"So you see," Roy explained two days later to the elderly gentleman sitting across from him, "By the time I finished school, the army was pretty much the only option. My mother had died two years before of one of those many weird diseases that were becoming more and more common by then, and dad never quite recovered. He would just sit and stare at the wall all day long. And as time went by, I saw more and more of that around me."
"Could you elaborate on that?" The man, who had introduced himself as Gan, had been asking him questions since early that morning. He was obviously a natural and, Roy guessed, somewhere in his seventies. Still his body bore the traces of what must have been an impressive physique in his younger years. Although his hair was gray and his skin wrinkled and spotted, his body was wiry and sinewy. His eyes were incisive, his mind sharp, his voice strong, his speech precise. He seemed an odd combination of a detective, a scholar, a surfer past his prime, and something else, something that Roy couldn't quite put his finger on. Yet the man's obvious signs of age did not seem to bother him, and he carried himself as one oblivious of his nudity, something that still struck Roy as slightly incongruous, although he realized that that was merely his four hundred year old attitude talking, and that its outdated ideas had no place in the domed garden in space in which they were currently sitting.
"Well," Roy answered, "A lot of people seemed to suffer from this... lethargy. Apathy, almost." He thought for a moment. "The skyrocketing unemployment is a good example, I guess. Food and fuel were getting hard to come by. More and more people got sick. More and more stories made the rounds about the air and water being toxic... And everything just seemed to slow down, somehow. Factories and shops closed because fewer and fewer people seemed interested in working there. I can't really explain it."
Gan nodded, his eyes thoughtful. "Yes. Apathy. A pervasive lack of drive. Interesting. So it did indeed start well before the war..." His voice trailed off, and he seemed deep in thought.
"Why is that interesting?" Roy asked.
Gan looked up. "Hm?"
"Why is that interesting?" Roy repeated.
Gan pursed his lips. "Lieutenant Beaumont," he said, "I understand that you have seen a fair amount of this habitat in the past several days and met a number of people. How does life in this environment strike you?"
"Well..." Roy said, taken aback somewhat. "To be quite honest, it seems a little humdrum to me. Routine, mostly, now that I think of it. There doesn't seem to be much change or excitement going on..."
"Dull, would you say?" Gan asked.
"Not precisely... But not... stimulating, I guess the word is."
Gan nodded. "In other words, if you will forgive me my asking you a leading question, few if any people appear to be pursuing specific goals, making any progress or undergoing any significant advancement?"
Roy nodded. "Now that you put it that way..." he mused. "Yeah, I guess that's exactly it."
"Indeed. Lack of drive, lack of impulse, and a complete satisfaction with the status quo?"
"Hmm... Yes. In a way, it reminds me a bit of a small Midwestern hick town. One of those cultural backwaters where nothing ever changes, and where change gets frowned upon when it does."
"Odd that you should put it that way," Gan said. "You are essentially right where it comes to lack of progress, of course, and your comparison with the decline of a rural locale is also quite relevant. However, I personally would prefer to compare our modern society to that in the Roman empire during its most rapid decline. The most important similarity that I can see is that of a people merely striving for pleasure and comfort in a way that in many respects could be called decadent, if not Dionysian, taking place on the ruins of a greater civilization."
Roy thought about that. "Decline?" he asked after a while.
Gan sighed. "Yes, lieutenant Beaumont. Because that is indeed our problem. To be blunt and completely honest with you, the matter is this: the human race is failing."
Roy raised his eyebrows. "Failing?"
"Yes. Failing." Gan looked grim. "In short, since the cataclysmic sequence of events now popularly known as Nuke Day we have been merely surviving. Interestingly, though, and based on what you have told me, this pervasive ennui appears to have been an increasing trend that predated the war by years, perhaps by as much as a decade. In actual fact, that little datum alone has made it worth my while to come here to meet you. It even might have made your retrieval and revival worthwhile..." His voice trailed off.
"Ehm... And?" Roy said gently.
"I am thinking of the lovely young lady I met this morning. What was her name? Chia? Yes, Chia..."
"You mean Reesh' daughter?" Roy interjected.
Gan nodded. "Yes. Reesh was on the team that revived you, as I'm sure you know. That is how I met her. And that is why I came up here to meet with you. You understand... But I digress. Where were we?"
"You mentioned Chia."
"Oh yes," Gan continued. "Such a lovely young lady. Not even out of her teenage years yet, and already an accomplished agricultural technician. And perfectly content to remain one for the rest of her life, as far as I can tell on the basis of meeting her this morning. Which is why I mentioned her, because this illustrates exactly the lack of drive, the lack of ambition and the resulting lack of progress currently exhibited by the human race as a whole. In short, we have made sufficient technical progress to facilitate our survival in relative comfort and happiness, and to provide us more and more comfort as time goes by, but very little else. Whatever real progress has occurred has solely been driven by the necessity to survive, as has invariably been the case in human history in times of great stress. However, now that we believe that we have assured our immediate survival, progress has essentially ground to a halt."
Roy looked at him. "I can't help noticing the way you phrase that... 'We believe that we have assured our immediate survival.' What exactly are you saying here?"
"Just that, lieutenant Beaumont. In spite of what most people believe at this point in time, our survival is certainly not assured, especially in the long run. It's quite the opposite, actually. Our numbers continue to dwindle. We have less and less in the way of functional government. Our attitude toward technological and social infrastructures has degraded to one of unquestioning acceptance, one of mere maintenance, and theoretical and abstract research have become practically unheard of. To the best of my knowledge, there is no longer any research being performed on subjects such as history, sociology and cultural anthropology, not to mention military archaeology, my own efforts being the sole exception."
"The last of the Mohicans?" Roy asked, smiling.
Gan chuckled mirthlessly. "Yes, in a manner. Although I do rather doubt that anyone else these days would understand that reference." He thought for a moment. "Our society is not doing well, lieutenant Beaumont. Think of it as a dying tree, if you will. It still sprouts a leaf or two in spring, but rot from within has made it hollow. Appearances notwithstanding, a simple push would be enough to topple it."
"So... Who's doing the pushing?"
"Well," Gan said slowly, "It could be anything or anyone, really. It could be a random event. It could be me. It could even be you."
Roy looked skeptical. "Me?"
"Why, yes, Lieutenant Beaumont. Oh, certainly not intentionally, I hasten to add, and in all probability not even involving actions taken by you personally. In this context it is not so much about who you are as a person, lieutenant. It rather has to do with what you represent. Which, in fact, brings us to the subject of the attempt on your life."
