The Complete Mars Trilogy: Red Mars, Green Mars, Blue Mars. Kim Stanley RobinsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
“No. It isn’t really necessary. It’s a matter of prestige. A very conventional example of American business thinking, if I may say so.”
There was a groan, and Phyllis said, “Do we have to get political, Arkady?”
At the very mention of the word, the cloud of listeners ruptured; Mary Dunkel and a couple of others pushed out and headed for the other end of the room.
“Everything is political,” Arkady said at their backs. “Nothing more so than this voyage of ours. We are beginning a new society, how could it help but be political?”
“We’re a scientific station,” Sax said. “It doesn’t necessarily have much politics to it.”
“It certainly didn’t last time I was there,” John said, looking thoughtfully at Arkady.
“It did,” Arkady said, “but it was simpler. You were an all-American crew, there on a temporary mission, doing what your superiors told you to do. But now we are an international crew, establishing a permanent colony. It’s completely different.”
Slowly people were drifting through the air toward the conversation, to hear better what was being said. Rya Jiminez said, “I’m not interested in politics,” and Mary Dunkel agreed from the other end of the room: “That’s one of the things I’m here to get away from!”
Several Russians replied at once. “That itself is a political position!” and the like. Alex exclaimed, “You Americans would like to end politics and history, so you can stay in a world you dominate!”
A couple of Americans tried to protest, but Alex overrode them: “It’s true! The whole world has changed in the last thirty years, every country looking at its function, making enormous changes to solve problems – all but the United States. You have become the most reactionary country in the world.”
Sax said, “The countries that changed had to because they were rigid before, and almost broke. The United States already had flex in its system, and so it didn’t have to change as drastically. I say the American way is superior because it’s smoother. It’s better engineering.”
This analogy gave Alex pause, and while he was thinking about it John Boone, who had been watching Arkady with great interest, said, “Getting back to the shelters. How would you make them different?”
Arkady said, “I’m not quite sure – we need to see the sites we build on, walk around in them, talk it over. It’s a process I advocate, you see. But in general I think work space and living space should be mixed as much as is practical. Our work will be more than making wages – it will be our art, our whole life. We will give it to each other, we will not buy it. Also there should be no signs of hierarchy. I don’t even believe in the leader system we have now.” He nodded politely at Maya. “We are all equally responsible now, and our buildings should show it. A circle is best – difficult in construction terms, but it makes sense for heat conservation. A geodesic dome would be a good compromise – easy to construct, and indicating our equality. As for the insides, perhaps mostly open. Everyone should have their room, sure, but these should be small. Set in the rim, perhaps, and facing larger communal spaces — “ He picked up a mouse at one terminal, began to sketch on the screen. “There. This is architectural grammar that would say ‘All equal.’ Yes?”
“There’s lots of prefab units already there,” John said. “I’m not sure they could be adapted.”
“They could if we wanted to do it.”
“But is it really necessary? I mean, it’s clear we’re already a team of equals.”
“Is it clear?” Arkady said sharply, looking around. “If Frank and Maya tell us to do something, are we free to ignore them? If Houston or Baikonur tell us to do something, are we free to ignore them?”
“I think so,” John replied mildly.
This statement got him a sharp look from Frank. The conversation was breaking up into several arguments, as a lot of people had things to say, but Arkady cut through them all again:
“We have been sent here by our governments, and all of our governments are flawed, most of them disastrously. It’s why history is such a bloody mess. Now we are on our own, and I for one have no intention of repeating all of Earth’s mistakes just because of conventional thinking. We are the first Martian colonists! We are scientists! It is our job to think things new, to make them new!”
The arguments broke out again, louder than ever. Maya turned away and cursed Arkady under her breath, dismayed at how angry people were getting. She saw that John Boone was grinning. He pushed off the floor toward Arkady, came to a stop by piling into him, and then shook Arkady’s hand, which action swung them both around in the air, in an awkward kind of dance. This gesture of support immediately set people to thinking again – Maya could see it on their surprised faces; along with John’s fame he had a reputation for being moderate and low-keyed, and if he approved of Arkady’s ideas, then it was a different matter.
“Goddammit, Ark,” John said. “First those crazy problem runs, and now this – you’re a wild man, you really are! How in the hell did you get them to let you on board this ship, anyway?”
Exactly my question, thought Maya.
“I lied,” Arkady said.
Everyone laughed. Even Frank, looking surprised. “But of course I lied!” Arkady shouted, a big upside-down grin splitting his red beard. “How else could I get here? I want to go to Mars to do what I want, and selection committee wanted people to go and do what they were told. You know that!” He pointed down at them, shouted: “You all lied, you know you did!”
Frank was laughing harder than ever. Sax wore his usual Buster Keaton, but he raised a finger and said, “The Revised Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory,” and a great jeer went up from them all. They had all been required to take this exam: it was the world’s most widely used psychological test, and well regarded by experts. Respondents agreed or disagreed to five hundred and fifty-six statements, and a profile was formed from the replies; but the judgements concerning what the answers meant were based on the earlier responses of a sample group of 2,600 white, married, middle class Minnesota farmers of the 1930s. Despite all subsequent revisions, the pervading bias created by the nature of that first test group was still deeply engrained in the test; or at least some of them thought so. “Minnesota!” Arkady shouted, rolling his eyes. “Farmers! Farmers from Minnesota! I tell you this now, I lied in answer to every single question! I answered exactly opposite to what I really felt, and this is what allowed me to score as normal!”
Wild cheers greeted this announcement. “Hell,” John said, “I’m from Minnesota and I had to lie.”
More cheers. Frank, Maya noted, was crimson with hilarity, incapable of speech, hands clutching his stomach, nodding, giggling, helpless to stop himself. She had never seen him laugh like that.
Sax said, “The test made you lie.”
“What, not you?” Arkady demanded. “Didn’t you lie too?”
“Well, no,” Sax said, blinking as if the concept had never occurred to him before. “I told the truth to every question.”
They laughed harder than ever. Sax looked startled at their response, but that only made him look funnier.
Someone shouted, “What do you say, Michel? How do you account for yourself?”
Michel Duval spread his hands. “You may be underestimating the sophistication of the RMMPI. There are questions which test how honest you are being.”
This statement brought down a rain of questions on his head, a methodological inquisition. What were his controls?
How did the testers make their theories falsifiable? How did they repeat them? How did they eliminate alternative explanations of the data? How could they claim to be scientific in any sense of the word whatsoever?