Part 3

"We think it best to balance the mind's work with the mind's ability to play. You'll find that our fun and games are just as advanced as are our aims and our day's work. You'll not be doing anything childish, Wan Nes Stan."

"Len Dor Vale, I eschewed a future long years ago. I gave up my right to wife and family. Women have little lure for me since all women per se look upon men as possible fathers for their children. Games have as their fundamental concept the desire to excel in the mind or the body as an exhibition of desirability to the female. I shall continue to work."

"Then I'll be returning as soon as I can. Sorry, but it is necessary."

"No resentment," smiled Wan Nes Stan affably. "I can get along."

Len Dor Vale smiled at the governor-select and left. He went to his quarters, packed, and within the hour was on his way into the depths of space.

* * * * *

Two days later, he was given the "come-in" signal at a distant planet on the rim of the galaxy. He dropped his ship quickly and obediently and made his way with deference through the city.

The Galactic waited until he was growing impatient before the attendant signaled him to enter the inner sanctum.

"Before you enter ... Len Dor Vale, is it?... you have the rules?"

"I have been here before," answered Len Dor Vale. "I have also reviewed the rules."

"Good. Be not disturbed if any of your questions go unanswered. Students will not reveal anything of dangerous nature and will remain silent rather than give false answer."

Len Dor Vale entered the apartment.

"I seek advice and knowledge."

"Ask."

"Wan Nes Stan is about to take his next step."

"I know."

"I ask, will it be violent?"

"There may be violence, but it will not be a major problem."

"Can I prevent violence?" asked Len Dor Vale.

"No."

Len Dor Vale nodded. "He is a violent man. I see no reason why violence should be permitted."

"Could you prevent it? You, admittedly, are psychologist number four among all the Galactics."

"I am here asking your advice."

"What is he doing now?"

"Attempting to convert his machine to a device that will transfer knowledge from one brain to another. He desires that he gain the governor's place as soon as possible."

"He wants the next step to come at once," mused the Student.

"As his psychologist--and number four of all--I know when the next step will take place. I know, or can predict fairly well how Wan Nes Stan's next move will manifest itself. Were I of his mental caliber to five percent, I would block it!"

"Along that road lies danger--cease following that thought!"

"I shall, immediately."

"Wan Nes Stan has obtruded his philosophy upon you already, Len Dor Vale. The next step will take place soon enough that no replacement of you will be necessary, that you know. Completion of his investigations on the conversion of the mind machine will bring about the next step--as you predict--sooner than it would if he were not so single-minded in his purpose."

"Why was Wan Nes Stan permitted to proceed?"

"Every man gets his chance. Every man must be permitted his opportunity to excel as long as he does no irreparable harm."

"His actions on Terra prior to being forced out were not beneficent or benevolent."

"There were no permanent scars," mused the Student. "As for his use of the machine--it has done all Students good. Evidence to the effect that the mind is limitless is valuable, Len Dor Vale."

"But his is not the type that should use such a machine."

"Agreed. One should have a purely theoretical mind before one uses the machine. Otherwise the mind becomes agile and capacious with nothing for it to do. A complete theorist cares nothing for reduction of theory into practice; manipulation of ultra-theoretical concepts into solution is the end-all for us, and the obtaining of impractical mathematics can be handled in a super-energized mind without unbalance.

"But Wan Nes Stan's philosophy includes violence where necessary, and there will be violence. But not dangerous violence. No man can do anything irreplaceably devastating."

"Frankly," offered Len Dor Vale, "I feared that in taking his next step he might take Planet One with him."

"Unless he can control all of the Galactic minds there, he will not cause change in any but himself. Have no fear, even for those within his reach."

"I thank you. I was worried."

The Student nodded, and turned away from Len Dor Vale by a slight amount. The Student's eyes closed part way as he immersed himself in thought. As Len Dor Vale turned to go, the Student aroused himself briefly--long enough to add:

"Wan Nes Stan will take his next step and the Galaxy will be a better place for it."

* * * * *

Wan Nes Stan shook his head with annoyance as the machine remained mute. For three days he had been working on it with all of his mind-capacity. In the empty crevasses of his capable mind, Wan Nes Stan was packing enormous quantities of information and education gained on the spot. With perfect memory, he stored the details away and reviewed them with perfection before he tried another change in the circuits of his machine. Sheer reasoning power had failed to solve his problem, not even unreal mathematics served. There was no solution to the problem of how to transfer knowledge from brain to brain.

