Free The Best of Michael Swanwick by Michael Swanwick Page A

her waist. “You small nice.”
    “Thank you.” She ignored the arm. “What does Paul argue?”
    “He’s the devil’s advocate. He argues that no one deserves to live and they should dump the oxygen.”
    “Paul would enjoy that role,” Abigail said. Then, “What’s the point to this debate?”
    “It’s an entertainment. There isn’t supposed to be a point.”
    Abigail doubted it was that simple. The debate could reveal a great deal about the spiders and how they thought, once the language types were done with it. Conversely, the spiders would doubtless be studying the human responses. This could be interesting , she thought. Cheyney was stroking her side now, lightly but with great authority. She postponed reaction, not sure whether she liked it or not.
    Louise Chang, a vaguely highly placed administrator, blossomed in the center of the image cluster. “Welcome,” she said, and explained the rules of the debate. “The winner will be decided by acclaim,” she said, “with half the vote being human and half alien. Please remember not to base your vote on racial chauvinism, but on the strengths of the arguments and now well they are presented.” Cheyney’s hand brushed casually across her nipples; they stiffened. The hand lingered. “The debate will begin with the gentleman representing the aliens presenting his thesis.”
    The image flickered as the spider waved several arms. “Thank you, Ms. Chairman. I argue that I should survive. My culture is superior because of our technological advancement. Three examples. Humans have used translation travel only briefly, yet we have used it for sixteens of garble. Our black-hole technology is superior. And our garble has garble for the duration of our society.”
    “Thank you. The gentleman representing humanity?”
    “Thank you, Ms. Chairman.” Dominguez adjusted an armlet. Cheyney leaned back and let Abigail rest against him. Her head fit comfortably against his shoulder. “My argument is that technology is neither the sole nor most important measure of a culture. By these standards dolphins would be considered brute animals. The aesthetic considerations—the arts, theology, and the tradition of philosophy—are of greater import. As I shall endeavor to prove.”
    “He’s chosen the wrong tactic,” Cheyney whispered in Abigail’s ear. “That must have come across as pure garble to the spiders.”
    “Thank you. Mr. Girard?”
    Paul’s image expanded. He theatrically swigged from a small flask and hoisted it high in the air. “Alcohol! There’s the greatest achievement of the human race!” Abigail snorted. Cheyney laughed out loud. “But I hold that neither Mr. Dominguez nor the distinguished spider deserves to live, because of the disregard both cultures have for sentient life.” Abigail looked at Cheyney, who shrugged. “As I shall endeavor to prove.” His image dwindled.
    Chang said, “The arguments will now proceed, beginning with the distinguished alien.”
    The spider and then Dominguez ran through their arguments, and to Abigail they seemed markedly lackluster. She didn’t give them her full attention, because Cheyney’s hands were moving most interestingly across unexpected parts of her body. He might not be too bright, but he was certainly good at some things. She nuzzled her face into his neck, gave him a small peck, returned her attention to the debate.
    Paul blossomed again. He juggled something in his palm, held his hand open to reveal three ball bearings. “When I was a kid I used to short out the school module and sneak up to the axis room to play marbles.” Abigail smiled, remembering similar stunts she had played. “For the sake of those of us who are spiders, I’ll explain that marbles is a game played in free-fall for the purpose of developing coordination and spatial perception. You make a six-armed star of marbles in the center…”
    One of the bearings fell from his hand, bounced noisily, and disappeared as it rolled