“How do you mean?”

“Unsure of themselves.”

“How can you say that, Mac? Honestly? They had an advanced civilization. They had FTL, for God’s sake. You don’t get that from people who are unsure of themselves.”

“Of course not. They had an occasional genius to show the way. Just like us. But they were trying to make a mark here. What is this other than something to let us know they were here. Admire us, it says. Remember us.”

“One minute,” said Bill.

The monument was on one display; the other provided a close-up of one of the monitors mounted on the hull. Presumably the one scheduled for launch.

MacAllister looked beyond the monitor and the monument, half expecting to see moving lights in the sky. There were countless stars, and like everybody else he wanted to believe that somewhere out there civilization lived and prospered. Civilization as it should be. With the day-to-day necessities taken care of, and intelligent creatures sitting around discussing philosophy. Or attending ball games.

“Thirty seconds.”

Then Valya’s voice, from the bridge. “When I tell you, Amy, press this.”

MacAllister sat up straight so he could get a better look at the display.

“Now,” said Valya.

Good for you, Valentina. But I hope we stop short of having the kid pilot the ship.

The monitor detached itself and began to drift away.

“Now this one, Amy.”

And a masculine voice: “Salvator One fully functional.”

Moments later Amy came into the common room and looked sternly at MacAllister. “If she gets in trouble for this, Mac,” she said, “it’s your fault.”

“My fault? For what?”

Valya appeared behind her. “We did a compromise positioning. The monitor will be orbiting Alpha II instead of the moon.”

How about that? The woman’s got something going for her after all.

ERIC ENVIED VALENTINA. The mere fact that she was a pilot earned his respect. Amy was delighted to be helping her. Even MacAllister took her seriously. He, on the other hand, did public relations. It was one of those professions that people always made jokes about and instinctively distrusted. And why would they not? His job, after all, had nothing to do with truth; it emphasized instead an ability to put the best possible face on things. Presumably on mediocrity.

The truth about Eric, the reality that he kept hidden even from himself, was that he had never committed a courageous act in his life. He’d never needed to. Nobody had ever challenged him, other than in the ordinary give-and-take relations with the media. He’d grown up sheltered and protected. Was given the best education. Got his start through his father’s influence. And coasted. When he entered a room, no one noticed. When he spoke, people’s eyes glazed over. (This in spite of the fact that he handled the spoken word quite well. Had in fact mastered the techniques of persuasion.)

But it was he himself, the person, who commanded no respect.

He saw how MacAllister was treated when he came to the Academy, how people’s voices changed in his presence, how they stood straighter. Literally came to attention when he walked in. The same was true with the pilots. And with Hutchins. She’d been a bureaucrat for a couple of years now, one of the most contemptible professions, but people still remembered who she was. Eric, though, was another Asquith. But without the authority.

Though they never said anything to him, he sensed how Valya and MacAllister felt. He was just extra baggage. A friend of Hutch’s, to be taken care of. But of no real consequence on his own merit.

To date we have not found a world with a high-tech functioning society. We have however seen remnants of nine technological civilizations. At least one of these, the so-called Monument-Makers, achieved interstellar flight. There is evidence of one other such species, the creatures who helped evacuate Maleiva III when it fell into a brutal ice age several thousand years ago. But we don’t know where they came from, or where they went.

The overall picture for long-range survival by a civilization is, therefore, historically, not bright.

Our most recent evidence indicates that many societies experience an industrial revolution, followed by exponential technological development, followed by rapid growth, followed by a general collapse. None that we know of, other than the Monument-Makers, seem to have lasted more than three hundred years beyond the development of the computer.

This is not to say there is a cause and effect relationship between technology and extinction. But Colm Manchester, in his monumental Study of Civilization, points out that societies with limited technology tend to be more durable and far harder to destabilize.

It is now more than three and a half centuries since we started using computers. Let us hope the trend does not apply to us.

— Tokyo Daily, Saturday, April 4

RHINE: HELLFIRE SERMONS AFFLICT MANY

“Constitute Child Abuse”

STUDY: RELIGIOUS EDUCATION MAY CLOSE MIND

“Hell Invented by Dante”

There’s not much to be said for sightseeing. You go somewhere that has a waterfall. You have a beer, watch the water go over the edge, and move on. Tours are all the same. In the end, the only thing that matters is the beer.

