Orson Scott Card - Capitol

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CAPITOL
by Orson Scott Card
(c) 1979 by Orson Scott Card
v1.0(Apr-06-1999)
If you find and correct errors in the text, please update the version number by 0.1 and
redistribute.
***
CONTENTS
Preface
A Sleep and a Forgetting
A Thousand Deaths
Skipping Stones
Second Chance
Breaking the Game
Lifeloop
Burning
And What Will We Do Tomorrow?
Killing Children
When No One Remembers His Name, Does God Retire?
The Stars That Blink
***
To Jay A. Perry,
Who has read everything and made it better
***
Preface
Fiction usually does a better job standing on its own, but occasionally a word of explanation
can help a reader receive a work as the author means to give it.
Capitol is not a novel; however, it is also not a short story collection. While all the stories
in Capitol are completely self-contained, they are placed in the book in chronological order, to
gradually unfold the biography of a world and a way of life that is born in "A Steep and a
Forgetting" and dies in "The Stars That Blink. " I urge you to read them in order.
Also, Capitol overlaps in time and some characters with Hot Sleep, which is a novel, and which
is soon to appear, like Capitol, as an Analog Book. Together, they comprise what is now extant of
The Worthing Chronicle.
***
A SLEEP AND A FORGETTING
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There is no remembrance of former things; neither shall there be any remembrance of things that
are to come with those that shall come after.
-- Ecclesiastes 1:11
There was nothing remarkable about a rat failing to run a maze. What was remarkable was that
five rats ran the maze perfectly-- and five did not.
"My Lord," whispered George Rines.
"Run it again?" asked Vaughn Shirten, the lab assistant who tended the rats.
"Of course."
The five rats who had failed before failed again. The others ran the maze perfectly.
"Vaughn, do you have five rats that have never run a maze at all?"
"Rats of every kind. Smart, stupid, and psychologically virgin." He brought five virgins from
the ratroom and put them in their first maze. There was no significant difference between the
performance of the virgins and the five rats who had failed to run the maze before.
"My God," whispered George Rines. "What have we done?"
"Made rive smart rats stupid, looks like."
Two days before, all ten rats had run the maze perfectly. They had been divided randomly into
two groups. Five of the rats were then given a drug; a day later they were given another. Those
were the five that had forgotten how to run the maze.
"I'm not worried about the rats," George said.
"I am," said Vaughn.
"We've been giving that drug to people."
Vaughn looked at him blankly. "People? A stupid drug? Who needs a drug to make people stupid?"
"Somec, Vaughn. Somec."
It was Vaughn's turn to look shocked. "I thought they tested that!"
"All the tests but this one, Vaughn."
"But-- haven't they woken up any of the people who've gone on somec?"
"Not yet." George smiled wanly. "They all had cancer. They didn't want to be wakened until there
was a cure."
"Somec." Vaughn laughed. "Some miracle drug!"
"It isn't funny," George said.
***
"You signed a contract," Dr. Tell insisted. "You can't publish without my consent."
George shook his head. "I can't publish scholarly papers. So if you won't let me take it to
fellow scientists, I'll take it to the press. They'll print the story."
Tell glared; restrained himself from shouting; said, "You bastard. You would."
"It isn't enough just to stop authorizing it. The formula is public knowledge-- what's to stop
some grad student from whipping it up in his lab for a friend? Even the life support isn't hard to
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arrange."
"You don't seem to understand." Slowly, carefully. The smile that had launched a thousand
research projects made a struggle to appear on his face. It failed. "There is more at stake than
somec."
George closed his eyes.
"There's a thing called independent research. We checked everything. We were so careful, George.
We even did rat tests. Gave somec to some rats, not to others, and then taught them both mazes.
There was no effect. How were we to know that somec impaired memory?"
"It doesn't impair, Dr. Tell. It eliminates."
"You don't know that."
"I'm pretty damn sure."
"Pretty damn isn't sure enough, George. There's that jackass of a senator who'll stand up and
piously denounce federally funded projects that make basket cases out of people who already have
problems. He'll do it, you know, and that'll mean funds cut off from everything."
"So what will you do, pretend everything's all right? They're not that far from curing some
types of cancer now, and when they can fix it they'll wake up the sleepers who have that cancer
and they'll find that they're vegetables."
"I don't know what we're going to do yet!" Dr. Tell shouted.
"We're going to warn the public."
"We're going to keep it quiet until we know what we're going to do."
"And when will that be?"
"I don't know."
George stood up. "I didn't think so. I know, Dr. Tell. It'd be nice to tell the press, there was
a disaster, but this is how we're going to solve it in the future. But we can't do that, can we?
