Yet, perhaps he could salvage this waste of his time by checking out some of the stores there, his wife dressed as plain as the rules said to, but enjoyed testing the boundaries a bit with some infra-green clothy-cloth now and then, instead of the more traditional orange dayglo garb. They were still talking about her scarf she'd pretended she wore for the cold last Christmas.
He set his Triangle for full auto, so he could avail himself of reading during the trip. He knew he should feel guilty, his Ordnung had voted long ago to only drive on manual, but when else would he have anytime to catch up on his scriptures? And this was a particularly rare and ancient version, the almost apocryphal New International Version, and he wanted to see how it compared to the more familiar Rebooted James Standard.
**********
Lars Book was in a hurry. True, the trip from Murdoville to Novy Petrograd was a scant 400 kilometers, but it wasn't very well traveled, and rushing out the door without his parka and cell was against all safety protocols.
His granddad had told him how things had used to be, 250 years ago, before the seas and temperatures rose. Antarctica had been impossible to live in, with temperatures far colder than now. Yet still, weather in the winter could get fierce, with temperatures of -10 Celsius not impossible, and winds that could create white outs that were impervious even to infrared scopes.
Clear skies, though, and his Triangle should have him there in about two hours. He got into his three wheeled hydrogen powered vehicle and took off without a care in the world. Certainly with no thought for any disaster or disruption that his granddad would not only have realized could happen, but would have counted on happening.
Sure enough, halfway there, a gust, a patch of ice, a moment's inattentiveness, all combined to sweep his small vehicle off the road. His last thought, before he crashed into a boulder, was "This is what comes of being Amish..."
**********
GrandsonEleven received the desire to check on Earth Reservation, and left at once from his Patriarch's estate. He simultaneously checked to make sure his dopple had come online to handle the routines of his duties, and mused that he hadn't been away from the Floating Cities of Venus since his 13th birthday (8 years old by Earth years). And then only to celebrate adulthood with a formal gathering of all his relatives, at least all in his Family borgi.
And to receive his formal Life Assignment. That of Drone. He remembered as a child thinking that it would be terrible to be regarded as so useless as to only be one of many Drones, but obviously from the moment it was assigned him, his emotional responses were ecstatic over it, and he was quite happy with the work.
Happy with it, and well able to do it properly. Hence the trust showed in him being chose to go to Early Man's homeworld to find out why there were delays in shipments from the Antarctic beanstalk. Or rather, to assist SonTwo, the Director being dispatched there. Soon enough he was on the ship and after takeoff prep, subjected to enough gees to get him - and his uncle - to Earth in a timely fashion.
**********
Father Jager was in a hurry. A new wing of St. Borlaug Memorial Hospital was to be opening at noon, and here he was still an hour plus outside of Novy Petrograd. He was to give the opening talk there, and was hoping to make it an impressive enough lauding of the donor that she might then be inclined to donate to his Murdoville Ordnung.
One would think in this era of unified Christianity, all under the benign guidance of the International Amish Ordnungs, that raising funds would be easy, but it was not. Not with every Ordnung vying over the same heavy hitters, with no respect for rank or precedence! Not that he hadn't proposed at Conference that some order be imposed on the process, many a time, but always the majority wanted it to still be a free for all.
But he'd landed the speech, and let the others try and overcome that advantage! He fully intended to - wait, a danger alarm? He saw the words in the air by his windshield, "Car crash to the right, one human, stop and lend aid." Curse the manual rule, if he'd been on auto pilot he could have pretended to have slept through this!
Nothing was going to stop him from securing the donation that would help aid so many back in his Ordnung, though! With one hand still on the wheel, he grabbed an All Purpose from the glove compartment and with a flick of his wrist not forgot from his days as a student who worked at an auto shop in the summer, he had the dash access panel open and deftly pulled the chip in charge of the display loose. Not out, but loose.
Now he could continue on his way. Not that he had not been continuing. He had not slowed down at all, but now he had plausible deniability. It was doubtful traffic control would bother seeking him out, but if someone did, he could claim to have seen no warning. Besides, it was hardly his fault that cell reception was non-existent in that lonely stretch. And someone else would surely come by anyway.
**********
Administrator Lapp was reading when the message of a human in danger flashed on his windshield. But knowing that the car could not tell whether he was studying scripture or fast asleep, he reasoned he could pretend - if it ever came up - that he had been asleep. After all, he not only had no intention of letting that upstart fellow admin Huffman be able to make a thing of a missed meeting, he also was now pleasurably contemplating his wife's likely reaction to the gift he planned on getting her.
