Books In English "City Of Illusions" Ursula K. Le Guin | Page 15

"Is there reason to think they ever existed?"
"So you taught me yourself, and the books, the histories—"
"You believe them? You believe all we tell you?"
"What else can I believe?" He flushed red. "Why would you lie to
me?"
"We might lie to you day and night about everything, for either of two
good reasons. Because we are Shing. Or because we think you serve
them."
There was a pause. "And I might serve them and never know it," Falk
said, looking down.
"Possibly," said the Master. "You must consider that possibility, Falk.
Among us, Metock has always believed you to be a programmed mind, as
they call it.—But all the same, he's never lied to you. None of us has,
knowingly. The River Poet said a thousand years ago, 'In truth manhood
lies…'" Zove rolled the words out oratorically, then laughed.
"Double-tongued, like all poets. Well, we've told you what truths and facts
we know, Falk. But perhaps not all the guesses and the legends, the stuff
that comes before the facts…"
"How could you teach me those?"
"We could not. You learned to see the world somewhere else—some
other world, maybe. We could help you become a man again, but we could
not give you a true childhood. That one has only once…"
"I feel childish enough, among you," Falk said with a somber
ruefulness.
"You're, not childish. You are an inexperienced man. You are a
cripple, because there is no child in you, Falk; you are cut off from your
roots, from your source. Can you say that this is your home?"
"No," Falk answered, wincing. Then he said, "I have been very happy
here."
The Master paused a little, but returned to his questioning. "Do you
think our life here is a good one, that we follow a good way for men to
go?"
"Yes."
"Tell me another thing. Who is our enemy?"
~ 13 ~