had fallen into an easy lecture style. Sygiek looked down; the others stared at his face with some admiration. Kordan continued, ‘In those bygone days, the physiological conflict between the brain, the central nervous system, and the autonomic nervous system was not understood. Misunderstanding of man’s nature inevitably arose. The physiological conflict was interpreted as psychological, as originating in some hypothetical depth of the mind. The mind was regarded as very complex, like a savage independent world almost. In this erroneous model of human physiology – that’s what “mind” really was – there was presumed to lurk in its muddy recesses various savage and socially destructive elements, waiting to overthrow reason. Those elements were bundled together under the term “ID”. It was a regressive force.’
They had finished their meal. As Takeido pushed the sofa back, he said, ‘Instructive! How did the ancient term materialise here on Lysenka II a million or more years later, do you suppose, Jerezy Kordan?’
‘As I thought I had made clear, the term was coined in some long-vanished capitalist system – in part to explain and explain away its own organisational deficiencies. If you understand the retrogressive nature of the animals on this world, then you can understand that the – er, striking technicians must have picked up the term here.’
‘They should be criticised,’ said Regentop, in a shocked voice. ‘It all sounds disgracefully non-utopian.’
Sygiek stood up and remained looking down on the others, but Takeido leaned forward, clearly wishing to carry the subject further. Clasping his hands together earnestly, he said, ‘This is most interesting, Jerezy. If you are right – and of course I don’t doubt that – then the striking technicians have it wrong. “Earth is our Id”… Lysenka is the subversive forbidden place, so it should be the id and Earth should be… I don’t know the term. I’m just a simple exobotanist.’
Regentop patted his back and smiled proudly.
‘ “Super-ego”,’ said Kordan. ‘Earth should be the super-ego.’ He laughed dismissively, disowning the term, and glanced up to see how Sygiek was taking the conversation.
‘This discussion is too self-indulgent,’ she said. ‘ “Speaking of error is itself error.” Let’s finish and get into the buses. Most of the others have already gone ahead.’
‘These old theories were nonsense, inevitably,’ Kordan said to her, taking her arm as they left the dining-room. ‘Medieval. Like alchemy.’
She regarded him with slightly raised eyebrows and a smile he had not seen before. ‘But alchemy led somewhere, Jerezy Kordan, Academician. It provided one of the foundations of scientific advancement. Whereas psychoanalysis was a dead end.’
‘Ah ha, then you are also familiar with these ancient and interdicted models. Psychoanalysis!’
‘It is part of my job to acquaint myself with what is forbidden.’
He looked searchingly at her. She met his gaze. He said nothing, and they moved out into the open. Kordan stood on the steps, breathing deeply as he looked ahead.
Buses waited like great slumbering beasts.
The exobotanist, Takeido, caught Kordan’s attention, coughed, and said apologetically, ‘It was a pleasure to listen to you talking at the breakfast table, Jerezy Kordan. Working on the Jovian moons, one is much alone. One thinks, one longs to talk…to talk about many things, such as the topics you touched on. May Jaini Regentop and I ride with you to Dunderzee?’
Kordan looked at the youth, as if thinking how young and thin he was. He watched the black eyebrows twitch nervously on Takeido’s forehead.
‘You are at liberty to choose any seat you wish in the bus,’ he said. ‘But language is much more precious and must be guarded. Better to be resolute than curious. “Resolution is the foe of deviation,” as the saying has it. I imagine that applies as much on Jupiter and Lysenka as on Earth.’
‘Of course…’ said Takeido, and swallowed.
‘Let’s get aboard the buses, then,’ said Kordan smiling. He nodded at Sygiek. She nodded contentedly back, and they walked down the steps, fully in command of their world, towards the waiting buses.
The gates in the fortified perimeter of the Unity Hotel slid open. Above them fluttered a banner with the device of the United System and the legend:
STRIVE TOWARDS THE SECOND MILLION YEARS OF BIOCOM-UNITY!
As the LDB rolled through the gateway, Sygiek noticed that she was seated next to the stocky man who had made the remarks about chessputers on the gulfhopper not experiencing glee. He nodded genially, as if they were old companions.
‘A session of idle sightseeing!’ Sygiek exclaimed to Kordan, turning away from the other man. ‘I have never done such a thing in my life, and half-doubt the propriety of it now. Days are more to be valued when fruitfully occupied.’
Kordan scrutinised her, as if trying to read her thoughts. ‘Don’t reproach yourself with such sentiments, Millia. We are not idle. We are on Lysenka to restore our energies, so that we can return to the System better equipped to work for it and to appreciate its values.’
The stocky man leant forward, clasping his hands between his knees, and said, addressing them both, ‘Don’t be too strict with yourselves, friends. Savour enjoyment as a positive force in its own right. Idleness has virtues of its own.’
‘Exactly what I meant,’ said Kordan, pleasantly. ‘Idleness restores our energies.’
The stocky man introduced himself as Vul Dulcifer 057, Chief Engineer responsible for the air-conditioning systems of Iridium, on Venus. He had a big hard head, with big hard features. Gazing out of the window at the passing scenery, he said, ‘Like everyone else, I am never idle. My work keeps me going thirteen E-hours a day, and I run various committees. “Utopia is sustained only by hard work” – I know the party slogan, don’t remind me. The System’s a machine. If a few of us have made it to this Classified planet, with all these degenerate capitalist animals running about, then we are of the elite, and I maintain that we have earned some idleness. I frankly see idleness as a just reward, not simply one more obstacle on the assault course of World Peace.’
As she watched and listened to him speaking, Sygiek thought that she and Dulcifer could never be compatible. He was as small and dark as she was tall and pale. He was thickset, with massive shoulders; his every movement expressed energy. The irises of his eyes were a dark sea-blue, rolling between black fringes of eyelash. His dark hair was sparse, and clung close to his square skull. She was aware as she watched the movements of his clearly defined lips of a disturbance within her, a disturbance chased by the reflection, ‘He regards Kordan and me merely as two standard products of the System, without minds of our own…’
‘To speak of idleness as a reward can lead swiftly to incorrect thinking, isn’t that so, Jerezy? Idleness can be no different on this planet from what it is anywhere in the System: a trap, a bait for deviationist ideas. How can those properties change? Creative idleness is a different matter.’
A hostess, rosy of cheek, with long legs and a warm smile, came down the aisle of the bus, pausing to exchange a word with everyone. She was trim in her red uniform; most of the tourists wore sloppy-maos.
‘Are you enjoying the primitive landscape?’ she asked. ‘Isn’t it charmingly undeveloped? What an inspiring symbol of potential.’