What is knowledge? he asked himself again and again.

Knowledge is a matter of know-how. It is, in a sense, experience whether original or vicarious. A schoolboy need not perform the generation of calculus in order to study it; the myriad of false trails have been weeded out. Thus schooling can pack a lifetime of learning into a few short weeks by merely pointing the way instead of letting the schoolboy follow all the red-herring trails that the original thinker did. In semantics, the student is offered problems and if he fails to solve them properly, he is immediately prevented from basing other solutions on this false premise--pyramiding his illogic.

So Wan Nes Stan answered himself.

To trace the life-patterns of one brain onto another should not be hard. Yet no theory would permit it.

And a thought came to the governor-select. What is philosophy?

Philosophy is a man's personal evaluation of data.

Based upon what?

Evaluation of data based upon experience and knowledge and reason.

What is reason?

The ability to extrapolate beyond present experience and knowledge so as to apply the extrapolation correctly to a problem not yet filed in the realm of experience.

Then philosophy is to efficiently apply one's experience in evaluation of data.

And to apply it properly in guiding his actions.

Suppose then, I gain another man's experience and knowledge?

You will then reason like he did.

And your philosophy will be his.

Precisely.

But the Galactics are doddering old fools! With the galaxy at the tips of their fingers, they play games. An ounce of ambition in one of them would put that one in the governor's seat. Yet they prate about adaptability and aptitude and experience and juggle their figures, consult their computing tables and select a man for each job. Has ambition no place?

Ambition is a factor. To not-want the governor's position would reduce the aptitude factor.

* * * * *

Wan Nes Stan left the building where he lived and roamed idly through the streets. Galactics walked in the afternoon sun oblivious to him. Magnificent couples there were, walking through the trees that lined each street, hand in hand, complete in their own exclusive world of ecstasy. Others sat in self-satisfied contemplation of their problems or presented argument to one another on points and theory.

It was a quiet scene that Wan Nes Stan entered. Even argument seemed to be pro-rated and measured in intensity. Of earnest self-belief there was plenty, but on each evidence of self-conviction there was the soft stamp of willingness to permit the other his own belief. There was no scorn for a conflicting thought, but instead there was admiration for the other party, who had mentality enough to entertain a concept--and believe it--that was at variance with the philosophy of the first.

A galaxy full of mild-mannered little rabbits!

A decadent, sloppily-sentimental culture!

A race of men so blind that they could not see what awaited them once they achieved ambition--who were too busy lifting those below to reach above and lift themselves. Lazily satisfied to advance with the maddeningly-slow process of evolutionary development. What did it matter if Terra received no help?

A culture of missionary-minded altruists.

Owners of the galaxy--and so mentally soft that any man could wrest it from them single-handed.

Any man.

And yet he, Wan Nes Stan, who had the drive, the power, and the capability was blocked. Blocked until he could spend five centuries in service to gain the experience necessary. Five hundred years in the second-place chair. Half a millennium of inactivity before he could begin to take that which he should have now!

Frustrated by a machine. Frustrated by a galaxy full of fools!

"Fools!" he said aloud. No one heard him.

"You, there. Fool!"

"I?" asked the Galactic in surprise.

"You are a fool!"

"A concept I have often considered, but if you wish to belabor the point, I'll be most glad to maintain a stout defense."

"You are a fool!"

"Resolved," said the Galactic, "that I am not. You, as affirm--"

"Fool!"

"But parroting is not presenting argum--"

"Fool! You are a fool."

"By what standard?"

"By mine!" exploded Wan Nes Stan. "You are fools! All of you! You sit there idly, watching the years pass, with all the universe before you, and you do nothing!"

"And you can show us the way?" asked the Galactic. "Might I ask your philosophy, friend?"

"I'm no friend to fools. Show you the way? That I can. I am the only one among you that can show you the way--and you sit there and ignore me. That is why you are fools!"

"Show me and I'll follow," answered the Galactic. "Convince me and I'm your man."

"Bah! One logical, integrated mind in a veritable sea of moronic reason," shouted Wan Nes Stan. "Blocked by ignorance from that which should be mine. Forestalled from my rightful station by sheer numbers--as all great minds are restricted by the blind, mindless, unimaginative imbeciles about him. Blocked and barred from my rightful future--"

Wan Nes Stan leaped forward and snatched the Galactic's hand. He reached forward and clutched the jeweled pin from the Galactic's lapel. He struck the Galactic across the face and started to run from the scene.

