The old man gave the boy the back of his hand, sharp across the mouth. “Try again!”
“From the beginning?”
“No! From where you missed.”
The boy hesitated, then caught his stride: “Darkness swallowed ways of virtue, Sin prevailed through out the Ship . .”
The boy’s voice droned on, stanza after stanza, reciting at great length but with little sharpness of detail the dim, old story of sin, rebellion, and the time of darkness. How wisdom prevailed at last and the bodies of the rebel leaders were fed to the Converter. How some of the rebels escaped making the Trip and lived to father the muties. How a new Captain was chosen, after prayer and sacrifice. Hugh stirred uneasily, shuffling his feet. No doubt the answers to his questions were there, since these were the Sacred Lines, but he had not the wit to understand them. Why? What was it all about? Was there really nothing more to life than eating and sleeping and finally the long Trip? Didn’t Jordan intend for him to understand? Then why this ache in his breast? This hunger that persisted in spite of good eating?
While he was breaking his fast after sleep an orderly came to the door of his uncle’s compartments. “The scientist requires the presence of Hugh Hoyland,” be recited glibly.
Hugh knew that the scientist referred to was lieutenant Nelson, in charge of the spiritual and physical welfare of the Ship’s sector which included Hugh’s flative vilage. He bolted the last of his breakfast and hurried after the messenger.
“Cadet Hoyland!” he was announced. The scientist locked up from his own meal and said:
“Oh, yes. Come in, my boy. Sit down. Have you eaten?”
Hugh acknowjedged that he had, but his eyes rested with interest on the fancy fruit In front of his superior. Nelson followed his glance. “Try some of these figs. They’re a new mutation; I had them brought all the way from the far side. Go ahead — a man your age always has somewhere to stow a few more bites.”
Hugh accepted with much self-consciousness. Never before had he eaten in the presence of a scientist. The elder leaned back in his chair, wiped his fingers on his shirt, arranged his beard, and started in.
“I haven’t seen you lately, son. Tell me what you have been doing with yourself.” Before Hugh could reply he went on: “No, don’t tell me; I will tell you. For one thing you have been exploring, climbing, without too much respect for the forbidden areas. Is it not so?” He held the young man’s eye. Hugh fumbled for a reply.
But he was let off again. “Never mind. I know, and you know that I know. I am not too displeased. But it has brought it forcibly to my attention that it is time that you decided what you are to do with your life. Have you any plans?”
“Well, no definite ones, sir.”
“How about that girl, Edris Baxter? D’you intend to marry her?”
“Why, uh — I don’t know, sir. I guess I want to, and her father is willing, I think. Only…”
“Only what?”
“Well, he wants me to apprentice to his farm. I suppose it’s a good idea. His farm together with my uncle’s business would make a good property.”
“But you’re not sure?”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“Correct. You’re not for that. I have other plans. Tell me, have you ever wondered why I taught you to read and write? Of course, you have. But you’ve kept your own counsel. That is good.
“Now attend me. I’ve watched you since you were a small child. You have more imagination than the common run, more curiosity, more go. And you are a born leader. You were different even as a baby. Your head was too large, for one thing, and there were some who voted at your birth inspection to put you at once into the Converter. But I held them off. I wanted to see how you would turn out.
“A peasant life is not for the likes of you. You are to be a scientist.”
The old man paused and studied his face. Hugh was confused, speechless. Nelson went on, “Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. For a man of your temperament, there are only two things to do with him: Make him one of the custodians, or send him to the Converter.”