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Soon we were again wandering the City
streets admiring the tall centuries-old buildings in the district around the Half
Man. The garden and its earthly delights couldn’t have seemed further from the
growl of slow moving traffic and the crush of innumerable pedestrians. The
mid-afternoon sun shone down from a sky only occasionally enlivened by the odd
fluffy cloud.
Beta paused
outside a grand imposing building, perhaps two or three hundred years old,
distinguished by a large triangular stone motif of a woman and an ape carrying
geometers and telescopes supported by tall fluted pillars. A statue of a woman
stood high on a pedestal at the entrance whose simple cloth garment dropped
sufficiently to display her rounded breasts and most of her upper torso. She
gazed up at the sky while clutching a large abacus in her arms as if it were a
musical instrument.
“What kind
of building is this?” Beta wondered, standing in front of the statue and
staring up at the forbidding array of windows that dotted the limestone
exterior. “It’s not a museum or art gallery is it?”
I pointed
at a large carved stone on which were sitting several chimpanzees and a
macaque, all wearing white overcoats and surrounded by a scattering of
books. A small chimpanzee wearing
glasses dangled her feet over the enormous carved letters: THE
ACADEMY. Smaller letters beneath displayed
the rest of the title: of Social and Physical Sciences.
“The
Academy?” mused Beta. “I’ve heard of that. It’s the centre for research and
development for the entire country. It deals with science, philosophy,
religion, economics, and almost everything else there is to know about. Shall
we have a closer look?”
We strolled
past the statue to the foot of the marble steps leading up to the building,
which we ascended reverently and peered through the wide open doors of the main
entrance into a massive hallway.
“It’s as
vast as the interior of the Cathedral!” gasped Beta. “No wonder it’s got such a
venerable reputation.”
“And unlike
the reputation for superstition of a cathedral, it has one for Truth and
Knowledge!” commented a young woman in her late twenties, who, like the
chimpanzees outside, wore a long white coat that reached down to her knees. She
scrutinised us through a pair of thick spectacles. “Good afternoon. My name is
Pandora. Pandora Serenissima. I am an official Academy
guide. My function is to escort visitors around the hallowed corridors of the
Academy, and my services are provided by the Academy free to anyone who wishes
to take advantage of them.”
“That’s
very generous,” I remarked.
“The
founders of the Academy believed that the fruit of the work pursued within
these walls should be available to all. They regarded Truth and Knowledge not
as a patented commodity to be hidden from sight and accessible only to the few:
so unlike the élitism practised by the various religions. If you so wish, I
shall gladly take you on an escorted tour.”
“That
sounds a wonderful idea! What do you think?” Beta asked me.
I looked
around the quite monstrous proportions of the central hallway that still by no
means reached the very top of the building. Ahead of us a wide marble staircase
led up, floor by floor, past balconies and small windows, from which could be
glanced the occasional silhouetted figure or the back of a computer screen. At
the very top was a huge archaic clock whose roman numerals were perfectly
visible even from this great distance. On either side of it stood plaster
figures of scantily dressed women carrying more instruments of measurement and
calculation. A pendulum dangled from the domed ceiling and swung backwards and
forwards some six yards above our heads. There was a general bustle of people,
many wearing white coats like that favoured by Pandora, but others sporting a
mix of tweed and corduroy.
“The
Academy was not built in a day,” Pandora recited, beginning her duties without
waiting for my response. “This enormous building has grown up steadily, room by
room, floor by floor, from its very modest beginnings many centuries ago. Its
original purposes were associated with biblical interpretation and astrology -
activities which continue to be performed but attract very little in the way of
grants and celebrated throughout history by the construction of grandiose monuments.
Some of these can be seen in the Academy’s gardens where they still perform
their outmoded purposes of capturing solstice sunlight in baskets and randomly
throwing sticks. However, as science and knowledge has grown, so too has the
Academy to its modern grandeur, advancing vertically upwards storey by storey,
and expanding sideways by the steady acquisition and appropriation of adjacent
buildings. This process is set to continue for as long as business and
government award grants for the many different branches of research pursued by
the Academy.”
“What has
this research produced?” wondered Beta.
