenor said, “I assure you that my code of ethics is just as scrupulous as your own. While I have hypnotized these men without their permission, I have carefully refrained from taking advantage of it to harm or embarrass them in the slightest degree. Under the circumstances, I cannot see that you should feel obliged to take Kent’s side.”

Siedel frowned. “This is a quarrel between you and Kent — is that right?”

Grosvenor said, “Substantially.” He could guess what was coming.

“And yet,” said Siedel, “it is not Kent you have hypnotized, but a group of innocent bystanders.”

Grosvenor remembered how the four chemist technicians had acted at his lecture. Some of them at least were not quite innocent. He said, “I’m not going to argue with you about that. I could say that, from the beginning of time, the unthinking majority has paid the price for obeying without question the commands of leaders whose motivations they didn’t trouble themselves to inquire into. But rather than go into that, I’d like to ask one question.”

“Yes?” “Did you enter the technique room?”

Siedel nodded, but said nothing.

“You saw the records?” Grosvenor persisted.

“Yes.”

“You noticed what they dealt with?”

“Information on chemistry.”

“That’s all I’m giving them,” said Grosvenor. “That’s all I intend to give them. I regard my department as an educational centre. People who force themselves in here receive an education whether they like it or not.”

“I confess,” said Siedel, “I don’t see how that will help you get rid of them. However, I shall be happy to tell Mr. Kent what you are doing. He shouldn’t have any objection to his men learning more chemistry.”

Grosvenor did not answer. He had his own opinion as to how much Kent would like having a group of his underlings know, as they shortly would, as much as he did about his own speciality.

He watched gloomily as Siedel disappeared into the corridor. The man would undoubtedly give Kent a full report, which meant a new plan would have to be worked out. Standing there, Grosvenor decided that it was too soon for drastic defence measures. It was hard to be certain that any sustained, positive action would not produce on board the ship the very situation he was supposed to prevent. Despite his own reservations about cyclic history, it was well to remember that civilizations did seem to be born, grow older, and die of old age. Before he did anything more, he’d better hive a talk with Korita and find out what pitfalls he might inadvertently be heading towards.

He located the Japanese scientist at Library B, which was on the far side of the ship, on the same floor as the Nexial department. Korita was leaving as he came up, and Grosvenor fell in step beside him. Without preamble, he outlined his problem. Korita did not reply immediately. They walked the length of the corridor before the tall historian spoke, doubtfully. “My friend,” he said, “I’m sure you realize the difficulty of solving specific problems on the basis of generalizations, which is virtually all that the theory of cyclic history has to offer.”

“Still,” Grosvenor said, “a few analogies might be very useful to me. From what I’ve read on this subject, I gather we’re in the late, or ‘winter’, period of our own civilization. In other words, right now we are making the mistakes that lead to decay. I have a few ideas about that, but I’d like more.”

Korita shrugged. “I’ll try to put it briefly.” He was silent for a while, then he said, “The outstanding common denominator of the ‘winter’ periods of civilization is the growing comprehension on the part of millions of individuals of how things work. People become impatient with superstitious or supernatural explanations of what goes on in their minds and bodies, and in the world around them. With the gradual accumulation of knowledge, even the simplest minds for the first time ‘see through’ and consciously reject the claims of a minority to hereditary superiority. And the grim battle for equality is on.”

Korita paused for a moment, then continued. “It is this widespread struggle for personal aggrandisement that constitutes the most significant parallel between all the ‘winter’ periods in the civilizations of recorded history. For better or worse, the fight usually takes place within the framework of a legal system that tends to protect the entrenched minority. The late-comer to the field, not understanding his motivations, plunges blindly into the battle for power. The result is a veritable mêlée of undisciplined intelligence. In their resentment and lust, men follow leaders as confused as themselves. Repeatedly, the resulting disorder has led by well-defined steps to the final static fellahin state.

“Sooner or later, one group gains the ascendancy. Once in office, the leaders restore ‘order’ in so savage a blood-letting that the millions are cowed. Swiftly, the power group begins to restrict activities. The licensing systems and other regulative measures necessary to any organized society become tools of suppression and monopoly. It becomes difficult, then impossible, for the individual to engage in new enterprise. And so we progress by swift stages to the familiar caste system of ancient India, and to other, less well-known but equally inflexible societies, such as that of Rome after about A.D. 300. The individual is born into his station of life and cannot rise above it…. There, does that brief summary help you?”

Grosvenor said slowly, “As I’ve already said, I’m trying to solve the problem Mr. Kent has presented me without falling into the egotistical errors of the late-civilization man you have described. I want to know if I can reasonably hope to defend myself against him without aggravating the hostilities that already exist aboard the Beagle.”

Korita smiled wryly. “It will be a unique victory if you succeed. Historically, on a mass basis, the problem has never been solved. Well, good luck, young man!”