So we're going to warn people, and warn them now, that somec does exactly what we've claimed it
does, with one side effect. It wipes out memory."
"Dammit, George, we don't know that!"
"We suspect it. That's enough."
"If you do this, George, I can promise you that you'll never have a research or teaching job in
the United States of America. Or Britain. Or anywhere!"
"In five years there'll be Russian troops all over America and none of us will have teaching
jobs except those of us who know what we're doing in a laboratory. No more fund-raising experts,
Dr. Tell. So I'm really not worried about your threat."
"And if the Russians don't come, Cassandra?"
"I will have saved some lives."
"'You're out for headlines, you bastard, if it destroys American science in the process! You
want to be a crusader! You want to--"
The door slammed, and George didn't hear the rest of the speech. In a way, he knew Dr. Tell was
right. George's own first impulse was to keep his discovery silent. He had wrestled with the
problem all night, had hardly slept, but he decided at about four a.m. that he really had no
choice. Either he could be the crusader who was hated by other scientists, or he could be one of
the bastards who hushed it up, hated by the rest of the world. The rest of the world was bigger.
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And none of the scientists would be left mindless.
He returned to his office to clean out his desk and load his books into boxes. The reporters
would be meeting him at his home in three hours. There was no point in pretending to stay at the
Institute. His letter of resignation was already on the Director's desk. It was, almost a
formality, telling Dr. Tell. But he was the man who was supervising the whole somec project-- he
had to know.
I feel like a murderer. So much hope for somec. But is it my fault? No. We were too excited. We
thought we had tested everything. We deserve to be punished for acting too quickly, too
unthoroughly.
Punished? George frowned at the thought. Not a matter of punishment or guilt or anything. Just
stop the somec and find a way to get around the problem.
When he pulled the Scientific Americans off the shelf, they scattered in every direction. There
were quite a few of them, most of the recent ones dogeared where he meant to read an article
sometime soon. It was the only way he had to keep up on fields other than his own.
Perhaps in order to avoid thinking about the announcement he was going to make to the reporters
in a couple of hours, or perhaps because moving out of the office was so distasteful to him,
George picked up the top magazine and opened it to the first dog-eared page. He skimmed; read two
more articles; then opened another magazine. Braintaping was the title of the first article he
turned to; "Instantaneous teaching by establishing currents in the brain? It may be within reach."
It intrigued George enough to lead him into the magazine. And what he found there meant that he
wouldn't pack up after all.
It took half an hour to finish the entire article. It took another ten minutes to get in
telephone contact with Doran Waite, the man whose name led off the article. And it took three
minutes to verify the hope that the article gave.
"Yes, Dr. Rines, that's right. We can't do it with complicated mammals like primates, but with
rats we can take the entire learning of one rat and put it into the head of another. For quite a
while, they're okay."
"And after a while?"
"They're not okay. They go crazy."
"Dr. Waite, can you come out here? Or better still, can I go out there?"
It took another fifteen minutes to get reservations, and then George left his office without
calling home. The reporters could wait until tomorrow. Then he'd have the hopeful note Dr. Tell
wanted, the one that could forestall drastic government action, the one that might save
the,hundreds of people whose memories were already irrevocably lost.
When it became clear to the reporters who showed up at his house that George Rines was not there
and would not be there, they called his office and were told that he had resigned and left. Most
gave up then; a few did not; one actually went to the Institute and talked to everyone. No one
would talk. Except for the ratman, the lab assistant who cared for the behavioral testing animals.
Vaughn Shirten.
The headline was large-- the editor was willing to go with the story when he saw the copy of the
press release that the reporter had found on George's desk-- the one he didn't mean to release. It
was quoted from extensively, along with a few juicier quotes from Vaughn. "It seems highly likely
that at least some of those who have taken somec have been partially or completely deprived of
their memory," said George's release. "That means that a hell of a lot of folks won't even know
haw to speak or go to the bathroom," Vaughn added helpfully. "It means that they won't have
anything left but their instincts. And human beings don't have as much instinct as a planaria."
It was three a.m. in Berkeley when the motel operator finally agreed to call room 215.
"Yes?" George asked sleepily.
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"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Rines. But they insisted that it's an emergency. I told them they just
couldn't because we weren't sure that the G. Rines... but there's a government man on the phone,
and a U.S. Senator called, and your wife."
"You're kidding," George said. "Let me talk to my wife."
"It is you then? I'm so relieved."
"Yeah, you're fine, let me talk to my--"
"George!" Aggie's voice was anguished. "Oh, George, how could you have just gone off like this--
"
"I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd end up staying overnight."
"You might have called!"
