"Anyway, we've no choice. This is a God-sent — or Washington-sent — opportunity that we can't
afford to miss. He'll have to get a crash briefing on Terran affairs, learn all that's necessary about the United States..."
"That reminds me — what is the United States these days? I've lost count."
"Now there are forty-five states — Texas, New Mexico, Alaska, and Hawaii have rejoined the Union, at least for the Centennial year."
"Just what does that mean, legally?"
"Not very much. They pretend to be autonomous, but pay their regional and global taxes like
everyone else. It's a typical Terran compromise."
Malcolm, remembering his origins, sometimes found it necessary to defend his native world against
such cynical remarks.
"I often wish we had a little more Terran compromise here. It would be nice to inject some in Cousin Armand."
Armand Helmer, Controller of Resources, was not in fact a cousin of Malcolm's, but a nephew of his
ex-wife, Ellen. However, in the closed little world of Titan everyone except recent immigrants was
related to everybody else, and the designations “uncle,” “aunt,” “nephew,” “cousin” were tossed around with cheerful inaccuracy.
"Cousin Armand," said Colin with some satisfaction, "is going to be very upset when he learns that Duncan is on his way to Earth."
"And what will he do about it?" Malcolm asked softly.
It was a good question, and for a moment both Makenzies brooded over the deepening rivalry
between their family and the Helmers. In some ways, it was commonplace enough; both Armand and his
son, Karl, were Terran-born, and had brought with them across a billion kilometers that maddening aura of superiority that was so often the hallmark of the mother world. Some immigrants eventually managed
to eradicate it, thought the process was difficult. Malcolm Makenzie had succeeded only after three
planets and a hundred years, but the Helmers had never even tried. And although Karl had been only five years old when he left Earth, he seemed to have spent the subsequent thirty trying to become more Terran than the Terrans. Nor could it have been a coincidence that all his wives had been from Earth.
Yet this had been a matter of amusement, rather than annoyance, until only a dozen years ago. As
boys, Duncan and Karl had been inseparable, and there had been no cause for conflict between the
families until Armand's swift rise through the technological hierarchy of Titan had brought him into a position of power. Now the Controller did not bother to conceal his belief that three generations of
Makenzies were enough. Whether or not he had actually coined the “What's good for the Makenzies...”
phrase, he certainly quoted it with relish.
To do Armand justice, his ambitions seemed more concentrated on his only son than on himself. That
alone would have been sufficient to put some strains on the friendship between Karl and Duncan, but it would probably have survived paternal pressures from either direction. What had caused the final rift was still something of a mystery, and was associated with a psychological breakdown that Karl had
experienced fifteen years ago.
He had emerged from it with all his abilities intact, but with a marked change of personality. After
graduating with honors at the University of Titan, he had become involved in a whole range of research activities, from measurements of galactic radio waves to studies of the magnetic fields around Saturn. All this work had some practical relevance, and Karl had also played a valuable role in the establishment and maintenance of the communications network upon which Titanian life depended. It would be true to say,
however, that his interests were theoretical rather than practical, and he sometimes tried to exploit this whenever the old "Two Cultures" debate raised its hoary head.
Despite a couple of centuries of invective from both sides, no one really believed that Scientists, with a capital S, were more cultured (whatever that meant) than Engineers. The purity of theoretical
knowledge was a philosophical aberration which would have been laughed out of court by those Greek
thinkers who had had it foisted on them more than a thousand years earlier. The fact that the greatest sculptor on Earth had begun his career as a bridge designer, and the best violinist on Mars was still doing original work in the theory of numbers, proved exactly nothing one way or the other. But the Helmers
liked to argue that it was time for a change; the engineers had run Titan for long enough, and they had the perfect replacement, who would bring intellectual distinction to his world.
At thirty-six, Karl still possessed the charm that had captivated all his peers, but it seemed to many —
and certainly to Duncan — that this was now underlined by something hard, calculating, and faintly
repellent. He could still be loved, but he had lost the ability to love; and it was strange that none of his spectacular marriages had produced any offspring.