Bro.
I have placed the two Quadragnes in two observation cages, trans-
parent only from the outside looking in, and separated by a temporary
partition that is for the moment opaque. The cages are empty, except
for a narrow orifice intended to receive their excrement. Food will be
transmitted to them by matter decoder during their sleep: it is
important for exactness of observation that the Quadragnes be
completely unaware of me, for it is well known that the physical
presence of an observer alters the behaviour of the creature under
observation.
Brou.
I have observed the two Quadragnes for a major part of the cycle.
Quadragne A passed the greater part of his time pacing back and forth
in the cage. He ate voraciously the fruits of the eligourne and drank
the milk of the adrache, but he refused the flesh of the bzigalgue:
tomorrow I will have it cooked.
I saw him expel at two intervals a clear excremental fluid by means
of his ventral tube: the first time against the wall of the cage, the
second time into the hole reserved for this use, whose purpose he
understood only after long contemplation.
Quadragne B has not touched her food. She has remained immobile
in a corner of the cage, withdrawn into herself, all her limbs folded.
Bru.
The attitude of the two Quadragnes appears to evolve toward a norm
of common activity: Quadragne B has drunk and eaten a little, has
made several circuits of her cage, and has squatted over the hole to
expel liquid and solid excrement. Quadragne A has behaved very
similarly. He has shown himself considerably less agitated than B.
*
*
*
*
*
I still don’t understand what is happening to me. They’ve put me in a
completely empty room and taken away all my clothes. The walls are
52
J.-P. Andrevon
made of a weird silvery material that doesn’t seem to be metal—it’s
hard to the touch, but it’s warm and luminous. As far as the ceiling
goes, I can’t even tell whether it’s high or low, solid or not. It looks
like a sky with a low fog. It gives me a funny feeling, this ceiling. I’m almost afraid to look up.
In any case, I’m in jail, no doubt about it. In the clink, yes sir. But I don’t have the impression I’m being held by the police. They would
have interrogated me by now, made me sign papers . . . and then
they’re not usually so discreet.
No, I figure they’ve packed me off to some kind of hospital. Maybe
even an insane asylum. I must have been really loaded the other
night. And yet I didn’t have any more than usual . . . but that slob
Buster Brown must have put some kind of slop in his brew. Just wait
till I get my hands on him! I remember leaving the bar, it must have
been one or one-thirty in the morning, I took a few steps on the
pavement, and then—pow! Blackout! I must have collapsed and got
myself picked up by—but, my God, who was it? I’ve been here three
days and haven’t seen anyone!
This damned cell can’t be more than six by ten yards. I paced it off.
And bare as my hand! There isn’t even a bed—just a hole for the can. I
have to sleep on the floor when the light goes out. What do I mean,
‘light’? It’s really the walls that go out . . . What a place to live! In the morning, there’s food at my side when I wake up. They must bring it
to me on the sly when I’m asleep. The first day there was a piece of
stinking raw greenish meat. What do they think I am, a savage? But
things have improved since then. Now they serve me hamburger—it
has a funny colour, but it’s edible. And weird fruits like I’ve never
seen anywhere. There are these big sugary purple oranges (purple
oranges!), and then these long black things—not bad at all. They’re
certainly taking good care of me! Too bad there isn’t a little wine or
brandy from time to time. But the only thing they give me to drink is
milk— that’s why I figure I must be in hospital. I bet they’re doing
experiments on me. I’ve heard of cases like that. They round up guys
in the street under the pretext that they’re fat, and then they make
them do all kinds of crap, tests and stuff . . . It’s no joke! And my rights as a citizen! I’m an American, not some foreigner!
I always thought a nuthouse was a place where they put you under
the showers and measured the electricity in your brain with those
gadgets they put on your head . . . But maybe that’s still in store for
me. I’m ready for them! Just let them show themselves! They’re going
to hear from me! You’d better know it! They’ll hear from me!
Observation of Quadragnes
53
Bro.
I have rendered transparent the partition that separates the two
Quadragnes. Their reactions differed considerably: Quadragne A
hurled himself against the partition and made an admirable effort to
break it or push it back, while Quadragne B retreated as far as
possible, covering her ventral surface and especially her two pectoral
excrescences with her upper paws. I concluded that among the
individuals of type B there exists a taboo to do with nudity. In their
native world, Quadragnes cover their bodies with thick fabrics, but
inanimate matter is unfortunately not transmitted by the substance
extractor . . . Quadragne A, confronted by the futility of his efforts,
then endeavoured to communicate with his congener by sounds, but
the cages are soundproof. Then he waved his upper limbs in all
directions—another probable system of communication.
