The Game Of Empire by Poul Anderson. Chapter 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

“Zacharia Island was the choice. At the time, settlement on Daedalus was young, small, embattled against nature. Our pioneers found this real estate unclaimed and saw the potential. They were workers and fighters. They took a leading role in defending against bandits, barbarians, eventually Merseians, during the Troubles. The price they demanded was a treaty of autonomy. When at last the Terran Empire extended its sway this far, the treaty was only slightly modified. Why should we not continue to govern ourselves as we wished? We caused no dissension, we paid our tribute, we made a substantial contribution to the regional economy. As you’ve seen, the rest of the Daedalans accept us on our traditional terms; and by now, elsewhere in the Empire, we are merely people who carry on some enterprises of business, exploration, or science. In short, having forsaken old dreams of leadership, we are just one more ethnic group within a , domain of thousands.”

“What sort of government do you have?” Diana asked.

Kukulkan’s intensity yielded to a smile. “Hardly recognizable as such. Adults generally handle their private affairs and earn their livelihoods however they see fit. In case of difficulties, they have plenty of helpful friends. In case of serious disputes, those same friends act as arbitrators. What public business we have is in charge of a committee of respected elders. When it becomes more than routine, telecommunications bring all adults into the decision-making process. We are not too numerous for that. More important, consensus comes naturally to us.”

Again, silence. The road climbed heights above the bay. There water shimmered quiet, but from up ahead Diana began to hear the crash of surf on rocks.

“What are you thinking, rare lady?” Kukulkan prompted.

“Oh, I—I don’t know how to say it. You’re bein’ generous to me. I’d hate to sound, oh, ungracious.”

“But?”

She let it out: “But isn’t this life of yours awfully lonely? Everybody a copy of yourself, even your wife, even your kids—How do you stand it? It’s not as if you were dullards. No! I think if I had to be by myself, for always, I’d want it to be on an empty planet, me and nobody else—no second and third me to keep feedin’ back my thoughts, my feelin’s, and, and everything.”

“Fear not,” he said quietly. “I expected your question and take no offense. A full answer is impossible. You must be a Zacharian before you can understand. But use that fine mind of yours and do a little logical imagining. We are not identical. Similar, yes, but not identical. Besides the genotypal variations, we have our different lives behind us, around us. That happens to multiple-birth children of ordinaries, too. They never tread out the same measure. Often they go widely separate ways. Recall that Pele is currently taking her turn as a factor, while her principal career is in industrial administration. Isis is a planetary archaeologist, Heimdal a merchant, Vishnu a xenologist, Kwan Yin a semantician … and thus it goes, as diverse as the cosmos itself.

“And we have our constant newness, our ever-changing inputs, here on our island. We are in touch with the outside universe. News comes in, books, dramas, music, arts, science, yes, fashions, amusements. Each individual perceives, evaluates, experiences this in his or her particular way, and then we compare, argue, try for a synthesis—Oh, we do not stagnate, Diana, we do not!”

In a corner of her consciousness she was unsure whether to be pleased or warned by so early a first-name familiarity from him. Mainly she struggled to define her response. “Just the same—somethin’ you mentioned before, and your whole attitude toward us, your takin’ in three raggedy castaways, when for centuries it’s been a scarce privilege for any outsider to set foot here—Believe me, we appreciate your help and everything. But I can’t keep from wonderin’ if—what with the war cuttin’ off that flow of information from the stars—if you aren’t desperate already for anything fresh.”

“You are wise beyond your years,” he answered slowly. ” ‘Desperate’ is too strong a word. Father Axor is in fact very interesting, and his comrades come in the package. Deeper motivations—but only a Zacharian would understand. In your own right, Diana, you are more than welcome.”

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