Pandora
laughed. “Just look around you! Look at the City. Look at the Academy. Look at
the cars, the trains, the computers and all the modern conveniences. All that is
the result of work pursued here. Without it there just wouldn’t be a modern
society. It’s all technology driven. And that technology didn’t come from
nowhere. It was produced by the work for which the Academy is famous. We would
still be crossing the seas by sailing ship, toiling with quill and papyrus,
freezing in winter and living from day to day. There would be no television. No
space exploration. No computers.”
“But don’t
plenty of people still live like that?” objected Beta. “In the Village we still
don’t have many of the benefits you talk about.”
“That’s a
political problem. That’s not the fault of Science. As I see it, and of course
I speak as an individual rather than as a representative of the Academy,
Science provides and Politics distributes. One should not confuse the two.
Science in itself is blind. The knowledge the Academy brings can be applied in countless
ways. It can be for the universal good and it can rain death and destruction
down on us all. That isn’t the fault of Science. That is the fault of political
systems.”
“Shouldn’t
the Academy be working towards the common good?” Beta persisted.
“That is a
political decision. It’s not one for the Academy to be concerned with. It is
here to provide enlightenment and knowledge. And doesn’t that in itself have great
intrinsic worth? Why should the Academy be troubled when its brief is simply to
uncover the great truths of the universe? That is its purpose. And that is what
it does well. If we didn’t know such things: why then we would be no better than
primitives who lived in simple self-sufficient communities!”
“But I come
from such a place,” Beta argued. “We don’t find any real need for Science
there.”
“Nonsense!”
sniffed Pandora. “Simple principles such as crop rotation, efficient harnesses
for horses and good agricultural implements all come from Science.”
“But hasn’t
Science brought a lot of problems to the world?” I asked.
“We now
know that it’s as nothing compared to the destruction that the natural world
can wrought. In any case, look at all the uncountable physical, mental and
health benefits Science has brought through medicine, arts and economic growth.
Nobody could deny that we are all healthier as a result of antibiotics,
inoculations and body scanners. We now know so accurately what the causes are
of pollution, economic crisis, starvation, disease and warfare. We now know exactly
how to improve everyone’s lot.”
“Then why
are so many people so poor and ignorant?” Beta asked.
“Politics.
People. Stupidity. That’s all. Science can’t be blamed for its misapplication.
We may know how to solve the big problems in the world, but it takes political
will to apply it. The Academy wasn’t built as a political institution, and that
is just and right. The fine work done here is available for everyone, and if
the result is nuclear bombs, cruise missiles and ozone depletion: then so be
it! It is for government, whether Red, Coition or Illicit, to make the crucial decisions.”
We followed
the guide as she strode forward on her flat shoes and up the marble staircase
past election posters, already peeling now their use was expended. There were
almost equal numbers of them for the Red and Illicit Parties. We strode along a
balcony, peering down on the vast hallway, along which occasional stalls were
selling political literature. One was covered with pictures of Chairman
President Rupert and his marsupial face featured prominently on the tall piles
of green books.
“The
Illicit Party seems to be very popular here,” I commented.
“Yes, I
suppose it is,” Pandora mused, as if she had never considered this before. “I
can’t answer why. Politics is not my subject. But there are many people in the
Social Sciences department who might know. Would you like to speak to one of
them?”
“That
sounds interesting,” Beta replied. She grimaced at a poster of Rupert outside a
door and crudely painted graffiti which read: Beware! Red Traitor! next to a cartoon of an
inoffensive orang utan in an ill-fitting denim jacket.
“We are in
the Social Sciences department now,” Pandora continued, as we turned off the
main balcony and walked along a corridor of ornate wooden doors marked by black
plaques on which names of Professors and Doctors were printed in White below
their specialisations. These included Modern
Politics, Mediæval Housing Policy,
Sociopathology, and Racism, Sexism and Ideological Correctness.
“I must confess it’s not an area of study with which I’m terribly familiar. It
all seems very inexact to me. I’m sure that it has provided the world with
great insights: but I fail to see how such widely disparate opinions can be
held without there being some sense of incoherence. How can Economics be considered a science if there are so many widely
different interpretations as to what generates economic growth or even what
economic well-being actually means? However, I’m sure Professor Schwarz will be
able to enlighten us.”
