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"And what if the data you've got is wrong? What if you're off on false leads? What if further research would uncover a new theory, one that might make vast areas of current theory obsolete? What if-"

"Impossible," interrupted the Bishop. "Unthinkable. Such a thing cannot happen."

Dunn smiled slowly. "If you believe that, really believe it, you're a fool." A flicker of anger pa.s.sed across the other man's face and Dunn's smile widened. "Final answers don't exist, Bishop. The most we can achieve is a momentary, state-of-the-art solution that's always open to revision and even replacement. The followers of Ptolemy once thought they had it all figured out, but Copernicus proved them wrong. Newton revised Aristotle and the whole Middle Ages. And a host of men revised Newton.

Oh, the list goes on and on, around and around. Nothing is ever final, the results are always still coming in."

"Do you realize, Worship, that if Sarfatti and Aspect had blindly accepted Einstein's dictum that the speed of light was the limiting velocity in the universe, they never would have conceived or proven superluminal connectedness, and we wouldn't even be here? Tachyons never turned up, spinning black holes gave random destinations with no way back, and sub-light velocities simply took too long. Only the Sarfatti-Aspect effect gave us the key to the stars." He snorted derisively. "If the Power actually believes it holds the final word, the ultimate answer, you're fools!"



"Your mind has been warped by what you have experienced in hookup, my child. You no longer see clearly. I greatly fear you are a hopeless heretic. But it is my holy duty to try and make you see the error of your way..."

"Before you blot out my way forever!" shouted Dunn. "d.a.m.n you, get on with it! Hook me up to your stinking machine and wipe my mind! Readjust me!" His voice dropped to a husky growl. "But know that by doing that you lose. You can't really change what I am and what I know. You can only destroy itand put something of your own making in its place. But it won't be me. It'll just be another shadow of yourself!"

"You lack faith, Dunn."

Dunn shook his head. "Rubbish," he said scornfully. "Faith has nothing to do with it. Unless, of course, by faith you mean a simple feeling of confidence in the scientific method. But faith itself, faith as a way of viewing the world, as an expectation of reality, is irrelevant. Faith is no subst.i.tute for science. It doesn't contain within itself any method for self-contradiction, any mechanism which allows it to change and evolve through time. Faith, especially blind faith, simply is.

"Science, on the other hand, takes the form of a series of approximations, a fluid and constantly changing movement toward reality. But since reality is always greater and more complex than any approximation or model of it can ever be, science can never do more than reflect its outlines."

"How little you understand the power of faith, my child," Thwait interrupted smoothly. Before Dunn could protest again, he hurried on. "It was the betrayal of the faith mankind had placed in them that led to the downfall of the scientists of old. And it was the strength of mankind's faith in the Power that allowed it to triumph over that cancerous evil and save our race."

The bound man smiled cynically. "Oh, I don't doubt the 'power' of faith for one instant, Worship. I'm quite thoroughly aware of the important part it plays in justifying the whole system of beliefs that comprise the Power. After all, I've been a part of that system for years. At the beginning I even had faith myself.

"No, I'm not questioning the power of faith. What I'm questioning is its validity as the guide and control for science. I doubt ..."

The bishop gave the table top a resounding swat with the flat of his hand. "You blaspheme!" he shouted angrily. "By doubting faith you call into question the very foundation, the motivating force, of the Power itself!"

Dunn cut right through the other man's objection, pressing home his argument. "Yes! I question the Power! By basing itself so completely on faith, the Power has become rigid, monolithic, and static. Oh, I admit it's got a lot of d.a.m.ned fine engineering triumphs to its credit. But since it refuses to allow science to continue the exploration of reality, sooner or later it's going to run out of steam and stagnation will set in. h.e.l.l, it already has in most areas of physics."

"The Power owns and controls science now. But it's a dead, useless thing you own. And no amount of blind faith will bring it back to life. Only freedom can revive it."

"When science was free, it destroyed," the bishop said sternly. "It destroyed because it never developed a true perception of the nature of reality. It saw the universe as consisting of separate, independent objects interacting in ways determined by their individual natures. The interactions followed patterns that repeated themselves. And these patterns, when carefully observed, could be formulated as laws of nature which held true in all places at all times. Science set itself the task of discovering those laws.

