C H A P T E R

25
"WHY? WHAT IS IT?" MARY ASKED.
"Our butterflies have fangs," said Jim.
"What do you mean . . . oh!" said Mary.
"?1," said Jim.
"Yes?" said ?1.
"Were you listening?"
"Of course not," said ?1. "It was determined, if you remember, that when you and Mary exchange concepts we do not hear you."
"Good. Thanks. We've got a few more words to say to each other and then we'll be back in conversation with you."
"I look forward to the prospect."
"Jim?" said Mary.
"Yes? "
"What is it about their stopping the Laagi that upsets you so much? It's not just what you said. I can feel you're upset."
"I guess it's because I've been a fighter pilot," said Jim. "I can put myself in their place."
"The place of the Laagi who were told to stop?"
"Yes. I've fought them; I've seen them fight when they hadn't a hope until we killed them; and now I've seen them on
294

THE FOREVER MAN / 295
their own world. I can guess how they follow orders. I can imagine how it was for them, those who got stopped."
"How was it, then?"
"You studied them. You know as well as I do. They live to work; and for a Laagi fighter crewman what he does is his work. You can imagine for yourself what it must have been like to have the combined minds of our bodiless friends here tell them to stop."
"I'm sorry, Jim. Maybe it's because I never was a fighter pilot; but I still don't see why hearing about this upsets you so much."
"Maybe you're right. Maybe it's just me. But picture it for yourself. Those Laagi went out under orders to follow their version of the centerline down‑galaxy. They were under those orders when the contrary order of the combined minds of these people told them to stop. And they stopped. That's why I said these little friends of ours have unexpected fangs. You remember how ?1 didn't seem to cane what happened to one of their own people after that particular mind‑person was cast out‑ignored?"
"Yes. How does that tie in?"
"Don't you see? Somehow these mind‑people can set up a‑they'd probably call it a concept‑that says any living being that can't see or hear them has to stop at a certain point in space; and it's a concept that overrides anything else that being's been told or wants to do. When they say stop, they mean literally stop. And that's just what those Laagi crewmen did."
"You mean that's why they halted their ships where they were, why they didn't go back to their world to report what had happened?"
"I mean they couldn't go back. They couldn't do anything but what they'd been overridingly ordered to do. So they did it. Think of them, driving along. And an overriding order suddenly tells them to stop their progress, shut off their power, do nothing more. So they do it. They obeyed, because they weren't able to do anything else. They stopped . . . and there they sat, in the case of those ships we looked into, until we came to see what was going on. You've seen how the Laagi can't stand being idle. But they had to sit there and die. And there they'll sit until Judgment Day. them and all the rest

296 / Gordon R. Dickson

who brought ships close enough to this zone in space that oar mind‑people've taken over for their own. You and I could see and hear them, so their order to stop didn't affect us. But otherwise you and I, Mary‑we, too, we'd have been sitting there now, dead."
"1. . . see," said Mary.
"Think of those Laagi then, sitting there, not able to move, waiting to die; and finally, dying. Sitting there dead, killed by these nice, fluffy little friends of ours, here. No wonder they've been able to keep these worlds and this part of space to themselves for however long they have. And no wonder the Laagi are looking for other worlds to live on in any direction but this one."
.`Are you saying we shouldn't want the worlds that're here, either?" There was a hardness in Mary's answer.
"I'm not sure what I'm saying. But we don't want to bring people in here to live under the nonexistent noses of aliens who can suddenly just order them to stop what they're doing until they die in place, do we?"
"No. You're right about that. But what can we do to make sure they'd be safe, though?"
"I don't know. I've got to get more of a handle of ?l and his friends. Let's go back and talk to them some more.‑?1?"
"Yes. Happily, you are with us once more, both of you."
"And we're very happy to be back."
"That makes us all happy together. What a fine thing."
"Yes. About the Laagi. I may have told you we were being chased by them when we came here."
"Don't you recall telling me that?"
"I think so, but I'm not sure."
"How strange. You seem very forgetful."
"I guess I am."
"However, be assured you did tell us that."
...'hank you,"
"It's a pleasure to assist your failing mernory."
"It only fails in little things, as a matter of fact," said Jim. "As I was saying, about the Laagi. Now, you were telling me they couldn't hear or see you, but when your whole race spoke to them, telling them to stop where they were and not come any farther, they stopped. So they actually were able to hear and see you, after all."

