You verge on the blatant. Most unsubtle.
Killeen laughed again with relief. He could tell the truth here and it was going to be all right. “I haven’t got the energy to be subtle.”
The Pleasure is indeed something your Phyla know, because you devised it. We have long suspected that it is the payment invented by the organic races, given to our primitive forms as a reward.
“I can’t deny that,” Killeen said. He could see how even a superior intelligence, on the track of something, could read into his and Andro’s words a conspiracy, a grand plot. The Mantis was complimenting them without knowing it.
You primordials are the masters of pleasure. Evolution brought it to you.
“Old Family Bishop saying, yeasay.” Keep it light, see what it had gotten from its eavesdropping.
I do not follow your reference.
“Old song, prob’ly Johnphilsousa.” He bellowed out,
“Malt does more than Milton can,
To justify God’s ways to man—”
Andro got Killeen’s intent, because he wrinkled his nose and commented sourly, “God, that’s awful. Who’s Milton?”
Ancient Earthly poet. An artist like myself. Your source is in error, Killeen. However, I take your point. You primates in particular have a disproportionate fraction of your sensor nerves allocated to your genitalia and taste buds. Plainly you are pleasure machines. It is invigorating to know such forms as you.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Killeen said. He had to get the Mantis to think that what it had overheard was all just talk, flights of fancy language.
In us pleasure had to be injected—a mere compensation. You are the masters of the dark arts. That is the thing I have pursued in you more than any other. The ancient bliss.
Andro started to say something and Killeen lifted a finger to stop him. The Mantis’s crisp aura shifted slightly at this small gesture. Killeen saw that again, by accident perhaps, he had heightened the air of mystery and conspiracy—as judged by the Mantis. Being smart was not the same as being sophisticated.
You primates are typical of the older forms. Most of your nerve endings concentrate in the outer skin, so you remain largely unaware of what occurs within your own bodies. Plainly, a creature shaped for pleasures, not maintenance. And a disproportionate fraction of those lie in your genitalia or your taste buds. There is also the curious evolutionary convergence of the reproductive and excretion organs. No design would ever favor such doubling of functions; waste elimination must not interfere with the hygienic conditions one assumes necessary for biological reproduction. Evolution ignores the obvious and favors the sensual. That feature we lack and envy.
“It’s led to a lot of humor, though,” Killeen said. The Mantis never laughed, of course, but it was worth a try to keep it puzzled.
This issue touches, as you have guessed, on the less savory side of our Phylum.
“I had no idea.”
Sarcasm, correct?
“Could be.”
Jests are as informative as gestures.
“Some irony here, too.”
Irony? You mislead again.
Killeen kept a cryptic silence. Let the mech talk itself in circles. It seemed to like that. The narrowness of sentences and all that stuff about serial and parallel, it tripped them up.
You Naturals have oddly exciting ways, though most are liabilities. We know from studies of Naturals like your species that we can best find your son and father by using you as a lure.
“Not much I can do about that.”
Andro was breathing fast again. Hands clenched. The man could not contain his anger. Maybe he had never had much practice.
I have gotten from you the confirmation I needed. You will remain alive—that is, unharvested—until we see that we have no further need of you.
“You—” Andro screamed and threw himself at the Mantis. He had another small weapon concealed and tried to use it.
The Mantis did not move a single rod. Andro simply folded up.
Not the usual way, but backward. Killeen heard the spine pop and a gurgled gasp from crushed lungs. Andro bent completely over backward, still standing on two feet. His hair brushed the ground as his feet took a hesitant step, then another. His eyes were wild with pain. Andro’s mouth shaped a scream but nothing came out.
The Exalteds use me as their guide in these matters because I am the nearest to their level who still can communicate with you. The cramped, serial manner of your speech is painful to them—indeed, impossible. Do not think this gives you any privileged status. I thought a bit of illustration of this would suffice.
Killeen felt numb. Andro took another step and fell, breath wheezing from him. From the way the body sprawled Killeen knew there was no help for the man. “You surekill him?”
There is no need. You Bishops are worthy of a collection. This sort, of which there is an infestation in this place, is of no concern to a curator.
“That’s your only reason for doing . . . that?”
No. He had exceeded his marginal utility.
“Let’s hope these Exalted characters don’t think you’ve exceeded yours.”