"But such a view of reality had devastating consequences. It moved man from the center of creation to its periphery and made him just one more independent, separate object interacting with others in accordance with the laws of nature. Human nature, with all its beauty and ugliness, was reduced to a series of mechanical reactions to external stimuli. Our laughter and our tears, our very sense of wonder, became nothing more than socio-biological adaptations to environmental stress or more chemical equations. Morality was exposed as a set of cultural rules based on convenience or self-interest.

"What a terrifying place the universe became! A vast mechanism, it ticked away in time with the impersonal laws that drove it, but drove it to no purpose since it lacked any transcendental significance.

Mankind found itself in an echoing emptiness, dancing to the tune of cold reason and the meaningless rhythm of the cosmic logic.

"And what was this mighty force, this vaunted science you cherish so much, based on? Human reason!" The bishop laughed harshly. "As if reason itself was not rooted just as deeply in the dark places of the soul as the most ferocious and irrational pa.s.sions! As if the conscious, rational mind was the major driving force in human history! As if there was not vastly more to nature than the philosophers of reason ever dreamed of!""Is it any wonder that a monstrosity like science could offer no ultimate answers and found itself incapable of developing its own restraining morality? And what else could prevail against its power? The old moralities, tied as they were to discredited views of reality, lay impotent beneath the burden of their own rigidity. The new 'isms,' proliferating to fill the vacuum in men's souls, were too shallow and limited to offer any real hope. And the ethics of expediency, so beloved by mankind's leaders, only brought on the disaster all the sooner. "

"The result was inevitable. The people, finally realizing the dangers of an all-powerful, uncontrollable science and beginning to understand the dreadful price they were paying for the questionable benefits of science and technology, lost their faith in the good intentions of scientists and in the value of reason. Even within science itself there was a protest against the iron rule of reason. Quantum theory punched the standard view of reality full of holes. Men of foresight and wisdom like Heisenberg, Bohr, and Finkelstein tried to make their comrades see the error of their ways. But it was too late, too late. Ruin came down on all alike."

"If the Power had not come along when it did, my child, the destruction would have been complete.

The Pilgrimage was not enough. It only spread the disease of the old science to new worlds. It took something greater man that, something basic."

"The Power provided that something. It gave us a new view of the universe, a new way of understanding reality. The holy Kuvaz himself revealed the truth to us with his perception that reality is circular and based essentially on faith." Solemnly he made the Sign of the Circle with the forefinger and thumb of his right hand. " 'We believe in reality because we have faith in our perceptions and we have faith in our perceptions because we believe in reality,' " he quoted in a heavy, ritualistic voice. "In truth we create the universe through our continuing act of faith and in turn are created by our own creation. We are not separate and independent from it. We are it."

"Nor does the power of faith stop there, my child. For it is the simple faith the people have in us that provides the strength we need to control science and transform it from the ravisher of our planet and our race into the gentle and beneficent Knowledge. It is the faith mankind gives us that allows us to give them peace and security and happiness in return."

"Yes, Dunn, faith is essential. And, I fear, faith is exactly what you so sorely lack."

Dunn had been staring at the floor throughout most of the bishop's monologue, slowly shaking his head back and forth. Now he raised his eyes to the other man's and gazed at him in stony silence for several moments. "Words," he finally muttered in a dispirited tone. "Words, words, words, words. And all of them so twisted and turned that even though they seem to mean something, they don't." His voice began to gather strength as he spoke. "You forget, Worship, I've read other histories, other viewpoints than the official one. Oh, I admit there's a grain of truth in almost everything you say. Sometimes more than a grain. But it's that very speck of truth, mixed in so cleverly with so many lies, that makes what you say all the more vicious and deadly."

"You speak of faith. But you really mean blind obedience. You speak-" He stopped himself abruptly, snapped his mouth shut, and looked down with sudden intensity at the straps that bound him to the chair. His head swiveled toward the blinking lights and glowing dials that covered the wall to his right.

He swallowed and shuddered involuntarily.

When he turned back to face the bishop there was a slightly wild, frightened look in his eyes. A brittle laugh tinged with hysteria broke unexpectedly from somewhere deep inside him and ended just as suddenly in a long, sobbing intake of breath. "I'm wasting my time," he muttered in a dazed, slightly desperate voice. "It doesn't make any difference what I say. You don't give a d.a.m.n. You aren't even really listening to me. Your mind's already made up." His words came in pinched bursts. "Four hundred years ago you people decided you knew the Truth. Since then you haven't heard a word anyone has said!" His voice cracked on his last word and he broke off his monologue with a violent shake of his head. Sweat beaded out on his forehead and his chest heaved against the straps that held him to the chair back as he sucked in panting gasps of air.