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"But my dear friend! I didn't say they couldn't see or hear us. Any other intelligent mind should be able to do that. I said they wouldn't. They refused to see or hear‑which was very insulting and extremely painful. There was no excuse for such behavior at all, since we'd never met them before. So we shut them out; and they've stayed away even from the place where we told them always to stop, ever since."
"I see," said Jim.
"We are glad you understand. But of course, we knew you would, being a gentle, courteous being yourself."
"Thank you."
"We do not merely compliment you. It's the truth."
"Thank you, anyway," said Jim. "Now, before we escaped from the Laagi, who had us as prisoners for a while, we learned something about them. I don't wish to make you, my friends, at all uncomfortable, but from what I know of the Laagi, it occurs to me there's a chance you might have misjudged them."
"Oh, no. That's impossible," said ?I.
"It is?"
"Absolutely . . . . What makes you think we misjudged them?"
"Tell me something first," said Jim. "When they intruded on you, why didn't you just go away from them, instead of doing something to stop them?"
"But this is the best spot for dancing in the galaxy. Beyond any question the best spot! Should we give up the best spot of all to dance because some impolite beings intrude on us, there? We were here first. We didn't intrude on them‑they intruded on us!"
"Just a minute," said Jim. "I'm afraid there's something I didn't understand as well as I thought I did. You told me you didn't like holes, and that the movement of the holes in relation to each other in the universe was a dance. But since you didn't like holes, I assumed you had no particular feeling for their dance, so‑‑2'
"Oh, no! No, no, no, no! No such thing. The dance of the holes is not something to be either liked or disliked‑you're right. It merely is. But by itself it has little to recommend it. A hole‑forgive me, dear friend, because I know you have a personal small one around, somewhere, though you show

298 /  Gordon R. Dickson
your good taste by being out of it at the moment‑is not a pretty thing. However, we use the lines of force that is the dance of the holes as threads upon which to weave our own beautiful dances. The possibilities are limited only by creativity itself. That way, this web of natural forces can be made into a beautiful, a shining thing; and here, at this point, is where the possibilities for such creative effort are greatest. We have always lived here because at some time our ancestors found this the bast place for dancing. We will allow no intrusion upon it."
"But I mentioned my people might like to live on some of the holes in this area
"Their being there would not affect the dance in any way. It is a small, polite gesture on our part to allow such as you to do what you want on and with the holes, themselves."
"The Laagi would not disturb the dance either by living on some of these holes," said Jim.
"No, but they would disturb us greatly by coming through this space and refusing to see or hear us."
"That's bad, I know," said Jim, "but was it sufficient provocation for you to kill them?"
"Forgive me," said ?1. "I am baffled. We are baffled. You have come up with a blank of which not even the edges of meaning am I able to grasp. What was it you said we did to these intruders?"
"Kill. Make die. Cause to cease living," said Jim.
"None of this makes any sense at all. Forgive me, dew friend, but as I said, we are baffled. Completely baffled."
"Tell me," said Jim. "Do you live forever?"
"Do we never cease to exist? Of course, any one of us could wish to cease existence sometime. But none of us know when, just as we do not know how we came to be as a people.„
"No, I mean, do you, ? 1, expect to never cease to exist?"
"Oh, I don't see how that would be possible. Even if I wished to exist forever, I don't believe anything can do that. Of course, long before it was forever, I'll probably get tired of living and go out."
"Out where?"
"Just out into the universe by myself. There've been speculations of a different sort of existence once one has gone out,

