harrumphed twice and swung into his capsuled summary: The total volume of trade among the worlds of the Galactic Synthesis was up slightly. The trade of twenty-six and something per cent of the worlds had increased; the trade of twenty-eight and something per cent of the worlds had diminished. The trade of the others showed no significant fluctuation. A few worlds were experiencing unusual prosperity. A few were enmeshed in economic difficulties. Any councilor interested in either category could ask Supreme for a list of the twenty or thirty thousand worlds numbered therein. In E-Wusk’s opinion, the decacycle just concluded showed no anomalies, and none were predicted for the decacycle to come.
The Second Councilor harrumphed to a conclusion and then sank back into a tangle of telescoping limbs.
Darzek opened the meeting to discussion or questions. There was no response, so he officially accepted E-Wusk’s report with the council’s thanks. “Is there any further business?” he asked.
The Third Councilor hurriedly unbraided its eye stalks and inflated its vocal sack. “I have a complaint,” it hissed.
Darzek asked politely, “What is it that you wish to complain about?”
“I’m not complaining,” THREE protested. “I have received a complaint. From compatriot tourists. They complain that they can’t see the government.”
Darzek reflected for a moment. “That’s probably true.”
“Of course it’s true. They make a long and expensive journey in order to view Primores, the central world of the galaxy, home of Supreme, principal site of the governing bodies of the Galactic Synthesis. And when they arrive here, it’s just another alien world and not as interesting as most. There are governmental structures, of course, but all worlds have governmental structures. There’s nothing for them to see.”
“What do you suggest?” Darzek asked.
“There should be displays. Festivities. Ceremonies, to foster pride in the Synthesis.”
Darzek asked, “Are you suggesting that this council should place its meetings on public display?”
He sat back to enjoy the uproar. Objections erupted around the table, but FIVE, who spoke through an amplifier because her voice was almost non-existent, drowned them out with her sudden burst of laughter. She turned off the amplifier and laughed on in silence, with every tentacle and finger fluttering. “Nothing,” she announced finally, “would do less to foster pride in government than placing the members of this council on display.”
“Or any other council,” Darzek murmured.
SEVEN wheezed its agreement. E-Wusk grunted his.
THREE sputtered indignantly. “I had no intention of suggesting that, and the First Councilor knows it.”
“None of us object to ceremonies as long as we don’t have to take part,” Darzek said. “Would you like to look into the possibility of establishing suitable festivities, displays, and ceremonies for the edification and entertainment of tourists to Primores?”
“Certainly.”
“Please do. Is there any further business?”
Rok Wllon snapped to alertness and leaned forward. He said, in a soft voice, “I desire your counsel.”
Darzek turned instinctively to FIVE, the council’s medical authority. She was gazing at the Eighth Councilor in consternation. Never in Darzek’s recollection had Rok Wllon asked advice from anyone except when he was transparently attempting to manipulate it to some advantage.
“It concerns a poem,” Rok Wllon continued apologetically. “I have translated it, and I will render it to you as a song—to capture the spirit of the original.”
Now all of the councilors were staring at him. FIVE was completely engrossed. E-Wusk was flabbergasted enough to rise up out of his tangle of limbs and gape. SIX absently discarded her light shield and gazed at the Eighth Councilor with her three enlarged, tearing eyes. The others, including Darzek, were simply speechless.
Rok Wllon, still acting apologetic, looked about the table as though he expected someone to stop him. When no one did, he began to sing.
Death’s heavy shadow
unseen, unfelt, unsmelled
ripples no awareness
heeds no sanctuary.
It enters and touches
and departs
leaving no mark of passage
except Death.
His voice was not unpleasant, Darzek thought; but the grunted inflections and breathy melismas made the performance one that would have held more appeal for masochists than music lovers.
The other councilors remained speechless. There was in fact nothing that could be said, but as First Councilor Darzek was required to say something. After a pause, he asked, “Is it a song from your world?”
“It is not a song,” Rok Wllon said irritably. “I told you I had translated it and would render it as a song, but it is a poem.”
“From your world?” Darzek persisted.
“No. From the world of Kamm. The Silent Planet.”
Darzek had never heard of it. “What’s silent about it?” he asked.
Rok Wllon told them. Then he pronounced the phrase again, the Silent Planet, and the touch of horror in his voice suggested that there must be something uncanny about a world where no one, where no thing, could hear.
FIVE, with her instant interest in anything with medical implications, wanted to know more. Medical literature, she said, was unaware of the existence of a world where no life form had developed a sense of hearing.
“But they did develop senses of hearing,” Rok Wllon said testily. “And then they lost them.”
FIVE was incredulous. “You mean all the life forms on the planet had senses of hearing that disappeared through atrophy? That’s impossible!”
Rok Wllon was becoming increasingly agitated. Abruptly he got to his feet. “I only know what a scientist from my department told me. Perhaps he was—if you’ll excuse me. There is no important business left to consider, is there? I have many—my own work, you know, those of you who have no administrative responsibilities can’t be aware of how much—”
He turned uncertainly and walked away.
That, also, was unheard of.
There was a shuffle of feet, a twisting of torsos, a purring of motors as the councilors turned themselves or their chairs to look after him. E-Wusk struggled to an upright position and then sank back in astonishment. Darzek’s eyes were on FIVE, who was watching the departing councilor with obvious concern.
FIVE said, “I’ll call on him later today.”
“And I’ll see him tomorrow,” Darzek said. He turned to the others. “At your conveniencies,