There were few enough pleasures in his life to forgo any, he thought. Especially as someone else had surely seen and reported this as soon as they came back into a zone with service.
**********
SonTwo had naturally had his plan implanted into GrandsonEleven's mind as they docked at the beanstalk. Which had Leven - as his borgimates called him offline - going down to Earth on a chunk of relatively worthless rock. This rock going down lifted ice going up. In theory, the Early Men liked the ingredients, iron, gold, chrome, but from what he could see on the way down, most of the rocks were just pushed over to the side. He idly wondered why, but no answer flowed to him, so it either didn't exist in the databanks, or he wasn't in need of it.
At that, he gave a start and realized that he was not connected to the databanks any more. This is why he wasn't a Director, he ruefully realized. It wasn't that he didn't know things like that, he just didn't think of them very quickly, which was rather ironic, as his types were usually called Celeritans, based on their ability to think so rapidly.
He did remember that they didn't call themselves Early Man, but "Amish", and they hated biotech and Celeritans. Not that it kept them from doing business, though. They'd been merrily shipping ice up the beanstalk since they knew they could get the rocks sent down in exchange. Rocks...and from what Leven had heard, some illicit tech and pharma with each load - illicit by their standards, anyway. Not his business, though.
His was only to be the eyes and ears of SonTwo upstairs, SonTwo who had rebuffed Leven's attempt to just call him "Two". Not that it made Leven mad to be rebuffed, a fleeting bit of annoyance had took place, then his body monitor changed it to contentment. Not a mindless contentment, but just one that let him be aware of the correction without it bothering him.
**********
Lars was out of his smashed Triangle, having finally extricated himself from the partially frozen safety foam that had nearly drowned him on impact. He idly picked some off of his face while contemplating that he could not feel his legs and was quite cold. He could actually see his breath in the air. He looked at his cell phone, and it had no service. He watched a Triangle flit by, then after it didn't stop, another didn't stop also.
He let his head and shoulders fall back to the snow. It felt cool on his cheek. He wondered what he'd do now? Something hurt in his gut. His fingers felt tingly and hot and cold at once. As did his nose. He was sick with disorientation and pain and discomfort, all things that he'd never really felt before. His movement - the whole of Earth's Early Man movement - was that of "back to nature" and "anti-tech", but truthfully, his kind used more tech than all but the last couple of hundred years of human history.
The ancient stories of Buck Rogers had nothing on Lars and his kind. Only by comparison to the hated Celeritans was Early Man primitive.
**********
Leven arrived at the base of the beanstalk, and looked about. Novy Petrograd was as bad as he had known it would be, cold and primitive beyond all measure, and crowds of savage Early Man slowly bumbling and grumbling about, like...like...he had no comparative to describe how they were. He wondered, as did most of his kind, why they insisted on living like this, when at the very least their yet to be born children could be aided.
And even as adults, they could at least enjoy the benefits of borgification, a voluntary joining in a computer/mind interface that would let twelve to one hundred of them all think and act in seeming unison. And all get the artificially induced happiness, peace and contentment that went along with that, never minding the greater economic efficiencies such granted.
Murdoville was where he was to go, a place even worse if what he'd learned before was any guide. He walked over to an area where Public Triangles were lined up, and at the snail paces of the Early Man he seemingly flashed in front of one and "stole" it. Or so the reaction of the Amishman led him to believe. He wanted no unhappiness, so he quickly stuffed some of the local currency in the Early Man's coat pocket, Leven hoped that when that was found he'd be forgave.
Leven was halfway to Murdoville when the human in danger warning flashed on his windshield. He smiled a bit at the use of the word "human", a word that both Early Man and Celeritans used for themselves. Which, he thought to himself, should tell each side something. He knew that SonTwo would not expect him to stop, but he also knew he was not hooked up to the collective of his family while down here.
He stopped the Triangle. He knew this would probably be trouble later, but he also knew that a part of him had, without really realizing it, wanted to be free from a life of near continual overrides. Not that each override didn't bring about pleasure, not that he was not content in general, but outside the loop now, it was as if he had a dim recollection of vague fantasies of acting/doing alone.