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but such speculation is generally considered idle among us. If one is tired of this existence, why would one want more?"
"Does anyone ever put anyone else out?"
"How could they? But in any case, what an unthinkable concept! The undiluted rudeness of putting another out of present existence!"
"You may have been responsible for the Laagi going out of present existence‑the ones you stopped, I mean."
"Oh, no," said ?1. "In the case of the ones we stopped, after a while their minds left their holes and went off somewhere, back the way they had come. Their minds were very much in existence when last seen. . ."
There was a pause.
"I am informed that we noticed that their minds when they left were completely unformed. Like new minds, who have to learn everything. You don't mean to suggest that our stopping them was responsible for their minds to lose acquired formthat it was a kind of putting‑out?"
"I'm suggesting," said Jim, "that possibility."
There was another pause before ?1 spoke again.
"If so," said ?1, "that was an unplanned result, which we regret. Nonetheless, they brought it on themselves by stubbornly refusing to answer us when we spoke to them in a polite and friendly manner."
"That may not have been their fault," said Jim. "You see, there are drawbacks to being formed as a mind when that formation takes place within a personal hole."
"What drawbacks could stand in the way of polite response?"
"The fact that they may not have believed you were there."
"Not there?"
"That's what I said," said Jim.
"But you can't be serious. As intelligent minds they had to perceive us, let alone the fact that they became very disturbed after we had spoken to them, which they had not been until that moment. Certainly that effect augurs a cause which would be that they were aware of us."
"I'm sure they were," said Jim. "But you ran up against a particular sort of conditioning imposed on them by the holes within which their mind had been formed. Mary and I, now, grew up in personal holes that communicated by causing vi‑

300 I , Gordon R. Dickson
brations in the gases of the large hole on which our people lived. Our reception of these sound waves was what we call `hearing'; and because of that early training, even though we know now it's a case of our minds receiving the concepts your mind gives them, we conceived of what you say to us as sound vibrations heard in a gas medium, like that in which our minds were formed to adult intelligence. The Laagi, on the other hand, were formed in personal holes that communicated by distorting the shape of those personal holes in various subtle ways to convey concepts to each other."
"This is strange and wonderful," said ?1, "but I fail to see where it might be leading as."
"Hopefully, to a better understanding of the Laagi," said Jim. "You see, when your people first spoke to the Laagi in the ships that approached your territory, they confronted those Laagi with a situation that the Laagi knew could not possibly be, but which was nonetheless undeniable."
"No such situation is possible!"
"I'm afraid it is possible. That was the trouble. The Laagi knew what they were seeing‑receiving from you in the way of a messagecould not possibly be delivered as it was being delivered. At the same time their mind gave them no choice but to believe it was being so delivered."
"I don't wish to offend you, dear friend," said ?l, "but you're the one who's making no sense."
"Let me try to give you an example of what it must have been like for them. Do you know what I mean when I mention the concept of carbon dioxide gas?"
"You're speaking of a gas which is a familiar component in larger holes, and even in some smaller holes."
"You're also familiar with it in its solid form?"
"Of course."
"What would yon think if you saw a block of it in solid form floating in the atmosphere of a very hot star?"
"It could not. It would take on its gas form, immediately."
"But what if you saw it as I said, in the heat of the star's gases but itself still in solid form."
"I could not."
"Now," said Jim, "if I saw such a thing and knew the chunk of frozen carbon. dioxide to be actually that, and the gases of the star to be actually as hot as I've said they were,

