“This is terrible,” a woman said. “Weren’t your shamanesses able to do anything? Couldn’t they plead with the spirits? Couldn’t they perform ceremonies of propitiation and aversion?”

“They tried. But nothing worked. It was not spirits that were doing these things. It was people.”

“Hu!” the woman said.

“What happened?” asked Angai.

“You have to understand, most of our ancestors were not deliberately evil. They did not intend to ruin the world. But they didn’t think about the results of what they were doing. They thought they could take without giving. They thought the world was like a fish in a shell. They could open it and eat it and throw the shell away.”

I paused. Derek translated.

“Fish in a shell?” asked Mr. Fang.

Eddie said, “I’m surprised that Derek missed that one. Our ancestors thought the world was their oyster.”

Mr. Fang still looked puzzled.

Angai said, “They must have realized that they were acting wrongly. It is always wrong to steal. It is always wrong to harm other people—except when two men fight in the spring.”

“They lied to one another about what they were doing,” I told her.

“In the beginning—in the early days—they said, ‘We are making the world better. When we came to this place there was nothing except forest and wild animals and people who ran around naked. We have ended this. We have cut down the trees and planted gardens. We have made meadows where we can raise the kind of animals we like. We have taught the naked people how to wear clothing. All this is good! And look at the other things we’ve done! We have dug rivers and brought water to our gardens. We have turned dry canyons into lakes. Now there is more food. Now there can be more people. Now our villages can grow large and rich!’

“After a while they began to notice that the world did not seem to be a better place. Everything seemed smaller and dirtier. Everything was wearing out—the soil, the hills, the rivers and lakes. The people said, ‘There is nothing new in this. There have always been places where the land is thin and useless. There have always been rivers where the water is not fit to drink. There is no problem.’

“Things kept getting worse. Now the people said, ‘For everything that is gained, something must be lost. Look at what we have gained! Look at our villages full of big houses! Look at our houses full of many gifts! The forests that are gone have come back to us in gold. The rivers we cannot drink from have become jars full of bara.’

“Finally everything became so bad that no one could come up with anything comforting to say. Then the people said, ‘Change is impossible. It’s already too late. Anyway, we don’t really mind the way things are.’ ” I paused. “Those are the four kinds of lie the people told. ‘We are making things better.’ ‘There is no problem.’ ‘There are no real gifts.’ ‘It is too late to change.’ ”

“This is the worst thing I have ever heard,” a woman said.

Angai said, “This can’t be the end of the story.”

“In the end the people looked around and saw how terrible the world had become. Lying was no longer possible. They saw where anger and greed had taken them—to the edge of destruction. They had to choose. If they wanted to live, they would have to give up anger and greed. If they wanted to remain angry and greedy, they would certainly die.

“Most people decided they wanted to live. They were like someone walking in her sleep, troubled by terrible dreams. All at once she wakes and sees where she is standing—at the edge of a cliff. One more step will take her over. The rocks below look hard.”

Derek translated.

Agopian said, “That’s a wonderful speech, Lixia. I’m impressed. But you left out class warfare and a lot of very serious revolutionary struggle.”

“And you have ignored the benefits of technology,” said Ivanova. “Civilization is more than organized lying and stealing—though lying and stealing have certainly been important. Do you really think that we’d be better off if we were still digging for grubs with our fingers in the African savannah?”

“I can’t get everything in,” I said. “And like Eddie, I am not a Marxist.”

Angai said, “Is that all? Or is there more to your explanation?”

“One other thing. Derek told you that groups of men used to go around and fight each other. That is how everything started—when one kind of people began to steal from another kind of people.”

Angai made the gesture of acknowledgment.

“Our men don’t go off on their own anymore. They stay with the women, and women do not like to confront and fight.”

“That is true,” Angai said. “Maybe you are right to keep your men in the villages—if they get together and make trouble once they are on their own.”

The other women made gestures of agreement.

“How lucky we are,” one said. “Our men would never think of getting together.”

“They might, if they heard about these people,” another said.

“I think you have just done us in,” Derek said in English.

Angai made the gesture of disagreement. “These people are obviously different from us. I think it’s likely their men are different from our men.” She looked at me. “Did your men ever live alone the way our men do?”

“No. Our men have always done things in groups.”

Angai made the gesture that meant “you see.” She glanced up. “The sun is in the western half of the sky, and we are reaching the hottest part of the day. We have heard from Eddie. Now we have to hear the other person. Ifana.”

I translated.

Ivanova nodded. “You take care of this, Lixia.” She straightened up. “I don’t have much to add. What Eddie has described is not the nature of humanity, but the nature of capitalism—and the various economic and political systems that arose in response to capitalism, some of which, I know, called themselves proletarian. The question of what those societies actually were—”

Agopian spoke in Russian.

Ivanova nodded and said, “—is not relevant here. The dominant system was capitalism. It squatted like a dragon in the center of the twentieth century. Its tentacles reached everywhere.”

A lovely metaphor, and Ivanova would not be able to disown it. We had too many recorders on.

“That era is over, at least for the majority of the population of Earth.” She paused.

I said, “Ivanova says, our ancestors were not bad people. They had bad customs, and we have given those customs up.”

“We have learned the hard way—through terrible suffering—that a society based on individual greed is very dangerous. In order to survive we have to think in large terms. We have to think about the species and the planet. If we do not, we’ll die—or our children will die—or their children. We have no choice! We must cooperate!”

I said, “We have learned that we can’t be greedy or selfish.”

“Good!” said the gray old lady, the one who had spoken before.

“A proletarian society is based on cooperation. People do not exploit each other. Nor do they exploit their neighbors. When they meet with members of other societies, it is with respect for the rights of others and a concern for the benefit of all.”

I said, “We work together now. We don’t steal. When we meet people from other villages, we exchange gifts.”

Ivanova looked at Angai. “We would like to spend time in your country in order to learn about your people and this planet. In return we will teach you about our people and Earth. I sincerely believe this exchange of information will do no harm. Instead, it will work for the benefit of everyone.”

“She says that our people want to come and visit and exchange stories. She thinks this will be good for everyone.”

“Is she telling the truth?” asked Angai.

“She believes what she has told you. So does Eddie.”

“Does the old man have anything to say?”

I translated the question.