— Gregory MacAllister, “Endgame”

The monument needed a name. Something other than the Cygni Temple, which was how it was commonly known. When it had first been discovered, decades before, religious organizations had pointed to it proudly as proof that even alien societies recognized the Creator. It might have been true, but the reality was that nobody had any idea what the structure had meant to the creatures who’d put it into its lonely orbit.

MacAllister had begun to realize that, even if he did not get close to the moonriders, there was decent potential on this flight for a good story. He put aside his notes on Dark Mirror and was thinking instead that he might, in visiting these various sites, record his own insights and reactions. It was easy to wax philosophical about places like the temple. So he began a journal.

Before leaving the system, they took pictures. Of the captain and passengers gathered on the bridge, of Amy with the monument behind her, of Eric studying the monument while taking notes. Valya transposed images, so they had shots of Eric leaning against one of the columns, and Amy standing at the foot of the steps, inches from infinity. Even MacAllister allowed her a degree of latitude, and she superimposed his features over the monument, as if he were the resident deity.

“You’re sending me a message,” he said.

They were alone in the common room. “Not at all.” She had a smile that could penetrate his own inner darkness, and she used it, showing him, yes, of course it reflects you, the real you, the guy who thinks he knows everything. But she softened it somehow.

At home, MacAllister was a constant target for attack. Usually it was just people hitting back after he’d delivered a well-deserved criticism. He routinely accepted the reactions as part of the job. Fleabites from persons of no consequence. But when he saw reproach in Valya’s eyes, and for reasons he did not understand, it hurt. He wanted to explain to her that he wished the Academy well, wished her well. That he wasn’t the jerk she so plainly thought he was.

“Did you volunteer for this?” he asked.

“In a manner of speaking. I could have refused.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Is there a reason I should have?”

“I thought you might have preferred not to have me aboard.”

“To be honest,” she said, “I was reluctant when Hutch first told me you were coming. Look, Mac, since you ask, you’re not exactly one of my favorite people. It’s not personal; it’s political. But it’s okay. We can make it work while we’re out here.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”

She shrugged. “I know. But you’re on the other side. It’s not easy to be friendly with the enemy.”

“I’m not an enemy, Valya.”

“Sure you are.” She lowered her voice. “You and Amy’s father. And four or five other nitwits on the committee. No. Let me finish. I understand about the seas and the duck problem and all the rest of it. But you’re behaving as if this is an either-or situation. If we close down, if the Academy goes away, we won’t get serious starflight up and running again probably during my lifetime.

“And I know what you’re going to say. This isn’t about one person. And to be honest I’m not sure about that. Maybe it is me. I like to be out here, and if the day comes they shut us down, shut everybody down, Orion and Kosmik and everybody else, then my life is over. And if you think the human race is doing just fine sitting on its front porch, as long as the evenings are cool, then I think you need to ask yourself what goddam good we’ll be to ourselves or anybody else.”

Had she just called him a nitwit? “Valya, I never said we should shut down the Academy.”

“Sure you did. Not verbatim, maybe. But you’re aiding and abetting. Look, I can understand you don’t want to support us. But you owe Hutchins a lot. If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t be walking around. The least you could do is stay out of the fight. Just don’t say anything.”

“I can’t do that, Valya. I’m an editor. The National has an obligation to its readers.”

“Do your readers agree with you? About the Academy?”

“Some do.” He hesitated. “Most do. We’ve taken a reasonable position. Head off the imminent danger first. Then put money into starflight. Anything else would be irresponsible.”

She changed the subject. Talked about 36 Ophiuchi, and the Origins Project beyond.

TIME TO GO.

When the warning came to buckle up, MacAllister was ready. So was Amy, who’d lost interest in the monument and was doing a history assignment with Bill. But as they were pressed back into their seats, and the temple began to recede, she took a last look and smiled at MacAllister. “I’ll be back,” she said.

Acceleration continued several minutes, then went away. The green lights came on. It was okay to release the restraints and walk around. The lights were intended for those so feeble-minded they couldn’t tell when it was possible to stand up without getting thrown against the aft bulkhead.

Valya asked MacAllister to come up front.

“No problems, I hope,” he said as he slid into the right-hand seat.

“We’re fine, Mac.” She released her own harness and rotated her shoulders. “I wanted to ask a favor.”