Part 2

Ann laughed. "I'm afraid not yet. I'm going to leave that until after I'm married."

"It is not against our law for women to have children before." Still holding the girl's hand, he touched a door. "This room will belong to you, Vincent Guidovich."

The next was for Heidekopfer. The opened door showed a clean, plain room with Venusian yellow poppies in a vase on a writing table, a bed and a washstand with a pitcher of water. The walls were bare and there didn't seem to be any plumbing. Outside the baggage was arriving. Heidekopfer claimed his own, unpacked and put on a pair of clean shoes, and went out to find Ann's door open and the girl engaged in a similar task.

He grumbled, "If that big bruiser keeps on making such a play for you, it's going to be bad for international relations."

She laughed. "He said he loved me--but in the brotherhood of man, everyone must love everyone else. Then he let me take his picture. Let's go check with the Lanzerottis before going to the audience." She stood up.

III

Lanzerotti was zipping open a bottle-container. "Well, Robert Murrayovich, first impressions."

"About what I would have expected from a regime founded on the ideas of Tolstoi," said Heidekopfer, "and a rather screwy set-up. But my general impression was not unfavorable. They seem to be running the place with a decent respect for human values and each other."

"'The will of all is the will of one,'" quoted Lanzerotti. "Did they say that to you, too?" He took a couple of bottles of champagne from the container. "I'm going to give our hosts a treat. It never hurts in opening diplomatic negotiations. I suppose it's too early to ask yet, but you didn't run onto anything that might be a clue to why we aren't getting the castaways back?"

"Nothing that you'd call a clue, but something that might have a connection. Our guide told us that Tolstoia had attained the brotherhood of man a hundred thirty-one Venus years ago. That's eighty-one earth years, and strikes awful close to the date when Unterbaum said the disappearances began."

"Even so," said Ann, "I can't see a whole group of people who have been brought up in civilization giving it up for this." She swept her hand around the room, which was as bare as the others. "Especially that dancer he mentioned."

"A point," conceded Lanzerotti. "Shall we go?"

He led the way back to the main hall. The door from which Samsonov had emerged stood open, and there was a wide table in the room beyond, laid with an array of dishes which held any number of hors d'oeuvres, while eight or nine men and women were gathered about Samsonov. "You know your Russian customs, all right," Heidekopfer murmured to Lanzerotti as the patriarch came forward.

He explained that these were the central committee of the Supreme Soviet; there were introductions and Lanzerotti presented his champagne, which Heidekopfer had to open because none of the Tolstoians seemed to know how.

Vikhranov said admiringly, "How beautiful is the play of bubbles in this beverage!" as the ambassador lifted his glass, saying, "To the future of Tolstoia!" bowed to Samsonov and drank.

The patriarch's return bow was a trifle stiff, but he sipped--and immediately appeared to become the victim of a revolution, spitting the champagne on the floor and coughing with bulging eyes, while the others gathered round him with expressions of sympathy. After a moment of gasping recovery, he pushed them aside and said to Lanzerotti, "I taste alcohol! Is it not so?"

"To be sure," said the ambassador. "You can't very well make champagne without it. Please accept my sincerest apologies for offering it to you if it offends you, however."

"We have a law against it in Tolstoia! The drinking of alcohol leads to failure to recognize the brotherhood of man!"

Heidekopfer said to Ann, "They had a law against alcohol in America once, too, but as far as I can remember, it didn't keep people from drinking."

"Hush," she said, "I like to watch the way he holds his head."

* * * * *

Her eyes were fixed on Samsonov, who was returning the glance with interest as he talked to the ambassador. Heidekopfer growled, helped himself to some of the _zakuski_ (which seemed to consist largely of various kinds of pickled fish and vegetables, with some of the soft Venusian _kara_ nuts) and moved over to join the group around Rosa Lanzerotti. Kazetzky was just saying, "It would pleasure me greatly, little mother, if it is your will to allow me to show you some of the natural beauty of happy Tolstoia tomorrow, while the others are making their official observations."

