“But I did not understand the pattern of their thinking. The intellectual framework. The underlying ideology. They made no sense to me.

“I should have quit and gone back to Earth. I could have gotten a job teaching. I would have fit in at a college or a polytechnic.

“But I stayed, even after I stopped trying to be a political officer.” He glanced at me, smiling. “I gave up. I went through the motions.”

Agopian reminded me of someone; and I had been trying to figure out who. Now it came to me. Eddie. They both lived in their heads. They were both moved to passion by theory.

What did I love? I wondered. Sunlight. Food. Certain human bodies. A landscape like the one in front of me, big enough to put human activity in perspective, and alive.

“It got boring,” Agopian said. “I had to do something. I decided to learn a new skill. I took up astrogation.”

“That’s how you got your certificate.”

He nodded. “And it is how I finally got to know some of the people on the ship. We had two astrogators. I asked them questions when I got into trouble with the learning program.

“One of them read science fiction. She told me the cook had a remarkable personal collection. He was from Siberia. A huge man. He talked in grunts, and I hadn’t been sure he was entirely human. After he realized that I read science fiction, he began to use entire sentences.

“He loaned me his books. We talked about them and about Siberia. One of his brothers is—or was—a mammoth trainer. That’s how I know about the mammoths.”

He pushed another stone over. There was nothing under it except wet pebbles. “That is the end of the story. I got my certificate, and I never really learned to get along with those people. It got better, but there was always something about the way they think—” He shook his head. “Or the way I think. They, after all, are in the majority.”

Did I really believe this clever little man had been a failure? “You don’t have the same trouble here?”

“No. For one thing, I am no longer a political officer. An astrogator doesn’t have to worry about agitation and propaganda. All I have to do is get the numbers right.

“For another thing, it takes a special kind of person to go to the stars. We are not better than the rest of humanity, but we are different. I understand most of the people here.”

“Who else is going upriver?” I asked.

“Tatiana. Ivanova. Eddie. You and Derek. The natives. Mr. Fang.”

“Is he here?”

“Yes. He is the representative for the majority position. He’s here to observe and to make sure that the natives understand this is their decision.”

I thought for a moment. “It sounds crowded.”

“We are going to have to take both boats. It leaves the camp in a bad position. I think Ivanova is planning to send one of the planes up for more supplies, including another boat.”

“We’re certainly moving in.”

“Only provisionally,” Agopian said.

We talked about the meeting scheduled for that evening, then separated. I went back to my room and changed into lighter clothing, turned on the air system and opened my notebook.

It was an unpleasant afternoon. The air coming in was hot and muggy. My work went badly. In the end I gave up. I had no gift for analysis, only for observation. The reality I saw was too complex and fluid and ambiguous to fit neatly into any theory.

Derek stopped by. “Marina wants to meet Nia. I’m taking her up the bluff.”

I made the gesture of acknowledgment. He left, and I went walking. I felt trapped, frustrated, discouraged. I needed to work, but not with ideas. I stopped in the kitchen. It was full of people making dinner. “Can I help?”

“By all means,” said the little blond man. “Take those canisters to the incinerator and empty them. Be careful. Don’t spill anything. We are trying not to contaminate the environment.” He shook his head. “I hate to destroy that stuff. It’d make a wonderful compost heap.”

“You mean we aren’t recycling?”

“Only dishes.”

I felt something akin to horror.

“We are trying to make the camp entirely self-contained. Nothing from Earth goes into the biosystem. Especially nothing organic. Either we destroy it, or we pack it and take it back up there.” He pointed at the ceiling. “It was decided notto pack the coffee grounds and the orange peelings. It’s a real pity. I hate to see waste.”

I made the gesture of agreement, then said, “We haven’t really met.”

“My name is Peace-with-Justice.”

I waited.

“My people don’t believe in family names. We don’t belong to a bloodline or a kinship group. We belong to ourselves and to all of humanity.”

“Oh,” I said and picked up a canister.

It was good hard work. The canisters were heavy and the incinerator port was badly placed. I had to lift each canister to shoulder height in order to empty it.

When I was done, I cleaned the canisters and washed the floor of the incinerator room. The canisters went into a sterilizer. The incinerator went on with much blinking of warning lights.

My shoulders ached, which felt good. My report seemed less of a problem.

I ate dinner with the kitchen crew: tofu and vegetables on top of a pile of sticky brown rice. On one side I added soy sauce with ginger and garlic. On the other side I added fermented plum juice. Delicious!

When I was finished, Peace-with-Justice said, “We’ll clean up. You’d better get ready for the meeting. Thank you, Lixia.”

I went back to my dome, washed, and changed into clean clothes, then went to the lounge. A gusty wind was blowing, and there were clouds across most of the sky. Rain, I was almost certain.

I thought of a poem suddenly. It was Anishinabe.

The lounge was crowded. People were bringing chairs from the dining room. Derek and Eddie stood at the bar.

“How did it go?” I asked Derek.

“With Nia? All right. She identified the animal. It’s rare and solitary. It lays eggs.”

“Something that big?”

“The dinosaurs laid eggs. Marina is excited. She thinks we are looking at a biosystem in transition. Animals that are native to this continent are being replaced by animals from the islands or from the other continent.”

“Or from Earth,” said Eddie.

“No,” said Derek. “The med team says our bugs do very badly in the native organisms. The bacteria starve to death. The viruses do nothing. They aren’t able to use the native genetic material. They cannot reproduce.” He grinned. “The native organisms are doing rather better in us, especially several species of microscopic parasitic worm. Liberation Minh is very excited by them. They have abilities we did not expect at all.”

“You make it sound like good news,” said Eddie.

“I find it interesting. And Liberation doesn’t think the worms represent any real danger.”

“Huh!”

Derek glanced at me. “The med team says that we can go upriver.”

“Good.”

Ivanova came in, accompanied by a dozen or so crewmembers. It was disturbing to watch them. They moved as a unit and sat down together in chairs that had been saved by other members of the crew.

“Time to start,” Derek said. He lifted himself onto the bar.

I got up beside him, though less gracefully.

Derek raised a hand in the native gesture that asked for attention. The people grew quiet. “Okay. Who is moderating?”

“Someone neutral,” Ivanova said.

A man called, “Is Mr. Fang here?”

I looked around. There he was, sitting in the third row back. He was thin and wiry, with upright posture and an alert expression. His gray-white hair was fastened in a bun. He wore his usual costume: a faded blue cotton shirt over faded blue cotton pants.