THX 1139

“As nightfall does not come at once, neither does oppression.  In both instances, there is a twilight when everything remains seemingly unchanged.”   

                William O. Douglas

The four of them came into the windowless room, each taking a seat on a side of the square table.  The light in the room was subdued, the chairs lush faux leather, the carpet deep.  Everything was charcoal gray: walls, ceiling, carpet, and furniture.  An attendant had left a pitcher of water and another of coffee on the table, along with eight cups, all of these gray, as well.

“Do you think we’ll need the coffee?” the one nearest the door asked.  

“That depends on whether there’s any disagreement among us,” the one farthest from the door said.  

The other three thought the answer rang dangerously cavalier.  One of these three said, “If we’re unduly delayed, that might suggest at least one of us was…was willing to consider putting everything at risk.”

The cavalier one regretted the lapse of flippancy, and his face took on a practiced look of seriousness. Nevertheless, he reminded them that there were indeed two options, not one: “The Plenum gave us both choices to consider and specifically bade us have an unfettered debate among ourselves.  We might come to that choice.  The assumption we must embrace during our deliberation is both choices come with risks.  Conversely, each addresses certain risks.  The problem with the first option is it assumes there are dire risks not known or foreseen, like keeping a hydrogen bomb in a world otherwise free of nuclear weapons.”

“Worse than a hydrogen bomb in this case, if you ask me.”

“Perhaps; but that’s what we need to decide.” The word perhaps caused a tightening of bowels.   

“I’m surprised this isn’t a recorded deliberation.”

“The Plenum specifically ordered it not to be.”

“Yes, but the decision is an important one.  The Archivist could’ve overruled them.”

“I hear it was made clear to The Archivist that the Scriptures weren’t to apply, just this once.”

The four of them looked around, as if their eyes could somehow discern microbugs.  The room sat off the cavernous Plenum chamber and was soundproof.  The chamber would remain empty until the rest of the members were called back to hear the decision made by these four.  The Plenum decreed the details of the vote would be kept secret.  Whether the vote was 4-0 or 3-1; and if 3-1, the identity of the contrarian would not be shared with anyone, ever.

Despite these assurances, three of them were visibly nervous.  One tapped a pen on the table. One tightly held an empty cup.  The other’s face glistened with a sheen of sweat despite the coolness of the room.      

“It’s come to this?”

“Did you ever think we’d see this day?”  That this was asked as a question, again resulted in a tightening of bowels.  Everyone in their society was expected to expect this day to come.  The honeyed words and benign watchfulness of the Plenum had, over a mere two generations, led them here, on the verge of perfection.  Yet, this meeting served as a jarring pause, with as much discordance as if a marathon runner had stopped a few feet from the tape to ponder whether to indeed cross the finish line.     

“So, let’s get to our task,” said the one farthest from the door.  “I know we’re very familiar with the situation, but we should still carefully go over it again, correct each other if we note any errors or omissions, or considerations that have somehow been neglected up to this point.”  The other three nodded in agreement.

“The seed bank is option one.  Like the one on that forsaken island for actual seeds.  Stored there just in case.”

“Svalbard.”

“Yes, that’s it.  Except in that vault the seeds are harmless things, not vipers ready to hatch and cause tremendous chaos and destruction.”

“Can we foresee any conceivable situation where we’d need these people and their poisonous ideas?”

“I can’t, but the Plenum discussion was lively, albeit weighed against it.  The Elder One thought we should shed our hubris, not assume we can infallibly predict the future.”

“When we might need the hydrogen bomb, so to speak.”

“He said ninety-nine-point-nine percent perfection should be enough.” 

“And put himself at great risk with his notion.” 

Merely repeating the Elder One’s words caused the pencil tapping, cup gripping, and sweating to resume.  The Elder One was well-respected and held tremendous power in the Plenum, but he indeed pushed what was already an unheard-of discussion to a point of tremendous discomfort among the thousand members.  Yes, they’d consider the first option, they sincerely wanted an honest discussion of it, but accepting something less than perfect—that was uncalled for, some of the members whispered.   

“One doesn’t hear of personal risk anymore.  Obviously, the majority thought the situation is more like the few remaining test tubes of smallpox…and should be dealt with accordingly.”

“But I recall that debate was similar to ours today.  There were those who wanted the tubes kept…just in case.”

“Then as now, the just in case is frustratingly nebulous.”

“There is nobody to attack anybody.  We’ve ended that concern.  What are we afraid of, aliens?”

“The seed vault analogy isn’t exact.  You can’t keep them in cold storage like seeds.  We need a place to put them where they can maintain a breeding population.”

“That’s why they’re like a cached smallpox, not seeds.  They might escape the lab and cause a new plague—”

“Is that really a risk?  The treatment makes the population immune.”

“To ideas, yes.  But imagine them running amok amongst a docile population.” The other three shuddered at this notion.

“There are logistical challenges.  We’d need someone like a veterinarian to look after them.  A medical doctor might refuse on ethical grounds.”

“If we choose the second option, that won’t be a problem.  Our indoctrination about euthanasia takes care of that.”

“What do you think it’s like to be one of them?  Possessed of the stubborn notion to refuse something that is profoundly for their own good?”

“Seems like such a deliberately miserable existence.”

“Is it? I read a book long ago, before the bans.  It had a strange title.  At first glance, one might think it was about a citrus fruit that tells time.  In the book one of the characters asked, ‘Is a man who chooses the bad perhaps in some way better than a man who has the good imposed upon him?’”

“Better hope this is not being recorded.  We’re supposed to denounce such talk.”

“The Plenum gave us free reign for this meeting.”

“So they say.  But they could just as easily unsay.”  The others wished they’d not been reminded of this possibility.  