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I'd consider that I was having what my people call a hallucination."
"You are saying you would be less than healthy. You have not really thought you saw such a thing, have you?"
"Rest easy," said Jim. "No. Of course not."
"I am so relieved. If you had, you would be sick and we would be forced to shut you out. I should imagine your people would do likewise?"
"Not exactly. We've got other ways, ways of helping people with hallucinations not to see them anymore rather than shutting them out."
"You must tell us sometime how to do this. But, I understand. You're using this image of a block of carbon dioxide remaining in ice form although in the midst of heat more than sufficient to change it into a gas, as an example. We fail to see its application to our simply speaking to these Laagi."
"I'll explain," said Jim. "Just as in order to make sense of your thoughts, Mary and I must imagine we hear them as words, that is, as sound waves through a conducting medium ‑under the same sort of conditions one of the Laagi you spoke to could only conceive of receiving your message as if it were visual signals from another Laagi."
"Visual signals?"
"Yes," said Jim, "distortions of the shape of another Laagi hole. Specifically, the signals had to be given by some other Laagi, since their signal system is built on the shape of their particular personal holes and that form's unique capabilities for distortion. Therefore, what the Laagi receiving you thought he saw was another Laagi‑in a ship where there was room for at most the two that were already there‑saying something to him he could not understand, because first, there were gaps in what he heard‑these being concepts the Laagi did not know‑and second, what did reach him implied a people and situation that were inconceivable from his point of view. He could only conclude that he was doing the Laagi equivalent of hallucinating. Naturally, since he thought the one of you speaking to him was merely an aberration of his own mind, he did not reply. He rejected the reality of the image‑as you rejected the possibility of a cake of carbon dioxide ice=dry ice,' we call it ordinarily among our people ‑floating in a hole of high temperatures."

302 I Gordon R. Dickson

From ?1 there was an extended moment of silence.
"What you tell us is almost impossible to believe," he finally answered.
"Don't take my word for it," said Jim. "Some of you go to the large hole the Laagi inhabit‑it's just up‑galaxy a handful of light‑years from here‑and observe for yourself them talking to each other the way I've described."
"It would be distasteful for any one of us to go to such a place and do such a thing, so I will volunteer to do so," said ?1.
There was a silence following his last words that went on and on for perhaps a minute and a half, at Jim's estimate. Then ?1 's voice spoke again.
"Yes, it's true," he said. "My friends are all astonished. If I had not witnessed it myself, they would have been unable to conceive of such a thing. Your insight in this case is worthy of the highest praise. But we were certainly right to tell them never to intrude upon our space. How could anyone ever communicate to any purpose with such creatures? And what benefit could be gained by such communication?"
"Possibly, great benefits, the existence of which you don't even yet suspect," said Jim.
"Come now, dear friend," said ?1. "The fact that you are ordinarily a hole, yourself, has made you over‑indulgent toward these Laagi. Say what you will about our misunderstanding of their reaction when they came this way first, the fact remains that they approached us in the persona of their personal holes, which you and Mary had the politeness not to do; and in any case, what could they have to tell us that we do not already know?"
"We're to take it then that your people already know everything?" Mary asked.
Since she had said nothing for a very long time indeed, her reappearance in the conversation jolted Jim and seemed to throw even ?1 and his friends momentarily for a loss. There was a perceptible pause before she was answered.
"Not everything, of course," said ?1, "but anything that's at all important."
"Important to you, that is?" demanded Mary.
"Of course, what is important to us . . . I see, you're implying that there may be knowledge which is important, even

THE FOREVER MAN I 303
though it doesn't concern us directly. As a theoretical possibility, that could be true. But even if it were true in any practical sense, why should we concern ourselves with it if it's unimportant to us?"
"Because it may become important to you," she said.
"In the memory of our people, that has never happened."
"Doesn't mean it couldn't happen," said Mary.
"There is really nothing new anywhere=
"Oh, you've encountered people like Jim and me before?"
"No. Of course not. But in the sense of something new and important‑if we should simply shut you and the Laagi out, how could our own way of life in any sense be affected?"
"It might," said Jim, "if, after you had shut us out, you suddenly discovered that one or more of the large holes in this area of the galaxy that you like so much had been moved from its accustomed orbit, with the result that the dance of the holes in this area as a unit had been altered. Wouldn't that cause some alterations in your own dancing with the local pattern of those forces?"

“WHAT?"

