Deering shrugged. "So I am--what do they call it, a Pollyanna. Isn't that a pretty word? So, I'm a Pollyanna." "I rather think that describes you partially," Jars said, "and with this particular planet we're discussing, it can be a dangerous attitude." "So?" Deering said, nudging me. "And could I ask why?" "Ask it." "I ask." "You've recorded the state of their development. They have, among other things, achieved nuclear fission." "So? In the fourth grade we are teaching nuclear fission." "We are a scientific people. They haven't been, until very, very recently. You have noted, I hope, their first extensive use of this new discovery?" "Hero--Helo--" Deering shrugged. "My memory." "Hiroshima," Jars supplied. "Love--, my friend?" "I have noted it," Deering said. "We spoke, a while ago, of surface manifestations." "We shall continue to. You have witnessed the mechanical excellence of their machines, in some ways beyond ours, because of their greater element wealth. You have noted the increased concentration of their better minds, their scientific minds. How long do you think it will be, friend, before they are ready for us?" "Ready, ready--? In what way, ready?" "The only way they know, the only thing they seem to have time for--ready for war." "War--," Deering said, and sighed. "Oh, Jars, they will be beyond war, certainly, before they are cognizant of us. They are no tribe of incompetents; they grow each day." "They--?" Jars' smile was cynical. "Their scientists grow. Are their scientists in command, sir?" That "sir" had been unnecessary; Jars was the senior mind, here. Deering didn't miss it, and he flushed. Jars said softly, "I apologize. It was not a thing to say. I have spent too much time in the study of these--monsters." They had gone to school, together, those two, and the bond was there and the respect, but they were different, mentally, and each knew it. "You have a sharp tongue," Deering said, "but a sharper mind. I believe I can stand it." He smiled. "Love, fear, hate--what does it matter to us, except as phenomena?" "It matters to us, believe me, please. It concerns us very much, Arn." When Jars got to first names, he was emotionally wrought. I looked at him in surprise. And so did Deering. We weren't ever going to warm up to him, but he was our best mind and there wasn't a man in the department who didn't appreciate that. We stared at him, and he sat down on the high bench near the Maling converters. He looked old and he was tired, we could see. "Evil," he said quietly. "Fear, hate, evil--which of the three is the father and which are the sons? I suppose fear is the father." "I'd always thought so," Deering said, "though my education was almost completely confined to the technical. I'm rather skimpy on the humanities." "And I," Jars said, and now looked at me. "But not you, Werig."