looked back to the palisade, and to the forest beyond, which seemed quiet and dark. Again Rodriguez was pleased that they were so small.
“There is nothing to be afraid of,” said Brenner, softly, to the Pons about.
“You are threatening their way of life,” said Rodriguez. “You do not even know the reasons for these things. They doubtless do not know them themselves.”
“It is time they outgrew their superstitions,” said Brenner.
“I am trying to explain this to you,” said Rodriguez, quietly. “Try to understand it. If taboo is violated, and left unpunished, the pact with the totem, the very foundation of their way of life, is breached. This will call forth the wrath of the totem. It may punish them for their infidelity, for their crime. At the least it will no longer accord them its protection.”
“The totem is a git,” said Brenner.
“I am not sure of that,” said Rodriguez.
“Get back!” said Brenner, angrily, fiercely, to the git keeper. It scurried back, to stand beside the one cage, with its bloodied, crumpled occupant.
“Touched! Touched! Touched!” shrieked the git keeper. With his stick he pointed at the figure in the cage, and then at the female, again and again.
“Maybe no touch,” said Rodriguez. “Maybe mistake. Maybe no touch!”
“Saw! Saw! Saw!” shrilled the git keeper.
“It does not matter,” said Brenner to the git keeper. “It is all right to touch.”
There was then a great silence in the clearing.
“Yes,” said Brenner, quietly. “It is all right to touch.” It was strange in a way, he thought, that he, from the home world, should be saying this. The home world, for centuries, reeling in pernicious momentum, had discouraged touchings of an intersexual manner, as they were regarded as incompatible with the identity of the sexes, such touchings tending to elicit an outlawed masculinity and a forbidden femininity. It was true, of course, that they tended not to produce neuteristic identicals but, in effect, masters and slaves. Interestingly, masculinity and femininity had supposedly been disproven by science. But Brenner’s society, like many, had found it necessary to suppress with vigor what it claimed did not exist. Such inconsistencies are common amongst advanced societies, and idiots. There are, of course, numerous ways to produce offspring without touchings, available in laboratories, and such. Thus one needed have no fear as to imminent extinction on the home world. The official views tended to be accepted, at least ostensibly, by those in Brenner’s society who would seek to rise in various hierarchies. They tended also to be accepted by many moral individuals who, in virtue of their conscientious adherence to these directives, were effectively weeding themselves out of the population. It might be added that the average individual on Brenner’s home world now failed intelligence tests of the sorts which had been given several centuries ago, but, as an alarmed bureaucracy had hastened to produce new tests, it was proven, by identity of scores, that the intelligence of the population had not declined. Such touchings were not regarded as taboo on Brenner’s home world, of course, but rather as, depending on the authority, devolved, antiquated, perverse, antisocial, unprogressive, pathological or wicked.
“It is all right to touch,” repeated Brenner. He said this very softly, very gently, very soothingly.
Several of the Pons looked at one another, frightened. It was odd, thought Rodriguez. Their eyes. The look in their eyes was not like that which might have been in the eyes of home-worlders, amused, skeptical, or puzzled, that there might seem to be a reversal, perhaps local or temporary, perhaps in the interests of a party, in a policy which most of them had never genuinely internalized in the first place. No. It was quite different. This had not to do with the inanities of politics, and pressure groups, and what was thought to be in the best interest of this or that special group, and so was absurdly universalized for an entire species, but had to do with something fundamental in their lives. Some of the Pons seemed terribly uneasy, as though they might have suddenly, quite unexpectedly, found themselves standing defenseless amongst enemies. Some glanced back at the females. Their eyes were not met. Some of the females backed away. Distances widened appreciably. The eyes of others seemed frightened, as though they looked down into an abyss, or outward, into a nothingness. Several of the Pons began to wail and turn about. Some covered their faces.
The git keeper began to drive his pointed stick angrily into the ground near the one