difficult lesson for beings who have governed the galaxy since humans were living in caves.”
To the other passengers he said, “These humans are barbarous beings. We must watch them closely and control their choices. For that reason I, your first choice, will monitor everything that this being does and report to you what he does not.”
“And I,” Riley said, “am a poor, ignorant human, untutored in the ways of the civilized galaxy, and I must ask your forgiveness in advance for any errors in judgment or information I might make, while pledging myself to consider the well-being of all over my own personal benefit.”
The other passengers muttered among themselves at the far side of the room, next to the food dispensers, but were not upset enough to mount an insurrection. “Well said,” Tordor remarked to Riley.
“They do not believe you,” Asha said, “but they respect your willingness to placate them with fine words.”
“I have a lot to learn,” Riley said with uncharacteristic humility.
“The admission of ignorance is the beginning of wisdom,” Tordor said.
“We humans have a similar saying,” Riley said.
“Rational beings are the same everywhere,” Tordor said, “adrift in an enigmatic universe. Otherwise they could not communicate.”
Riley wondered again at Tordor’s newfound eloquence.
“I will put that into action,” he said, and ventured once more into the gathering of aliens. The group dispersed as he approached, as if trying to avoid contact with the barbarous human. He noticed again what a variety of sentient beings they were, some dressed in what seemed like rags, some adorned in what passed for finery, many of them unclothed and with curious appendages dangling; small, large, humanoid, and vaguely repellant because of the resemblance that had gone awry, utterly alien and repellently horrid.…
“Judge not!” his pedia said. Riley told himself that he must be just as repellant to some of the others, maybe more so. He would have to work even harder to make himself accept these creatures as fellow galactics.
“I desire to serve this group as I desire to help myself,” he said to the coffin-shaped alien, but the alien was as perversely silent as Tordor’s universe. He turned to the Sirian.
“The path into darkness is strewn with pitfalls,” the Sirian said. Riley had to remind himself that for Sirians, under the glare of their overpowering primary star, night was a time not only of rest, but of nirvana.
“We do not expect much,” the Alpha Centauran said. “Surprise us.”
That would not be hard, Riley thought. This pilgrimage was full of surprises, with, he had no doubt, more to come.
He turned and threaded his way through the odorous and cacophonous gathering and went through the hatch into the corridor of the working ship. This time the lock surrendered without a struggle.
* * *
No guards waited outside the hatch. A crew member in patched one-piece coveralls glided past without giving Riley a glance, as if Riley, in similar coveralls, was just another member of the crew. Either the word had gone out to give him the freedom to do his job, or the crew had gotten used to him.
Riley hoped the condition of the coveralls did not reflect the condition of the ship. They had a long way to go, and alien territory to explore.
“Here there be Tygers,” his pedia said.
Riley shook his head and started toward the ship’s control center, noticing for the second time the place along the corridor, about shoulder height, where the finish had been worn from the paneling and, here and there, where emergency equipment lockers had been emptied and not refilled.
By the time he passed the captain’s quarters, deserted now, Riley felt depressed. Not only had the Geoffrey seen better days; it might not see many more.
The control center seemed as shabby as the rest of the ship. Half of the gauges were broken, and the other half flickered erratically. The captain sat in
To the other passengers he said, “These humans are barbarous beings. We must watch them closely and control their choices. For that reason I, your first choice, will monitor everything that this being does and report to you what he does not.”
“And I,” Riley said, “am a poor, ignorant human, untutored in the ways of the civilized galaxy, and I must ask your forgiveness in advance for any errors in judgment or information I might make, while pledging myself to consider the well-being of all over my own personal benefit.”
The other passengers muttered among themselves at the far side of the room, next to the food dispensers, but were not upset enough to mount an insurrection. “Well said,” Tordor remarked to Riley.
“They do not believe you,” Asha said, “but they respect your willingness to placate them with fine words.”
“I have a lot to learn,” Riley said with uncharacteristic humility.
“The admission of ignorance is the beginning of wisdom,” Tordor said.
“We humans have a similar saying,” Riley said.
“Rational beings are the same everywhere,” Tordor said, “adrift in an enigmatic universe. Otherwise they could not communicate.”
Riley wondered again at Tordor’s newfound eloquence.
“I will put that into action,” he said, and ventured once more into the gathering of aliens. The group dispersed as he approached, as if trying to avoid contact with the barbarous human. He noticed again what a variety of sentient beings they were, some dressed in what seemed like rags, some adorned in what passed for finery, many of them unclothed and with curious appendages dangling; small, large, humanoid, and vaguely repellant because of the resemblance that had gone awry, utterly alien and repellently horrid.…
“Judge not!” his pedia said. Riley told himself that he must be just as repellant to some of the others, maybe more so. He would have to work even harder to make himself accept these creatures as fellow galactics.
“I desire to serve this group as I desire to help myself,” he said to the coffin-shaped alien, but the alien was as perversely silent as Tordor’s universe. He turned to the Sirian.
“The path into darkness is strewn with pitfalls,” the Sirian said. Riley had to remind himself that for Sirians, under the glare of their overpowering primary star, night was a time not only of rest, but of nirvana.
“We do not expect much,” the Alpha Centauran said. “Surprise us.”
That would not be hard, Riley thought. This pilgrimage was full of surprises, with, he had no doubt, more to come.
He turned and threaded his way through the odorous and cacophonous gathering and went through the hatch into the corridor of the working ship. This time the lock surrendered without a struggle.
* * *
No guards waited outside the hatch. A crew member in patched one-piece coveralls glided past without giving Riley a glance, as if Riley, in similar coveralls, was just another member of the crew. Either the word had gone out to give him the freedom to do his job, or the crew had gotten used to him.
Riley hoped the condition of the coveralls did not reflect the condition of the ship. They had a long way to go, and alien territory to explore.
“Here there be Tygers,” his pedia said.
Riley shook his head and started toward the ship’s control center, noticing for the second time the place along the corridor, about shoulder height, where the finish had been worn from the paneling and, here and there, where emergency equipment lockers had been emptied and not refilled.
By the time he passed the captain’s quarters, deserted now, Riley felt depressed. Not only had the Geoffrey seen better days; it might not see many more.
The control center seemed as shabby as the rest of the ship. Half of the gauges were broken, and the other half flickered erratically. The captain sat in
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