"Those sanctions are enforced in America, too."
"Yes, if you make a big deal about it," said John Paul. "Like your father. Like your whole church."
"Not my church."
"Right, of course, you're the only person in history who is completely immune to her religious upbringing."
She wanted to argue with him, but she knew the science his assertion was based on that showed the impossibility of escaping from the core worldview instilled in children by their parents. Even though she had long since repudiated it, it was still inside her, so that there was a constant argument, her parents' voices sniping at her, her own inner voice arguing with them. "Even people who just quietly have lots of children get zapped by the law," she said.
"My older sibs were set up with relatives. Enough of us were boarded out that there were never more than two children home. We were called nieces and nephews when we 'visited.' "
"And they still maintained all this for you, even after you refused to go to Battle School?"
"Sort of," said John Paul. "They actually made me go to ground school for a while, but I went on strike. And then they talked about sending us all back to Poland or getting sanctions against us here in America."
"So why didn't they?"
"I had the deal in writing."
"Since when has that ever stopped a determined government?"
"Oh, it wasn't because the contract was particularly enforceable. It was the fact that it existed at all. I merely threatened to make it public. And they couldn't deny that they had fiddled with the population laws because here we were, physical evidence that they had made an exception."
"Government can make all kinds of inconvenient evidence disappear."
"I know," said John Paul. "Which is why I think they still have an agenda. They couldn't get me into Battle School, but they let me stay here in America and my whole family, too. Like the devil in all the old sell-your-soul stories, they're going to collect sometime."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"I'll deal with it when their plan emerges. So what about you? Their plan for you is already quite clear."
"Not really," she said. "On the surface, it looks like typical Hegemony behavior--punish the daughter to get the highly visible father to cease his rebellion against the population laws. Unfortunately, my father grew up on the movie 'A Man for All Seasons' and he thinks he's Thomas More. I think it only disappointed him that it was my head they cut off instead of his, professionally speaking."
"Only you think there's more to it than that?"
"The dean and my committee are still going to give me my degree and have me head the project--I'm just not going to get any credit for it. Well, that's annoying, yes, but in the long run it's trivial. Don't you think?"
"Maybe they think you're a careerist like they all are."
"But they know my father's not. They can't actually think this would make him give in. Or that it would even get me to try to pressure him."
"Don't underestimate the stupidity of the government."
"This is wartime," she said. "An emergency they really believe in. The tolerance for idiots in powerful positions is very low right now. No, I don't think they're stupid. I think I don't understand their plan yet."
He nodded. "So we're both waiting to see what they have in mind."
"I suppose."
"And you're going to stay here and head your project."
"For now."
"Once you start, you won't let go until you have your results."
"Some of the results won't be in for twenty years."
"Longitudinal study?"
"Observational, really. And in a sense it's absurd--trying to mathematicize history. But I've set up the criteria for measuring the key components of long-lived civil societies, and the triggers that collapse a civil society back into tribalism. Is it possible for a civitas to last forever? Or is breakdown an inevitable product of a successful civil society? Or is there a hunger for the tribe that always works its way to the surface? Right now it doesn't look good for the human race. My preliminary assessment shows that when a civil society is mature and successful, the citizens become complacent and to satisfy various needs they reinvent tribes that eventually collapse the society from the inside."
"So both failure and success lead to failure."
"The only question is whether it's inevitable."
"Sounds like useful information."
"I can tell them right now that population controls are about as stupid a move as they could make."
"Depending on the goal," said John Paul.
She thought about that for a moment. "You mean they might not be trying to make the Hegemony last?"
"What is the Hegemony? Just a collection of nations that banded together to fight off one enemy. What if we win? Why would the Hegemony be permitted to continue? Why would nations like this one submit to authority?"
"They might, if the Hegemony were well-governed."
"That's the fear. If only a few nations want out, then the others might hold them all in, like the North did to the South in the American Civil War. So if you intend to break up the Hegemony, you make sure as many nations and tribes as possible detest it and regard it as an oppressor."
Well, aren't I the stupid one, thought Theresa. In all these years, neither Father nor I has ever questioned the motive of the population laws. "Do you really think there's anybody in the Hegemony who's subtle enough to think of something like that?"
"It doesn't take a lot. A few key players. Why do they make such a divisive program the absolute linchpin of the war program? The population laws don't help the economy. We have plenty of raw materials, and we'd actually accomplish more, faster, if we had a steadily growing world population. On every count it's counterproductive. And yet it's the one dogma that nobody dares to question. Like the way the class reacted when you just touched on the subject this morning."
"So if the last thing they want is for the Hegemony to last, why would they allow my project to continue?"
"Maybe the people who push for the population laws aren't the same people as the ones who are letting your project go on under the table."
"And if my father were still in the game, he might even know who."