"It was after midnight here when I got to the motel. It would have been two a.m. there. I didn't
want to wake you up."
"Did you think I could sleep?"
"I'm sorry. Now you know where I am--" he yawned-- "can we go back to sleep?"
"George!" she shouted. "Don't fall asleep! You can't tell me you didn't know there'd be phone
calls!"
"About what?"
"Your interview in the paper."
"I didn't do an interview--"
"That's what I told the Senator, but he kept demanding until the reporter found that article and
the phone numbers on your desk and called Dr. Waite and--"
"You called Dr. Waite?"
"And he said you had been there all day and George, Dr. Tell called and so did Ron Hubbard and
they said you're fired, even though you resigned, and George, there've been phone calls all
evening--"
"What senator?"
"Maxwell! The anti-science one that everybody hates so bad. He thinks you're a hero."
"He would, the bastard."
"George, what can I do?"
"Tell them all to wait until I come home. Tve got some things to talk about with Waite."
"George, don't you have any sense of responsibility?"
"I have a sense of being very tired. Tell the reporters that we've already got a solution to a
lot of the problem. Tell the Institute they want to see me tomorrow afternoon whether they hate me
or not. And tell the senator to go shove a bill up his--"
"George, do you have to be profane?"
"Coarse and vulgar, Aggie, but never profane. It's four a.m. I'll see you tomorrow."
"What if I'm not home when you get there, you rotten--"
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He hung up. He had a habit of shutting people out when they were getting abusive. It saved him
from a lot of unnecessary anguish. Particularly since they were often correct.
***
In two weeks he was no longer a pariah, no longer unemployed. Congress had approved the creation
of a research office to solve the somec problem. And George Rines was in charge of it., "Your type
of science we need more of," the senator told George. "Courageous. Thinking the new angles."
Raking up the muck, George silently filled in. But he accepted the job and went ahead. It meant
a move to California, because Waite and all the equipment were at Berkeley. Aggie and the girls
raised hell about it.
"Diane has only another year in high school!" Aggie complained.
"Then stay here," George finally exploded. "It's not as if I needed you out there! I can get
twice as much done if I don't have to move the whole family."
He regretted saying it. He apologized. It made no difference. Aggie and Diane and Anita stayed
behind, and he had beeen in Berkeley only a week when the notice of their legal separation reached
him. He tried to call. He even flew back. But they had moved, too, and left no address except the
post office box where he'd better send money every month or find himself in court for abandonment,
as the lawyer so carefully put it.
For the entire flight back George was distraught. His world was falling apart. He and Aggie had
meant everything to each other for years.
Then he got to Berkeley and never thought about his family except when he got to the motel, and
later to the apartment, and realized that there was no one there. Damn them anyway, he thought.
Who needs baggage? I'm accomplishing things of lasting value. I'm taking a dangerous drug and
making it fulfil its potential for good. And if that doesn't matter as much as the stinking last
year in a stupid high school...
***
The government money poured in and the research quickly took over an entire building in the new
research complex. One department carefully verified the extent of somec damage: when chimps, too,
reverted to the behavior of newborn infants despite tremendous amounts of previously learned
behavior. The memory loss was total.
Another department continuously played with the braintaping techniques and equipment. One branch
of research tried to separate certain kinds of knowledge and memory from others-- it met repeated
failures and no success at all. Another branch simplified the method of taping brain patterns and
imposing them on another subject. It got to the point where even complex chimpanzee behavior could
be taught in three minutes with a taper. The trouble was, the chimpanzees were hopelessly insane
within fifteen minutes.
It was the third department that George supervised personally. There somec was mixed with
braintaping technology. And there they found the first hopes of success.
The somec story had been front-page news. Now, however, the story was buried; each new success
seemed to be timed perfectly to coincide with world events that filled the airwaves and the
newspapers.
For example, when George first verified that if a trained rat was braintaped before being
drugged with somec, and then the tape was reimpinged on the same, rat's brain after it woke up,
the rat immediately regained all its former training, with no measurable impairment at all. And
for six weeks afterward there was no sign of insanity. The results were encouraging enough to call
a news conference. The reporters came.
But the same day, the president announced that aerial photographs proved that while the missiles
had been taken out of Quebec, large concentrations of Russian troops were unloading from the
trawlers that were making ridiculously heavy traffic between Leningrad and Montreal. There was
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only one reason for Russian troops to be in Quebec. "Defense," said the Quebecois PM, during the
first interview, before he knew the Russians were going to try to deny it. "Attack," said the U.S.
President, and put the troops on alert. "Just try it," said the Russian General Secretary.
The U.S. President didn't, and the somec story was never noticed.
