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The co-pilot looked grim.Good thing it happened now instead of in mid-flight. At that speed, wed been torn apart. How silently they must have moved. What bloody fools wed been not to get away after those two farmers had copped us. Godfrey and friends had probably had bulletins out for us all morning. by Cordwainer Smith One quick query, and a remarkable seven-page reply later, I not only understoodsomething of the faction lines in modern psychology, and a little bit about kinesthetic aftereffect, but I could see why aNeo-Hebbian (“an inveterate neural mechanistic theorist”)had to find a way around a trip to the headshrinker. (“Personality theorists” —-and that includes virtually all schools of psychiatry—”are mechanists, but notneural mechanists.”) Then tell them that Ive been curing impossible cases. And that I haven’t the faintest idea how. Seewhat on TV? Biev wasnt exactly made into a laughing stock. The ones in power, the Directorates of Financing, weren’t quite sure whether to limit his funds altogether on the experiment in question, therefore killing any future efforts, or to extend to him the fiat of a blank check, or simply to liquidate him, his associates, and the whole endeavor on the contention that the project was mad, fruitless, pointless, undecipherable, a waste of the People’s money, and ... a mite dangerous to all. No! Of course not! I recoiled indignantly. You have to be awful bad to be in prison.” I think Id put it differently, the Holy Man replied. To be precise, I must say this. You never will achieve your heart’s desire without my aid. Your way of doing things is not quite good enough.” Adonis? Osiris? Thammuz? Manitou? Legba? Where is she? Senator Phil McGiverns abilities included cunning and a high survival factor. He lumbered to his feet. Walters! Take him! he snapped. “He’s a fake!” He bent over to snatch at a desk drawer. Pitmans head jerked up. No! he said in horrified tones. “I wrote the notes, I admit it, but I made no effort to harm the woman, I never intended to harm her.” Miss Luptik dropped both arms to her sides and stood rigid, like a palace guard. She began to chant. Then she moved in a kind of religious box step. With a quick wrist motion she told us what she wanted, and we gave it to her. We stood in our places, duplicated her sounds and moved our feet. It was like singing a national anthem for a faraway flag. Hows your time? ...Yes. He was greeted there by a man with a wart between his eyes.You get them new power tools for your cellar yet, that you were talking about? the man asked. Im sick. Let’s face it. I’m a sick woman. It’s the solitude. I’ve never been alone like this before. But truth interrupted to say that there had always been a sense of somebody close at hand. Closer in every way than the caretaker and his wife—too close, maybe. And though once she would have smiled at the implication of that, she now shivered again and sighed. Biev was the kind of person that in a Western society would be termed a screwball and doomed to menial garbage-emptying and ditchdigging chores, since he didnt conform to the proper behavior-personality-interest pattern of an overlaid, rectangular-hole-punched pasteboard computer card. Instead, Biev was in a society where his kind were looked upon as crude ore to be assayed and appreciated. A tongue-in-cheek appreciation, it was true, but appreciation nonetheless, with a bit of eyebrow-raising and tongue-wagging as kind of a price to pay for being unorthodox. And more than just different, he was the epitome of the Different. Persons less individual than Biev cast envious eyes upon him—where in a Western society they threw stones—and thankedtheir gods that they didn’t have to be like him since the world already had a Biev. If homage was in the coin of envy, you might say Biev was the Unorthodox’s Unorthodox..