"Or not. He was with the I.F. These people might be non-military. Might be within various national governments and not in the Hegemony at all. What if your project is being quietly supported by the American government while they make a show of enforcing the population laws for the Hegemony?"
"Either way, I'm just a tool."
"Come on, Theresa," he said. "We're all tools in somebody's kit. But that doesn't mean we can't make tools out of other people. Or figure out interesting things to use ourselves for."
When he called her by name, it annoyed her. Well, maybe not annoyed. She felt something, anyway, and it made her uncomfortable. "This was a very good picnic, Mr. Wiggin, but I'm afraid you think it's changed our relationship."
"Of course it has," said John Paul, "since we didn't have one and now we do."
"We had one--teacher and student."
"We still have that one--in class."
"That's the only one we have."
"Not really," said John Paul. "Because I'm also a teacher and you're a student, when it comes to the things I know and you don't."
"I'll let you know when that happens. I'll enroll in your class."
"We make each other think better," he said. "Together, we're smarter. And when you consider how incredibly bright we both are apart, it's downright scary to combine us."
"Intellectual nuclear fusion," she said, mocking the idea.
Only it wasn't mockery, was it? It was quite possibly true.
"Of course, our relationship is grossly unbalanced," said John Paul.
"In what way?" she asked, suspecting that he would find some clever way of saying that he was smarter or more creative.
"Because I'm in love with you," said John Paul, "and you still think I'm an
annoying student."
She knew what she ought to feel. She ought to find his attentions touching and sweet. She also knew what she ought to do. She should immediately tell him that while she was flattered by his feelings, they would never lead to anything because she didn't have those feelings toward him and never would.
Only she didn't know that. Not for sure. There was something breathtaking about his declaring himself like this.
"We only met today," she said.
"And what I feel is only the first stirring of love," he said. "If you treat me like a hairball, then of course I'll get over it. But I don't want to get over it. I want to keep getting to know you better and better, so I can love you more and more. I think you're a match for me, and more than a match. Where else am I ever going to find a woman who just might be smarter than I am?"
"Since when is that what a man is looking for?"
"Only stupid men trying to seem smart need to be with dumb women. Only weak men trying to look strong are attracted to compliant women. Surely there's something about that in Human Community."
"So you saw me this morning and--"
"I heard you this morning, I talked with you, you made me think, I made you think, and it was electric. It was just as electric a moment ago as we sat here trying to outguess the Hegemony. I think they ought to be scared to death, having the two of us sitting here together plotting against them."
"Is that what we were doing?"
"We both hate them," said John Paul.
"I don't know that I do," said Theresa. "My father does. But I'm not my father."
"You hate the Hegemony because it isn't what it pretends to be," said John Paul. "If it were really a government of the whole human race, with a commitment to democracy and fairness and growth and freedom, then neither of us would oppose it. Instead it's merely a temporary alliance which leaves a lot of evil governments intact underneath its umbrella. And now that we know that those governments are manipulating things to try to make sure the Hegemony never becomes the thing we want it to be, then what are two brilliant kids like us to do, except plot to overthrow the present Hegemony and put something better in its place?"
"I'm not interested in politics."
"You live and breathe politics," said John Paul. "You just call it 'community studies' and pretend you're only interested in observing and understanding. But someday you'll have children and they'll live in this world and you already care very much what kind of world they live in."
She didn't like this at all. "What makes you think I intend ever to have children?"
He just chuckled.
"I'm certainly not going to have them," she said, "in order to flout the population laws."
"Come on," said John Paul. "I've already read the textbook. It's one of the basic principles of community studies. Even people who think they don't want to reproduce still make most of their decisions as if they were active reproducers."
"With exceptions."
"Pathological ones," said John Paul. "You're healthy."
"Are all Polish men as arrogant and intrusive and rude as you?"
"Few measure up to my standards, but most try."
"So you decided in class that I was going to be the mother of your children?"
"Theresa," said John Paul, "we're both at prime reproductive age. We both size up everyone we see as potential reproductive partners."
"Maybe I sized you up differently from the way you sized me up."
"I know you did," said John Paul. "But my endeavor for the next while is to make myself irresistible to you."
"Didn't it occur to you that saying it right out loud would be extremely off-putting?"
"Come on," said John Paul. "You knew what I was about from the start. What would I accomplish by pretending?"
"Maybe I want to be courted a little. I have all the needs of an ordinary human female."
"Excuse me," said John Paul, "but some women would think that I was making a pretty damn good start at courting you. You get really bad news, you have a bad phone conversation, you cry in your office, and when you come out, here I am, with comfort food that you know I've gone to a lot of trouble to prepare for you, without your asking--and I tell you that I love you and my intention is to be your partner in science, politics, and family-making. I think that's damned romantic."
"Well, yes. But something's still missing."
"I know. I was waiting for just the right moment to tell you how much I want to take that ridiculous sweater off of you. I thought I'd wait, though, until you wanted me to do it so badly that you almost couldn't stand it."