Another glitter caught his eye and Wan Nes Stan leaped over to wrest a luminous, jeweled timepiece from around the throat of a woman.

"Give--" he screamed.

And he clutched at a handbag and bore it away in his mad flight.

"--or I take!"

An ornate brooch came free in his hands with a long strip of shimmering, diaphanous silk clinging to the pin. Her companion raced after Wan Nes Stan to remonstrate for the insult, but the madman struck him across the face.

He snatched the ring from the fallen man's finger.

And on he raced, through the bright afternoon sunlight, ever adding to his pile of loot. Galactics clustered behind him, talking to one another, in wondering, unbelieving tones.

But Wan Nes Stan, his lust to strive for power denied him, retreated within himself and substituted the childlike desire for glittering, beckoning things of jewel and credit. Denied even the chance to steal in this world where all was his for the asking, Wan Nes Stan returned to his youth and snatched things that had once been of value to himself and to those about him.

Worthless baubles!

But still he ran, clutching here and there and ever adding to his collection of gaudy junk.

And the final straw came when the Galactics, having no desire to be jostled or beaten, lined the broad sidewalk and quietly unfastened ornaments from jumper or dress or wrist or finger and held it out to Wan Nes Stan as he ran by.

"--I take!" he screamed, and then the scream became a whimper; they took from him the last pleasure of forcing them to part with the baubles and it broke him.

He threw the baubles to the ground. One of the Galactics stooped and scooped them into the handbag and offered it to him.

"I take," he blubbered, and as he saw the proffered bag, his hysteria broke and tears started from his eyes. His mouth pouted and he blubbered and cried like a whipped child. Sobs, deep and lung-shaking gripped his powerful frame and his utter lack of control extended to his motor nerves and he slumped like a rag doll.

Broken in spirit, Wan Nes Stan moved forward through the encircling crowd and left them wondering. They did not follow.

Tears streamed down his contorted face and his steps--laggard and weak--were dotted with drops of moisture as he made his broken way to his office.

He entered wearily, and sat down.

"Wan Nes Stan--megalomaniac!" he said bitterly. He turned at the sound of a step and saw Len Dor Vale watching him.

"Broken," he said.

Len Dor Vale fixed the other man with a piercing gaze. "Sorry," he said. "Quite sorry. But it can not be done that way, you know. The whole proposition was your idea."

"I know," said the other man. He inspected Len Dor Vale's large, well-proportioned frame, his strong features, and his absolute poise and wondered how any man, with all to recommend him, could be so utterly unsympathetic. The coldness in his face set him apart from one of the Galactic Ones. "The proposition was sensible enough, yet I failed. Even though I failed, my manipulations were properly done, you will agree."

Len Dor Vale nodded.

"Where did I fail?"

"You struck a snag."

"It was not my fault."

"Are you crawling?" snapped Len Dor Vale.

"Perhaps," said Wan Nes Stan bitterly. "I want to know how I failed."

Len Dor Vale smiled deprecatorily. "Wan Nes Stan, you failed because you neglected to take everything into account. Before you can succeed--before you can hope to plan without failure, you must learn to take everything into account."

"One cannot take everything into account."

"Yes, one can. It is quite possible--if you know how."

"Everything's easy," said Wan Nes Stan sourly, "once you know how."

"Certainly," laughed Len Dor Vale.

"And because I made a mistake, I'm ruined."

"Had you taken everything into account, you would have known that you could never succeed. You wouldn't have started, and now you wouldn't be a complete and broken failure."

"You may well gloat."

"I'm not gloating," objected Len Dor Vale.

"I believe that," admitted Wan Nes Stan. "But that changes nothing."

"You understand our position, Wan Nes Stan. If we prevented you from trying; well, you might have succeeded, and we'd never know the benefits of your success. It was your idea, and you wanted to try. But don't feel too broken. Others have tried."

"Small consolation. Knowing that another man is starving will not put food in _my_ belly." Wan Nes Stan stood up, dusted his jacket carefully, and left the office.

The report of a pistol echoed and re-echoed up and down the corridor, reverberating and hushing until it could be mistaken for a wild cackle of laughter.

THE END.