"Possibly, Amco. Any practical ideas to follow up with?"
"I—I—No," said Amco in almost a whisper. "But it would be sad to see the City die."
The Coordinator trembled with the extreme atavism that differentiated him so starkly from the norm. He raised a clenched fist in a gesture symbolic of a time so long buried that it stirred fear in Amco.
"It mustn't die!" he hissed. "It mustn't die!"
"But you said—" began Amco. The Coordinator interrupted:
"Yes. Rotting with inactivity and futility, the logical next step is death. If we are unable to discover any purpose in living further—end it. But I can't admit such a possibility. The plenum of all evolution mustn't end in oblivion. The greatness of organic matter must be evolving toward some future other than nothingness. Flux must mean something besides an inevitable return to vacuum!"
"At least we have a problem," said Amco.
"And the greatest problem of all," said the Coordinator. "Because if we can find the true answer now, I shall dictate whether or not life as far as Dhoma is concerned should continue."
Amco found himself tensing forward. "You mean if we could definitely determine that Dhomastrial life isn't justified because it has no ultimate goal—you would destroy it?"
"Yes," said the Coordinator hoarsely. "And why not?"