Galactic Dreams

“We must get the teddy back,” Torrence broke in. “The boy just moved.”

Davy was a good boy and, when he grew older, a good student in school. Even after he began classes he kept teddy around and talked to him while he did his homework.

“How much is seven and five, teddy?”

The furry toy bear rolled its eyes and clapped stubby paws. “Davy knows … shouldn’t ask teddy what Davy knows …”

“Sure I know — I just wanted to see if you did. The answer is thirteen.”

“Davy … the answer is twelve … you better study harder Davy … that’s what teddy says …”

“Fooled you!” Davy laughed. “Made you tell me the answer!”

He was finding ways to get around the robot controls, permanently fixed to answer the question of a younger child. Teddies have the vocabulary and outlook of the very young because their job must be done during the formative years. Teddies teach diction and life history and morals and group adjustment and vocabulary and grammar and all the other things that enable men to live together as social animals. A teddy’s job is done early in the most plastic stages of a child’s life. By the very nature of its task its conversation must be simple and limited. But effective. By the time teddies are discarded as childish toys their job is done.

By the time Davy became David and was eighteen years old, teddy had long since been retired behind a row of books on a high shelf. He was an old friend who had outgrown his useful days. But he was still a friend and certainly couldn’t be discarded. Not that David ever thought of it that way. Teddy was just teddy and that was that. The nursery was now a study, his cot a bed and with his birthday past David was packing because he was going away to the university. He was sealing his bag when the phone bleeped and he saw his father’s tiny image on the screen.

“David …”

“What is it, Father?”

“Would you mind coming down to the library now. There is something rather important.”

David squinted at the screen and noticed for the first time that his father’s face had a pinched, sick look. His heart gave a quick jump.

“I’ll be right down!”

Dr. Eigg was there, arms crossed and sitting almost at attention. So was Torrence, his father’s oldest friend. Though no relation, David had always called him Uncle Torrence. And his father was obviously ill at ease about something. David came in, quickly conscious of all their eyes upon him as he crossed the room and took a chair. He was a lot like his father, with the same build and height. A relaxed, easy-to-know boy with very few problems in life.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Not wrong, Davy,” his father said. He must be upset, David thought, he hasn’t called me that in years. “Or rather something is wrong, but with the state of the world, has been for a long time.”

“Oh, the Panstentialists,” David said, and relaxed a little. He had been hearing about the evils of Panstentialism as long as he could remember. It was just politics; he had been thinking something very personal was wrong.

“Yes Davy, I imagine you know all about them by now. When your mother and I separated, I promised to raise you to the best of my ability and I think that I have. But I am a governor and all of my friends work in government so I’m sure you have heard a lot of political talk in this house. You know our feelings and I think you should share them.”

“I do — and I think I would have no matter where I grew up. Panstentialism is an oppressing philosophy and one that perpetuates itself in power.”

“Exactly. And one man, Barre, is at the heart of it. He stays in the seat of power and will not relinquish it and, with the rejuvenation treatments, will be good for a hundred years more.”

“Barre must go!”

Eigg snapped. “For twenty-three years now he has ruled — and forbidden the continuation of my experiments. Young man, he has stopped my work for a longer time than you have been alive, do you realize that?”

David nodded, but he did not comment. What little he had read about Dr. Eigg’s proposed researches into behavioral human embryology had repelled him: secretly, he was in agreement with Barre’s ban on the work. But on this only. For the rest he was truly in agreement with his father. Panstentialism was a heavy and dusty hand on the world of politics — as well as the world at large.

“I’m not speaking only for myself,” Numen said, his face white and strained. “But for everyone in the world, everyone who is against Barre and his philosophies. I have not held a government position for over twenty years — nor has Torrence here — but I think he’ll agree that this is a small thing. If this were a service to the people we would gladly suffer it. Or if our persecution was the only negative result of Barre’s evil works I would do nothing to stop him.”

“I am in complete agreement.” Torrence nodded. “The fate of two men is of no importance in comparison to the fate of us all. Nor is the fate of one man.”

“Exactly!”