PROLOGUE
Humming the Hymn of Freeness, Sayer Superior Lin-Ti moto-shoed over the top of the hill as he had done each morning for centuries on the domed asteroid of Pleasant Reef. This was in a distant, private corner of the galaxy, the breeding and training ground for the young men of Uncle Rosy’s Sayerhood.
Now, in the verdant valley below, Lin-Ti could see the silver-tipped spires of the Great Temple punching through a low fog that lay across the valley floor. From their cave habitats in the hills, white-robed youngsayermen hummed softly as they rolled down along winding motopaths toward the temple. The horizon was close on this little asteroid, and a hazy red outline along the limit of Lin-Ti’s vision marked the approach of the new day’s sun.
With a new vinyl-bound history primer under his arm, Lin-Ti felt excitement at the prospect of the lesson he would begin teaching today. This garbage comet matter has been a mystery for too many years, he thought, and now, thanks to the Sayerhood history writing team . . .
As he reached a fork in the motopath, a ground squirrel darted across the path and disappeared into a clump of Scotch broom. Lin-Ti slowed to roll over an arched bridge to the left, then memo-commanded his shoes to resume speed.
Twenty minutes later, the Sayer Superior stood somberly at a podium with the history primer in front of him. An odor of newness from the book touched his nostrils, and he smiled. My Rosenbloom, but I love the smell of new things! he thought.
Lin-Ti glanced around the sunny ordinance room at a seated assemblage of youngsayermen in their hoodless white smocks of purity. Each held an open edition of the primer, and waited to read along with the instructor. One youngsayerman in the first row reminded Lin-Ti momentarily of Onesayer Edward, with the same long body and fat features. Lin-Ti recalled nearly four centuries earlier, when a then Youngsayer Edward had stood with him at the tutelage console . . . such a bright youngsayerman, with so much promise. . . .
A wave of sadness passed over Lin-Ti as he thought of Onesayer Edward’s tragic fate. But as he gazed around the cheerful room and saw attentive young faces looking back, Lin-Ti began to feel better. It was still in the room, and Lin-Ti heard his own muslaba robe rustle as he shifted on his moto-shoes. He leaned one arm on the podium for a moment, then pulled it back and stood erect.
The Sayer Superior was a large man with the shaven head of the Sayerhood, made to look larger by the platform on which he stood. His face had the lineless clarity and serene countenance of one who had never deviated from the Master’s path. In fact, you had to look upon the man for only a short time to know why Uncle Rosy had selected him. Lin-Ti cleared his throat, then read from a looseleaf introduction sheet. Words flowed quickly and smoothly across his lips, like a brook racing over stones to the sea:
“There are special places in the universe, places which even Uncle Rosy never imagined. Of this there is little argument today. Some say God dispersed varying life forms for the purpose of determining the most perfect state of life other than His own. Others are not so certain about the reason for the creation of such special places.
“Imagine one of these places . . . a magical realm having no land or water mass occupied by beings without bodies or flesh, but possessing the most highly developed senses imaginable. Senses without flesh? A realm without land or water? We did say the realm was magical, did we not?
“We can only speculate concerning the party these beings were having when the first load of catapulted Earth garbage came through their realm. We know they were partying, for that was all they had ever done. They were known to revel in the pleasures of non-flesh, and this particular party must have been no exception. Gentle, lilting music and delicate fragrances carried by the sweet solar breezes that moved between the stars and flower planets near their realm probably wafted across their non-human tympanic and olfactory sensors.
“At their party, they undoubtedly had non-physical things which tasted or sounded good, looked attractive or smelled divine. They even had things which felt good to them. It was like any human party in these respects, except all sensual pleasure experiences were accomplished without flesh. For as these beings knew, ‘Flesh clings to senses. Senses do not cling to flesh.’ In their experience, senses were pure and magical. On the other hand, flesh was believed to inhibit sensual enjoyment, and was associated with dirty and distasteful things. As they often said, ‘Flesh stinks when it gets old or when it perspires. Dirt clings to flesh.’”
Lin-Ti looked up, catching the gaze of the youngsayerman who reminded him of Onesayer Edward. Lin-Ti looked back at the looseleaf sheet, flipped it to the other side. The swift-flowing words began anew:
“Students of such phenomena understand that there is a point at which flesh, aided by technology, approaches a more perfect state. But flesh never quite measures up. This is the problem of infinity and of geometrical lines that cannot intersect, of time warps that do not overlap and of lives that never meet. An entity can be there but not there at the same moment, making it impossible to capture from outside its dimension.
“We have reliable reports indicating that the beings of which we speak spent thousands of years enjoying one party. It took them that long to reach a crescendo of pleasure, the point at which all sensual receivers were fully open. It was somewhat akin to a citizen of the American Federation of Freeness on ‘full automatic’ with respect to consumption, and was a very high state of existence for that particular realm.
“With their olfactory sensors fully open to pick up delicate solar fragrances, it is not difficult to imagine the outrage felt by these bodiless beings when they smelted the reek of Earth garbage! The ‘fleshcarriers’ could not have selected a worse place to hurl their poorly constructed, dripping containers!
“After accumulating Earth’s waste for nine years, these beings implemented an appropriate method of returning all of it to the senders. For life forms having their durations measured in thousands of human years, this was quite an immediate response.”
Lin-Ti slipped the looseleaf sheet to a shelf in the podium, and looked up. “In examining the new primer,” he said, “you will note marvelous detail, down to precise conversations . . . even emotions and thoughts. You all understand how this information was developed?”
“Yes, Sayer Superior,” a youngsayerman in the center of the room said, “from the lifelog tapes we have on each government employee—from cell memory readings taken when they touch security monitor identity plates. We have the minutest details on their lives!”
The youngsayerman who resembled Onesayer Edward was not paying attention. He flipped ahead in the text, read a conversation in the middle of the first chapter.
“‘. . . It’s a garbage comet, Mister President,’ Munoz said. ‘Our own damned trash is coming back! . . .’”
The youngsayerman looked up, catching the full impact of Sayer Superior Lin-Ti’s disapproving stare. The offender blushed, then turned back to the title page. . . .
* * *
Sayers’ History Primer
August 24, 2605–September 1, 2605
Dedicated to the memory of our Beloved Master, Willard R. Rosenbloom
PLEASANT REEF PUBLISHERS
New Series 2698