She stopped
outside a door where the professor’s name was displayed just above a poster of
President Chairman Rupert and the single word: TRUTH. His department was known as Contemporary Sociopoliticoeconomics
of which he was the Professor Emeritus. She knocked on the door and on hearing
a response she pushed it open to reveal a large study in which the walls were
covered by shelves upon shelves of books and a few more posters featuring the
face of the President Chairman. A relatively elderly gibbon sat in a leather
chair wearing a tweed jacket, smoking a pipe and reading a large book. He
glanced up at us and an indulgent smile peered through the clouds of smoke
emanating from the pipe.
“Good
afternoon, Pandora. Showing more visitors around the Academy? And who have we
here? Welcome. Welcome. I always enjoy entertaining visitors. And why, Pandora,
have they thought it desirable to come and see an old ape at study?”
“This young
lady was asking questions about the apparent popularity of the Illicit Party
and I thought you would be the obvious candidate to answer her questions...”
“...As I am
a card-carrying member of the Illicit Party, no doubt? But I am really quite a
recent convert. For many years I confess my political views were unashamedly
socialist, but I have in recent months found much to persuade me to switch my
political allegiance. And now, rather than celebrating, I am rather disgusted
by the victory of the Communist and Anarchist Insurrectionists in the General
Election. This is a catastrophe of the first order which justifies any action
of reprisal or civil disobedience.” He lowered the pince-nez which attached
itself precariously to the end of his flattened nose. “I take it that from
where you originate the Illicit Party has not gained the significance that it
is gaining elsewhere. Perhaps you are unaware of the clarity of vision and the
solid scientifically verifiable ideological basis of Illiberal Socialism?”
“Well,
yes,” admitted Beta, standing by the side of a large globe of the world while
the gibbon took another puff from his hooked pipe. “We’ve seen a great deal of
activity from the Illicit Party while we’ve been in the City. A lot of it seems
to be very destructive and antisocial.”
“If the
ends are justified then so too are the means by which to attain it. What this
country - and every other country on this planet - needs is strong government
blessed with a clear vision of where it wants to go and not afraid to do what
is necessary to get there. A party with an ideology that understands the need
for strong central power vested in one person - in this case that of President
Chairman Rupert. An ideology set on the discovery and prudent application of
the Truth. A party firm and unwavering in its ideological purity, but flexible
to change that same ideology in every possible detail to further its ends and
the greater good of the people of the Illiberal Socialist state. A party which
recognises the necessary links between careful monetary management and strong
defence, and does not kow-tow to the malevolent socialist and liberal policies
of trades unions, intellectuals and artists.”
“I just
don’t know what it is that the Illicit Party represents,” Beta wondered. “All
we’ve seen of it is violence and intimidation.”
“In the
right place, these methods of political persuasion, along with indoctrination,
terrorism, assassination and kidnapping, are all integral to the pursuit of
far-reaching and irreversible change. Let us not be shy about this. Political
change is not a painless process.”
“But why
Illicitism?” I asked. “Why should I support Rupert’s party rather than the Red,
Black or Green Parties?”
“The
Illicit Party is the party of the resolution of antitheses. It is a party which
has the boldness to adopt the best of political ideologies long thought of as
opposites. A party which adopts the traditional Communist policies of economic
centralisation; political control through Party infiltration at all levels; and
an end to the dominance of the working class by the petit bourgeoisie. A party which also adopts the
Black Party policies of racial purity, dictatorship and the militarisation
of civil society. A party not afraid to sacrifice jobs, personal freedom
and pluralism to economic growth, progress and pragmatic dogmatism. No other
party offers so much and can reconcile so many apparently opposing views.”
Pandora laughed.
“I really don’t understand you social scientists! Only you could possibly
believe that it is possible for a doctrine to be two things simultaneously.
Aren’t there reasons to support the Illicit cause that might be more persuasive
to the scientist?”
“Historical
necessity,” answered the gibbon, with a wild look of triumph, thrusting his
pince-nez into the air while resting the leather patch of his elbow on the
desk. “The study of Sociopoliticoeconomics has proved that all political change
comes about because it is necessary and unavoidable. As society changes -
whether through technological innovation or military conquest - then its
ideological underpinning must also change. I am convinced that the inevitable
and unavoidable consequence of the changes in our highly complex society
demands the adoption of an ideology which seeks to reduce these complexities to
simple and undeniable concepts such as those pursued by the Illicit Party.
Power. Truth. Wealth. What simpler goals of government and social change could
there be? A society freed of the baleful influences of Cats, intellectual
dissidence, pacifism and religion. A society cleansed of the evils of
homosexuality, feminism, modern art and uncertainty. A society focused like a
laser beam on the greater good revealed by the Truth.”