He looked down at Early Man, who was looking not only very injured, but very afraid. Well, Leven thought, I did just appear all but instantly in front of him. I mean, we aren't that fast, but fast enough. He remembered that to them it looked like all Celeritans were sprinting.
**********
A Triangle stopped. Thank heavens, Lars thought. Then the door opened and at once a figure was right in front of him! Lars flinched and shuddered till he realized it must be a Celeritan! Such were rare, but not so rare that he hadn't seen one years ago. It made a high pitched noise, like a lot of varieties of sound compressed into one or two syllables. Which must mean it was speaking paragraphs.
Could he answer? No, Lars thought, but his situation kind of explained itself. Still, as much by reflex, as to try to communicate, he groaned out, "Help!"
**********
"Hhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuuuuulllllllllllllllllppppppppppppp", Leven heard the interminable sound stretch out. But he needed no augment to gather the gist of what this poor primitive was trying to say. Seeing the old fashioned cell phone in the injured man's hand, he reached down as slowly as he could - not very - and removed it. He spent a minute of his time - a few seconds of Amish time - to figure it out, and then typed "I GrandsonEleven I help Do not fear" and set it down in front of the Amishman's eyes.
He waited till he saw the start of a nod and then raced back to his own Triangle and moved it over near the injured man. He jumped out and with a great deal of effort, got the Amish man in the back seat, not made easy by the fact that Early Man was gigantic, at least 1.75 meters tall, as opposed to the one meter height of all the Celeritans.
Getting the back door shut, he got in and taking the governor off, raced the rest of the way to Murdoville. He knew nothing of hospitals or medical centers, nor would he have thought much of them if he had, but he knew where the minborg of this city was. Every city on Earth had a minborg of five in unison, as no one really ever wanted the Early Man unattended even if this was to be a perpetual reservation for all who did not want to evolve.
The borgi welcomed him readily enough, but they all frowned at seeing the Amishman.
"They are not to know we are here. You have exceeded your parameters."
Leven nodded. "He will not know. My parameters are not relevant. I need aid to aid him. Provide it and I will depart."
"Why have you aided one who is not a member of your borgi or a neighbor from another borgi?"
Leven said, "On this planet, none are in my borgi but my Director above. And what neighbors would there be to aid here, besides minborgs like you who need no aid? Yet as I approached, I could see his size, I knew he was not of us, but he was still hurt, I could see his face making expressions that indicate only extreme stress or what these primitives know as pain. I have never felt physical pain, but I did not want another to feel it either."
"He is not in our borgi or yours. He is no neighbor to either of us. This will have cost, minimal though it may be."
Leven said, "I provide now credits sufficient to cover that minimal cost. Whether that is proper or not is between my borgi and I. Let us conclude this."
"We will give such aid as is minimally needed to preserve it's life. You must have it take a blocker on timer with us before leaving with it. We'll report to your Director all that you've said and done."
Leven said, "Agreed. Proceed."
**********
Lars Book came to, and not groggily, but fully alert. He was on a table, and half a dozen Celeritans seemed to be darting about the small room. One sprinted over, and he seemed to be the one who had rescued him. He made one of those odd high pitched sounds, then a lower one, then finally "Hhhoww aabboutt noww?" Seeing comprehension, his brow furrowed as if in a final adjustment, then said, "You understand me now?"
Lars said, "Yes, but how? You haven't made me....?" and Leven said, "No, no, you are far too old for that, this is purely temporary. Our nanobots healed you physically, and corrected a variety of other ailments you had or were to have, and I placed a band on your head that lets us speed up your mental processes to our level, but only for twenty minutes or so. Please do not try and move, your body cannot move as fast as you are thinking now, and your reflexes would have you harm yourself."
Lars promptly tried to raise a hand to feel any band on his head, and hit himself on his head hard. He slammed his arm back down to his side, and then laid still on the table, quivering a bit.
Leven said, "Easy there, you will be okay. I just need to ask you some questions."
"But wait", said Lars, "Please, I know you Celeritans hate us, but can I ask you a few questions? I've never had any way of talking with one of you before, though I saw one of you, when I was a kid."
"Yes", said Leven, "That would have been my great grandfather. He is dead now. But it is not that we hate you, it is that your kind hate us."
"Your great grandfather? I'm only 35, I must have met him only 20 years ago, not to talk to, of course, but he was pointed out to me."
