what do you see? For the most part, you can’t say that the leaders are where
they are because of any particular talent or ability, can you—most of them
aren’t really very bright when all’s said and done. In many cases their only
claim to exceptionality is their abnormal gullibility and extraordinary capacity
for self-delusion. But the people don’t see it. The leader-image that exists in
the minds of the followers is something quite different. The person that the
followers follow is a fantasy that they manufacture in their own imaginations,
which they can project onto anyone who’ll stand up and play the role. All that a
leader needs is the gall to stand up and tell them he’s got what they’re looking
for. They’ll believe it because they need to.”
“They need to believe they’re in capable hands,” Price said, taking the point.
“Truth isn’t the important thing. The important thing is to be certain.” It
didn’t sound as if he was hearing it for the first time.
“To have the illusion of certainty, anyway,” Zambendorf agreed. “If they just
know their place and do as they’re told, life will be very cosy and
uncomplicated. To feel secure they need their authority figures. They’d be lost
without them—hopelessly, helplessly, and traumatically. They talk about being
free, but the thought of real freedom terrifies them. They couldn’t handle it
… not until they learn how in their own time, anyhow.” He raised his head to
look at Price. “And that’s why trying to tell them they’re being taken doesn’t
do any good. Even if they do get rid of whoever is selling them up the river
today, tomorrow they’ll be flocking after somebody else who’s just as bad, and
quite likely worse. They wouldn’t have learned a thing.”
A few seconds of silence passed, broken only by the voices of Clarissa and
Abaquaan reciting numbers to each other in the nose compartment. “So what do you
do?” Price asked at last. “About the Taloids, I mean. We can’t just wash our
hands of the whole business and do nothing.”
Zambendorf frowned down at the floor and sighed. “First we have to accept
reality as it is,” he replied slowly. “And the facts are that you can’t turn
people whose beliefs are based on ignorance and superstition into rational,
objective thinkers overnight. You’d be wasting your time. They don’t have the
concepts. The only way they’ll get rid of corrupt leaders is when they stop
listening to them, not because of any slogans that you or I might have taught
them to memorize, but because of reasons they’ve worked out for themselves and
understand. You’re right —the answer is education, but unfortunately there isn’t
any instant brand of it that you can get by adding water.”
Price thought for a moment. “Well, if they’re going to go on being irrational
for a while anyway, maybe the best thing you can do is give them some kind of
harmless substitute to get them by in the meantime,” he said. “You should know
what I’m talking about. It’s what you’ve been doing for years, isn’t it.”
“Well, it took you long enough to figure that out,” Zambendorf grunted.
Price worried at a tooth with his thumbnail and eyed Zambendorf dubiously for a
second or two longer, then looked away and stared at the far wall. Suddenly he
got up and crossed the cabin to peer through one of the ports. “What is it?”
Zambendorf asked, turning in his seat.
“I thought I saw something moving just outside the light out there. . . . Maybe
not. I don’t know.”
Zambendorf rose to his feet and moved over to the port to look for himself.
After a few seconds he called in the direction of the forward cabin door, “Can
you turn on an outside flood, Clarissa?—port-side forward?”
“Why?”
“We think there might be something moving out there.”
A moment later a cone of light stabbed from the craft and etched the figure of
the Taloid clearly against the darkness. It was motionless on its knees, its
hands clasped upon its chest and its head bowed in humble reverence.
28
“ARRGH!”
Groork raised his arms to shield his eyes as the shining creature’s side opened