The Celestial Blueprint and Others Stories Read Free Page B

Deputies. They consider it and put it up to the people. If the people like it, it becomes a law. The only trouble with that procedure is that it may take ten years before the law is considered by the Chamber of Deputies.”
    “And in those ten years,” she mocked, “the Amphibs and the Amphibian-changelings will have won the planet.” “That is true,” he said.
    “The King of the Humans is a Ssassaror and the King of the Ssassaror is a Man,” said Lusine. “Our King can’t see any reason for changing the status quo. After all, it. is the Ssassaror who are responsible for the Skins and for Man’s position in the sentient society of this planet. Why should he be favorable to a policy of Violence? The Ssassarors loathe violence.
    “And so you have preached Violence without waiting for it to become a law? And for that you are now in this cell?” “Not exactly. The Ssassarors have long known that to suppress too much of Man’s naturally belligerent nature only results in an explosion. So they have legalized illegality— up to a point. Thus, the King socially made me the Chief of the Underground and gave me a state license to preach— but not practice—Violence. I am even allowed to advocate overthrow of the present system of government—as long as I take no action that is too productive of results.
    “I am in jail now because the Minister of Ill-Will put me here. He had my Skin examined, and it was found to be ‘unhealthy.’ He thought I’d be better off locked up until I became ‘healthy’ again. But the King . .
    Ill
    Lusine’s laughter was like the call of a silverbell bird. Whatever her unhuman appetites, she had a beautiful voice. She said, “How comical! And how do you, with your brave ideas, like being regarded as a harmless figure of fun, or as a sick man?”
    “I like it as well as you would,” he growled.
    She gripped the bars of her window until the tendons on the back of her long thin hands stood out and the membranes between her fingers stretched like windblown tents. Face twisted, she spat at him, “Coward! Why don’t you kill somebody and break out of this ridiculous mold—that Skin that the Ssassarors have poured you into?”
    Rastignac was silent. That was a good question. Why didn’t he? Killing was the logical result of his philosophy. But the Skin kept him docile. Yes, he could vaguely see that he had purposely shut his eyes to the destination towards which his ideas were slowly but inevitably traveling.
    And there was another facet to the answer to her question—if he had to kill, he would not kill a Man. His philosophy was directed towards the Amphibians and the Sea-changel-ings.
    He said, “Violence doesn’t necessarily mean the shedding of blood, Lusine. My philosophy urges that we take a more vigorous action, that we overthrow some of the biosocial institutions which have imprisoned Man and stripped him of his dignity as an indvidual.”
    “Yes, I have heard that you want Man to stop wearing
    the Skin. That is what has horrified your people, isn't it?” “Yes,” he said. “And I understand it has had the same effect among the Amphibians.”
    She bridled, her brown eyes flashing in the feeble glowworms' light. “Why shouldn’t it? What would we be without our Skins?”
    “What, indeed?” he said, laughing derisively afterwards. Earnestly, she said, “You don’t understand. We Amphibians—our Skins are not like yours. We do not wear them for the same reason you do. You are imprisoned by your Skins—they tell you how to feel, what to think. Above all, they keep you from getting ideas about noncooperation or nonintegration with Nature as a whole.
    “That, to us individualistic Amphibians, is false. The purpose of our Skins is to make sure that our King’s subjects understand what he wants so that we may all act as one unit and thus further the progress of the Seafolk.”
    The first time Rastignac had heard this statement, he had howled with laugher. Now,