Bishop Thwait gazed at him, his face devoid of expression, his eyes hooded and cold. Gradually Dunn's breathing returned to normal and he slumped slightly, his eyes drifting down to stare listlessly atthe floor again.

Andrew let out a long, heavy sigh. His gaze fell to the volume that lay on the table in front of him.

Slowly he reached out and drew it toward him. Lovingly he stroked the cover, tracing the golden Sign of the Circle embossed there. Then, at random, he opened the book. Closing his eyes, he stabbed down at the exposed page with his finger. He looked to where his finger pointed, reading the pa.s.sage it indicated to himself. Pleased, he nodded.

"Dunn," he said, staring with bright eyes at the bowed head of the man in the chair, "this, as you know, is the Book." He gestured toward the volume that lay open before him. "It is here you have your last appeal, your final hope. For the Book was written by the holy Kuvaz himself, the Readjuster, the Founder of the Power, Protector of Humanity. It is the Revealed Truth. If you harken to its word, your immortal soul may yet be saved." Dunn didn't stir or give any other indication that he even heard the Bishop. "Listen then to the word of Kuvaz and let its true meaning shine on your soul and bring you back to the Power." He cleared his throat and began to read: "And in those days there were others who said, 'Let us change men to fit the world rather than change the world to fit men.' And they went into the secret places of the cell and they manipulated it and gave birth to monsters. Then went the monsters out into the world and spread evil and sickness. The people cried out in their fear and anguish. Yea, they raised their voices in supplication and said...

"Enough, enough," Dunn interrupted wearily without raising his head. "Let's cut the ritual c.r.a.p. I'm not impressed any longer. Get on with it, Bishop. I'm weary to death of waiting to be found out, sick of hiding and sneaking, tired, tired, tired of the whole d.a.m.n thing. There's no room for truth in the Power.

No room for me. To h.e.l.l with it all."

Andrew shut the Book with an annoyed snap. Why does he make me so angry? he wondered. He's right, though. There's no hope for him. Clearly a waste of my time. An unrepentant heretic if ever I saw one. Oh, there are ways, he thought, ways to bend and twist his mind until he crawls across the floor to kiss the hem of my robe. But they take time and right now there are more important things for me to attend to than readjusting sc.u.m like this. Total mindwipe is quicker and easier for the moment. Then, when things aren't quite so hectic, I'll spend a few days and do a complete readjustment. And create another willing servant for the Power.

He rose and walked over to Dunn. The man closed his downcast eyes as Andrew approached, a slight tic beginning to twitch in his right cheek. He's frightened, but determined not to break down and beg, the bishop noted. Great strength of character. Pity he's a heretic. With reverent slowness, he made the Sign of the Circle with both hands over the seated man's head.

Methodically, the bishop attached all the necessary wires to Dunn's body, then called for the helmet.

It lowered smoothly down from the ceiling to fit precisely over the man's head. Checking everything a second time, Andrew finally stood back and snapped, "Isolation. " Instantly a circle of shimmering light surrounded Dunn, making him hard to see. The bishop returned to his place at the table and spoke one final word. "Begin."

The dim figure in the chair suddenly stiffened and convulsed, straining violently against the straps. Its mouth snapped open in an unheard scream. The bishop watched for a second. Then, bored, he opened the Book and began to read.

An hour later Chandra returned with a gurney and roughly dumped the drooling, empty-eyed hulk that had been Dunn on it. As he wheeled it out the door, Bishop Thwait said, "Suspension, Chandra.

Vault Seven. No sense in wasting even flawed material. We are a long way from home and replacements."

Chandra nodded and disappeared down the corridor.

IV.

"No use grumbling, Myali." Josh chuckled as he walked along beside his sister. "You know we figured it had to happen sooner or later. Just dumb luck it took place during our lifetimes.""And during my fiveyear," she replied sourly.

The young man laughed. He laughed a lot at the things Myali said and it annoyed her, brother or not.

