“We begin by placing a number of the bodies in the shiptower, along with some of the young fellows who play the part. We put some blues there, as well, for verisimilitude. The unloading machines are all polished and garlanded with flowers.
“Then I, as Dean, have the honor to take the part of Capan. I emerge from the shiptower and recite the inspiring words of dedication. All the Faculty is there, of course, down to the least boychild. I recite the words, then I start the unloading machines and they bring out the bodies and the blues. We put the young men into the rejoining machine, together with some blues to make it look real, and they emerge at once, all glowing and eager. Then I give them the Capan gown. This is symbolic, you understand, of our continuation in the academic tradition from the time of Capan to the present. We still wear the Capan gown in his honor. It is moving, my dear Huld, very moving. Then the machines take the rest of the bodies and the blues, the real ones, away to the caverns while Capan (I still have that part, of course) brings a monster out of the ship and puts her in the pit. This is symbolic too. It symbolizes our mission to search the monsters and record everything about them. Everyone cheers.
“Then, I go back in the shiptower and do the ‘Calling Home’ or ‘Signal Home’ as it’s sometimes called. I go alone into the shiptower and instruct the instrument to contact Home with our message, then I come out and tell everybody what message has been called Home and what Home said. Everyone gets very choked up at that, and the choir sings, and the techs serve special cake, and we all drink wine. A very happy time, Huld. A very happy time.” He wiped his eyes on the corner of his robe, looking all at once grave and grandfatherly, eyes full of an old and childlike joy. I wanted to kick him, but he went on in happy ignorance of my intent. “We give each other gifts, too, in honor of the occasion. I still have some gifts my father gave me, years ago.”
“You bring a monster out of the ship?” said Huld. “Does this mean that in that long ago time your forefathers brought the monsters to this place?”
“Oh, yes. Certainly. Our forefathers came. With the monsters. To keep Home inviolate, to watch and record.”
“Gamesmen were here, then, when your forefathers came?”
“Oh, I suppose so, Huld. Yes. They must have been, how else would they be here now? Your people. And the pawns, of course.”
“And the monsters in your pits are the descendents of those your forefathers brought?”
“Oh, no, sir,” babbled Flogshoulder, eager with his tiny bits of information. “They do not reproduce at all well, sir. No, many of the monsters in the pits are made in the monster labs. I will be supervisor there, next term. Also, we pay the Gifters to bring some from outside. And some … well, some…”
“You may say it, my boy,” said Manacle, still kindly with his nostalgic glow. “Some are born to our own consecrated monsters, to be reared in special pits and adapted properly for our use. Waste not, want not.” He made a high pitched little obscenity of laughter.
“Interesting.” said Huld. “Very interesting. Well. If you will just show me whatever books there are which describe the defenders, our business may be concluded for a time.”
“Oh, my dear Huld. I thought you understood. There are no manuals for the defenders! Either there never were any, and that may well be the case, or Nitch took them when he went. In any case, it doesn’t matter. They are self-repairing, my dear fellow. You needn’t concern yourself about them. If we need them, we have only to press that lever down. Everything else has been done.”
I could feel Huld’s baffled fury from across the room, feel his heat. “Dean Manacle. What will happen when the lever is thrust down? Do you know?”
“Well, of course. We will be defended. Haven’t I said so again and again. Really, Huld, sometimes you are very trying.”