"Thank you," she said, "but I usually go with my husband on inspection trips, when there are any, and I think I'd rather like to--" She broke off suddenly with a frown between her brows, and Heidekopfer noticed that the others in the group were staring at her with a quite peculiar intensity. Kazetzky was swinging in his fingers some kind of little bright ornament that he wore on a chain around his neck.

Rosa Lanzerotti said slowly, "I think it would be very nice. You'll have to call for me, though. I have no idea of what hours you keep in Tolstoia."

Kazetzky's lugubrious countenance took on an expression that was almost a smile. "It shall be as you desire, little mother. The will of one is the will of all."

The group seemed to split apart, and Vikhranov's voice said in Heidekopfer's ear, "Will you try some of our Tolstoian beer, Robert Murrayovich?"

"I thought you had a law against alcohol," said Heidekopfer, accepting the proffered mug.

"But beer is not alcohol. No one could become drunken from it. Besides, we have a law against becoming drunken, too."

The hell you say, thought Heidekopfer privately, and quaffed. It was about as he suspected; the beer was certainly not 3.2. He said, "What's the official schedule for us tomorrow?"

"In the morning we visit a school and see how children are educated in happy Tolstoia. If there is time we will also visit the grave of the Patriarch Ilarion Triunfovich. In the afternoon, you will see one of our collective farms. On the following day a picnic has been arranged. It will last all day in accordance with our custom."

Heidekopfer frowned. "The school may be some help, and I don't doubt that the farm will be. But in the nature of the report we have to make, a visit to one of your law courts would be a lot more interesting than a picnic, and a sitting of your Supreme Soviet more interesting still."

Vikhranov's flat face showed disapproval. "The sittings of the Supreme Soviet are in secret by law," he said. "We would have to pass a special law admitting you, and I am not sure but it would be concisionary."

"Excuse me. You seem to have developed a term there I have not heard before. What does 'concisionary' mean?"

The guide's disapproval surprisingly became sullenness. "Am I to blame if you cannot understand good Russian?"

"We went to some trouble to learn it, even getting records of Russian as it was spoken at the time Tolstoia was founded, and I'm sorry if I've given offense. But my friend, I'd have you remember that we're here to do you a favor, not the other way round. Have you got a dictionary?"

"We have no need of dictionaries in happy Tolstoia. They are a part of culture and culture is fatal to happiness. It is set down in the Master's own words."

* * * * *

It was saved from developing into a hassle as someone touched Heidekopfer's arm to present him to Anna Golyevna Samsonova, a small woman with dark hair, high cheek-bones and a mouth that seemed set in a perpetual mysterious smile. She said, "Have you been in holy Rrrrrussia, on earth, Robert Murrayovich?"

"No, I haven't had that pleasure," he said, and added gallantly, "But I'm sure this is better. You have made life so much simpler."

"Yes, that is true. Here in happy Tolstoia the will of all is the will of one, and the will of all is toward the good of all. All are happy."

Her eyes darted past him, and he half-turned in time to see that Samsonov was certainly displaying indisputable signs of happiness as he talked to Ann, and what was a good deal worse, the girl was showing no signs of unhappiness. Rather hastily, he said, "Don't you ever have disagreements?"

"Oh, yes. But they do not last long. And if one is not attuned, then he takes the cure."

"I see," said Heidekopfer, although he was reasonably sure he did not, and was saved from more of this disjointed conversation by the ringing of a bell, which Mrs. Samsonov said announced dinner. She led the way through the side door to another large room, where there was a table laid for dinner with steaming dishes already in place. Heidekopfer noticed that the plates were of wood, and of the flatware beside them only the knife-blades were metal. Everyone seemed to seat him or herself where they pleased and fell to work at once on the food without ceremony.

Mrs. Samsonov said, "You may find our food difficult. People who come here often do at first. But we have a law against eating meat except while taking the cure."

Difficult was the word for it, reflected Heidekopfer, munching away at something that appeared to be a combination of cabbage and boiled nuts with a sour sauce. He said, "You seem to have laws about almost everything. Clothes, too?"

She surveyed him with an air of puzzlement, and he noticed that in the candlelight her eyes had a singularly deep quality. "Of course. How would we know how to act without laws?"

