zygote from cold-pack along its regular developmental path. For each death there is an instantaneous new life; the two are interwoven."
Parsons thought, So out of death comes life. In their view, death is the cause of life .
"Where do the zygotes come from?" he inquired.
"Contributed according to a specific and very complex pattern. Each year we have Lists. Contest examinations between the tribes. Tests that cover all phases of ability, physical fitness, mental faculties, and intuitive functioning at every level and of every description and orientation. From the most abstract to the object-correlatives, the manual skills."
With comprehension, Parsons said, "The contribution of gametes is proportional to the test ratings of each tribe."
Stenog nodded. "In the last Lists the Wolf Tribe gained sixty victories out of two hundred. Therefore it contributed thirty percent of the zygotes for the next period, more than the three next highest-scoring tribes. As many gametes as possible are taken from the actual high-scoring men and women. The zygotes are always formed here, of course. Unauthorized zygote formation is illegal . . . but I don't want to offend your sensibilities. Extremely talented persons have made substantial contributions, even where their particular tribes have scored low. Once a gifted individual is located, all efforts are made to obtain his or her total supply of gametes. The Mother Superior of the Wolf Tribe, for example. None of Loris' gametes are lost. Each is removed as it is formed and immediately impregnated at the Fountain. Inferior gametes, the seed of low-scores, are ignored and allowed to perish."
Now, with first real clarity, Parsons grasped the underlying scheme of this world. "Then your stock is always improving."
"Of course," Stenog said, surprised.
"And the girl, Icara. She wanted to die because she was maimed, disfigured. She knew she would have had to compete in the Lists that way."
"She would have been a negative factor. She was what we call substandard. Her tribe would have been pulled down by her entry. But as soon as she was dead, a superior zygote, from a later stock than her own, was released. And at the same time a nine month embryo was brought out and severed from the Soul Cube. A Beaver died. Therefore this new baby will wear the emblem of the Beaver Tribe. It will take Icara's place."
Parsons nodded slowly. "Immortality." Then death, he realized, has a positive meaning. Not the end of life. And not merely because these people wish to believe, but because it is a fact. Their world is constructed that way.
This is no idle mysticism! he realized. This is their science.
On the drive back to Stenog's house, Parsons contemplated the bright-eyed men and women along the route. Strong noses and chins. Clear skins. A handsome race of imposing men and full-breasted young women, all in the prime of youth. Laughing, hurrying through their fine city.
He caught a glimpse, once, of a man and woman passing along a spidery ramp, a strand of shimmering metal connecting two spires. Neither of them was over twenty. Holding hands as they rushed along, talking and smiling at each other. The girl's small, sharply-etched face, slender arms, tiny feet in sandals. A rich face, full of life and happiness. And health.
Yet, this was a society built on death. Death was an everyday part of their lives. Individuals died and no one was perturbed, not even the victims. They died happily, gladly. But it was wrong. It was against nature. A man was supposed to defend his life instinctively. Place it before everything else. This society denied a basic drive common to all life forms.
Struggling to express himself, he said, "You invite death. When someone dies, you're glad."
"Death," Stenog said, "is part of the cycle of existence, as much so as birth. You saw the Soul Cube. A man's death is as significant as his life." He spoke disjointedly, as traffic ahead of him caused him to turn his attention back to