It was going to rain. Odrade sensed it in the air coming through the ventilators around the window. No need to read a Weather Dispatch. She seldom did that these days, anyway. Why bother? But Streggi's report carried a potent warning.
Rains were becoming rarer here and rather to be welcomed.
Sisters would emerge to walk in it despite the cold. There was a touch of sadness in the thought. Each rain she saw brought the same question: Is this the last one?
The people of Weather did heroic things to keep an expanding desert dry and the growing areas irrigated. Odrade did not know how they had managed this rain to comply with her order. Before long, they would not be able to obey such commands, even from Mother Superior. The desert will triumph because that is what we have set in motion.
She opened the central panes of her window. The wind at this level had stopped. Just the clouds moving overhead. Wind at higher elevations harrying things along. A sense of urgency in the weather. The air was chilly. So they had made temperature adjustments to bring this bit of rain. She closed the window, feeling no desire to go outside. Mother Superior had no time to play the game of last rain. One rain at a time. And always out there the desert moving inexorably toward them.
That, we can map and watch. But what of the hunter behind me - the nightmare figure with the axe? What map tells me where she is tonight?
Religion (emulation of adults by the child) encysts past mythologies: guesses, hidden assumptions of trust in the universe, pronouncements made in search of personal power, all mingled with shreds of enlightenment. And always an unspoken commandment: Thou shalt not question! We break that commandment daily in the harnessing of human imagination to our deepest creativity.
- Bene Gesserit Credo
Murbella sat cross-legged on the practice floor, alone, shivering after her exertions. Mother Superior had been here less than an hour this afternoon. And, as often happened, Murbella felt she had been abandoned in a fever dream.
Odrade's parting words reverberated in the dream: "The hardest lesson for an acolyte to learn is that she must always go the limit. Your abilities will take you farther than you imagine. Don't imagine, then. Extend yourself."
What is my response? That I was taught to cheat?
Odrade had done something to call up the patterns of childhood and Honored Matre education. I learned cheating as an infant. How to simulate a need and gain attention. Many "how-to's" in the cheating pattern. The older she got, the easier the cheating. She had learned what the big people around her were demanding. I regurgitated on demand. That was called "education." Why were the Bene Gesserit so remarkably different in their teaching?
"I don't ask you to be honest with me," Odrade had said. "Be honest with yourself."
Murbella despaired of ever rooting out all of the cheating in her past. Why should I? More cheating!
"Damn you, Odrade!"
Only after the words were out did she realize she had spoken them aloud. She started to put a hand to her mouth and aborted the movement. Fever said: "What's the difference?"
"Educational bureaucracies dull a child's questing sensitivity." Odrade explaining. "The young must be damped down. Never let them know how good they can be. That brings change. Spend lots of committee time talking about how to deal with exceptional students. Don't spend any time dealing with how the conventional teacher feels threatened by emerging talents and squelches them because of a deep-seated desire to feel superior and safe in a safe environment. "
She was talking about Honored Matres.
Conventional teachers?
There it was: Behind that facade of wisdom, the Bene Gesserit were unconventional. They often did not think about teaching; they just did it.
Gods! I want to be like them!
The thought shocked her and she leaped to her feet, launching herself into a training routine for wrists and arms.
Realization bit deeper than ever. She did not want to disappoint these teachers. Candor and honesty. Every acolyte heard that. "Basic tools of learning," Odrade said.
Distracted by her thoughts, Murbella tumbled hard and stood up, rubbing a bruised shoulder.
She had thought at first that the Bene Gesserit protestation must be a lie. I am being so candid with you that I must tell you about my unswerving honesty.
But actions confirmed their claim. Odrade's voice persisted in the fever dream: "That is how you judge."
They had something in the mind, in memory and a balance of intellect no Honored Matre had ever possessed. This thought made her feel small. Enter corruption. It was like liver spots in her feverish thoughts.
But I have talent! It required talent to become an Honored Matre.
Do I still think of myself as an Honored Matre?
The Bene Gesserit knew she had not fully committed herself to them. What skills do I have that they could possibly want? Not the skills of deception.
"Do actions agree with words? There's your measure of reliability. Never confine yourself to the words."
Murbella put her hands over her ears. Shut up, Odrade!
"How does a Truthsayer separate sincerity from a more fundamental judgment?"
Murbella dropped her hands to her sides. Maybe I'm really sick. She swept her gaze around the long room. No one there to utter these words. Anyway, it was Odrade's voice.
"If you convince yourself, sincerely, you can speak utter balderdash (marvelous old word; look it up), absolute poppylarky in every word and you will be believed. But not by one of our Truthsayers."
Murbella's shoulders sagged. She began to wander aimlessly around the practice floor. Was there no place to escape?
"Look for the consequences, Murbella. That's how you ferret out things that work. That's what our much-vaunted truths are all about."