great deal of noise. There might be a reason for that.
Too, as they had continued in their journey, pausing now and then, he had noted that one or more of the Pons, to the side, rather modestly, back in the brush, squatting down, under the cover of their robes, had apparently relieved themselves. They had then covered this spoor with dirt, gouged up with their tiny, shiny scarps. Predators often covered their spoor, to keep their presence in an area concealed. But the Pons did not seem likely predators. As far as Brenner knew they did not even hunt, their reverence for life deterring them from the chase. This reluctance, of course, need not be symmetrical. In not hunting one does not thereby remove oneself from the category of the hunted. Such unilateral sacrifices are seldom reciprocated in nature. The Pons, in the forest, might not stand at the top of the food chain. There could thus be an advantage not only to the predator in concealing his presence, but one accruing similarly to the prey. But the forest seemed calm. The wind rustled gently through the leaves of the trees. The covering of the spoor, or feces, Brenner supposed, in the case of the Pons, probably had to do with their modesty, or their embarrassment concerning their own bodies, which they kept muchly covered, as shameful objects, and the processes of such bodies, or even with taboos, perhaps their ritual fear or loathing of touching unclean things, and such. Or they might just be neat, tidy creatures, intent upon keeping a pleasant environment.
Brenner struggled not to find the Pons disgusting. He did not wish to commit a fallacy, imposing his own values, as uncertain and confused as they were, on alien creatures. He was not, after all, a Rodriguez, who seemed to feel he was entitled to his own opinions on such matters. He must, instead, be scientifically neutral, and rigorously objective, and keep in mind, too, that all life forms, and all cultures, and such, were wonderful, the same, and equivalent. To be sure, there were some exceptions to this. For example, the science councils and many of the professional organizations of the home world, which were now in effect branches of various parties, and were politically active, and responsible, concerned, and militant, in acceptable ways, had denounced certain cultures, for example, those of several of the openly stratified worlds. Indeed, in some cases, vigorous resolutions had been passed, boldly conforming to various party lines. In short, in effect, science was neutral, and all life forms, and cultures, were wonderful, the same, and equivalent, except for those which were not approved, which were “bad,” etc. Needless to say, the scientific findings on these matters differed from world to world, and, within given worlds, from place to place, and from time to time.
From time to time Rodriguez stopped, and consulted his compass, and made an addition to his map. At such times, the Pons, too, of course, stopped. Then, again, the party would proceed.
There must be a human nature, thought Brenner, and a human goodness and badness, or rightness and wrongness, one for our species, not for all species, or for no species, not something external and imposed, but something internal and real, something with its own teleology, its own impetus, and viabilities.
But he could not deny the strength of conditioning processes. It is possible to condition an animal to behave in unnatural, eccentric fashions, to starve itself, to frustrate itself, to beat its head bloody into walls, to engage persistently, congratulating itself all the while, in self-destructive, life-shortening activities. Experiments, no longer permitted, except apparently on a global scale with rational species, had made that clear.
Perhaps there is hope, thought Brenner.
It is not always easy, say, to twist trees and bushes into unnatural shapes, however appealing these shapes may be to those with unnatural tastes. Once the eccentric stresses are removed, once the wires, the ropes, and bands are cut, the trees, the bushes, tend to grow again according to their own natures, the ancient natures, never forgotten, lurking in each cell in the body, putting down their roots deeply, into the foundational, sustaining, anchoring darkness, seeking there fluids and nutriments, and lifting their branches toward the light, thus standing in darkness, reaching for the sun. How else can one grow, or become real? Surely neither by repudiating the earth nor by denying the stars. One must have both, the darkness and the light, the polarities, each intelligible,