“I still
don’t see how it is historically necessary that Illicit
ideology should dominate,” Pandora objected.
“It just is.
Society is a complex interweaving of social, political and economic factors,
and political parties succeed best when they represent the purest essence of
its nature. No party better reflects our modern society than the Illicit Party.
Consequently, the Illicit Party will and must take power. But don’t listen to
arguments of political necessity alone. Think also of the desirability of Illicit government. The purpose of government is to
facilitate the greater good of the society it represents. That greater good can
best be measured in terms of economic indicators and territorial extent. What
Illicitism promises, - and has delivered in the
After
leaving Professor Schwarz’s study, Pandora led us to an elevator and beckoned
us inside. “So much for Social Sciences!” she remarked. “If we’d spoken to
Professor Biyad we’d have learnt why pragmatism is the sole purpose of
government. Or to Doctor Rosso why, as society is a thoroughly mutable
phenomenon, it is impossible to properly understand it. I’ll take you up to the
Physical Sciences department where differences of opinion are on a much smaller
scale.”
The doors
of the lift opened and we were in corridors quite obviously more modern, where
the doors had no handles and the names of the occupants were written on small
LED displays just by the side. “This is where true knowledge is acquired. Here
and on the many storeys towering high above us. Here are studied the eleven
dimensions of the universe; the fractions of the Avogadro number; the
metaconsistency of fractals; the curvature of time; the instances of dark matter;
and other such crucial subjects upon which has been built our current
prosperity and happiness.”
“I don’t
really understand how that is,” Beta objected. “I’m sure my life hasn’t been
that much improved by knowing that space and time bend under gravitational
force, or that the entire universe was originally just a perturbation in
infinity. I’m sure that my life would be just as happy and profitable if I
thought the world was as flat as a pizza, only six thousand years old and that
the moon was made of green cheese.”
Pandora
laughed. “What an absurd idea! The fact you know that these things aren’t true
tells me that you surely can’t be serious. Without a
knowledge of quantum fluctuation, time reversal and solid light how
could our society possibly exist?”
“I’m afraid
I have to agree with your guide there,” remarked the equine voice of the
Unicorn whom I’d met a few days earlier in Gotesdene and who appeared from
behind us. He trotted along on his dainty cloven feet, radiating an apparent
golden sheen reflected off his horn and mane. He lowered his head slightly,
shook it from side to side, and then levelled it to meet his eyes with ours.
“Good afternoon, again, young man. You have indeed travelled a long way in your
search for the Truth. Do you hope to find it here in the Academy?”
“I’m not
sure,” I admitted.
“It
certainly seems a more likely location than the Suburbs, where I gather the
Illicitists are heading in their own quest. I would have thought that a place
like the Academy, where so many brilliant minds are gathered in the
whole-hearted pursuance of different aspects of the Truth, would be a far more
likely place to find the Truth than streets and avenues of semi-detached houses
and manicured lawns.”
“What are
you doing here?” I couldn’t help asking.
“Well, I’m
not here on a quest like you,” the Unicorn laughed. “And your young lady
friend? Are you also seeking the Truth with our Suburban friend?”
Beta nodded
shyly, clearly in some awe at the sight of the Unicorn. “I don’t know if we’ll
find it here. It does seem such a big place.”
“Yes. If
the Truth were here, you could spend a very long time finding which room it was
hiding in. No, I’m here as a guest of the Academy’s scientists because of the
rather long term perspectives I have on historical events. It’s amazing just
how much interest they find in the things I’ve seen or witnessed. What was the
weather like in the eighteenth century? Did Francis Bacon write King Lear? Did
the Mediæval Chinese use silicon chip technology? Was
“I dare say
there are scientists interested in you as an individual,” remarked Pandora
admiringly. “You’ve lived such a long time, haven’t you?”
“A very
long time. Well, samples of my genes have been studied to exhaustion and my
horn is forever having to struggle to replenish the samples scraped off it.
Some people still question whether I even exist. Some argue that I am extinct
and others that I am physically impossible. And some even say that as a
mythological beast I shouldn’t be here at all. It’s all very interesting. I
sometimes wonder myself if I exist. What do you think?”
“You look -
and feel - real enough to me!” Beta remarked running her fingers along the
length of the Unicorn’s very firm horn.