"Tell me, what does 'concisionary' mean?"

"It means--" she gave him that glance again "--I don't quite know how to define it, but something against the will of all. As you stay in happy Tolstoia, you will understand." For a moment, looking into her eyes, it seemed to Heidekopfer that he almost did understand. Then she said, "Alexei Ivanovich is concisionary."

"Who?"

"Alexei Ivanovich Dubrassov. The traditionalist. He wished to become patriarch when Pitrim Androvich did, but he would have led Tolstoia back to the days before the brotherhood of man was achieved." She looked around the table and clapped her hands as a signal that the meal was over, and a couple of girls came hurrying in to gather the plates.

Heidekopfer said, "Pardon me, but didn't someone tell me that you had a law against serving one another?"

"It is the will of all that the patriarch be served," she said. Nobody seemed to be leaving the table and the reason became apparent when two men with goose-necked stringed instruments came in, accompanied by a girl who began to sing as they played. The music had certain haunting strains, but was so disjointed that Heidekopfer decided he didn't like it, and looked down the table to see how the others were taking it. He got a shock. Samsonov, seated between Rosa Lanzerotti and Ann, had his arm around the latter's shoulders, and she was leaning back with her eyes half-closed and the smile of a smug kitten.

IV

Ann's voice sounded vaguely apologetic as she explained to Heidekopfer. "His wife didn't seem to mind," she said. "I was watching her."

"That isn't the point," said Heidekopfer. "It isn't even the point that I minded a hell of a lot. As you have so often informed me, I don't own you or even have a claim on you, much as I'd like to. I just want to know _why_ you did it."

The girl's lips closed and her pretty face set in obstinate lines. "Because I wanted to. Because I felt like it. For the same reason I've kissed you a few times."

"But you've never kissed me with about sixteen people looking on. And may I point out that the reason the castaways stayed in Tolstoia was because they wanted to, too. I want to know what made you want to do it."

"And you're going to put the whip on me to find out," said the girl, but with a smile. "No use, Bob--call it an uncontrollable impulse."

Someone tapped at the door and it was Lanzerotti. "Want to come into my room?" he said. "I'd like to compare notes, and if we do it here, two of us will have to sit on the bed."

"All right," said Heidekopfer. "Rosa back yet?"

"No, still communing with nature and Pyotr Ilyich Kazetzky." He glanced at his watch, saying, "I forgot that's no good here on the different system of time, but I'd guess that it's a good hour before bedtime, so I'm not going to worry. Come on." He led the way down the hall, and threw open the door.

"Notice there isn't a lock in the place?" said Heidekopfer. "It may really be true that they've abolished crime."

"I didn't see any either," said Lanzerotti, "but we have to be careful about drawing conclusions from guided tours. The Russians have always been great on setting up Potemkin villages."

"Oh, back in the old imperial days an Empress named Catherine went on a progress through the country to see how it was getting along under her prime minister, Potemkin. He went ahead of her and had villages set up, just the dummy fronts of houses, with actors to play the part of villagers. Back in the Soviet period they used to pull the same trick, to show tourists how prosperous the country was, only they did it with real model villages and factories and people working in them."

"I don't think they're doing that with us," said Heidekopfer. "On the way to the school, I asked to turn off and see one of the farms we passed, and it all seemed perfectly normal and in key with the rest."

"Shall I get the pictures?" said Ann. "That white wall is rather rough, but I imagine it will take projection."

"No, they're for the record," said Lanzerotti. "I just want a verbal report and impressions." He stepped across the room and opened the sound box for recording.

"Well," said Heidekopfer, "we went to a school this morning. It was quite small, but had children of all ages up to about sixteen. It was more like a manual training institute than what we'd call a school. Most of them were learning to use tools, and some of them working in a garden, and doing a pretty good job of it, I'd say. There was only one class with books."

"I asked about that," said Ann. "They practically don't have any books, and those they do have are hand set and hand printed."

"Of course, I can understand their not using microfilm," said Heidekopfer. "That would run into their prohibition of machines. But I don't quite see how they can claim a printing press isn't a machine."