When George found that trained chimps could be taped and their tapes played into other chimps'
brains without ill effect provided the receivers had been drugged with somec first, the story was
worthy of note, certainly. The reporters thought so, even though the chimps had only been out for
a week-- since insanity had always occurred in such a case within an hour, it seemed that the
somec had solved the problem. And the Congressional oversight committee authorized George to begin
working to try to save the humans who had been put under somec.
However, that news never reached the American public because that week Russian, Polish,
Hungarian, and East German troops lurched across the heavily defended border of West Germany and
the not particularly heavily defended border of Austria. "Stop," the American President said,
"Make us," the General Secretary said. "Use your missiles," cried the Chancellor of West Germany.
"We can't be the first to use nuclear weapons," answered the anguished American President. "De
Gaulle told you so," the French newspapers, now suddenly Gaullist, cried in print. But no one in
Germany read them-- the Russian troops were pouring into Italy, Switzerland, the Netherlands,
Denmark by now. And though American troops were dying, the president could not push the button or
give the order or even find anyone willing to do it for him. "American promises are a fart in the
wind," said the ranking Tory MP, and the Labor PM didn't even deplore the crudity.
George Rines taped the brains of the next of kin of the five healthiest sleepers. They woke up
believing they were the other person, but George's staff and the relatives carefully helped the
former sleeper realize his true identity and step into that role. Four days after the five humans
were awakened, the chimps that had been given another chimp's memories all went crazy. At once. As
if on cue.
And only a week, later, the sleepers joined them.
Dialogue with Thomas N. Cortia, the last of the five to remain sane:
Good morning, Tom.
"Morning, George."
No use hiding this from you.
"Mrs. Feean went off the deep end."
You're the miracle man now, Tom. How do you do it?
"Maybe I'm just stubborn and maybe I'm too old to go crazy and maybe I'm already halfway crazy
and we don't know it yet."
There's not much hope.
"Can't say I mind."
What's it feel like, Tom?
"Doesn't feel too normal. For one thing, it sounds strange even now to have you calling me Tom.
All my memories right now have everybody calling me Bill. My brother, right? Don't feel like my
brother. It feels like me."
Really?
"No."
Not really?
"I mean it don't feel like me. I mean those memories-- they just aren't right at all. Not at
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all. I know Bill pretty well right now, and I know he'd hate it if he knew how complete my
knowledge of his past really is. I never knew he screwed my cousin Sally. At a family reunion,
right in the bathroom. That memory's just been eating at me, George. Cause I wouldn't have done
that. There's no time in my life I would've rutted on a woman like that. That's not my style."
What is your style, Tom?
"I don't know, dammit. All my memories is telling me that is my style, but it's wrong. Dead
wrong. I don't know why."
What about yourself? Tom, not the Bill memories.
"All I know about me is the way Bill remembers me. George, it's impossible to see myself as a
stinkin' little tagalong who's worth less than horse manure. I wasn't like that. But Bill knows me
better than any other living human being knows me, right? It isn't me, though. Lord, it isn't me.
And I wouldn't've said what Bill said."
When?
"Ever! George, you don't know what it's like. As far as I know, I'm Bill. But every damn memory
I have is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I wouldn't act that way. I wouldn't do those things. I
wouldn't've married that tight little bitch he picked up in New York. I wouldn't've raised my kids
so pussyfoot easy, they all turned into bastards. My life's turned out all wrong, George, and I
can't handle that. I've done everything wrong in my life, at least that's how I remember it, and
you can tell me it isn't true and tell me I'm really Tom and not Bill but that doesn't change what
I remember and what I remember doesn't change the fact that Bill just doesn't act the way I'd act
and...
Calm down, now, Tom. Don't let it get to you.
"It was easier the first few days. Hell, George, I was like a man trying out a brand new body.
My fingers didn't act right. My legs kept walking shorter than they oughta. I had plenty to occupy
my mind. Especially the cancer. My brother's memories don't include himself having any cancer, you
know."
They can cure it.
"They can't cure my head. George, I promise you I'll hang on as long as I can, but I'll go
bonkers soon enough."
Don't do it on my account.
"No. No sir, wouldn't put myself out none for you."
Tom, when you go crazy, if you do, we'll just put you under somec again. And we'll try to bring
you out of it when we know how to do it better.
"Forget it, George. If it means somebody else's head in mine, forget it. It's hell, George. When
I die, they're sending me to hell, and it'll be just like this."
See you tomorrow, Tom.
"Fat chance, George. But you're a nice young bastard, even if you are screwing up people's
heads. Have a good day."
You too, Tom.