“Well,
appearances can be very deceptive you know. It could be that I am indeed not
real. That I am nothing but the product of generations of imagination, thrown
together from elements of different animals like elands, lions, horses and
goats, and turned into a symbol of hope and nostalgia. It could be that I am
real and that none of you are real. That this guide here is nothing more than
an astrological motif. That you, my dear, are only a fantasy of incongruity in
a modern age. And that my Suburban friend is nothing but a vehicle for everyone
else to reflect their existence through his nullity. It could be that the City
is nothing more than a mythical location in a mythical modern age.”
“That’s
nonsense!” laughed Pandora. “There are no doubt levels of scale and abstraction
in which one can doubt the solidity of real life. But if there is anything of
which I am certain it is that I exist, and it would seem absurd to me that the
world around me didn’t exist. How can any sane person deny this? It is on this
fundamental premise that all empirical research is built and the foundation on
which science and technology is based.”
“I don’t
believe that the world could possibly be such a complex and frightening place
if it weren’t real,” Beta elaborated. “I know it all sounds pretty fantastic:
all this stuff about parallel universes, fragmented spacetime and
multidimensional moëbius bands. But I’m sure that it is as real as we are. And
you as well, I’m sure.”
The Unicorn
tossed his head from side to side, as if shaking off the suggestion of his lack
of reality. He raised it and addressed me again. “So, how do you like the City?
I’m glad to see that you took my advice and came here after leaving Gotesdene.
It’s very different from the Country, don’t you think?”
I nodded.
“It’s difficult to believe we’re in the same realm. How can there be so much
wealth here and so little in the Country? And things are so expensive here! How
can that be?”
“I’m sure
there are people in the Academy who could answer your questions far more
authoritatively than me. Isn’t that so?”
“Indeed,
there are many experts here who have thoroughly studied the disparities of the
City and the Country in all sorts of disciplines,” confirmed Pandora. “There
are Economics professors who argue that the cause is the greater degree of
economic activity in the City creating a disproportionate amount of wealth,
which reinforces itself by creaming off all surplus economic activity from the
Country to satisfy its requirements for labour and resources. There are
Sociologists who say that the City is the natural product of the need for
people to gather in large units thereby concentrating greater opportunities in
the areas of greatest population density. There are Archæologists who would
argue that the City is the manifestation of civilisation and without it there
would be no science, no technology and no culture. There are Political
Scientists who warn that the concentration of wealth in the City is a danger as
it bleeds dry the resources of the Country to feed its needs, and that
eventually the process must result in an event in which the Country collapses
economically and drags the City down with it. There are others who say that the
City is merely a phase of society and that eventually the process will go into
reverse and that the City will become depopulated and units of production will
shift into the Country as technology removes the economic advantage of
geographical proximity.”
“I daresay
there is a theory for every individual working in the Academy!” hinnied the
Unicorn. “However, I spend a great deal of time in the Country - as I do in the
City - and it worries me how the Country can survive as it is for very much
longer. I fear that it is fast gaining all the detrimental side affects of City
life and precious few of its benefits. And as long as those in the City remain
so apparently wealthy (even if their money buys so little) then those living in
the Country will feel increasing resentment. And while there is mounting
dissatisfaction there is also a real risk of major social upheaval.”
Pandora
smiled. “Perhaps, if we’re discussing the City and the Country, we should be in
the Geography department rather than the Physical Sciences. I live in the City.
There seem to be quite enough problems here without needing to worry about the
Country. A lot of it is just economic activity. Nothing in the City can keep
pace with it.”
“Things do change very fast in the City,” the Unicorn
agreed. “I can barely recognise some parts of it from the last time I visited.
Green fields become housing estates. Slums become industrial parks. Railway
stations become supermarkets. Department stores become multi-storey car parks.
And the pollution! It seems to change all the time. Once it was coal smoke and
ordure. Then it was petrol fumes and nuclear radiation. Now it seems to be
noise and ultraviolet light. My head just fills with the smells, sounds and
stress of the City: clogging up my nostrils and leaving black grease between my
cloven hooves.”
“Where does
all the pollution come from?” wondered Beta naïvely.
“Ultimately
it comes from the Country and from abroad,” the Unicorn replied. “The raw
materials are imported into the City and converted into petrol, polystyrene,
newspapers, plastic bottles and street lighting. This in turn is discarded as
waste - sometimes solid, sometimes liquid, sometimes gas, and sometimes as
specks of dust floating above the street. Then I don’t know what happens to it
all.”
