The Totems of Abydos by John Norman Page B

interest of a species. What would be the likelihood of such a coincidence? Perhaps the ideal was to proclaim one’s allegiance to truth while avoiding it at all costs. Surely Brenner’s species, on the whole, had tended to live from one lie to another. Brenner wondered what it might be for a society to live in terms of truth. He wondered if it would be possible. He wondered if somewhere societies might live in terms of truth. Perhaps on some of the “strong worlds,” he thought.
    “Never old, always new,
    Crowned with clouds,
    Enrobed in blue,”
    quoted Rodriguez.
    Brenner completed the poem:
    “I shall not seek another.
    You are my world, my mother.”
    “But rather we approach Abydos,” said Rodriguez.
    “How is it that you are here?” asked Brenner. It was one thing that Rodriguez might have wished to come to Abydos, for one reason or another. It was quite another that one such as he, presumably out of favor, would have been permitted to do so.
    “The directress,” said Rodriguez, “wanted me out of the way, off the home world, of course, somewhere else, probably as a result of some pressure from some quarter.”
    “Anywhere would have done?” asked Brenner. Brenner could imagine several quarters from which such a pressure might have emanated.
    “Provided it was sufficiently obscure, and sufficiently far away,” said Rodriguez.
    “But you wrangled Abydos?”
    “Yes,” said Rodriguez, chuckling. “I wanted Abydos. I have always been curious about her.”
    “It is surprising, from what I know of the directress,” said Brenner, “that you were permitted to come here, supposing she knew that that was what you wished to do.” The directress was a young woman, but vain and petty. She regarded herself as being of unusual importance, and, as if this importance required it, or merited it, enjoyed exploiting, and nursing, the crumb of power to which she had access, often using it to surprise and frustrate colleagues. Perhaps her sense of self-importance, and her consciousness of her own power, required its unexpected, arbitrary or capricious exercise, else it might have seemed that circumstances, criteria, and such, regulated its activity, and not her personal will. Too, she was the sort of woman who enjoyed censoring, censuring, obstructing, thwarting, and ruining, where possible, men such as Rodriguez. Perhaps she felt that the artificiality of her position, and the sensed political fragility of it, sustaining it, required such.
    “She didn’t know it, of course,” said Rodriguez. “Indeed, I even let her think it was the least interesting and most distasteful of the possibilities at her disposal. This was touchy, of course, as she did not even realize the alternative of Abydos at the time, though she pretended to, after I had mentioned it.”
    “She loathes your work,” said Brenner.
    “Yes,” said Rodriguez. “On the other hand, as you might expect, she has never read it. But this is not unusual. Most form their opinions, and with great firmness, on the basis of the reports of others who, also, may not be acquainted with the original texts. Most opinion, even the most fanatic, is founded on hearsay. There is something to be said for this approach, as it saves time. To be sure, if she had’ read it, I do not doubt but what she would have loathed it, as she would understand that that is what, in her particular personality network, her particular power structure, would be expected of her. Very few individuals have the intelligence for private judgment, and of those who do, very few will dare to differ. With respect to the latter point, the matter has been made clear by numerous psychological experiments.”
    “She did not know about the thousand-year cycle?” asked Brenner.
    “No, did you?”
    “No,” said Brenner.
    “I did not care to mention it to her, as she might have found it of interest.”
    “Nor to me, it seems,” said Brenner.
    “You don’t have to disembark,” said