The voice was still the single voice of ? 1, to Jim and Mary's perceptions, but it was as if that voice had suddenly increased to incredible proportions.
"I think we got the attention of all of them at once with that question, Mary," Jim said.
"You can't move large holes from their orbits," said the voice of ?1, back at ordinary volume.
"I'm not so sure," said Mary. "We're holes ourselves, remember. We know things about holes that were unimportant to you and so you never learned them, while we're learning more every day. I'd say it won't be too long before we're able to move even the largest of holes from their orbits."
"You would have absolutely no right, no right at all to do such a thing!" said ?1.
"Perhaps not. It depends on your definition of what's right and what isn't," said Jim. "In any case I don't think a people like ours would ever do such a thing. Mary just brought that up as an example of information that you may have considered unimportant, but which might turn out not to be so, after all."
"These Laagi," said ?I, "do you suppose they might eventually be able to move large holes?"

304 / Gordon R. Dickson .

"We'd only be guessing if we tried to answer that," said Jim. "But of course they're holes, themselves, just as we are, so they'd be interested in the same sort of information."
"We must find out this information at once," said ?1.
"Can you?" said Jim. "We holes don't actually have it, ourselves, yet, as I say. But even if you did find out, it might be that being nonholes, you might not be equipped to understand, let alone use, such knowledge."
"But this is terrible! Perhaps we should go to the world of these Laagi right away and command them to never leave their planet again, just as we commanded them never to come any closer to our area of space."
"Are you sure that would work with a whole race?" said Jim. "Forgive me. I don't mean to trouble you with unpleasant possibilities, but when you stopped them from coming any closer before, there were a lot of you speaking to just a few of them. Would your command be so powerfully effective, do you think, if you were speaking to just about as many minds as you are, yourselves?"
"Oh, there's no doubt of it. None. I'm sure there couldn't be any doubt of it. Not to be successful commanding them is practically unthinkable. Practically . . . "
"Well, then, you can do that. I'm sure there wouldn't be any bad consequences," said Jim.
"What bad consequences? How could there be any bad consequences from an order given and obeyed?"
"None, of course. None I can think of anyway," said Jim. "Though the Laagi are a little on the combative side, by nature. After all, they've been fighting us for quite some time over a frontier situation rather like the one you have with them. I was just thinking, if you commanded them and it didn't work, and afterwards they found out how to shift the larger holes . . . Well, of course at the moment they don't know you exist, but if you commanded them not to leave their planet and it didn't take, they'd know you were here and would probably come not only to get at the empty planets in your area, but to find out more about you so they could pay you back for what you did to them earlier."
"But we did nothing at all to them, but tell them to stay out of our territory. They couldn't resent a small thing like that,

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surely? You, dear friends, none of your race would let yourselves be bothered by a little act like that?"
"If any did," said Jim, "I assure you, I'd be the first to put your view of the situation most strongly to him or her."
"There. You see? And yet, it was these Laagi friends of yours you were suggesting we allow in here to settle on some of the planets of our space!"
"It just might be a good way to keep them under control," said Jim.
"Keep them under control? But how?"
"Well, of course," said Jim, "I'm assuming, as I said, that we also had some of our own people also settling on planets here at the same time. I'm not sure, mind you, that there are some of our people who'd be willing to do this. But if there were, and once we got able to talk to the Laagi, using the method they use to converse since they can't converse our way, those of us who were here could watch the Laagi settlers and point out to them that what they were doing was wrong, if it turned out to be something that might be undesirable to you."
"You say," said ? 1, "you don't know if your people might want to come here? But as I remember, you earlier suggested that they would be eager to settle on some of our planets."
"Did I use the concept `eager'? Forgive me. I was actually just exploring the possibility with you first, before we go back and suggest it to them," said Jim. "I think you and I got off on other topics and I never did get around to explaining that I'd have to ask them, first. You see, the rest of our people don't know that we've found livable worlds here. Oh, they know it's possible we might, and if by some strange chance we never went back to them, they'd eventually get around to sending other individuals to see what the situation is as regards livable holes, here; but at the moment they don't know definitely about these planets, and they most definitely do not know what a wonderful people you all are. I'm sure they'll take to you at once, from what we'll be able to tell them, and want to come. I just don't have the right to say certainly that they will come when I haven't yet talked to them."
"But you would talk to them?"
"It'd be the first thing we'd do, on getting home."

