Extract from “The Book of Pan” Often, the right move is the one that costs the most; the route is obvious, the course clear, and to waver just a little in either direction would result in failure, and yet the end may be so catastrophic that the urge to deviate is a powerful one. It takes a heart of stone and strength of will to stay the course. On many occasions, the end result will affect more than the direct participants, inspiring a sense of guilt and creating a feeling of remorse that can last a lifetime. This is frequently the lot of heroes, their actions lost under the rubble of the past, the impossible nature of the situation forgotten in favour of retribution and rejection. Sometimes, though, the cost of the right move would seem too great. Sometimes, the prudent hero will reject the right move in favour of one of lesser impact, usually achieving a degree of success, invariably leaving much more to be done. This course may well lead our hero to self doubt and regret. If he’d had the nerve, would the harder path have achieved more, and would the end result have been more favourable? Which action to take is not a question of morals. Morals would dictate that the ONLY course is the RIGHT course, no matter what the cost. Equally, it is not always a matter of experience; many heroic actions are unique, individual circumstances with unforeseen consequence. The hero may be as blind as the unwitting participants. So, how does one make the decision? That, dear reader, is the question… Chapter 8; Debate “She cannot be the one,” said Six, “The Primitives are compromised.” “Circumstance would dictate otherwise,” responded Two, “She is… blank.” There was a stream of static, and then the footage replayed; Lyssa’s approach, the deep dark shadows at the base of the rock, the figure pouncing suddenly from nowhere and launching an all too accurate attack. “We do not question the events, nor do we deny the unusual nature of the woman,” said One,“However, the genetic makeup of the Primitives would seem to suggest that the events were mere chance, an aberration.” “Do we not deal in chance?” replied Two, “Is that not the nature of the one we seek?” Another burst of static was followed by a stream of images showing each of the Colonists that had been potentials. Across the bottom of the screen ran a line of data showing the indicators used to pick those targets; genetic blips, unusual talents, bodily mutation. There was a pause in the conversation, disturbed only by the minute ticking of electrical relays as data flashed from screen to screen. “We risk straying from the course,” said One, “The actions we have taken so far have been set in stone, predetermined by past events. To stray from the path is to condemn this world to an eternity of darkness. It has been said that ancient technology will play a part. Primitives shun technology, they will have no part in it. Logic leads us to believe that this Primitive is a false hope.” “Every failure was a risk,” argued Two, “Each one could have brought the path to an end, and yet we have taken the chance. To deny the possibility is absurd. To exclude this one, to ignore the potential, that would seem to be a greater risk. “For centuries, we have looked for black and white in a world of greys. Perhaps it is time we looked elsewhere.” Five and Three murmured assent; Seven admitted a doubt. “Risk can be calculated,” said Two, “and we must weigh the potential against the risk of not trying.” Numbers scrolled across the screens, factors were considered and percentages calculated; two results were displayed. There was another pause in the conversation as the figures were analysed and considered. “Nonetheless, the consequence of failure in this instance could be catastrophic,” said One, “it would almost certainly bring about the end. There would be no opportunity for recovery, and this, too, must be taken into account.” “And to miss the one would undeniably bring about the end,” countered Two. “We must take the risk. Mother God is awake, and we are facing the end, no matter what. This may very well be the last opportunity.” Another pause. Votes were cast; five in favour, two against. “Very well,” said One, “Lyssa must bring the Primitive to us. We will assess this one in person.” The room darkened as the screens faded; Pan released the leads from his implants and began the shutdown procedure. One by one, he checked each of the seven stasis chambers, monitoring the temperature, status and integrity of each with the greatest of care. Coming to the last, he paused and took a long look inside. “Ahh, One, you are so difficult!” he said. The body inside twitched minutely. “Your powers of reason are second to none here, and still you play Devil’s Advocate!” Pan chuckled to himself and wagged a finger at the motionless body. “You still get what you want though, don’t you?” he said. Completing his checks, he turned and propelled his considerable bio- mechanical bulk toward the exit. “You must have been a great man, Mister Bradek,” he called as the door slid shut behind him.