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The Gods Themselves: A Novel

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The Gods Themselves: A Novel

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“It is a mistake,” he said, “to suppose that the public wants the environment protected or their lives saved and that they will be grateful to any idealist who will fight for such ends. What the public wants is their own individual comfort.

“There can then be no further work possible till the water has been returned uphill—and that takes work. It fact, it takes more work to force the water uphill than we can collect by then allowing it to flow downhill. We work at an energy-loss. Fortunately, the Sun does the work for us. It evaporates the oceans so that water vapor climbs high in the atmosphere, forms clouds, and eventually falls again as rain or snow. This soaks the ground at all levels, fills the springs and streams, and keeps the water forever running downhill. “But not quite forever. The Sun can raise the water vapor, but only because, in a nuclear sense, it is running downhill, too. It is running downhill at a rate immensely greater than any Earthly river can manage, and when all of it has run downhill there will be nothing we know of to pull it uphill again. “All sources of energy in our Universe run down. We can’t help that. Everything is downhill in just one direction, and we can force a temporary uphill, backward, only by taking advantage of some greater downhill in the vicinity. If we want useful energy forever, we need a road that is downhill both ways. That is a paradox in our Universe; it stands to reason that whatever is downhill one way is uphill going back.

He started blindly but within a month he had that feeling that every scientist recognizes—the endless click-click as unexpected pieces fall into place, as annoying anomalies become anomalous no more—It was the feel of Truth.

“It is a mistake,” he said, “to suppose that the public wants the environment protected or their lives saved and that they will be grateful to any idealist who will fight for such ends. What the public wants is their own individual comfort.

Once it was well known that cigarettes increased the incidence of lung cancer, the obvious remedy was to stop smoking, but the desired remedy was a cigarette that did not encourage cancer. When it became clear that the internal-combustion engine was polluting the atmosphere dangerously, the obvious remedy was to abandon such engines, and the desired remedy was to develop non-polluting engines.

You have a theory but a theory by itself is meaningless. Surely there must be some way of checking it.

there’s no pay-off on hopes.”

“Schiller. A German dramatist of three centuries ago. In a play about Joan of Arc, he said, ‘Against stupidity, the gods themselves contend in vain.’

“And no one on Earth will live to know I was right,” cried out Lamont, and blinked and blinked to keep back the tears.

If she refused to know, there would be nothing to know.

“But what makes you know when you have to pass on. If you can choose your time, why don’t you choose a different time and stay longer?” He said, “Your left-father has decided. The triad must do as he says.”

I want to find out the truth about them and the wanting has grown until there is more of curiosity in me than fear.”

“Good! The curiosity is useful, the fear useless.

“Then other Universes. We can’t give up just because the Universe does.”

“It was as though my mind remained active in the interval,” said Odeen. “It was as though there was time which, even though I was unaware of its passing and unconscious of my existence, was necessary to me; during which I could think more deeply and intensely, without the distraction of the less intellectual side of life.” “Yes,” agreed Losten, “and you’d come back with a quantum-jump in understanding. It is a common thing among you Rationals, though I must admit no one improved in such great jumps as you did. I honestly think that no Rational in history did so.”

But what he was wondering about did matter. Suddenly, he saw that it did matter. With an almost blinding flash he realized that he wouldn’t wonder unless something inside him told him it did matter.

I ate some and it was delicious. How can anything delicious hurt.

Was everything produced by reason its own excuse for being—at any cost.

Dua’s voice grew harsher. “Machines, Odeen! Made by the Hard Ones! Destroyed by the Hard Ones! They are alive, the Hard Ones. Only they. They don’t talk about it much. They don’t have to. They all know it. But I’ve learned to think, Odeen, and I’ve worked it out from the small clues I’ve had. They live tremendously long lives, but die eventually. They no longer give birth; the Sun yields too little energy for that. And since they die very infrequently, but don’t give birth at all, their numbers are very slowly declining. And there are no young ones to provide new blood and new thoughts, so the old, long-lived Hard Ones get terribly bored. So what do you suppose they do, Odeen?”

“Don’t lie to yourself, Odeen. They are like that. They are prepared to destroy a whole world of other-beings for their benefit; a whole Universe if they have to. Would they stop at destroying a few Soft Ones for their comfort?—But they made one mistake. Somehow the machinery went wrong and a Rational mind got into an Emotional body. I’m a Left-Em, do you know that? They called me that when I was a child, and they were right. I can reason like a Rational and I can feel like an Emotional. And I will fight the Hard Ones with that combination.”

“Then think less and you’ll be less foolish.

But it’s left behind a permanent distrust of technology; a vast inertia; a lack of desire to risk change because of the possible side-effects. Great and possibly dangerous efforts have been abandoned because the danger was feared more than greatness was desired.”

“Earth lies to itself for comfort’s sake.

“We were clever enough to take advantage of their initiative.” “Yes, as cows are clever enough to eat the hay we provide for them.

“There are umpires watching who make the preliminary decisions and there are television tapes in case of appeals. Very often even the tapes can’t decide.”

The more complicated and silly any plot, the more rickety it is and the more anxious the plotter.

If nothing you do will give you the knowledge you need, you end by saying, ‘Who knows what will happen?’ and imagination tells you.”

My feeling is that each person does what he does either because he wants to or he must and in either case that’s his business, not mine.”

“All they have to do is refuse to believe it means death. The easiest way to solve a problem is to deny it exists.

If you want the baby to let go of your watch, you don’t just try to explain that he ought to do it—you offer him something he would rather have.”

“What do you want to believe, Barron?” “I want the truth.” “But haven’t you decided in advance what the truth must be by your own gospel? You want the Pump Station of the Moon, don’t you, so that you need have nothing to do with the surface; and anything that might prevent that is not the truth—by definition.”

“It’s rather disillusioning. Does everyone just believe what he wants to?” “As long as possible. Sometimes longer.”

But that’s not why I’m here. I choose to be here. He may think he can order me about but he can only do so when his orders coincide with my will, as in your case they did. I resent his thinking he can order me otherwise, and I resent your thinking it, too.”

In any case, there are no happy endings in history, only crisis points that pass.

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