306 I Gordon R. Dickson
There was a silence on ?1's part that extended for some seconds at least.
"Jim," said Mary softly, in this moment, "have you any idea what kind of forces would need to be involved in moving a star out of its orbit?"
"Shh," said Jim. "Little pitchers. . . "
"What?"
"Small fireflies have long antennae."
"But he said they wouldn't . . . oh!"
"Exactly."
"I understand. A verbal promise only..." said Mary. "You're right. But, by the way, you called them butterflies last time you described them."
"Did I? 'Fireflies' is better."
"Actually," said Mary, "I think you're right about that, too."
"We must, I believe," said ?1, breaking in on them, "think this matter over. Meanwhile, will you dance with us?"
"Dance?" said Mary and Jim together.
"You hesitate? In all our memory, out of the millions of dances we have done, there are five we remember as classic. We will do one of those, together."
"Forgive us," said Jim. "But we aren't hesitating because we don't want to dance with you. But you should be told that 1, at least, don't really know what you mean by 'dancing."'
"I'd realized there was somewhat of an ignorance on your part where dancing was concerned," said ?1. "But I did not understand it could be so complete. You really are not aware of what dancing is? I told you, it is a weaving of patterns around the threads of force set up by holes in their movements through the universe."
"Yes, but that only defines it," said Mary. "What Jim means is we've got no conception of how you weave such patterns, let alone an appreciation of them. We've never seen such things in all our experience."
"You really have not? It's incredible!" said ?1. "And yet you seem like such dear friends and nice people. Tell me, aren't you aware at this moment of the skein of developing and shifting forces about and through us, at this moment?"
"No," said Mary. "Jim?"
"Neither am I," said Jim. "I'm sorry."

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"Unbelievable! But it's so hard for me to grasp that you're basically holes, in nature. You seem so rational, so intelligent, so nice, that I fail to keep your limitations sharply in perspective. Do you really feel nothing of the forces? Look at that white star over there. Don't you feel the powerful, moving pull of it like a great arm sweeping through all of the universe?"
"Hold on," said Jim. "Let me concentrate. Maybe I can feel it."
"I'll try, too," said Mary.
Jim honestly tried. He was a competitor by nature, and his first reaction to this sort of situation was that if someone else could do something, he could do it, too. Feel . . . he told himself, concentrating on the pinpoint of light that was the white star, feel . . .
"Yes!" he said finally. "There's something there, a sort of soft pressure‑Mary, you know how it feels when you've been in the shadow of a cloud and it passes away from the sun, and you feel the warmth of the sunlight as it creeps across you?"
"Yes. I've got it myself, now," answered Mary. "Just a touch, though. And if I tried to do anything else but concentrate on it, let alone whatever you call dancing, ?1, I'd lose it."
"Quite incredible," said ?1. "It's obvious one of our great dances would be entirely wasted on you. Five of them, can you understand that tremendous fact? Five great dances winnowed out of millions, over a time equal to all the memory we as a people share between us? These five great patterns of movement that reflect the greatness of accomplishment of our race! You must understand at least a little of what that means."
"I think we do," said Mary seriously.
"In any case, as I say," said ?1, "any of those five would be wasted on you. But we can carry you, as we carried you to look at the places that Raoul saw differently and loved, through one of our simple little dances that we have for the new‑budded minds among us that have everything yet to learn. Will you come? Are you ready?"
"Why not?" said Jim to Mary. "Shall we dance?"
"I'd love to, thank you," said Mary.