. It was funny in a way, and sad too. And he
didn't particularly care about pushing it any further.

"_ ... the decision is in your hands._"

* * * * *

He wished his thoughts would organize, fuse somehow with the stirring,
rebelling emotions. Integration right now was vital. You lose, or you're
not equal to something. And a really top-notch defense-mechanism will
turn the whole thing around and say IT is not equal to YOU. That's a
danger. And of that he was afraid.

Could he, should he, pass judgment? On a culture that had left Earth
wallowing in the cosmic back-waters? Twice, thrice, he had tried to pass
that judgment, but he could not. He should be judged, theoretically, not
the school.

So what if their concept of history was primitive, basking in its own
importance, ignoring the philosophical precepts upon which the social
sciences are based? Surely they had reason, and he shouldn't
question....

And if they valued Wortan fighting above all else ... if it made their
women look like eager animals waiting to see the blood spill ... how
could he question? Why should he dare assume that the whole culture was
depraved, simply because he regarded it that way by Earth standards?

And their dream empathy was enjoyable, he had to admit that--but it was
too enjoyable. No wonder Earth had dropped that sort of thing long ago.
It was a good gimmick to divert attention from important things. It was
also regressive, a kind of sick introversion. It was decadence, an
invasion of privacy, an offense against the dignity of human privacy of
the mind--the individual's last precarious citadel.

He jumped a little when the Registrar barked: "Your decision, Smith of
Earth."

He smiled at the bank of lights. He had broad duties. He had a duty to
Earth. And an indirect duty to the Galaxy. He should report all this.
And Earth should try to do something to bring many worlds out of sloth,
decadence, regression and inverted self-importance.

But first of all, a man had a duty to himself, his own psychic health.
Maybe the two weren't inseparable either. Maybe Earth would share the
humiliation if he, Smith, suffered its scars to remain on him.

He wanted to consider himself as more than a mere projection of Earth,
more than a mere symbol. He was of Earth, sure. But first of all he was
Smith. Just plain Smith. A guy with a human spirit, with dignity that
could be affronted and had been here.

He though