Free The Florians by Brian Stableford Page A

Planners maintaining a rigid control of information in order to secure their influence over the development of the colony? Or was Lucas simply not interested in the world beyond the horizon?
    We watched the people working on the wharf, and there seemed to be activity enough to suggest that life was anything but listless. The big warehouses along the docks were busy, with goods being packed, loaded, and unloaded in an unsteady stream. There seemed to be little dogged efficiency about the way the men worked, but their effort was unstinted. It was testimony, of a sort, to the health and success of the growing colony. I studied the range of size exhibited by the population. The men ranged from six feet five or so to some inches over seven feet. We saw fewer women, but they seemed to fall into a similar spectrum ranging from six feet to seven. Most seemed to have a build appropriate to their height, but I saw several people who looked perceptibly overweight. There were too few children and old people to allow generalizations—in fact, I saw only one or two individuals who might have been over fifty, which might be evidence for the logical assumption that larger bodies have shorter life-expectancies.
    Nathan and I attracted a good deal of curious attention. We must have seemed strange indeed to people who knew nothing of our provenance: ridiculous midgets wearing exotic clothing. Their own clothing was, by our standards, elaborate and dull in color. We wore fewer, lighter, more efficient, and more colorful outfits. Nathan did not attempt to approach any of them in search of information or polite conversation. He was content to watch them overtly while they watched us—covertly, for the most part.
    In the streets which led to the waterfront there was no less activity. Cobblers, carpenters, sail-makers, and other more specialized practitioners maintained workshops close to the shore, and few such businesses seemed to be in the doldrums. We saw some transactions taking place, where the money that changed hands appeared to be unstandardized coins whose value was assessed by the weight and species of metal involved. It was a rough and ready system, but exchange value was obviously identical to actual value—anyone could strike his own coins, provided that he first found and extracted the metal from its ore. The sophistications of bureaucratic economics were still to come here on Floria, although conditions already seemed ripe. Again, I was disposed to wonder whether the Planners might not be wisely postponing the evil day as long as possible.
    Both Nathan and I wanted to walk as far as possible in the time available—to see whatever might be around to be seen. Our walk took us through the town and beyond, and we ended up on the northern side of the bay looking back from the slope of the headland. Lucas had fallen behind and when we stopped he simply loitered forty or fifty yards away, making no attempt to join us. This gave us a chance to talk to one another without worrying about his hearing things not meant for his ears as well as sparing him our questions.
    â€œJason doesn’t like us,” I said.
    â€œHe’s wary of us,” Nathan replied. “Wouldn’t you be, in his place? He doesn’t understand us. To him, Earth is just a name...hardly a real place at all. The colony project, to him, is like a creation myth—it may be true but not really relevant to the everyday business of living. The farmers were impressed—he’s not. He’s shrewd, hardheaded.”
    â€œAnd maybe dangerous,” I added.
    â€œThat’s not the right attitude,” he said.
    Patronizing bastard, I thought, and said, “I don’t like him.”
    â€œHostility,” he said, “is the last thing we need. You don’t have to like him—provided that you treat him like a favored son.”
    I thought, briefly and bitterly, You should see the way I treat my son. But I didn’t say