But then, she sighed to herself, Josh laughs a lot at everything. At times I'm convinced he perceives the whole universe as a colossal joke. Suddenly she remembered once when she'd accused him of exactly that view. He'd laughed then, too, loud and long, shaking his head in agreement. She'd gotten very angry and had asked if he thought even the Way was a joke. He'd nodded vigorously, declaring that a joke was probably as good a description of the Way as anything else. She hadn't known how to reply to that, so she'd simply stomped off in a huff. Josh had been teasing her ever since she could remember.

"Ah, little sister, so serious! Always so serious! Are you angry because we interrupted your Wandering, because we s.n.a.t.c.hed you all that way, or because the whole infinite universe seems to be conspiring against you?"

"I was just at Judgement," she responded darkly. "And there was sorrow. My sorrow."

His face changed and became solemn. "A tragedy, then. A reason for being serious. I apologize. But surely you don't hold the anguish to you still?"

"No," she admitted. "I'm sad, but only in a general way."

He brightened up instantly. "Then smile, Myali! Smile at the sun that shines after two days of rain."

Myali turned and glared at him, her fists on her hips. "Josh, there are times when I think you're the shallowest, silliest person on all Kensho! How in Jerome's name can you be so d.a.m.ned cheerful knowing they're hanging up there? d.a.m.n it, Josh, they're here! And we're not really ready for them yet. Not by several generations."

He shrugged. "Way-Farer doesn't seem too worried. Oh, all right, all right," he protested, holding up his hands to ward off the comment he saw forming on her lips. "Here. Is this better?" His features became serious, a slightly worried scowl settling on his forehead. He held the expression for several seconds, then cast a quick glance upwards toward where the Slow Moon hung, dimly shining in the daytime sky. "Are they gone yet?" he muttered in a loud stage whisper.

"Ohhhh, you're hopeless!" she responded, throwing up her hands in exasperation.

Josh grinned. "No, Myali. Not hopeless. Just trying to point out that all the worrying in the world won't make them go away or change the fact that they're here. No matter how you or I feel, worrying is irrelevant to the real problem. It just uses up mental and emotional energy and gets in the way of our ability to think and act clearly. We're not going to accomplish a d.a.m.n thing by grumping and groaning.

Especially not before we've even been to the meeting and gotten all the details.

"Remember what Edwyr said about a true warrior being someone who knew how to wait? That's the att.i.tude we have to adopt now-waiting. The battle will come to us sooner or later in any case. In the meantime, best we keep our minds bright and ready rather than darkening and weakening them with useless worry. We might as well laugh and sing as we sharpen our swords.

"So smile, little sister. It's a beautiful day. And only the G.o.ds know how many such we have left."

Chastened, she fell in beside him once again as they strode toward the mound that marked all that was left of the Basecamp at First Touch. As they walked, Josh stole a sideways glance at her. Little sister, how you've grown, he thought warmly. He remembered the tiny, freckled little imp that used to plague him with endless questions about everything in the world. "Why is there a sky? What holds the moons up? Why don't they b.u.mp into each other?"

Then there was the day he'd left to become a Seeker. He recalled her brave smile and the tear-filled eyes that ruined the pretense. She'd run off and hid somewhere until after he'd left.

That was all years ago. Myali was a woman now, tall, slender, and graceful. Her long brown hair framed a delicate, finely chiseled face. The eyes were a rich brown, the nose slightly arched and narrow, the mouth firm and decisive. Josh supposed she was beautiful. At least that's what other people told him.

But to him, her real beauty lay deep inside in the special place that was her. There she was still that wide-eyed, wonder-struck child with a million questions and a bubbling love of life. And despite the serious facade she had built over the years, he knew that that was what really stood just behind that frown of concentration.

Yet for some time now he had glimpsed a shadow in her usually clear glance. It was a darkness heknew only too well, having experienced it himself many years ago while seeking the Way. Yes, he was sure it was the black demon Doubt that chilled Myali 's mind and spirit and was the cause of her Wandering. They had never discussed it. One just didn't question another's desire to Wander. Every since Yolan had felt the need, shortly after the Re-Establishment, and had gone Wandering to re-establish her own contact with herself and her world, Wandering had become an accepted and honored inst.i.tution on Kensho. Any time anyone had a personal problem that needed resolving, the life of a Wanderer offered the leisure, the privacy, and the time necessary to work it all out.

