Federman turned away from the window. Inside, except where the brilliant shaft of light fell, there appeared to be only dimness. He spoke in the general direction of his friend and student.

“I was only thinking that maybe we’ve been missing the forest for the trees. It might be something so simple… something another culture with a different perspective might…”

“Might what, Sam?” Liz’s voice had an edge to it. “If there ever were peaceful cultures on Earth, they didn’t have the other half of the solution—a way to keep from getting clobbered by the other guy who isn’t peaceful! If they did have that answer too, where are they now?”

“Look at the world! Western, Asian, African, it makes no difference which culture you look at. They’re all arming as fast as they can. Brushfire wars break out everywhere, and every month the Big Blow doesn’t happen makes worse the day when it does!”

Federman shrugged and turned to look out the window again.

“Maybe you’re right. I suppose I’m just wishing for a deus ex machine.” His eyes lovingly coveted the abandoned, unfinished dish outside.

“Still, we’ve done so well otherwise,” he went on. “The simple problems with obvious answers are all being solved. Look at how well we’ve managed to clean up the environment, since people found out about the cancer-causing effects of pollution in the seventies and eighties. Sure, there was inertia. But once the solution became obvious we went ahead and did the logical thing to save our lives.”

“I can’t escape the feeling, though, that there’s a similar breakthrough to be made in the field of human conflict… that there’s some obvious way to assure freedom and dignity and diversity of viewpoint without going to war. Sometimes I think it’s just sitting there, waiting to be discovered, if only we had just a hint.”