It made for a terrible guilt-feeling on Sheffield’s part.
Twenty years ago there had been a dozen lads trained at one school under the leadership of U Karaganda, as mad an Asiatic as had ever roused the snickers of a group of interviewing newsmen. Karaganda had committed suicide eventually, under some vague motivation, but other psychologists, Sheffield for one, of greater respectability and undoubtedly of lesser brilliance, had had time to join him and learn of him.
The school continued and others were established. One was even founded on Mars. It had an enrollment of five at the moment. At latest count, there were one hundred and three living graduates with full honors—naturally, only a minority of those enrolled actually absorbed the entire course. Five years ago, the Terrestrial planetary government—not to be confused with the Central Galactic Committee, based on Earth, and ruling the Galactic Confederation—allowed the establishment of the Mnemonic Service as a branch of the Department of the Interior.
It had already paid for itself many times over, but few people knew that. Nor did the Terrestrial government advertise the fact, or any other fact about the Mnemonics. It was a tender subject with them. It was an “experiment.” They feared that failure might be politically expensive. The opposition—with difficulty prevented from making a campaign issue out of it as it was—spoke at the planetary conferences of “crackpotism” and “waste of the taxpayers’ money.” And the latter despite the existence of documentary proof of the precise opposite.
In the machine-centered civilization that filled the galaxy, it was difficult to learn to appreciate the achievements of naked mind without a long apprenticeship.
Sheffield wondered how long.
But there was no use being depressed in Mark’s company. Too much danger of contagion. He said, instead, “You’re looking fine, sport.”
Mark seemed glad to see him. He said, thoughtfully, “When we get back to Earth, Dr. Sheffield—”
He slopped, flushed slightly, and said, “I mean, supposing we get back, I intend to get as many books and films as I can on folk-wavs. I’ve hardly read anything on that subject. I was down in the ship’s library and they had nothing—absolutely nothing.”
“Why the interest?”