Triton by Samuel Delany

Author:Samuel Delany [Delany, Samuel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf
ISBN: 0-553-22979-6

6. Objective Knowledge

When a man who knows the game watches a game of chess, the experience he has when a move is made usually differs from that of someone else watching without understanding the game. But this experience is not the knowledge of the rules.

—Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Grammar

“Did you have a good time last night?”

“Oh ... yeah. Sure.”

“Well, come on,” Sam said. “We’ve only got five hours to get back. I just spoke to Linda. They’ll be waiting for us.”

“Where?” he said sleepily.

“Nevermind. Just get dressed and come on. Remember, a world’s a little bit bigger than a moon, so you have to allow a little more time to get from one side of it to the other.”

Nevertheless, in the eating place near the town square, they spent a good half hour over breakfast; the single digger also eating there engaged them in a particularly inane conversation: “They’re always telling on the news about all those hundreds of political parties you have on each satellite, out where you guys are from.”

“There’re not hundreds,” Sam said, sipping his broth. “Only about thirty to thirty-seven, depending on which satellite you’re on.”

“And when you have an election, none of them ever wins?”

Bron watched Sam decide to laugh. “No. They all win. You’re governed for the term by the governor of whichever party you vote for. They all serve office simultaneously. And you get the various benefits of the platform your party has been running on. It makes for competition between the parties which, in our sort of system, is both individuating and stabilizing.”

“It sounds pretty confusing.” The digger, who was very dirty and probably about fourteen, grinned.

The only reason Bron didn’t say anything insulting was because he couldn’t think of anything.

Sam said: “Well, it’s nowhere near as confusing as some of the excuses for government you’ve got here.” But he was still smiling.

Ten minutes later they were walking along the road. Bron frowned at the archeological excavation. Some dozen diggers were clustered around one section (the sun was not the yellow disk on the blue it was always pictured, but a boundaryless, white-gold blot you couldn’t really look at), but not the place, Bron decided at last, where the Spike had hidden her gauntlet. In fact, there was a small earth-mover filling in that section.

Sun flared on the mover’s bubble.

“I believe,” Sam said, “this is going to be what is known, in earthly parlance, as a scorcher—a very hot day!”

“What’s the point of having the sun so hot and close if you can’t enjoy it?”

But Sam onlv laughed.

They walked up the rise.

Somewhere in last night’s conversation among the ruins, there had been discussion about when he would see her again. The Spike had given several answers, all negative, all evasive, and most beyond his comprehension.

They walked a while more.

Then they rode.

Then they flew.

Then they flew again; this flight did not quite end. Their compartment had been transferred to rail, now, and was speeding along underground.

Then they were instructed by a speaker to get

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