“Then, repeatedly, the lawmakers amend the law further, tweaking this and changing that, but always adding more jobs, until we have a bureaucratic monstrosity that’s in the business of helping the liquor industry prevent legislation against drunk drivers. That’s the way our Forestry Service got to be owned by the lumbermen, and our DEA got to be owned by the drug cartels, welfare got to be owned by a social work hierarchy, and schools got to be owned by professional educationalists. None of them work, because that’s not what they’re designed to do.”
The Inkleozese nodded. “I see. The Pistach wouldn’t accept that, of course. It’s ineffectual.”
The president nodded. “The Pistach don’t have opposing political parties shooting one another out of the sky just for the fun of it, or legislators who sell their votes. The Pistach are way ahead of us technologically, and they’re blessed pragmatists, and we need them. We really, really do.”
“And you think you’ll achieve Tassifoduma?” She cocked her head at him.
Benita, watching, saw something of the praying mantis in her stance and realized with a shock that if they didn’t achieve Tassifoduma, all the men on Earth would be useable as brooders by the Inkleozese. The Assessor Emeritus turned her slightly mocking gaze on Benita, who flushed and looked at her feet.
The president murmured, “Nothing is ever sure in the world . . . in the galaxy, but we’ll certainly come closer with the Pistach than we would without.”
Benita and Chad went with the Inkleozese as she left the room.
“And how do you rationalize this little . . . joke you played on the Pistach?” the Inkleozese asked, staring at Benita and Chad.
Benita looked at Chad, and then at the ceiling.
He said, “I’ve heard Benita quote her grandfather about civilized people trying to cope with the problems caused by belief in savage gods left over from barbaric yesterdays. It seemed to us that since Chiddy and Vess have been helping us with that problem, it’s only right we should help them with similar problems in our turn. They don’t tell us everything while they’re helping us, Chiddy’s journal made that clear, so it would be quid pro quo if we didn’t tell them everything while we’re helping them.”
The Assessor Emeritus was dropped off on Inkleoza, still laughing every time she looked at the president, and after that, the humans went on home.
Chiddy and Vess joined Benita as she was leaving the ship, the last human to do so but Carlos. Before the Pistach took the large ship back to Inkleoza, Carlos was getting a lift to California so he could make his apologies to the foundation.
“We’ll be back in a few days,” said Chiddy, rather formally. “You can take a few days to figure out what you’re going to tell me,” he said. “About what happened.”
She gave him a long, level look. “I don’t need a few days, Chiddy. Do you respect the Inkleozese?”
“You know we do.”
“If the Inkleozese approve of what happened, why would you expect me to tell you anything?”
“I don’t know,” he said, making his peculiar, not-human shrug.
“You and Vess were very selective about what you told us, but I don’t hold it against you.”
“Urn,” he said, giving her a strange look.
When he returned in a much smaller ship, several days later, she asked, “How are things back on Pistach-home?”
He said thoughtfully, “Very . . . settled. They’ve decided to take images of the Fresco. And every planet is going to have a set of the images on the walls of its Fresco House. That way, no evil-doer can corrupt us just by repainting one set. And they’ll put them behind glass and clean them every season, so everyone can see them, and there won’t be any doubt that we’re good people . . .”
“I never had any doubt,” she said, adding, not quite truthfully, “Neither did the president.”
On Inkleoza—SOMETIME
Senator Byron Morse, together with the members of his cabal, plus several hundred other pregnant men, spent the last months of their confinement in idle luxury at a rest home, high in the hills of a lovely forested area on Inkleoza. Fed and massaged and petted, they awaited deliverance, which, when it came, was far worse than anything they had ever experienced. Far, far worse, though it was over in a few hours, more or less, except for the few who didn’t survive, Briess among them. When the chewing started, Briess had committed suicide, something the Inkleozese had never thought to guard against.