The colonel looked at Bergen intently, and Bergen sensed that this comment had a personal application. “Yes, sir,” he said.
The colonel leaned back and said thoughtfully, “There are two basic attitudes, or ways of looking at things. The human race uses these two attitudes to move forward, much as a man uses his legs to walk. And it’s just as catastrophic for a member of the human race to misplace these two attitudes as it is for him to cross his left leg in front of his right leg, and then try to take a step with his right leg.
“The first attitude is that of recognizing the defect. In one form, this is pure gripe, the attitude of ‘headquarters is too stupid to get their head out of their boot.’ But it’s also the attitude of the man who looks around, and asks himself if things couldn’t be improved. From this attitude arises a lot of noise, but, properly used, it’s also one of the main driving forces for progress. If men had always been satisfied, who would ever have tried anything new?
“So, you see, it’s useful to see imperfections. But it’s useless to keep our minds focused on imperfections. Having seen the imperfections, next we shift our attention to look for some means of improvement. We see the obstacle, then look for the way through or around. And that is what you didn’t do. Right?”
“Yes, sir,” said Bergen miserably.
“Don’t worry about it,” said the colonel. “It takes time to develop the right attitude. But you have to show strong enough signs of it or you can’t pass this last test. You’ve got to be alert. Never be dismayed at the most stunning examples of basically unfair mechanisms and situations. Assume that somewhere in the mess there is something you can use, an opening you can get through, and set yourself to find it. Remember, mountain climbers regularly go up vertical rock faces that the average man wouldn’t think a fly could climb. It is obviously unfair to expect a man to climb a thing like that. And yet, the holds are there, if you can find them, and if you have the few pieces of fairly simple equipment that will help you get a grip.”
“And if you slip,” said Bergen drily, “you’re finished.”
The colonel shrugged. “You could also say, ‘Why climb?’ That’s beside the point. The object is to show what people can accomplish if they look for the handholds, instead of deciding at a glance that the slope is too steep, so it’s impossible.”
This was a longer lecture than Bergen had gotten any of the other times, and he was starting to feel uneasy. The colonel was watching him intently, and seemed to be waiting for the significance to sink in.
“Yes, sir,” said Bergen dutifully.
“Now,” said the colonel, “I wouldn’t bother to say all this if you hadn’t gotten up into a respectable category for a candidate. You started off with a class of fifty, distributed to various testing facilities. This fifty has so far been given a total of four tests. About half of you flunked the first test, and roughly the same proportion have flunked each test since. One candidate died of heart failure. One candidate blew up and quit. That leaves exactly three of you coming up for the fifth test.”
Bergen blinked. “Forty-seven out of fifty are washed out already?”
“That’s right.”
“How many more tests after this one?”
“The fifth test is the last, unless there are special circumstances.”
“And only one of us can pass this test?”
“No. All or none of you may pass the fifth test. We’ve had both things happen.”
“Suppose I flunk it? Is there any second chance?”
The colonel shrugged. “You can take the tests as often as we offer them. Moreover, taking these tests isn’t the only way to get in. But it’s the only way open to you right now, and even if we should offer them again, you have to take the full series each time. We’d advise you to put everything you’ve got into passing this one test you’ve still got in front of you.”
Bergen thought of the miserable spot he’d been in and to which he’d return if he failed this test. Bergen, a natural hater of authority, had had the poor luck, when called up for military training, to find himself under a natural martinet. The fellow tore beds open to inspect the mattresses, then sent the recruits on K.P. because their beds were unmade. Accompanied by a few toadies, he would snap on the barracks lights at 2:00 on stormy nights, and order everyone outside into the rain, while he and his sycophants searched the barracks for concealed liquor. Returning to the outside steps of the barracks he would note angrily that these men were up after taps, and would order them marched through the soaking downpour all night for punishment. On the following day, he would harass them for their sluggish unsoldierly bearing, and, to correct their attitude, would give them close order drill till they were dead on their feet.
One day, following a lengthy lecture on soldierly behavior, some worn strand of Bergen’s self-control snapped.
The officer and an admiring toady strolled past in front of Bergen as he stood in ranks. Bergen’s right hand reached out as if of its own accord, gripped the officer by the uniform jacket and jerked him around. The hand released him, then came up again, to strike him full in the face. As Bergen stepped out of ranks, several companions came to life and grabbed him. Bergen was about to bash the officer’s head against a post when they finally got him stopped. In the resulting court-martial, the officer’s numerous and flagrant misdeeds came to light. But Bergen nevertheless was still in the stockade when Sergeant Hale of the Interstellar Patrol came through searching for recruits, with his talk of good pay, forgiveness of past sins, and a splendid future—if he could pass the tests.
“Now,” said the colonel, his cool voice snapping Bergen back to the present, “we might as well get on with this final test.”
Bergen once again found himself lying flat on his back. This time, the cots to either side were empty, as no other candidate on the ship had gotten this far. Bergen closed his eyes, and was conscious of a drifting sensation such as he had felt before the previous tests. Then a voice was speaking to him, saying, “You have passed each of the first four tests. Each was designed to test certain elements of your physical or mental make-up, and of your basic character. The test which follows is intended to examine one particular personal trait. This trait has been tested only incidentally in previous tests. But it is a trait especially important to a member of the Interstellar Patrol.
“History shows that in any given situation, certain individuals tend to survive. In a group of gunfighters, for instance, certain men stand out over a period of time. Is this a matter only of reflexive speed, or is there also something else? Amongst politicians, some rise rapidly to prominence, then fade into insignificance. Others remain steadily in office. Some businessmen maintain a high position while others rise and sink around them. Why? Is it a matter only of luck, friends, special skills, or inherited wealth? Men have had all of these and failed. Others have begun with none of them, and succeeded. Why? Is there some special skill—or perhaps some higher skill—that enables a man to use other skills and advantages, combining them to gain his ends? If there is, you will need it badly as a member of the Interstellar Patrol. You have already been given some idea of what we consider this special skill or attitude to be. We will give you just one more hint:
“Julius Caesar, like many other great leaders of the past, had this quality in good measure. Caesar was once confronted by a walled town on a steep rocky hill. To attack it, he must advance uphill. The enemy could hurl their missile weapons down at him, while his troops had to throw theirs uphill. The enemy was sheltered. Caesar’s troops were exposed. The walls were strong. The enemy had an abundance of food stored inside, and, for water, had built close to the site of a spring. To besiege the place would be a long, slow, time-consuming process. To try to overwhelm it suddenly was likely to result in heavy losses.
“What should Caesar do? Should he attack with all his troops? Or should he carry out a slow, methodical siege?
“Answer: Caesar cut the underground channel that fed the enemy’s spring. With the spring dried up, there was no water, and the enemy quickly surrendered.
“The test will now begin.”
The drifting, floating sensation ended. Bergen opened his eyes to find himself lying on a sloppily made-up cot. He was in one corner of a cabin, with a window opening sawed through the log wall near the head of the cot. The log at the bottom of this window had been smoothed to form a rough sill, and on this sill sat a crude earthenware jug with a corncob in it for a cork. As Bergen watched, a dirty hand reached up from outside, and took the jug off the sill. There was a pop! followed by a gurgling sound. Then there was a long sigh. The jug reappeared on the sill.