This first emotion did not last long. Quadragne B sat down against
the wall of her cage that was the farthest removed from the
transparent partition; Quadragne A recommenced walking back and
forth, frequently stopping in front of the wall to look at Quadragne B.
I was able to record that at about the third decima of the cycle, the
ventral tube of Quadragne A, a small appendage usually half con-
cealed by a tuft of very localized hairs, lengthened in a surprising
manner, at the same time horizontally erecting itself. The Quadragne
seemed to want to conceal this transformation from his congener,
presenting his dorsal surface to her throughout the elongation. I limit
myself for the moment to registering these facts, without seeking to
attribute a particular significance to them. Time enough for that
later . . .
I note also that since the partition has become transparent, the
Quadragnes have expelled no excrement.
*
*
*
*
*
How’s that for a surprise?
This morning when I woke up, the cell had doubled in size, and not
far from me there was a woman, also completely naked. I wanted to
go over to her, ask her what she was doing here, have a little chat or
something—but damn it, the cell is divided in two by a transparent
wall. No way to push it out or break it, and even sounds don’t get
through. I had to give up.
She seems pretty unsoci
able herself. So what if she’s naked? I’m not
going to gobble her up, not with this invisible barrier. Besides, she’s
54
J.-P. Andrevon
not my type, and she’s no spring chicken, either. She must be about
forty or forty-five years old. Not exactly in the first bloom of youth . . .
Of course, if I forced myself a little . . . She’s not as bad as all that, mind you. Blonde (but not natural! I saw that right away: there’s one
little detail that doesn’t lie), on the chubby side, with big boobs, the
way I like them. They sag a little, but you can’t be choosy all the time.
Meanwhile, I don’t see how I can possibly get to her. And I’d sure
like to know what she’s doing here. Did they grab her off the
pavement like they did me? She doesn’t look like a wino. She looks
distinguished. But we’ll have to see . . . After all, plenty of middle-
aged women start taking a little on the side. I’ve known a few myself.
Or did they put her there just to get me aroused? It looks to me like
that might be it. With their pitiful experiments, they’re capable of
anything . . . But they’ve got another thing coming. I know how to
behave, all right. Look, I’m even afraid to go piss in the hole in front
of her.
Just the same, I’d like to talk to her . . .
Good God! Simply talk to her!
Bsou.
Wishing to confirm certain suspicions, I observed the Quadragnes
during the dark half of the cycle which I maintain in their cage, so as
not to interrupt the periodicity of night and day of their native planet.
Hardly had this darkness been produced than both of them rushed to
their holes to expel their excrements; there is, then, in the matter of
defecation, another ritual taboo which is of interest to note.
During the period of illumination which followed, the activity of
the Quadragnes presented few points of interest. The mobility of
Quadragne A is consistently greater than that of Quadragne B. He
frequently goes to palpate the surface of the transparent partition, as if he entertained the hope of seeing it dissolve before his eyes. His
ventral tube has likewise lengthened on several occasions; but this
physiological transformation has apparently not affected him in the
same way as before, as he has not tried to hide his condition from his
congener. On the contrary, it is Quadragne B (who, as I have
neglected to note, does not possess a ventral tube) who has turned
away from A during the periods of extension. There is a line of
conduct there that escapes me.
On the other hand, Quadragne A on this occasion ejected his liquid
excrement in the period of full illumination; this ritual instability
seems much more developed in this individual than in Quadragne B.
Observation of Quadragnes
55
Nevertheless, I must not forget that captivity necessarily influences
the behaviour patterns of these animals. But I have been thinking of a
conduct, rites . . . while it may very well be possible that the activity of these creatures is governed merely by a mass of reflexes and other
tropisms.
*
*
*
*
*
Heavens! As if the situation were not already painful enough as it is!
They had to confront me with this ignoble individual, who has not
stopped looking at me and snickering, and who does . . . who does
everything in front of me, as if we were animals.
But what am I saying? We are animals. We are in a zoo, and I am
certain that eyes are watching us, through this ceiling that constantly
scintillates. Why, why must I undergo such humiliation? Why me?
Oh Lord, wasn’t I a good wife, a good mother, a good Christian? But I
suppose I will have to accept my fate with resignation. It is a trial that I must undergo, as others before me. My only concern is for Martial
and the children. What are they doing? What must they think? If only
I knew where I am, and why I am here, and how long they intend to
keep me here. If only someone would come to tell me, explain . . . but
no. Nothing. It is an absolute nightmare. And this waiting is unbear-
able. I still can’t understand how this could have happened . . . I was
walking in the street, it was six in the evening, people were all around
me, and then . . . I don’t know any more. Everything vanished. I
found myself here, between these four walls, as naked as Eve. Has
there been an atomic attack? Am I in a centre for decontamination?
