A Wizard in Peace

CHAPTER 14

You have not requested confidentiality,” the voice explained.

“So if I ask you to turn off your audio pickups, you will?”

“Correct,” the computer confirmed.

“I don’t think many of the inmates thought of that,” Dirk muttered. “Must have picked up a lot of interesting sounds.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to shock a machine,” Gar told him, then raised his voice again. “Shall we confer now?”

“The timbre of your voice, and the amount of time you spend sleeping, indicates that you are not yet in proper condition for such a meeting.”

Gar nodded. “Fair enough. But tell me this—can you provide teaching materials for all the people here?”

“Yes. They will be provided via the viewscreens in their suites.”

“May I compliment you on the quality of the frames you provide for them.”

“Thank you, but human designers deserve the credit, not I: What subjects will you be requesting?”

“History, both Terran and local; literary classics; military strategy and tactics; local laws and bureaucratic procedures…”

“I am quite out of date in that subject—by several centuries, in fact.”

“Yes, but you can teach them the basis from which the modern ones are derived. As to making the knowledge current, we’ll see what resources we can rustle up.”

Literally, Dirk thought.

“Oh, a whole host of subjects,” Gar said, suddenly sagging back on the pillow. Dirk suppressed the urge to jump to take his pulse.

“I see you are too tired for further talk,” the Guardian said. “Call me at need. For now, good night.”

“Good night,” Gar replied, his voice weakening.

“I’ll let you sleep in a minute,” Dirk said slowly, “but in the meantime, I was just wondering…”

“Yes?”

“Well, your exhaustion is part of the answer, but only part.”

“Glad to hear it. What’s the question?”

“If you can cure mental illness so easily…” Dirk began, then stopped and said, “Let me revise that. If you can cure mental illness so quickly, why don’t you do it more often?”

“In the first place,” Gar sighed, “I can’t. Most mentally ill people are far more complicated than these, with several disorders all twined together. In the second place, even if I could, I’d have no right. It’s a matter of invading somebody’s mind, you see, and sick or not, I have no right to do that without their permission.”

“No, you don’t,” Dirk said slowly. “What gave you the right this time?”

“Necessity,” Gar sighed, “which means that I really had no right—but it was that, or forget about these people gaining their freedom, and I didn’t have any right to do that, either.”

By the end of the week, all the recruits had learned how to fall without hurting themselves, and how to deliver and block a punch and a kick. The few who hadn’t learned to read, had made a good beginning from the lessons the Guardian supplied them, and Dirk had started teaching them the basic outline of the history of their planet.

In the first session of that class, people began to ask questions about where their ancestors came from, and were astounded to learn that the fairy stories about other worlds were true. That led to a lively discussion about which childhood tales had been true and which fantasy; Dirk helped resolve it by telling them which fairy tales came from medieval Terra, and which countries there—so by the end of the week, they had a very general outline of Terran history and geography in their minds, and an even more sketchy outline of the history of space colonization.

Dirk had also learned which of them were very intelligent, and that no one was anything else. He asked the Guardian about that.

“How come all your inmates have such high IQs?” he asked the decorated wall.

“Because those who weren’t would have felt inferior here, and that would have deepened their delusion,” the computer voice told him.

Dirk felt a cold chill inside. “What did you do with them?”

“Sent them to the city of Firstmark. The computer there cares for them as I care for mine.”

“Oh, really.” Dirk pricked up his ears. “I take it Firstmark is buried in the forest, too?”

“It is indeed.”

“Just how many lost cities are there?”

“Five,” the computer answered. “Firstmark and Secondmark are for people of moderate intelligence. Thirdmark is for people of low intelligence, but Fourthmark holds delusionaries of high intelligence, too. I did not think it wise to have more than three hundred people in each city.”

“So there are more than a thousand people ready to become subversives, not counting Thirdmark,” Dirk said slowly, “and there are only a dozen living cities, and maybe four hundred towns, in this whole land.”

“You should have a potential labor force equal to half the bureaucracy, if I guess rightly from what you have told me of it.”

Dirk nodded slowly. “If Gar’s health holds up, yes. Half should be enough for a revolution.”

“Quite adequate,” the computer agreed.

By the end of the third week, Gar had recovered enough for his conference with the computer. It was very distressed to learn that the bureaucracy it had served had become the tool of a dictatorship, and was completely in favor of overthrowing the Protector, provided that it could be done with very little bloodshed. Gar explained the plan, and the Guardian approved it.

So the former delusionaries kept on with their training in weapons in the morning, then retired to their chambers to learn literature, history, psychology, mathematics, general science, music, strategy and tactics, and political science, then went on to learning the root legal code from which the Protector’s laws were drawn. The computer was also able to teach them the bureaucratic procedure that was probably the basis for the current government. The people confirmed the resemblance from their own experience with magistrates and reeves.

Very quickly, they began to form study groups, to discuss issues that confused them. Dirk explained to them that they could talk to the computer anywhere within the palace, and was amazed to find that the machine could explain a dozen different concepts to a dozen different groups at the same time. In those discussions, the Guardian revealed that the Protector was originally chosen by vote, and that everyone was born with rights—an alien concept which the cured madmen accepted eagerly, since it confirmed the ideas Gar and Dirk had given them.

As soon as the educational program was set up, Gar and Dirk left for Firstmark—which the Guardian had explained was short for “first market.” Dirk gave the original settlers high marks for organization, but negative marks for creativity.

Miles was astounded to find himself left in charge of Voyagend, but even more surprised to find the people coming to him to answer questions and resolve disputes. He was most surprised to find that he knew the answers and could settle the disputes fairly. Apparently Gar and Dirk had taught him more than he had realized.