* * * * *

Lanzerotti smiled. "Logic isn't the long suit of most theorists," he said. "However, my opinion is generally favorable. They seem to be decent people with a high standard of morality, and in spite of the Potemkin village angle, it looks good. There's just one thing--we still haven't found any explanation of why the castaways didn't come back. And that is primarily why we came here."

Heidekopfer said, "We can add a second point to that now--or perhaps it's part of the same one. Did you notice Ann after dinner last night while the music was playing?"

Lanzerotti said, "I did notice that she seemed on fairly good terms with our host on somewhat short notice, but I assumed it was her own business."

"The trouble is that she can't tell why she did it," said Heidekopfer.

A little spot of red appeared in the girl's cheeks. "I told you because I felt like it," she said, "and I'm not particularly grateful for being pumped about it! Excuse me, I've got to charge my camera while you discuss my case." She got up, avoided Heidekopfer's protesting hand, and slipped out the door.

Lanzerotti said, "The case seems to call for diplomacy, and as the diplomat of the expedition, I prescribe a cooling-off period. Meanwhile, continue."

"There isn't much to continue with," said Heidekopfer, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You know as well as I do that her behavior with Samsonov wasn't--well, what you'd normally expect, even if it wasn't disgraceful or anything. But it seems to me that it's of a piece with the behavior of the castaways who decided to stay in Tolstoia. In both cases, there was what she herself described as an uncontrollable impulse to do something not normally done."

"Evidence of pattern," said Lanzerotti. "You think pressure was applied from outside. But how? Was the food or the beer drugged? No, it couldn't have been that; we ate and drank the same things, and weren't affected."

"I don't know," said Heidekopfer. "It could have been a special for her. Samsonov hardly took his eyes off her from the first time he saw her."

"I--" began Lanzerotti, when a tap sounded on the door and Rosa Lanzerotti came into the room. "Hello, dear," she said, "have a good day?"

"Good with a little mystery in it, which we were just discussing. And you?"

She laughed. "The same. In fact, if you're up to a trip, the day isn't over yet."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a man outside with a droshky to take us to see someone who wants to meet you. I'll tell you the rest as we go. It might be a good idea if you come along, too, Bob. Wait till I get a recorder." She went over to get one of the small size that fits in a pocket, and the other two stood up. Heidekopfer stopped to tap at Ann's door, but she didn't answer, so he stopped at his own room long enough to slip a light in his pocket, as it had grown quite dark outside. There was no one in the dimly-lighted halls; apparently most good Tolstoians had decided to call it a night. Outside, the heavy night mist which pinch-hits for most of Venus' rain was drifting past in streamers, condensing on everything it touched; Heidekopfer felt drops run down his face.

Rosa said, "He's waiting at the corner of the road, and I was warned not to let myself be seen, so you had better not put on the light now.

"Damn!" said Lanzerotti, stumbling. "All right, Rosa, what's the story?"

"We drove around most of the day looking at various views, while this Kazetzky person explained to me how beautiful it all was. It was, too. Stopped at a house where they were weaving cloth on a wooden hand loom and had some lunch, then drove around again. Kazetzky is not an interesting talker, as I began to realize about the fifteenth time he repeated his line about nature and happiness being connected. But toward dinner time he said, 'Ah! I shall take you to have a repast with a man who has in him much of the spirit of the Master.'"

* * * * *

They had reached the end of the drive, and in the dark could just make out the loom of the droshky. A voice said, "Little mother?" Rosa answered, "Okay, it's me," and Heidekopfer flashed his light briefly to enable them to climb into the vehicle. When they were seated and the driver had stirred his horse into action with the inevitable crack of the whip, Rosa went on, "He took me a little distance, little enough so it looked as though he'd been intending to do that all along, to a house almost as big as the one we're living in. Only the owner wasn't living in it, he was living in a tent pitched in a field outside by a stream. His name is Dubrassov, by the way. Kazetzky introduced me, and then went to the house and brought the family out and introduced them, too, ten or twelve of them. Dubrassov said I must bring you here at once, tonight, before it was too late, to hear something terribly important. They all said yes, I must, and then asked me whether I wanted to eat with the family or Dubrassov. Of course I said Dubrassov, and that was my big mistake. The meal consisted of a whitish liquid that tasted like turpentine and burned like it--"

"Kumiss," said Heidekopfer. "It has a kick, too."