Whatever it is that's bothering Myali, Josh thought, it must be pretty basic. Because she's not the confident, constantly excited girl I've always known. He stole another quick glance. No. Now she's nearly a stranger. Hesitant, unsure, almost fearful, she always seems to be miles and miles away, lost somewhere in her own world, uncertain of the next step she has to take in this one. Ah, well, he sighed, the Master once said that uncertainty was midwife at the birth of all serious philosophical problems. And if I know Myali, what's bothering her is a "serious philosophical problem."

Serious philosophical problems indeed! he thought. Patent nonsense posing as profundity behind a mask of misused and misunderstood words! But real, he reminded himself, very real for those suffering from them. We no longer suffer very much from the Mushin. But our own confusions still plague us.

They arrived at the mound, the last of the Twelve. The others were standing about in loose groups, talking quietly, no evidence of any strain or concern in their manner. G.o.ds! Myali thought, how can they all be so calm? My stomach's churning at the very idea of Them hanging up there, peering down at us, watching our every move.

The Way-Farer, Father Kadir, motioned them all to sit and form their circle. Myali searched the man's darkly handsome face for some indication of how things stood. His black eyes, hooked nose, and thin lips gave no hint of his inner state of mind. He seemed peaceful and regal. The slight graying at the temples of his black hair merely added to the stateliness of his appearance. Long, slender hands swam gracefully through the air as he spoke, following his words, pushing them, leading them, shaping their meanings into motions.

"Ah," he began once they were all seated, "welcome, my friends. Such lovely weather. There is a small patch of yellowfire blooming on the other side of the mound. You really must view it before leaving."

"But I know you have all come long distances for this meeting, so I will not delay. If you will join me in the network, it will facilitate the pa.s.sage of background information to each of you. Our discussions, however, should be conducted verbally. Prepare."

Myali and the others settled themselves in half lotus position, left leg folded over right, hands lying in the lap, palms up, left over right. The right hemisphere of the brain was the conduit for the network, so the left side of the body was given dominance in preparing for it. Myali began to calm her mind, controlling her breathing and bringing herself into a state of open receptivity.

Suddenly she felt the warm melting that indicated her Mind Brothers had merged with those carried by the others and had come under the control of the Way-Farer. Then, equally as suddenly, he was there, in her mind, sharing his knowledge with her. She experienced it exactly as he had, losing nothing of his feelings and insights. Wordless, beyond height or width or depth or time, it simply was part of her own being at the very instant of its arrival from elsewhere.

She blinked at the slight snap with which the universe returned to normal. It always surprised her, that shift that took place after a deep sharing. It was almost as if she had actually been somewhere else, Between perhaps, while the exchange was taking place. She shook her head. She had decided long ago that there was simply no understanding it. Best just to accept.

Father Kadir smiled at them. "Well?" he asked, arching one black eyebrow.

An older woman, from one of the PlainsLord clans by her dress, cleared her throat and said, "A great many objective data, Father. But nothing that really gives a clear indication of their intentions. Do they come as friends or as foes? If as friends ... well, that creates a whole set of special problems we should discuss. But if they're here as enemies ... Master, that scout vessel could do quite a bit of damage if they decided to be nasty, right?""I think we can safely a.s.sume that the primary mission of this ship is reconnaissance," the Way-Farer answered. "Technically, then, it doesn't represent any immediate physical threat in and of itself. Of course, it is a potential source of danger, since they could always decide that a major military action is required and call in a battle fleet, but I don't believe they're here to start a shooting war on their own.

"On the other hand," he continued, "even a scout ship has awesome weapons at its command. Once they discover that we have no defensive or offensive capabilities that even approach their own, they may decide they can handle the situation all by themselves. And indeed, as you suggested, that ship could do quite a bit of damage."

"The flagship has vastly more power than that scout," offered a tiny man with the long, delicate fingers of a master artisan. "Couldn't we reactivate it, blast the scout, and end the whole problem?"

The Way-Farer sighed. "I wish it were that easy. It's true that the flagship outguns the scout. But there's no way we'd be able to knock it out before it was able to send an emergency call. Then we 'd have the whole fleet bursting in here, shooting as they came. No, the flagship is a last resort, a secret weapon to be unleashed only in utter desperation. If we use it against an enemy as small as the scout, we've wasted it."