"It is not just our mental processes that we speed up, or the computer linkage that lets our families pool our mental resources and act in unison. We also sped up the growth and evolution of our culture by shortening our biological lifespan. In your Earth years, we reach puberty at around six and full adulthood at eight. Our best years of creative and productive labor - like yours - take place in the middle third of our lives, from eight to sixteen years of age. We then enjoy a retirement, though most of us choose a secondary career, to wile away our last years, from sixteen to twenty four. Then we die of old age."
"Old age at 24!", exclaimed Lars. "Why would you do that to yourselves? We live on average to at least seventy five, and living another ten or twenty years past that is not unheard of!"
"And we sometimes live to 28 or even 30. About the same percent of us as of you who live to 85 or 90. It is not even unheard of for an age of 35 to be attained, but that is as rare as one of you exceeding 100. But we think four times faster than you. If we only thought three times as fast, we'd have the same amount of living, laughing, loving and learning as you do. As it is, by our mental perception of things, we experience well over a century of life."
Lars said, "I suppose you get a bit of benefit out of it then, but that seems like a lot of trouble to go through, and why not just think four times faster while still living 75 years? Then it'd be like you lived to 300, right?"
"Yes", said Leven, amazed that this Early Man could grasp this so readily. "But we want our society to evolve faster, thus letting us implement and improve upon tech quicker. One thing that kept tech from improving faster in the Dark Ages - Dark Ages that you are still in - was that even when some new idea was discovered, humanity had to wait till all those in power died off so that there could be what was called a 'paradigm shift'. We do not want to wait a quarter to a half century for real progress to be made. One of the reasons for our people's lightening progress is our rapid generational turn over."
"But...but what's the hurry?" asked Lars, who was thoroughly enjoying learning about the hated - and feared - Celeritans. "So what if it takes fifty years instead of sixteen? Or is this so you can race even further ahead of us and keep us down?"
Leven said, "No...no one wants to keep any of you down. As you must have heard, we grant any of you the right to have your children - " But Lars interrupted and said, "To steal our children and make them worship in false ways, or worship not at all!"
"As you say", said Leven. "Our ways, our beliefs our different, I only meant that we bear you no malice, and do not wish to keep any down. We guard this ancestral home of both our people's and let you conduct your affairs here as you desire."
"But you won't give us your non-biotech! You keep us down that way, and the solar system is denied us!", replied Lars.
"Because the tech we have is so advanced that it would hurt you. You are homo sapiens, we are homo celeritans, our tech is geared to our borgi linkages, our mental speed, our whole way of life. You would not give fire to a homo habilis, if such still existed. You do not let those of you born mentally feeble play with fire, either."
"So we're Neanderthals to you, children to be kept down!", said Lars bitterly.
Leven looked grave and said, "We trade with you as you wish. Such as raw materials, or even some putatively illicit tech that will not cause you any great harm. But we have larger concerns to deal with, as you have larger concerns to deal with then homo habilis did. And to answer your question as to what our hurry is, well, we feel a greater sense of urgency than you, as we apprehend more dangers than you."
"What do you mean?", asked Lars. Leven looked pensive. "Our movement was born of the changes that hit Earth two or three centuries back. We wanted to be better, smarter, more adaptable. When we came into being, it was to solve the climate change problem. We did. But we knew there would be more problems. We see the dangers of planetary disasters, but also of solar system ones, like solar flares or even a nova. For the climate change disaster, our ancestors engaged in genetic engineering. Our average IQ is what you would think of as 130. Our size is half yours to consume less resources. Our lifespans are faster and shorter, but as full of experience - fuller - than yours. Our culture advances faster."
"Having solved climate change", Leven continued, "we were hardly going to revert back. So all additional improvements, all extra enhancements, were to learn of potential dangers, solve those dangers and look for more dangers. We already shunted an asteroid away, one that would have ended all life on Earth. That's why my great granddad was here, to meet with some of your leaders about that. They were not as grateful as we had hoped they would be."
"Why should we have been?", said Lars. "You personally may not hate us, but you Celeritans as a whole do. We know you spy on us, we know some of you are in each town, we just know better than to disturb you. My Granddad told me what was done when some of you were found in a town in Mexico and captured. That town doesn't exist any more, not after you Celeritans retaliated."
"That's ancient history - ", Leven started then broke off ruefully. "I see. I understand. From what I learned as a child, that came from us not securing the town fast enough to deal with those who had kidnapped our brothers and sisters. We were as fast then as now, but when one of our teams darting through the town came upon some of your guards near an explosive device, they figured it was to be used against us, so simply took it to dispose of it. We did not know it was keyed to go off if removed from proximity to one of those there. That was not very logical of your people. We lost that correction team, if that helps."