***
They tried it again. They started with the assumption that it was too confusing to use a near
relative as the source of memories. It was too difficult when the patient knew he had once been
someone else. So they took five more; again, those with the least advanced cancer. They gave them
the braintapes of people their age and their sex, but told the patients nothing of the experiment.
Instead, the patients were told that they had had amnesia and a serious illness, but they were
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getting better.
It made no difference.
Dialogue with Marian Williamson, the last of the five to remain sane. She believed her name was
Lydia Harper:
Lydia, how did you sleep?
"It was hideous."
Hideous? Why?
"I kept dreaming."
About what?
"You told me you weren't a shrink."
I lied. Haven't you ever lied?
"Yes, Dr. Rines, I have."
Are you good at it?
"Very, very good." [Patient weeps.]
What's wrong, Lydia?
"Doctor, I don't know, I don't know, I keep dreaming terrible dreams, I keep seeing myself doing
hideous things, what's wrong with me?"
I don't know. You were sick.
"Not that sick. Oh, I have an occasional pain in my stomach, but nothing too serious, I'm not a
hypochondriac, I refuse to complain, but doctor, I can't bear living with myself."
Come now. You've lived with yourself all your life.
"I don't know how I did it. Dr. Rines, is it possible for a person to keep doing things all her
life and then suddenly wish she had never done them? Suddenly wonder how in the world she had ever
done them?"
Like what?
"I'm not Catholic. I don't like confessing."
Is it that terrible?
"Sometimes."
Tell me the other times.
"It'll sound so silly."
I promise not to laugh unless you laugh first.
"I'll hold you to that, doctor. Because I won't laugh. And I won't tell you something silly.
I'll tell you the worst thing of all."
Only if you want to.
"I have to. Oh, God, help me. I'm not an old woman, doctor. I'm only thirty-eight. I haven't
seen a mirror since I woke up after my amnesia, but even if I'm ugly now, doctor, I was once quite
a pretty young woman. Doctor, I-- even this might sound silly, but it's true-- I haven't been
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particularly inhibited, sexually, during my life."
It doesn't seem to be expected these days.
"And I don't regret that. But in college, I was strapped for money. Maybe you don't remember the
recession of the seventies, doctor, but my parents couldn't keep me in school any longer and I was
determined to get an education. So I started-- I started charging for it."
For sex?
"I was a whore. I'd make appointments through a couple of men I had had as lovers. I charged
twenty dollars. I was cheap. But I stayed in college."
You aren't the first woman to have done that.
"I know it. That isn't it, it isn't that I disapprove, though I do. I mean, I disapprove now,
but until I woke up just now I never did. What matters is that I can't believe I ever did it."
Yet you remember that you did.
"But I wouldn't do that!"
But you did it. You're just denying the truth.
"I know, I know it, but doctor, in the name of God I swear I would never, never, never do that.
It is impossible. I can't live with myself having done that!" [Patient weeps uncontrollably.]
It's just one thing, Lydia.
"It's not. It's the way I wore my makeup, deliberately to be seductive. I can see myself sitting
there at the mirror, relishing the effect. The memory makes me sick. And the way I always let my
father run my life. For years I did whatever he said to do. I was so sorry when he died. Now I'm
glad he's dead. And that's terrible, because I remembered that I loved him. Why should I forget
how much I loved him?"
I don't know.
"Because he was a selfish, controlling bastard, that's why. Oh, I can't believe I said that. I
don't use language like that, doctor. I sleep with men for money, but I don't use language like
that. I'm going crazy, doctor. I'm losing my mind. Nothing in my life seems to fit together
anymore. I keep wanting to kill myself."
I hope you won't.
"Do you think these pains in my stomach could be cancer?"
We can have that checked.
"If I have cancer, doctor, I'll kill myself. That would be the last straw."
We'll have you checked. But don't talk about killing yourself.
"I'm sorry. I've never talked that way before. I don't know why I'm talking like that now.
Thanks for listening to me, Dr. Rines. Am I really insane?"
You sound quite healthy to me.
"Really? You wouldn't lie?"
I would lie, if I thought it would do any good. But right now I'm not lying.
"Thank you. Thank you very much."
I'll see you tomorrow.
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摘要：

file:///F|/rah/Orson%20Scott%20Card/Capitol.txtCAPITOLbyOrsonScottCard(c)1979byOrsonScottCardv1.0(Apr-06-1999)Ifyoufindandcorrecterrorsinthetext,pleaseupdatetheversion umberby0.1andredistribute.***CONTENTSPrefaceASleepandaForgettingAThousandDeathsSkippingStonesSecondChanceBreakingtheGameLifeloopBur...

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分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：132 页 大小：354.5KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-13

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