Glory Season

Almost as brilliantly as you changed the subject, Maia thought. But that was all right. It pleased her to see Re

"We have more pieces to wind," she reminded him. They went back to the cargo hatch where he sighed, lifting a squarish game token. "And to imagine, I called these little devils ingenious. I still don't see why they refuse to use the game board we brought from the citadel."

"It's tradition," Maia explained, gingerly turning one of the tiles, careful of the protruding ante

"Because of the weather?"

"And restrictions by local clans. It's a rough time for men. Especially if you're unlucky, and get no invitation to town. When it's not raining, there's the aurorae and Wengel in the sky, setting off frustrating feelings. A lot of men must close the shutters and distract themselves with crafts and tournaments. My guess is that right now a computer game board reminds them too much of a time they'd rather not think about."

Re

Maia reached for another game piece to wind. "It has to be that way, Re

"Uh-huh. Sacrificing perfection of the particular in favor of competence in the general." Re

Maia put down the winding key and turned her arm to regard the sextant's brass cover, with its ornate, almost mythological rendition of a huge airship. Re

Maia felt for a moment as if she were listening to Re

Re

Maia folded the sextant away. "I hadn't thought of it that way before. We're taught that men don't have . . ." she searched for the right word. "They don't have conmity. The middies adopted by sailing masters are rarely their own sons, so there's no long-range stake in the boys' access. Yet, you make it sound almost like the way it is in kins. Personal teaching. Close attention over time. Passing on more than a trade."

"Mm. You know, the more I think about it, the more I’m sure it was designed this way. Sure a family of clones does it more efficiently, one generation training the next. But at base, it's just a variation on an old theme. The Master-apprentice system. For most of human history, such systems were the rule. Progress came through incremental improvements on tried-and-true designs."

Maia recalled how, as children, she and Leie used to peer into the workshop of the Yeo leatherworkers, or ximesin clockmakers, watching older sisters and mothers instruct younger clones, as they themselves had been taught. It was how young Lamais learned the export-import business. You wouldn't imagine such a process to be possible among men, no two of whom ever shared the same exact talents or interests. But Re

"And sometimes not at all?" Maia asked, feeling suddenly uneasy.

"Indeed. That's a danger in craft societies. Sometimes the trend is negative."

She looked down, suddenly feeling something like shame. "We've forgotten so much."

"Mm," Re

"But—" Maia blinked. "Why would scientists want to stop science?"

His smile was warm, but something in Re

"Their aim wasn't to stop science as such, but to prevent a certain kind of scientific fever. A cultural madness, if you will. The sort of epoch in which questioning becomes almost a devotional act. In which all of life's certainties melt, and folk compulsively doubt old ways, heedless of whatever validity those ways once had. Ego and 'personal fulfillment' take precedence over values based on community and tradition. Such times bring terrible ferment, Maia. Along with increased knowledge and power comes ecological danger, from expanding populations and misuse of technology."

No pictures formed in Maia's head to accompany his words. The content was entirely abstract, without reference to anything she knew. Yet, she felt appalled. "You make it sound . . . terrible."

His exhalation was heavy. "Oh, there are benefits. Art and culture flourish. Old repressions and superstitions shatter. New insights illuminate and become part of our permanent heritage. A renaissance is the most romantic and exciting of times, but none lasts very long. Way back, before the Phylum Diaspora, the first scientific age barely got us off the homeworld before collapsing in exhaustion. It came as close to killing as liberating us."

Maia watched Re

Re

"It was during another such age — the Florentina Revival — that your famous Lysos grew convinced that stable societies are happier ones. Deep down, most humans prefer living out their lives surrounded by comfortable certainties, guided by warm myths and metaphors, knowing that they'll understand their children, and their children will understand them. Lysos wanted to create such a world. One with net contentment maximized not for a brilliant few, but over time for the maximum number."

"That's what we're taught." Maia nodded. Though once again, it was a different way of phrasing familiar things. Different and disturbing.