“It gets
returned to the Country,” Pandora answered, without a hint of irony in her
voice. “That’s where all the rubbish heaps, nuclear dumps and sewage farms are.
You don’t want all that foul stuff polluting the City, do you?”
“So, it
gets returned to where it came from in a different form to how it was sent,”
Beta mused. “I suppose that’s only fair. Perhaps it can be sent back to the
City later.”
“Only if
it’s cleaned and made properly sterile,” sniffed Pandora dismissively.
“The City
may be a very stressful place, but I love it,” the Unicorn added. “It’s such an
exciting place. The world would be a sorrier place without it. This is where
all the culture is, where all the shops are, where all the money is. It has to
be somewhere, and this is it. I see the City growing and growing. Expanding by
acquisition and growth. Rather like this Academy. The buildings grow ever
taller. More and more of the Country is sacrificed to accommodate the hunger
for land. Roads penetrate deeper and deeper into what were once pampas, dense
forests and marshland. And as it expands, the City’s heart becomes increasingly
derelict as yesterday’s technology becomes today’s industrial wasteland.”
Beta
frowned. “Are you implying that the City will eventually swallow up all the
Country?”
“I can’t
see that happening at all!” laughed Pandora sceptically. “There’s an awful lot
of Country. And big though the City might be, - and bigger still as it may well
be in the future, - it couldn’t possibly expand that much.”
“You say
that,” the Unicorn argued sadly, “and there must be truth in what you say. The
City needs a world beyond it to survive. But I’ve seen the City double and
double generation after generation. I remember when all this didn’t exist: the
tall buildings, the busy roads, the night clubs, the underground trains. I
remember when the City was just a small village of Celtic peasants fishing in
the river and hunting mammoths. I’ve seen the City grow to be a small town, and
then grow ever bigger, swallowing up other villages and towns, paving the
dirt-tracks with tar macadam, laying railway tracks through ancient palaces and
digging underground sewerage canals beneath cathedrals. I’ve known places
famous for picturesque waterfalls and herds of wildebeest which are now buried
under skyscrapers, underpasses and flyovers. If the City does indeed grow at
its present exponential rate then surely, by all the rules of geometric
progression, this nation will become just one vast City from border to border,
from shore to shore and from deep beneath the ground to high above the sky.”
“That can’t
happen!” Pandora objected. “Before then the whole edifice would have to
collapse. It can’t expand too far or too fast without exceeding all the
available resources, and stretching its ability to service its needs beyond its
capacity to do so!”
The Unicorn
nodded sagely. “I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure you’re absolutely right!
However, I’m hungry. Would you like to join me for a meal in the Academy’s
excellent restaurant?”
Beta
protested about the cost, but the Unicorn dismissed her objections. “It’s no
problem to me to afford it,” he assured us.
Pandora and
he led us along a series of corridors and down several storeys to the refectory
which was a large hall of tables, chairs and an extensive counter serving
sandwiches, snacks and hot meals. A few people were scattered about the tables,
many wearing white coats, and chatting over coffee and biscuits. We selected
some sandwiches and drinks at the counter and the Unicorn paid the barbary ape serving at the till. We sat down at a table,
with the Unicorn standing to one side, chewing on clumps from the trough of hay
he’d ordered for himself.
“So, young
man, do you think your visit to the Academy has brought you any closer in your
search for the Truth?” he asked, strands of hay drooping from his lips. “Or do
you think that the Illicit Party is correct in seeking the Truth in the
Suburbs?”
“I’m not
sure,” I replied thoughtfully. “We haven’t actually found the Truth here, and I
get the impression that there is too much disagreement amongst the
distinguished professors and academics as to what the Truth may be, for it to
be likely to find it here.”
“In any
case,” Beta interjected, “we were advised by someone we’ve recently met to
follow this Rupert and search for the Truth in the Suburbs. We were told that
there would really be nothing lost by doing so.”
“Indeed
not,” agreed the Unicorn. “Though it does seem the most unlikely place in the
entire universe for it to be. And aren’t the Suburbs exactly the place from
which your search began? What point is there of retracing your steps?”
Before I
could answer him, we were approached by a chimpanzee in a white coat carrying a
clipboard and with a pencil protruding from the chest pocket.
