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stick in his head.
"Would you work very hard, and make some substantial sacrifices, if you knew
you could live in a better, moral, rational place?"
"Yes," Jonathan says in a whisper. A moral, rational place would not have
allowed Chloe to damage herself; she would be his alone, and he would never
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have damaged her.
"I didn't hear that," one of the older men says.
"Yes," Jonathan speaks up, and clears his throat. The short darker man pours a
glass of water from a pitcher and hands it to him.
"What if the means of getting there were.., troublesome. What if you had
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you cherish in this world behind, to get to this better
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GREG BEAR
Jonathan feels like a fish on a griddle, all the juices broiled out of him. "I
don't have much here," he murmurs.
"This new world is not some airy-fairy dream," Marcus continues. "You won't
get there on a magic bus or by stepping through some secret garden gate. We
have to make this world ourselves.
"All the men and women in this new world will have undergone rigorous
filtering. They'll have proven themselves to be strong folks who know how to
work hard and get along with others. The basic old schoolroom virtues. Does
that describe you?"
"If his CV is correct," the second older man says, "then we all believe that
it does."
Jonathan is relieved not to have to answer. He feels no inner confidence and
does not know why the others should be confident of him. He keeps staring
ahead, though not directly at any of the faces. They remain focused on him and
his reactions.
"You may have to sacrifice everything, even your own limited sense of what is
right and wrong," Marcus says.
Jonathan looks at Marcus, puzzled.
"It's the old equation," Marcus says. "Usually formulated by madmen and
tyrants with no moral sense. We have the moral sense to formulate the equation
correctly."
"All right," Jonathan acquiesces.
'!' :'
"You may have to give up your connections, all of your old friendships."
Even in his present condition, this is getting spooky; what are they going to
ask him to do, shoot his relatives? But Jonathan believes he can still back
out. They haven't asked him the ultimate question. He truly does not know
Cow he will answer.
"It won't come instantly, this new world. It might take decades. We need all
of your personal assets and connections in this present world, this imperfect
world, to make it happen. But in the end.., the Earth will be cleansed, re
newed, rebooted as it were, with a new polish and a youthful gleam. We will
give the human race a new chance to shine forth in the universe."
This hits something deep in Jonathan. For years, he has felt inadequate to
deal with all the little frustrations of a world going wrong; the world has
even pushed its tumors of corruption into his family, through his wife. It
wants to break him. He owes it no allegiance.
"All right," Jonathan says.
"We can't give you any more details until you say you will join us," Marcus
concludes. "You know me. You know I'm no monster, that we won't call for
genocide or all-out war, that our methods will be subtle and long-term. Think
of it as a biological and political necessity. Think of it as just giving
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yourself a little advantage by being part of the change, for once in your
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looking in..."
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SLANT 217
"We don't need any fancy language from you, not now. You will swear an oath
today and sign a contract at some point, just to make things formal. I
will ask you the question, and if you answer yes, you are in. You can't back
out. If you do, you will be killed."
This jolts Jonathan, though he has expected it. Two days ago, he would have
backed away from this small room and its intent group of men, he would have
checked with his remaining sense of self and decided this solemn craziness was
much too much for a family man with any sense; but he is still empty inside.
His self is too knocked-over to respond.
"I'm ready," Jonathan says. This will do it; this will give him a purpose.
This will bring him back.
"Are you with us? That's the question, Jonathan. Think it over before you
decide."
Jonathan closes his eyes, opens them, holds up one hand as if to ask for a
drink of water, but the glass is right beside him, sitting on the carpet by
the chair. He reaches to pick it up, drinks, replaces the glass.
"I'm with you," he says.
The tension in the room should break, he thinks, but it does not. The air is
thick with more than fading tobacco smoke. The other men stand.
"We've all taken the oath," the brown man says. "Administer the oath, Marcus."
Marcus pulls a sheet of paper from his pocket. He unfolds the paper with a
soft crackling sound and reads Jonathan the requirements, step by step. The
document restates what he has already heard in lawyer's language rather than
rampant ideals, and it does not give any more details about what they are
going to do to make this new world. Jonathan feels a little sick. It's too
late to back out. He rises.
"We're all of diverse beliefs and we don't think you have to swear on any
ancient book to make a pact for the rest of your life," Marcus says.
"Amen to that," says the round-faced darker man, and the others smile briefly.
"Swear allegiance to the group, to the means deployed by the group and the
ends sought by us all, on your life and deepest self, on all you value and
hold dear, to forfeit all these things should you violate this oath or back
away from our common goals."
"I swear allegiance to the group..."
"To the means deployed by the group and the ends sought by us all."
"To the means deployed by the group and the ends sought by us all."
"On all you value and hold dear."
"On all I value and hold dear. I will . ."
"To forfeit all these things should you violate the oath or back away from its
goals."
"I swear to forfeit all these things should I violate the oath or back away
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