The Duke of Uranium

Because the grade was all attendance they had to sit through Fwidya's excruciatingly dull review of everything.

Fwidya talked about the Rubahy, and although everyone in the room had probably not had an hour since the age of two without being reminded that the war with the Rubahy had shaped human civilization, or that the aliens resembled a cross between a terrier and a feathered lizard but were in fact utterly different internally, or that their settlement on Pluto was always a matter of dispute and that many wars had erupted within the solar system over it. . . Fwidya had to tell them all of that yet again. And of course he finished off by piously reminding them that though the Rubahy were very bad, it was bad form and ill-mannered to call them by epithets like "terrier" or to express the hope that they might all be genocided sometime soon, either in a war with humans or because the Galactic Court would sooner or later—probably within a few centuries—be ruling on the continuation of both species.

Fwidya went on to describe the fragmentation of planet-surface societies, the complexity of the aristocratic system, and the differences between the Hive and the Aerie, but said absolutely nothing that would surprise anyone.

Dujuv raised his hand. "Teacher Fwidya, you just told us the position of the Hive and the Aerie. You do that every time you mention them." "That's right."

"You always tell us that the Aerie is at the L4 point, two months ahead of Earth in its orbit, and the hive is at the L5 point, two months behind. Right?" "That's correct. Is there some point to this question?" "Well, shouldn't all that be classified information? What if the Rubahy use it to target us?"

Fwidya gaped at him. Dujuv was a panth, and among the hundreds of genied breeds of human, panths had never exactly had a reputation for brilliance, but this was. . . the kobold drew himself up with his full dignity. "By any chance," he asked, "do you have a bet down with your friend Jak Jinnaka as to which one of you can get me to explain the most trivial possible point?"

"'Principle 122,'" Dujuv quoted, "'Consider what use those in authority may make of the truth, and speak accordingly.'"

"Well," Fwidya said, mollified a little, "at least you know one of the Principles, and that's more than I would have bet. But on the off chance that the question was serious, the Rubahy have known exactly where both giant stations are for many centuries, and could hardly help it. The construction process that built a black hole here, at the center of the Hive, would be detectable at ranges of five thousand light-years, easily—"

Time crawled by. Jak couldn't make himself care about anything Fwidya said. Twelve more minutes of gen school. Then, at long last, they'd get their feets, and after a vacation, if they were lucky, the Public Service Academy, and a successful, adventurous life, and if they weren't so lucky, then at least a job and a chance to be a little independent. Dujuv was now miming a snake eating his head, or maybe a man who couldn't get back out of a drainpipe—Dujuv wasn't very good at mime, but Jak still found it much more interesting than Fwidya.

More minutes crept by. Fwidya branched off from the history of the solar system to give a history of science since Einstein and the whole human cultural tradition since Bach. Who could Fwidya imagine wouldn't already know this?

Fwidya began his concluding comments, "And so the key to understanding your own culture, and all the great changes of the past few centuries, is—" The period bell rang and the whole class bolted through the door.

"Could that have been the dullest lecture in the history of the universe?" Dujuv asked his friend as they stood at the Pertrans station.