Lars thought on that. His mother having been Reformed Mennonite, he had served some time in the Terran Peacekeeping Force himself. He said, "I heard it differently. But I'm old enough to know that it's hard to tell who did what in a battle. You did save me. I thank you for that. The past is the past, I suppose. And it's not like you or I were there. But your people are slaves, I know that much. Emotionless slaves. And I'm sorry for you, having got to know you. I guess none of you are ever at fault, when your collective makes you do these things. But that's sure a good reason not to like how you've all made yourselves."
Leven was silent for a moment. Then he said, "I understand how you would think that. Truth is, every culture, every society, makes it's members do things. I know yours does. But with us, we have two advantages that you do not. At least, two, anyway. One, since everyone in our family borgi feels what the others do, none of us has any desire to harm another. And two, when the Venusian collective leadership must impose something on some borgi, or an individual in that borgi, they do so by making them happy to do it."
"That's just it!", said Lars. "You're made to feel happy to do something you'd not like? That's terrible!"
"Is it?", asked Leven. "As opposed to your culture, your society, making someone do it anyway, but letting them feel impotence, grief, sadness, outrage, regret, helplessness and anger? Emotions which I assure you we are pleased to go without. We are each given samples of them after our 8th birthday, just as a referent, and it's a rite of passage most of us would prefer to dispense with."
Now Lars was silent for a moment. "I suppose it would be best if no one was forced at all. But I understand your point that if you must be forced, at least you're not sad. Somehow that still strikes me as wrong, though."
"It no doubt is", agreed Leven. "If personal, individual autonomy is the greatest good imaginable. But from our perspective, and from what I know of Earth, yours, we do each hold societal safety and security above that of the individual. Now, did you have any more questions? Not to rush, but your consciousness cannot maintain our level of mental speed much longer."
"No, I guess not", said Lars. "But I thank you for talking to me. You're not so bad as I supposed your type was."
"Nor are you", said Leven with a smile. "My first question is why your fellow Early - er, Amishmen - didn't aid you."
Lars said, "They didn't?"
Leven said, "Two vehicles passed you before I got there. I know because they were heading to where I had been, and I saw them five and six minutes before I arrived at the scene of your accident. From the condition of your vehicle and you, you had been there for at least fifteen minutes. I had thought that your faith and laws required each of you to lend aid to humans in danger."
Lars shook his head and promptly sprained his neck. "Easy there", said Leven. "Remain still, just use your mouth. Your mouth muscles are also going faster, but past a sore mouth and throat you will be okay, and we can get you something for that, too."
Lars remained still and said, "We are to lend aid. But we value free will, so no biotech makes a person be good. Only their own innate goodness or fear of being caught can cause good behavior. If a person isn't as good as they should be, and isn't afraid of being caught, then they can violate a law or moral code any time they like. It's sad, but it happens."
Leven said, "This would seem to endorse our way of doing things. Each of us would want to choose good, and if we were inclined otherwise, we would start to feel unendurably bad. Then we would do good and feel good. But tell me then, why did they not choose to do good? Would not they feel bad to violate their belief system? Or do some of you not adhere to your freely chosen belief system?"
Lars pondered that. "I'm sure they all think they do. But to tell you the truth, people are very good at rationalizing - that is, to come up with nice sounding reasons for doing what they really want, even if it is at odds with what they say they believe. We have our own secret desires, and try to justify them as best we can without looking like we've repudiated what we know to be a good and true faith. I know that probably confirms to you that we're all bad."
Leven thought about how he had a personal desire to talk to an Early Man person, strictly forbidden, and how he'd took advantage of his temporary isolation to do so, on the pretense - so he had told himself - that he wanted to lend aid. A pretense that would vanish as soon as his mind was linked to his borgi again.
Or would it?
He realized that he seemed to be of mixed motives. Part of his lending of aid was to satisfy his own curiosity about these people. And a part genuinely did desire to do good. And maybe a part was upset with SonTwo? And maybe some was his childhood desire, properly muted since his eighth birthday, to be more than a Drone? He found he could sympathize with this poor primitive half man.
Lars was looking up at Leven's face, and saw the introspective look. "You understand, don't you? You're not so perfect after all, or at least not so perfect as to not understand our flaws."
