Alexei Panshin - Rite of Passage

As Daddy finished, the Assembly applauded again. I wondered if the same people were applauding who had applauded Mr. Persson. When they quieted, Mr. Persson spoke again.

“I deny it. I deny it. I deny it! It is not the only alternative. I agree that we live in a balance. I agree that we fulfill a necessary function and cannot abandon it. But I still believe that the colonies, our fellow heirs, deserve better of us -than they have received. Whatever is decided about Tintera, it is a tragedy as it stands today. It is an indictment of our policy. We have other alternatives to this policy. Without even spending time on it, I can think of two, either of which is preferable to our present course. Our dependence on the colonies is artificial. We pride ourselves on our proven ability to survive. We pride ourselves that we have kept ourselves tough, mentally and physically. But what does our toughness prove? We think it proves much — but actually? Nothing! Nothing because it is all a waste. How could we prove our fitness? We could hunt up a planet and produce for ourselves the raw material we need. Or for another, we could actually attempt to apply some of our avowed scientific superiority and devise a method by which we could avoid any dependence on any planet, colony or uninhabited, for raw material. We could devise a method to make the Ship truly self-sufficient. By either of these courses we would los-c nothing in doing what we should have been doing from the beginning — sharing knowledge, teaching and helping to make something of the human race as a whole.

“I accuse us. I accuse us of being lazy. We meet no challenges at all. We drift instead on a lazy, leisurely, floating course that takes us from planet to planet, meeting no challenges, fulfilling none of our potential, being less than we could be. To me, that is a sin. It is an affront to God, but more than that, it is an affront to ourselves. I can think of nothing sadder than to know that you might be more than you are, but be unwilling to make the effort. We could be raising our fellow men from the lives of squalor and desperation that they lead. You don’t wish this? Then I say it would be better to leave them alone completely than to follow our present meddlesome, paternalistic, repressive course. We have the power to explore the stars. If we were willing to take the chance, we could travel to the end of the Galaxy. That is within our power and it would certainly add to the knowledge we claim to be interested in. But our present life is parasitical. Can we leave things as they now stand?”

The debate went on for two hours. After Mr. Persson and Daddy had spoken, it went to the Assembly. At times, it was extremely bitter. At one point, someone said that a sign of the sterility of our life was that we in the Ship had no art.

Mr. Lemuel Carpentier rose to dispute this. That was the only time during the evening that Mr. Mbele spoke. He bowed to Mr. Carpentier and then he said simply, “Sir, you are wrong,” and took his seat again.

In the end, the lines were drawn so plainly that everyone knew where he stood. At the end of two hours, my father rose and called a halt to the debate.

“It all seems clear enough,” he said. “Any further argument will simply be recapitulation, so there seems no point in carrying things further. I propose we call this all to a vote. The basic question seems to be, what shall be done with Tintera? That is the purpose of this Assembly. Those who agree with Mr. Persson on a policy of containment, and I don’t know what else — re-education perhaps?-will also be voting for a change in our basic way of life along one or more of the lines that Mr. Persson has suggested or some similar alternative. Those who vote with me for the destruction of Tintera wifi also be voting for a continuation of the policies we have been living by for 160 years. Is that a fair statement of the situation, Mr. Persson?”

Mr. Persson nodded. “I will second the motion for a vote myself.”

“Is the motion carried?”

There was an overwhelming response from the Assembly.

“The motion is carried. The vote will be — shall Tintera be destroyed? All those in favor vote ‘Yes.’ All those opposed vote ‘No.’ Controller, record the vote.”

I pressed my button. Again the master board showed “Yes” in green and “No” in red. The vote was 16,408 to 10,489-and Tintera was to be blown out of existence.

It took just a few more minutes for the meeting to be closed. The amphitheatre began to clear, but I didn’t leave immediately and neither did Jimmy. I saw Mr. Mbele making his way down toward us. He walked up to the table and looked at Daddy and for a long moment he didn’t say anything. Daddy was putting his papers together.

Mr. Mbele said, “So we’ve returned to the days of ‘moral discipline.’ I thought all of that lay behind us.”

Daddy said, “You could have made that point, Joseph. In this case, I happen to think ‘moral discipline’ — if you want to use that tired old phrase…”

“Euphemism.”

“All right, euphemism. I happen to think it was justified by the circumstances.”

“I know you do.”

“You could have spoken. Why didn’t you?”

Mr. Mbele smiled and shook his head. “It wouldn’t have made any difference today,” he said. “Change isn’t going to come about easily. I’m just going to have to wait for another generation.” He nodded at Jimmy. Ask him how he voted.”

He knew Jimmy and there was no question in his mind.

Daddy said, “I don’t have to. I already know how they both voted. Mia and I have been talking about this for the past three days — arguing — and I know we don’t agree. Was it a mistake to put her in your hands?

Mr. Mbele was surprised. He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. He said, “I doubt it was me. If it were, you’d have voted against your own motion. I think it’s the times that are changing. I hope it is.”

Then he turned and walked away.

I said to Daddy, “Jimmy is going to help me pack.”

“All right,” Daddy said. “I’ll see you later.”

I was leaving the apartment. That had been decided earlier in the week. It wasn’t merely a matter of Daddy’s and my complete inability to agree. He’d asked if it was.

I said, “No. I just think it would be better if I left. Besides, Mother will be moving back in.”

“How did you know that?”

I smiled. “I just knew she would.”

With Mother coming back, I knew it was time for me to leave. In any case, I was an adult now, and it was time for me to stop holding on to Daddy’s hand.

I wasn’t entirely candid with him, however, as I suspect he knew. We no longer saw things exactly the same way — I didn’t like what Daddy was doing — and it would have made a difference in living in the same apartment. I had changed, but it wasn’t just Mr. Mbele who had changed me. It was a lot of things — experiences and people — including Daddy himself. If he hadn’t moved us to Geo Quad, there is no doubt that I would never have voted the way I did, if I had by some miracle passed Trial.

As Jimmy and I were leaving the amphitheatre, Daddy turned and called to George. -“Come along. The Council will want to talk with you before you leave.”

I said to Jimmy, “You were sitting next to George. How did he vote?”

“He voted for.”

“They’re going to send him to do it, you know.”

Jimmy nodded.

The thing that I didn’t understand was how people who are as fine and as kind as Daddy and George could vote to destroy a whole world of people. The reason that I didn’t understand was that it was only in the past few weeks that my world had grown large enough to include Mudeaters and other patent inferiors and that I had learned to feel pain at their passing. I simply did not want to see Tintera destroyed. Daddy was wrong. I had had my moral blindness and now it was gone. I could not understand my former self and I could not understand Daddy and George.