"No they're not. And, if any man I taught believes that nonsense, I'm retiring tomorrow and dropping dead the day after. My science— and it is really not logical to call it a science — is based on observation, experimentation, control groups and corrected observations. And though we have made observations in the millions, we are dealing in units in the billions, and the interactions of these units are multiples of that. And let us never forget that our units are people who, when they operate as individuals, do so in a completely different manner. So you cannot truthfully call my theories exact. They fit the facts well enough and produce results in practice, that has been empirically proven. So far. Someday, I am sure, we will run across a culture that doesn't fit my rules. At that time the rules will have to be revised. We may have that situation now on Himmel. There's trouble cooking there."
"They have always had a high activity count, sir.” Neel put in hopefully.
"High yes, but always negative. Until now. Now it is slightly positive and nothing we can do seems to change it. That's why I've called you in. I want you to run a new basic survey, ignoring the old one still in operation, to re-examine the check points on our graphs. The trouble may lie there."
Neel thought before he answered, picking his words carefully. "Wouldn't that be a little. . unethical, sir? After all Hengly, who is operator there now, is a friend of mine. Going behind his back, you know."
"I know nothing of the sort." Abravanel snorted. "We are not playing for poker chips, or seeing who can get a paper published first. Have you forgotten what Societies is?"
Neel answered by rote. "The applied study of the interaction of individuals in a culture, the interaction of the group generated by these individuals, the equations derived therefrom, and the application of these equations to control one or more factors of this same culture."
"And what is the one factor that we have tried to control in order to make all the other factors possible of existence?"
"War," Neel said in a very small voice.
"Very good then, there is no doubt what it is we are talking about. You are going to land quietly on Himmel, do a survey as quickly as possible and transmit the data back here. There is no cause to think of it as sneaking behind Hengly's back, but as doing something to help him set the matter right. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir," Neel said firmly this time, straightening his back and letting his right hand rest reassuringly on the computer slung from his belt.
"Excellent. Then it is now time to meet your assistant." Abravanel touched a button on his desk.
It was an unexpected development and Neel waited with interest as the door opened. But he turned away abruptly his eyes slitted and his face white with anger. Abravanel introduced them.
"Neel Sidorak, this is—"
"Costa. I know him. He was in my class for six months." There wasn't^the slightest touch of friendliness in Neel's voice now. Abravanel either ignored it or didn't hear it. He went on as if the two cold, distant young men were the best of friends.
"Classmates. Very good — then there is no need to make introductions. Though it might be best to make clear your separate areas of control. This is your project Neel, and Adao Costa will be your assistant, following your orders and doing whatever he can to help. You know he isn't a graduate Societist, but he has done a lot of fieldwork for us and can help you greatly in that. And, of course, he will be acting as an observer for the UN, and making his own reports in this connection."
NeeFs anger was hot and apparent. "So he's a UN observer now. I wonder if he still holds his old job at the same time. I think it only fair, sir, that you know. He works for Interpol."
Abravanel's ancient and weary eyes looked at both men, and he sighed. "Wait outside Costa," he said. "Neel will be with you in a minute."
Costa left without a word and Abravanel waved Neel back to his chair. "Listen to me now," he said, "and stop playing tunes on that infernal buzzer." Neel snapped his hand away from the belt computer, as if it had suddenly grown hot. A hesitant finger reached out to clear the figures he had nervously been setting up, then thought better of it. Abravanel sucked life into his ancient pipe and squinted at the younger man.