But surely they would have come to inform me . . .
Sometimes I begin to imagine—but I mustn’t—sometimes I begin to
imagine that I am dead, that I am in hell or at least in purgatory. It is justly said that hell is the Others . . . But that is literature. Bad
literature. A blasphemy. I must not have such thoughts. I am . . .
somewhere. Everything can be explained. There is nothing to do but
wait.
If only there weren’t this cad, eyeing me continually, stroking his
moustache. Fortunately, he is not able to approach me. But enough—
it remains only to pray . . .
Bsu.
In the course of the last dark period, I witnessed a curious phenom-
enon. While I was observing Quadragne A through the light-toner
56
J.-P. Andrevon
(he was lying on his back in a position which they habitually assume
for sleep), he seized his ventral tube between the flexible appendages
for grasping of one of his upper paws, and began to rapidly manip-
ulate it back and forth. The tube soon achieved its maximum length.
The movement to and fro which was imparted to it accelerated still
more, while the body of the Quadragne convulsed in a disquieting
manner on the floor. He finally emitted a series of short groans, while
from his ventral tube spurted in six spasms drops of a whitish liquid
which appeared to be different from the habitual yellow liquid. This
ejection—apparently accompanied by violent suffering—terminated,
and the ventral tube was rapidly resorbed. Then the Quadragne
turned over on his side and soon fell asleep. I do not know how to
interpret this latest event.
I am now going to transfer myself to the Sphere of Gondonax to
replenish my pharmacopoeia with vernamoual Double-Z. I will
resume my observations when I return: it will be necessary to conduct
tests on the practical intelligence of the Quadragnes, in suggesting to
them by visual or material indices that it is possible for them to do
away with the partition themselves.
Cso.
I manipulated the atomic structure of the transparent partition so that
it will become permeable both ways however little one influences its
molecular alignment by means of a simple Psy-O wave. I then
materialized in the cell, by the side of individual A, a green gandarche
which I caused to pass through the wall several times, so as to make it
clear to the Quadragnes that it was possible to annihilate this
apparently solid barrier by mind alone.
The results were nil. At the apparition of the green gandarche,
Quadragne B emitted a piercing shriek and took refuge fearfully
in a
distant corner of its cell. This creature is definitely affected with
hyper-emotivity. Quadragne A, without displaying the same kind of
repulsion (after all, the gandarche is a charming animal) prudently
kept his distance from it; then, as soon as he had registered the fact
that the wall could be traversed, he threw himself against it—and
naturally banged his head! He then tried to push it, but unfortunately
it does not seem to have occurred to him that he was able to make it
disappear by a simple effort of thought.
I then caused the green gandarche to disappear, and I materialized
by the side of Quadragne A, who seemed to me nonetheless to possess
faculties superior to those of his congener, the six elements of a
Observation of Quadragnes
57
multa-X series, which permit, however sloppily they are arranged, a
passage to be opened in any inert matter even if it is atomically non-
decynethisized. The Quadragne contemplated the elements for a long
time, hefted them one by one, attempted to pile them up in the
evident intention of clambering up to reach the suppose summit of
the cage, and finally, after the scanty success of these initiatives, he
hurled one against the wall, in the senseless hope of breaking it by
simple impact.
I caused the elements to disappear in their turn, and as a last shift I
activated the wall so that it would emit, in a gamut of colours
perceptible to the imperfect eyes of the Quadragnes, and in an
accelerated yet irregular rhythm, the three universal signals of the
Recognition of Matter: Danger—Neutral—Welcome. No sooner had
the projections begun than the two Quadragnes put their heads
between their upper paws and turned their eyes away from the
flashing wall, as if the syncopated signal dangerously injured their
visual centres.
I soon stopped this, careful not to injure them. But I am very
annoyed: I have abandoned any idea of testing the intellectual
coefficient of these creatures, who must be placed quite low in the
universal scale of intelligence. And to think that the Quadragnes are
indexed as ‘creatures with a fair measure of civilization!’ There is
nothing left for me to do but observe them in the position of physical
contact: on Csou, I will eliminate the wall.
*
*
*
*
*
They’re crazy! Completely crazy! But what do they want? What are
View from Another Shore : European Science Fiction Page 11
