Chapter 28

Dravivian led him into a large room paneled in walnut. The furniture was of a heavy, black wood, intricately carved and varnished. The desk, high and straight, seemed to be an antique. A heavy tapestry covered one entire wall. It depicted, in fading colors, a medieval hunting scene.

“Do you like it?” Dravivian asked. “My family did the furnishing. My wife copied the tapestry from an original in the Metropolitan Museum. My two sons collaborated on the furniture. They wanted something ancient and Spanish in feeling, but with more comfort than antiques usually give. A slight modification of the lines accomplished that. My own contributions are not visible. Music of the baroque period is my specialty.”

“Aside from policework,” Barrent said.

“Yes, aside from that.” Dravivian turned away from Barrent and looked thoughtfully at the tapestry. “We will come to the matter of the police in due course. Tell me first, what do you think of this room?”

“It’s very beautiful,” Barrent said.

“Yes. And?”

“Well--I’m no judge.”

“You must judge,” Dravivian said. “In this room you can see Earth’s civilization in miniature. Tell me what you think of it.”

“It feels lifeless,” Barrent said.

Dravivian turned to Barrent and smiled. “Yes, that’s a good word for it. Self-involved might perhaps be better. This is a high-status room, Barrent. A great deal of creativity has gone into the artistic improvement of ancient archetypes. My family has re-created a bit of the Spanish past, as others have re-created bits of the Mayan, Early American, or Oceanic past. And yet, the essential hollowness is obvious. Our automatized factories produce the same goods for us year in and year out. Since everyone has these same goods, it is necessary for us to change the factory product, to improve and embroider it, to express ourselves through it, to rank ourselves by it. That’s how Earth is, Barrent. Our energy and skills are channeled into essentially decadent pursuits. We re-carve old furniture, worry about rank and status, and in the meantime the frontier of the distant planets remains unexplored and unconquered. We ceased long ago to expand. Stability brought the danger of stagnation, to which we succumbed. We became so highly socialized that individuality had to be diverted to the most harmless of pursuits, turned inward, kept from any meaningful expression. I think you have seen a fair amount of that in your time on Earth?”

“I have. But I never expected to hear the Chief of the Secret Police say it.”

“I’m an unusual man,” Dravivian said, with a mocking smile. “And the Secret Police is an unusual institution.”

“It must be very efficient. How did you find out about me?”

“That was really quite simple. Most of the people of Earth are security-conditioned from childhood. It’s part of our heritage, you know. Nearly all the people you met were able to tell that there was something very wrong about you. You were as obviously out of place as a wolf among sheep. People noticed, and reported directly to me.”