last few hours, so he assumed that they were leaving him a little rest to digest this new task.
The test was not timed, according to the cadet. No one was in a hurry, there.
"Examination mode," the desk announced "hold the instrument, write in the larger area. To delete, touch the word. Try."
Hesitantly, Deri grabbed the pencil like a club and awkwardly wrote his name on the writing area.
While touching the table, the pencil worked great. On the smaller side screen, a sequence of incomprehensible symbols appeared: his name in who knew what kind of alien language. Simultaneous translation. Deri touched the strange symbols with a fingertip, but nothing happened, so he touched what he had written with the pencil. His name disappeared, and so did the corresponding alien writings. It was easy. He wrote a lot. One thing was worth the other, it was just a test, so he repeated ten times the phrase "what the hell am I doing here?" in huge block letters, filling the entire screen. When he reached the bottom, the page scrolled and the first lines disappeared at the top, as in a normal computer. Deri strived to make them reappear, then he understood. The system must not be too different from what he was used to on Earth. It had been made so that he could use it easily. He rubbed his finger downward, without touching what he had written. The page scrolled again, showing the first lines and making the last disappear. Deri erased everything again, leaving the page empty.
He was ready to begin, even though he did not know what.
"Correct," the desk said "when convenient, you can start to work. No time limits, no constraints. You can stop, leave and resume at any time. When you want to finish, write the word end and underline it. What is written will be saved and sent to the committee."
Deri was about to protest, but a sentence wrote itself in his language, at the top left of the screen. It said:
"Discuss the following topic, no length boundaries: this is why my race deserves to be accepted into the galactic community."
Deri read it again and again.
"What idiocy..." he murmured.
He bit his lip and stared at the tip of the pencil as if he could write the answer without the help of his hand.
5.
At first he had told himself: "Is that it?", but now, in retrospect, it was not so easy. In what way had mankind deserved that prize? What did it have to offer to those people? Not technology, of course. The human ability to manage natural resources was better not mentioned, the politic skill towards peoples and resources was better forgotten. Humans were good at making war, but it didn't seem like a good argument in favour of their admission.
Well, there was art, imagination. But could them be sold? There was creativity, whether good or bad. And the sense of history. But what had mankind learned from its history?
Deri was beginning to feel a creeping unease. Did humanity really deserve this opportunity? Especially since it would have been at the expense of other societies, other races of which he knew nothing. Yet it seemed that differentiation was the only reasonable criterion: well, humans are not that great, but still better than... pofriri, or Uzhi, or who knows who else...
He could put it on that level, sure, if he had known something more about the other species, and was it a worthwhile approach anyway? Maybe that giant maggot squirming revolting secretions who was a hundred yards away was a member of an enlightened race, able to boast the highest achievements. What did he know? Impossible to judge by the look. He himself could appear ridiculous or disgusting to most of the beings in there.
Maybe he could try to sell the human energy. That was real. A sort of inner engine that had enabled men to prevail over other terrestrial species, overcoming their physical limitations and exceeding them, creating complex societies and reaching scientific achievements in a few millennia of history. Human energy. The same energy that led to rape nature with undue harassment, of course, but inevitable consequence of an adrenaline excess that had allowed to undermine the dinosaurs from the pedestal of the toughest race.
But was this a unique gift? Had not the other intelligent species done the same? They had elevated themselves above the animals of their worlds by building something important enough to attract the attention of the galactic community.
Did the others have the same factual and creative energy of humans? Probably.
No, playing it on comparison was impossible.
Even talking about the past of man would not do much good, the whole of the human history was filled with conflict and destruction, societies born, lived and annihilated by themselves or by external aggressors. What was left was a promise for the future, or the prospect of a promise. Man had come this far, risking extinction by his own hands for several times, but now he would be able to contribute to the joint peoples of the galaxy. Deri believed it, wanted to believe it, but he wasn’t able to say why.
The man dried the sweat from his brow. He had all the time he wanted, he could take it easy. To ease the tension he started observing the others around him. It was with surprise that he saw Too, about ten feet away. He was cooing quietly, intently, with a strangely diminished voice. He must have had some difficulties too, but he was working. The desk he was sitting at, similar to his own, ticked in sync with the sounds of the Uzhi, recording his statements. Perhaps Too was part of one of those lucky races, as he had defined them. Those who had evolved in balance with themselves and their environment, Too had said. Wouldn’t it be better to leave room to them, letting the human race be on its own for a few more millennia? Maybe, in two or three thousand years, mankind would change, deserve more. Repeating the test then would be easier. Passing it would be right. But could he, a human being, let his fellows be condemned to galactic ostracism? Too had reported the statistics; if they were true, there were high chances that humanity would not be there for the second appointment with the admission exam. Extinction, and Deri would be responsible.
The man was sweating profusely now. A damn headache was gripping him, he could not concentrate. Without realizing it, he was sitting on a stamp-size portion of the chair and he nearly fell to the ground, sliding down a few centimetres. He recovered immediately and forced himself to assume a more comfortable position. What the hell! What was he doing? Mankind had survived for millennia against the worst dangers of nature, it could not succumb now. He would write a masterpiece, driven by that internal engine that had led man from the first apes to him. He had to do it. As a man, he knew he could. He took the pencil with renewed vigour and began writing furiously, no matter the form, that could be taken care of later. Now he just had to go ahead. The first sentences appeared on the bright surface of his desk, while the translation automatically materialized on the right side.
Deri was filled with a new fury, like a fever that seized him and allowed him to support the cause of Man, in the name of Man.
6.
For the third time Deri completely erased everything he had written.
"Not good," he said angrily, "not good."
He started again. He thought of the sons of his brother; they would have other children and he could give them a future of greater quality. Deri and his brother had not seen each other for years over a fight he barely remembered, but he had always had a soft spot for grandchildren. He had never had any children himself. He had always lived alone, probably that was why they had chosen him for that test. Because it was a risky task, now he was sure. He had laughed, at first, but now he understood; that thing dug into you, forced you to look yourself in the eyes, with all the good and bad of your load of humanity.
He thought of his friends, he had some very good ones left, although each had his own family and the consequent duties. Deri did not feel alone, thanks to them. Why to save man? Not for the generic concept of man, not for the ideal continuation of a path, a steady stream of history and genetics, but for his brother Danny and his three children Rob, Tor, and Bo, for his friends Ferdi, Oz, Geri, Tia and their children and grandchildren. For what they were now, for what they would be tomorrow, what the
y would do and have. Deri looked closely at the nearby Uzhi, who was still working hard on his composition. Why condemn the Uzhi and his people to social loneliness, leaving him in his insular world for a possible but uncertain second attempt of admission? Because Too didn’t appear among his friends and companions in life. Because he had just known him. He was not obnoxious, of course, but for him he was nothing. Almost nothing, anyway. The truth was simply this. It wasn’t because he was of another race, but because it was foreign to his life.
Deri deleted everything for the fourth time, grabbed the table with both hands and shook it violently, making quite a racket. He put his hand over his eyes, in the throes of the delirious desire of doing the best job imaginable, conscious that he wasn’t able to. It was not like at school, when he could invent a meritorious and unfelt comment for a literary work which he didn’t care in the slightest of. Here there was no bluff that could do, he could not lie to himself.
"Problems with the desk?"
The cadet was beside him.
Deri looked at her with wide eyes. She was his friend. No, not really, but her availability, the maturity of her race in dealing with other intelligent species made her his friend. Although she was not beautiful to see, even though she was almost