"Apparently they have exceptions to their law about liquor. Anyway, I drank water. As I say, the meal consisted entirely of this kumiss and meat, nothing else, and we had to eat it with our fingers. He apologized for it, I will say, and said he was taking a cure of some kind. A diet like that would cure me of wanting to live."

For a moment there was silence as the droshky jounced along. Then Lanzerotti's voice said out of the dark, "Evidently there are disagreements, even in happy Tolstoia, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to learn what they are. But this whole business has a rather conspiratorial odor, and I'm not sure that a diplomatic representative should be mixed up in it. If you don't mind my saying so, Rosa, you might have given us a chance to discuss all the angles before getting us out of the house."

"But I couldn't do anything else, could I?" Her voice sounded hurt.

The horse's feet clopped in the muddy road. Heidekopfer made a sound like the beginning of speech, then stopped.

"Beg pardon?" said Rosa.

"I just wondered--why didn't you come with us to see the school today? I should have thought you'd find it interesting."

"Oh, there's plenty of time. Besides, if I hadn't gone out to see the country with Kazetzky, I wouldn't have met Dubrassov."

Lanzerotti stirred in his place and said, "By the way, Bob, while you and Ann were looking over that farm this afternoon, I addressed myself to the matter of communications. They don't have to have any, except by word of mouth; the society is so static that there isn't anything requiring quick action by a large number of people, and they can afford to wait."

"Find out anything more about the governmental system?"

"They're disinclined to talk, but I gather it's an almost unchanged adaptation of the Soviet system. Which might be expected, seeing their ancestors came from there, and there's nothing in Tolstoi that would conflict with the system. As a matter of historical process, I'm a bit surprised that there should have been so little evolution--"

"Hell!" said Heidekopfer. "Vincent, when you get to talking theory, you're three parsecs over my head. I just want to know what makes things tick in a practical way."

"The difference is doubtless one of the reasons why we were associated in this mission," said Lanzerotti evenly, and that seemed to put a period to the conversation in the dark until Rosa said, "This must be it. See that light in the tent?"

* * * * *

Heidekopfer flipped on his light and set it in the catch-ring of his hat. The beam diffused through the drifting mist to catch a wooden house painted white and with shutters, on quaint, old-fashioned lines. It was all dark. The droshky pushed on past, bumping off the road across a field toward where a light showed dimly through the wall of a circular tent, and came to a halt. Lanzerotti jumped out and handed Rosa down after him. She approached and said, "May I come in?"

A deep voice boomed, "In the name of the Master, enter, little mother," and the three went in. They saw a powerful looking man, not as big as Samsonov, but with the same indefinable air of force, who barked, "Dubrassov, Alexei Ivanovich," and promptly sat down in the only chair in the tent.

This time the ambassadors knew the right reply. They made it, Rosa sat down on the bed, the others curled up on the ground floor of the tent and waited. Dubrassov glanced from Lanzerotti to Heidekopfer and back with quick motions of his head and neck thrust forward, as though he were trying to see into their minds. Finally he said, "They make me take the cure as concisionary, but it is not I who am the concisionary, it is Pitrim Androvich."

"Indeed," said Lanzerotti.

"It is Pitrim Androvich," Dubrassov repeated. "The will of all is the will of one, but he makes the will of one the will of all."

"I thought the two went together," said Heidekopfer.

The burning eyes were fixed on him. "Are you the ambassador? It is anti-social to interrupt deliberations."

Heidekopfer felt himself flush a little, but said nothing. He could hear the buzz of Rosa's recorder.

"I am the ambassador," said Lanzerotti smoothly. "But I am accredited to the government of Tolstoia, and so far as I am aware, you are a private citizen. However, I will be glad to hear anything you have to say that may affect the question of whether the World Council should allow Tolstoia to colonize the Wrightley Islands."