He shrugged. “And that’s fine with me, in and of itself. I’d much rather spend a week by a mountain lake, myself. Hate swamps. Don’t know anybody who doesn’t except herpetologists, and they’re all a bunch of lunatics.” One of the men nearby snorted. “But I don’t go around preaching about the sanctity of all life, when what I really care about is life as it impacts on the human race. I’m opposed to destroying life where it’s needless. But like any biologist—certainly any paleontologist—I have a keen sense that eventually all species become extinct. That’s the way it is—and has been for eons, long before we humans popped onto the scene. So, to get back to your point, I care a hell of a lot more about what happens to people in Bengal than I do about the abstract fact that if we flooded the lowlands we’d enable millions of new species to come into existence. I’m just willing to be honest about it.”
“That’s all very sane and logical, Mr. Coh—Julius. But let me ask you a question. Would you rather have an ocean with whales or without them?”
He frowned. “What is this, some kind of trick question? With whales, of course.”
“You are pleased, then, at the fact that the Earth’s oceans are teeming with whales?”
“Sure!”
“Hmm. Yet it’s a fact—I’m an historian, as I said—that the whales were only saved from extermination because of the actions of people who were not driven by logic but by an irrational passion. The type of people you call `ecofreaks.’ Had it not been for them, the great cetaceans would have disappeared. For it is also a fact that during the period of the great whale slaughtering, sane and logical men such as yourself stood to one side. Clucking their tongues at the barbarity of it all, of course, and shedding tears over the plight of the poor whales. But always quick to correct the scientific errors of the `ecofreaks,’ as if genocide and failing a biology quiz were of equal weight in the judgement of history.”
She relaxed, slightly. “Mind you, I take some pride myself in my own rationality and logic. But I am an historian by profession. And if there is one thing that historians know, it’s that nothing great was ever achieved except by those who were filled with passion. Their passion may have been illogical, even bizarre to modern people. Their understanding of the world and what they were doing may have been false. It usually was. But they were not afraid to act, guided by whatever ideas they had in their possession. Do not sneer at such people. You would not be here without them.”
Silence followed for a moment. Indira was surprised to see that there was not a trace of irritation in the face of the man opposite her. Instead, Julius was gazing at her with a strange look. Interest, she suddenly realized.
Koresz spoke. “I fear I shall have to exercise my medical skills, lest Julius bleed to death from the many great wounds inflicted upon him.”
Laughter erupted, with Julius joining in.
“If I’d known there was an historian in the vicinity,” he chuckled, “I would have kept my mouth shut. `Keep your fat lip buttoned around historians,’ my mother alway told me. `They’re too smart for you.’ ”
Indira peered at him suspiciously. “That’s a crude attempt at flattery.”
He looked surprised. “What do you mean? It’s the simple truth. There’s no subject on earth as complex and intricate as human history. I get dizzy just thinking about the variables. Makes the double helix look like a tinker-toy! And there’s no comparison to that mindless one-two-three the physicists putter around in.”
“You’re just jealous, Julius,” laughed a woman sitting to his left.
Julius’ rubbery face twisted into an exaggerated sneer.
“Jealous? Of what, Ruth? The money they shower you plumbers with? Sure. But I wouldn’t be a physicist for all the money in the world.” He shuddered. “God, think of it! Spend your whole life counting the elementary particles. How many are there, anyway? Bet I can count them all on my fingers.”
He began imitating a toddler.