“Perhaps a third option.  Should we suggest the treatment be made involuntary.  That would make the decision moot.”

“The decision was made long ago that it must be done of one’s own free will.  Forcibly making them take it is—for all intents and purposes—the second option.”

“Destroying the test tubes.”

“Yes, though in less dramatic fashion.  Sterilizing the labware is a more apt description.”

“How many are we talking about?”   

“A few hundred…no more than two-fifty.”

“The last census of them showed two-hundred and forty-three.”

“When was that?”

“Six months ago.”

“The geneticists say it’s an adequate breeding population…if we make that choice.”

“The island is self-sufficient.  Will it limit their numbers naturally?”

“Periodic culling is ruled out.  They are to be kept separated from us, including the cullers…unless we need to retrieve them for some unforeseen reason.”

“Back to the unforeseen.”

“But if they overbreed and wipe themselves out.  Wouldn’t that negate the whole purpose of making that choice?”

“Yes and no.  If they wipe themselves out, that just proves the other choice was the right one, only we let them make that choice, voluntarily so to speak.” 

“There is danger in that option, though.  That’s why we’re here today.”

“I’m not a microbiologist, but I don’t recall the smallpox viruses destroyed themselves.”   

“They might leave the island.  I know it’s far to our nearest redoubt, but the original natives made it there by boats of a most primitive sort.”

“I don’t take comfort in the concept of an island.  Remember that other blasted little island and what it did.  And they didn’t even control all of it, at first.”  The other three nodded, trying their best to hide even a hint of admiration.

“Did they not have the same degree of sanctimony and assuredness, which perhaps we ourselves are possessed of?”

“Let’s not go there.  Ours serves noble purposes, not conquest or colonization.”

“We can recommend sensors that would detect a boat of some sort, if they decided to make one.”

“Sensors require someone to monitor, maintain…forever.  Those responsible for this might grow complacent in a few hundred years.”

“AI might work, though there’s no guarantee a virus won’t get in.”

“They’ve been promising us the infallibility of AI for decades.”

“Then that is a factor we need to consider in our decision.”

“Boats aren’t the only thing to worry about.”

“I hope you don’t intend to factor in the movement of tectonic plates that push their villages up against some distant shore someday.”

“Hardly.  But there is that estimate of how long it would take them to achieve flight based on the technology we leave them with and the island’s resources.  We should factor that possibility into our decision.”

“We could leave them with loin cloths and not much more.”

“That increases the risk a sustainable breeding population is not maintained.”

“Even if we leave them at the current state, should we worry about something a thousand years hence?”

“God help me if this room is bugged, but they’re far more clever than the Plenum gives them credit for.  I’d advise not relying on a thousand-year buffer.  For that matter, the movement of tectonic plates should not be discounted.  They’re that dangerous.  History has shown how powerful these untreated ideas can be. We almost didn’t make it to this point in our evolution because of them.”

“That then is a factor in favor of the second option.”

“Satellite monitoring could help.  Surely that’d reveal the necessary industrial infrastructure, landing fields certainly.”

“Such things can be concealed.  The island is rife with mountains, forests, and caves.  They could bore into mountains, dig underground.”

“I’m guessing they’d not want to leave.  That might bring them into contact with us.  They loathe us, after all.”

“Yes, but give them a few generations of breeding, and the natural instincts will come out.  History tells us it always does.”

“They didn’t envy the complexity of our decision, since it won’t require a vote of the entire Plenum.”

“You may recall the possibility of this decision was discussed when the pill first became available.  The Frakeson Mijor exercised their usual foresight and thought it prudent to plan for it.”

“I seem to recall they said eventuality rather than possibility.”

“Indeed, though it doesn’t matter.  Here we are with a particularly heavy onus on our shoulders.”

“We’ve now a host of reasons against the first option.   What are the reasons against the second?”

“We can’t just tell the Plenum, ‘You just never know.’”

“That’s essentially what we’d be saying, but we’d need to articulate specific reasons why.”

“Can we really say, aliens?”

“Let’s not give into the temptation for the easy choice without agreeing among ourselves that we’ve thoroughly hashed it out.”

“Destroying the smallpox test tubes.  Though as our colleague suggested, the stakes are higher here, worse than smallpox.”

“Quite interesting that years ago they debated keeping the virus in two secure labs.  Just in case…”

“In case of what?”

“I believe that was their point.  They didn’t know what a just in case scenario might be.”

“Back then, there was also the undercurrent of causing a species to go extinct, the terror of its finality.”

“Even for a microbe?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t feel any such sentiment with these creatures.”

“I do in a way…are we certain this not being recorded?”

“Why do you think thusly?”

“How do we know our way of life is indeed perfection?  It might be prudent to accept the risk of an unpleasant insurance policy, and keep them around in case unforeseen events occur, where people like these are needed to save humanity.  Maybe, that’s answer enough.”

“Is any of us here willing to say that publicly?”

“I’m not.”  The others shook their heads.

“We’ve spent many years trying to save humanity from their vile notions, so what you suggest is difficult to convey, to say the least…”

“I agree.  I’m just trying to give this momentous decision its due.”

“Even though they left the choice to us, such rationale would be a dangerous one to explain to the Plenum.  The Frakeson might get away with such talk…but us…even senior members of the Plenum…”

“The Frakeson is itself a repository of the old things…though one unwaveringly faithful to our ways.”

“Are we sure the pill is infallible?”  The other three wished to flee the room at this open heresy.

Once over the initial shock at the question, one of the others said, “That is one of our central tenets.  The Scriptures foretold of it.”

“It also tells of perfection, and yet we’re openly discussing leaving imperfection in the world.”

“Only a few hundred out of a hundred million. What they used to call a rounding error.”  

The four of them discussed the matter for another hour.

The vote was taken.

They chose poorly.