A young Brother spoke up eagerly. "But couldn't we send a boarding party to the scout by way of the Mind Brothers? I mean, we s.n.a.t.c.h people here and there all the time. Couldn't we s.n.a.t.c.h them to the scout for a surprise attack? They wouldn't be expecting it."

Josh shook his head. "Sorry. s.n.a.t.c.hing doesn't work that way. You can only s.n.a.t.c.h to a location where the Brothers already are. Both ends of the journey have to be nailed down. It's more like pulling than pushing.

G.o.ds only know what would happen to you if you just leapt off with no destination. No, unless we somehow managed to get some Mind Brothers on the scout, there's no way we could send a party up there.

"And even if we could, it wouldn't work for exactly the same reason activating the flagship won't work. No matter how much of a surprise we achieved, there'd still be plenty of time to send off a call for help."

"Obviously," a man in a Seeker's robe spoke up, "we should avoid doing anything to antagonize them until we've found some way to defend ourselves." A general rumble of agreement pa.s.sed around the circle. "But does anybody have any idea of what will or will not make them angry?"

"Seems to me," began a very old man dressed in the simple clothes of a Home Valley 'steader, "best thing to do is ignore 'em. Let 'em make the first move. Right now all they're doin' is watchin'. No harm in that. But sooner or later, they're gonna act. You can bet on it. Seems to me, best thing to do is try an'

figger out what they're gonna do then. Get ready for as many diffrent possibilities as we can. Not much else we can do."

A heavy man dressed in the formal robes of a merchant vehemently shook his head in disagreement.

"No, no. Look, we're all approaching this thing from the wrong angle. Sure this is a crisis. h.e.l.l, could mean the destruction of Kensho as we know it. Or just period.

"But d.a.m.n it, it's more than that. It's an opportunity." The others stirred at that and looked toward the man, obviously wanting him to continue and explain himself more fully. He cast a quick glance at the Way-Farer. Then, receiving an encouraging nod, he began once more.

"Look, we've been here on this planet some fourteen generations. Since Jerome's time, and especially since Edwyr and the Re-Establishment, we've spread over most of the world and developed a technology unlike anything Earth ever saw.

"Sure, I admit most of the techniques were borrowed from the home planet. It's the system that's different. It's the way technology relates to us and to our planet that's unique.

"Take energy, for example. We don't shred the landscape strip-mining coal. Or smear our waters and our skies with oil dragged up from the bowels of the earth. Instead we've found subst.i.tutes for all those things our ancestors ripped from the ground. We use wind turbines on the Plain; hydro power in the mountains; solar where the sun shines; geo where the crust is thin; tidal on the coasts ... h.e.l.l, it goes on and on."The key, though, is that we've learned to tailor our technology to fit our world rather than twisting and warping our world to fit some artificially determined technological requirements. We've kept things small, local, within the ability of ordinary individuals to grasp and comprehend. What industry we do have is limited in size and located where energy and raw materials are naturally available. We don't have any vast industrial complexes or huge population concentrations to service them. We've refused to let ourselves get caught up in that destructive spiral of uncontrolled technological growth and population explosion that characterized the home world-and destroyed it. We've kept human control for the sake of our humanity."

He looked proudly around the circle. Then a considering look clouded over his features and he became solemn. "Yeh. The only trouble is that the road we've picked doesn't ever lead off this planet.

We'll create a paradise here where we'll be able to live happily for many, many generations. But there'll never be any way out of that paradise, never be any way off Kensho. Because, like it or not, starships take heavy industry. Metal, lots of it, torn from the earth. Incredible amounts of energy from sources we couldn't even develop without destroying our environment. Yeh," he mused, "it's almost like you have to ruin your world to be able to leave it."

With a deep sigh, he looked morosely down at the ground. "Living a happy, secure life is a wonderful idea, something to really strive for." He paused as if hesitating to make his next point. "But," he finally continued, almost in a whisper, "I wonder if it's really enough?"

He looked up then, fixing them all with a defiant glare. "d.a.m.n it, there's a h.e.l.l of a lot of universe out there," he declared with a broad sweep of his arm. "But we'll never see it if we continue on our present path."

"Oh, don't worry. I 'm not some kind of modern day Mitsuyama wanting to introduce heavy industry to Kensho. But I can't help but think that some day, if we don't have new horizons to walk toward and new skies to watch at night, we'll stagnate and die."

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Wayfarer - Satori Part 3 summary

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