The Seed of Evil

The silence this time was even longer, until Chairman Christian spoke up. “Some part of you will resist this policy, Lian Li. But think! The perfect society has been achieved—now it has only to be preserved! Civilisation is advancing at full speed, and nothing should be allowed to hinder it. After all, there is none of us so wretched that he would not sacrifice himself for the revolution. And that is why this policy decision has been taken. It is a full commonalty decision.”

Pam Elkend spoke for the first time. The smock she wore was similar to Ching Rowena’s, but of a pale orange colour matching her hair. “You will be more contented among people whose desires match your own, Lian Li. In normative society you can only suffer frustration.”

“Yes, lacking the medications that once would have been available,” Lian Li answered dryly. He did not pursue the thought. “But you need not try to console me. The issue is clear.”

He stood up. Chairman Christian stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We were confident we would find you in agreement, Lian Li, though we know how unpleasant this is for you. When we imagined ourselves in your place, we knew full well what our own response would be.”

Lian Li nodded, his face pale. The two girls rose, their smocks clinging artlessly to their nubile bodies.

“When …?” Lian Li queried.

“When it is convenient,” Chairman Christian said quietly. “We would suggest tomorrow, or the day after. Simply come to 5 DCC office so that transport can be arranged.”

Alone again, Lian Li stood dazedly at the window. His mind was blank, unresponsive to his will, yet at the same time like a screen on which images from his past processed without any prompting from him.

When visiting Won Muong, an intense fondness for her, mingled with physical excitement, had become overwhelming. Physical contact with her had given him pleasure before, as it had with others; but as with others, he could not be sure whether her lack of reaction was a signal that he could proceed further, or whether it simply indicated an obliviousness of his caresses. For the first time he had steeled himself to take the plunge. But, it transpired, her initial acquiescence had been only bewilderment.

Were such feelings, so delightful and piercing, truly a cause for banishment? Suddenly it seemed inexplicable to him that he had hitherto avoided any inner debate on his deviant urges, had scarcely admitted to himself that they even existed.

He took a grip on himself and tried to assess his new situation. An observer from pre-revolutionary society, magically observing the proceedings, might have noted with puzzlement the cheerfulness of Lian Li’s just-departed visitors, even when engaged on a regrettable task. He might have been puzzled, too, by Lian Li’s lack of shame or embarrassment. He might eventually have concluded, correctly, that once the centre of gravity of human psychology came to reside in collective harmony, then all self-centred emotions became redundant.

The rightness of the commonalty decision was, for Lian Li, self-evident. Night had fallen. Over the city he could see lights ascending, glowing hazy lights that were transports to other continents and other planets. To his left a spreading glow came from the direction of the launch stadium. A new drumship was being moved in for fitting out, only hours after the departure of the last one.

In an island population of only a few hundred, Lian Li was unlikely to find the great revolutionary promise of perfect love. He would be deprived of his birthright. But Lian Li gave that only half a thought. Everywhere the commonalty was on the move; progress was unstoppable. Lian Li thought of the soaring music, the joyous chorus, the fluttering banners, the giant drumships surging starwards. And when he thought of all that, and of everything that was being done and that would be done, and from which he was now to be entirely excluded, his heart nearly broke, he sobbed, and tears burst from his eyes.

The Countenance

Brian came into the main lounge of the big passenger ship lost in thought. The abstracted, worried look on his face contrasted noticeably with the assured, well-educated men and women around him.

Brian himself was only vaguely aware of the difference; that is, he never thought about it. He, too, was supposed to have received a good education, but it had made no mark on him. Even in those fields where his main interest lay he had scored badly. As for the social and moral aspects of an upbringing, he literally seemed to have heard nothing about the notions which so tacitly form human custom. Society was an institution which he had not yet joined.