“Ah! There
you are!” she exclaimed to the Unicorn. “I was hoping I’d meet you. I’d like to
introduce you to a colleague of mine, Doctor Dixhuit, who would like to discuss
your observations of Mediæval crop rotation.” She indicated a colobus monkey.
“Could we possibly trouble you for a few moments?”
“Certainly
you may,” replied the Unicorn amiably. “Anything I can do to further the cause
of knowledge.”
He bid the
three of us farewell and trotted off out of the canteen between the two
simians.
Pandora
observed him leave, and then turned towards us with a small frown. “Excuse me,
but am I right in understanding from your exchange with our artiodactyl friend
that you two are searching for the Truth just like those fanatics from the
Illicit Party?”
We nodded.
“It seems a very worthwhile pursuit,” Beta explained.
“Indeed it
is,” our guide agreed, “but not one I would have thought to be pursued merely
by wandering about. All of us in the employ of the Academy are seeking the
Truth, but none of us would seriously contend that it can be discovered just by
walking about the City or even the Suburbs. The Truth is a much more abstract
and intangible entity, and its eventual discovery is much more likely through
the process of scientific enquiry.”
“How does
that work?” Beta wondered.
“Quite
simply by the process of postulating a hypothesis and demonstrating its truth
or falsity. The Truth by its very nature is something which must lend itself to
logical proof. It must be something for which there can be ultimately no
countervailing hypothesis which can be proved to also be true.”
“But isn’t
science to do with observation and experimentation rather than pure logic?”
Beta persisted.
“Naturally. If a hypothesis is true, it
must be possible to demonstrate its truth by reference to the real world.”
“Is it
necessarily the case that the Truth can
be shown to be true by such means?”
Pandora
raised an eyebrow. “What a bizarre idea! Are you suggesting that the Truth is
in some inexplicable way divorced from the real world of scientific enquiry? Can
you be seriously implying that the Truth is not ultimately a physical and
actual attribute of the universe? What else could it be?”
“How can
that explain love, beauty and morality? Where are the ethics of a simple
mathematical equation? Where is emotion or feeling in a Truth like that? Where
are passion, ecstasy, desire and hope? Where is the possibility of love?”
“What do
you mean by love?” wondered Pandora, seeming genuinely puzzled by Beta’s
repetition of this theme. “Love is nothing more than a biological process
evolved in social animals for group cohesion and sexual bonding.”
“That doesn’t
seem right!” objected Beta, holding my hand and looking defiantly at Pandora.
“Love is the expression of the strongest and most positive feeling there can
possibly be. It fills the mind, the body and the soul, and changes our
perception of everything. Don’t Christians, for instance, say that God is
Love?”
“That’s
nothing but theological nonsense!” sniffed Pandora. “However, I wouldn’t
confuse love in the religious sense, which is both promiscuous and
indiscriminate, with the carnal love which I suspect you have indulged in. Am I
right in assuming that you are not a virgin?”
Beta
blushed, and squeezed my hand rather more tightly. “What did you say?”
“Are you a
virgin? Or have you indulged in physical and carnal activity?”
Beta shook
her head slowly and a little guiltily looking down at the table and the plate
in which the crumbs of her sandwich were scattered.
“It is then
no wonder that you have such a strange and unscientific view of the world. I
have never felt the need of diverting
my energies away from the pure and wholly absorbing search for scientific Truth
with such disgusting, nasty and bestial activities as copulation. What kind of
person would I be if I allowed myself to indulge in such unrefined and
unconstructive activity?”
Neither
Beta nor I had expected such an outburst from the guide, and an uneasy silence
prevailed while Pandora sipped her tea and Beta looked down at her plate
clearly very upset at her admonishment, but still tightly gripping my hand. Pandora
finished her tea and put down her plastic cup.
“Well, it’s
been nice meeting you,” she said in a polite but cold voice. “I wish you the
best in your futile search for the Truth, though it would have been more
profitable for you to support rather the research of the Academy than the
fantasies of a foreign dictator.”
With that
Pandora left, and Beta and I sat together in the expanse of the refectory. We
felt somewhat ill at ease sitting there after our small lunch and dressed so
very differently from the academics gathered around.
“Pandora must be wrong with what she says about
the Truth. It couldn’t be the Truth
at all if it wasn’t also Love,” bravely insisted Beta.
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