Leven said, "You are right. I think I understand. If it aids you, we also have our flaws, in that we are not so different. I have been guilty of claiming adherence to one thing with some thoughts of another. In my culture, such is self-corrected, but I cannot claim credit for that, obviously, as here I am doing all this when I am free from correction. I will try to convey these insights as best I can when I am rejoined. I am glad to let you know that my aid to you will not be reversed."
**********
Back on the ship, he formally related all that had transpired with his deviation, and his subsequent findings of fact with the delayed shipments. It had turned out to be nothing more than an Early Man administrator who was the grandson of one of those who died in the Acapulco Incident and was mucking things up for petty reasons of what he supposed to be revenge. Peaceful means being found more efficient then martyr making, his boss had been gave beneficial inducement to promote him to a facility where he could do no further harm.
SonTwo was in formal mode with Leven - GrandsonEleven. While the collective borgi, and indeed the entire Venusian collective mentality had all the information at once, it was known from the creation of their species that it would 'stick' more among the individual units if they expressed in formal speech what the mentality already grasped.
"It was a mistake on your part to assume you were doing bad.", said SonTwo. "Had you been still connected to our borgi when you encountered that Early Man, and moved to aid him, you would not have been overrode. True, had your mission required the utmost speed, you might have been gave the desire to simply call for emergency services, but given the dead zone there, had you tried and failed to call, you would have been permitted to do as you did."
At the brief burst of relief that came from Leven, readily felt by SonTwo, he continued, "Yet you were not connected, and it is clear you honestly felt you were doing bad, that you were defying the borgi, not just the family borgi, but the Venusian collective."
Leven hung his head in shame, but not fear, for corrections among his kind were not fear worthy. A correction would only involve positive re-enforcement to the right. But besides the shame was a bit of resentment. He was not even now sorry, he believed he had done the right.
"And you did do the right", said SonTwo, perfectly aware of Leven's emotions and thoughts. "But had you been a perfectly functioning Drone, you would have not had the motive you did, which boiled down was 'to do the right even if it was against the collective will'."
"That is true", said Leven.
"For that I will now let you see my Preserve", said SonTwo, and Leven gasped. Partly at hearing he would be given access to the bit of private thought that each Director was allowed to maintain inviolate from the collective prying. But more for sensing at once that he was not to be corrected for his indiscretion.
"Directors are not appointed, but must be proved.", said SonTwo. "You proved yourself in a situation in which you thought the collective will meant one course of action, but you chose what you believed to be a good course of action instead. Of course, and obviously, had what you thought was a good course not really been a good course, you would still just be a Drone, though a thoroughly corrected one. But you did choose the right, and for that you have proved that you can make such decisions appropriately."
Leven felt a wash of pleasure, both real and induced, though there was no telling the difference.
"And yes", said SonTwo, "We are naturally aware that you fiddled with the blocking on timer so that he would remember your interaction with him a few days after he was released. But we are selecting Directors on 'moral judgment' for this year, other years we select for 'superior intellect' or 'physiological appropriateness' or such. So lucky for you, you pulled this stunt in the correct year!"
Leven nodded his head. Data and memories flowed into him to bring him up to speed. Most especially on the importance of preserving the Control Naturals of Earth, as one of the dangers planned for was to avoid tinkering so much with the genetics of their own kind as to make some inadvertent error and have no template to start fresh from again.
**********
Lars was in Novy Petrograd, conducting his trade there, and unaware that anything had happened. True, he was a bit mystified over what had seemed to be a vast improvement in his health, his cold of a few days ago had disappeared upon his arrival in Novy Petrograd, and a scar from his childhood was inexplicably gone. He also felt like his college days, in the peak of physical prowess.
He was eating lunch when it all came back to him. He set his fork down and just sat for a few minutes, then roused himself to take another bite so as to not attract attention. He remembered all that had happened, including Leven's last words to him when the blocking on timer was supposed to be done. "Remember", Leven had told him quietly, "We all have our flaws, or sins as you call them, but that doesn't mean we can't try and help each other! We can still be neighbors!"
It might have been a lot to take in, except that the memories seemed to have always been there, so he could adjust faster. Leven had treated him as a neighbor, and apparently that was unheard of for his kind. It made Lars realize that they weren't worth hating, that certainly they did not all hate those of Earth. Clearly, these off-worlders were not all bad.
Leven, at least, was a Good Celeritan.
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