She found herself laughing and blushing. "It'll be a long time before that happens, buster."
"As long as it takes. I'm a Polish Catholic boy. The kind of girl we marry is the kind that doesn't give you the milk until you buy the cow."
"That's such an attractive analogy."
"What about 'Eggs until you buy the chicken'?"
"Try 'Bacon until you buy the pig'?"
"Ouch," he said. "But if you insist, I'll try to think of you in porcine terms."
"You're not going to kiss me tonight."
"Who'd want to? You have salad in your teeth."
"I'm too emotionally on edge to make any kind of rational decision right now."
"I was counting on that."
"And here's a thought," she said. "What if this is their plan?"
"Whose plan?"
"Them. The same them we've been talking about. What if the reason they didn't send you back to Poland is because they wanted you to marry a really smart girl--maybe the daughter of the world's leading military theoretician. Of course, they couldn't be sure you'd end up in my section of Human Community."
"Yes, they could," he said thoughtfully.
"Ah," she said. "So you didn't want my section."
He stared at the remnants of the food. "What an interesting idea. We might be somebody's idea of a eugenics program."
"Ever since co-ed colleges began," she said, "it's been a marriage market for people with money to meet and marry people with brains."
"And vice versa."
"But sometimes two people with brains get together."
"And when they have babies, watch out."
Then they both burst out laughing.
"That is way arrogant, even for me," said John Paul. "As if you and I were so valuable that they'd bet the farm on us falling in love with each other."
"Maybe they knew we were both so irresistibly charming that if we ever met, we couldn't help falling in love."
"It's happening to me," said John Paul.
"Well, it's not happening to me at all," she said.
"Oh, but I do love a challenge."
"What if we find out that it's true? That they really are pushing us together?"
"So what?" said John Paul. "What does it matter if, by following my heart, I also fulfill someone else's plan?"
"What if we don't like the plan?" she said. "What if this is like Rumpelstiltskin? What if we have to give up what we love best in order to have what we want most?"
"Or vice versa."
"I'm not joking."
"Neither am I," said John Paul. "Even in cultures where marriages are arranged by the parents, you're never actually forbidden to fall in love with your mate."
"I'm not in love, Mr. Wiggin."
"All right then," he said. "Tell me to go away."
She said nothing.
"You aren't telling me to go away."
"I should," she said. "In fact, I already did, several times, and you didn't go."
"I wanted to make sure you knew exactly what you were throwing away. But now that you've eaten my food and heard my confessions, I'm ready to take no for an answer, if you want to say it."
"Well, I'm not going to say it. As long as you understand that not saying no doesn't mean yes."
He laughed. "I understand that. I also understand that not saying yes doesn't mean no."
"In some circumstances. Ab
out some things."
"So the kiss is still a definite no?" he said.
"I have salad in my teeth, remember?"
He got up onto his knees, leaned over to her, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "No teeth, no salad," he said.
"I don't even like you yet," she said. "And here you are taking liberties."
He kissed her forehead. "You realize that about three dozen people have seen us sitting here eating. And any one of them might walk by and see me kissing you."
"Scandal," she said.
"Ruin," he said.
"We'll be reported to the authorities," she said.
"It might just make their day," he said.
And since it was an emotional day, and she really did like him, and her feelings were in such a turmoil that she didn't know what was right or good or wise, she yielded to impulse and kissed him back. On the lips. A brief childlike kiss, but a kiss all the same.
Then the mushrooms came, and while John Paul paid for them and tipped the delivery girl, Theresa leaned against the door of her office and tried to think about what had happened today, what was still happening with this Wiggin boy, what might happen in the future, with her career, with her life, with him.
Nothing was clear. Nothing was certain.
And yet, despite all the bad things that had happened and all the tears she had shed, she couldn't help but think that today had been, on balance, a very good day.
ENDER'S GAME
"Whatever your gravity is when you get to the door. remember--the enemy's gate is down. If you step through your own door like you're out for a stroll, you're a big target and you deserve to get hit. With more than a flasher." Ender Wiggin paused and looked over the group. Most were just watching him nervously. A few understanding. A few sullen and resisting.
First day with this army, all fresh from the teacher squads, and Ender had forgotten how young new kids could be. He'd been in it for three years, they'd had six months--nobody over nine years old in the whole bunch. But they were his. At eleven, he was half a year early to be a commander. He'd had a toon of his own and knew a few tricks, but there were forty in his new army. Green. All marksmen with a flasher, all in top shape, or they wouldn't be here--but they were all just as likely as not to get wiped out first time into battle.
"Remember," he went on, "they can't see you till you get through that door. But the second you're out, they'll be on you. So hit that door the way you want to be when they shoot at you. Legs up under you, going straight down." He pointed at a sullen kid who looked like he was only seven, the smallest of them all. "Which way is down, greenoh!"