Shikasta

by Doris May Lessing Little Dorrit

  George Sherban. No. 79. This hyena is brother to the last entry. Due to unscrupulous and pitifully debased opportunistic methods never before surpassed in the history of the glorious class struggle he has imposed himself as a representative of several Factions in the name of so-called Fairness, little reckoning that his feeble wrigglings in the dust of historical subjectivism are seen through by the clear-eyed masses in their glorious climb up the mountains of Truth. He has visited various countries in our glorious Federation in the last two years and imposed his slime wherever his low ambitions have led him. What can we say about such unscrupulous and debased criminals who trail with them the germ-laden and polluted dust from the dead past? We must resolve to be ever-watchful! Ever-ready to expose errors! Ever-open to opportunities to speak out of a wholehearted and disciplined empiricism so that never again will such jackals sully the spirit of the glorious masses. This man must be arrested on his next impertinent appearance on our glorious European soil and put on trial if he refuses on his own accord to step down from history. If this should prove impossible for any reason then our propaganda is always ready to expose the contradictions and to impose the correct line, and must unmask him.

  John Brent-Oxford. No. 65. This pitiful relic of the past has at times served the People's interest but those who can follow only the old routines in a revolutionary period are utterly incapable of grasping the new and the ever-growing. Under the banner of allsidedness and objectivity he has defended those misguided comrades who have erroneously set their faces against the Truth and has ever taken his stand with members of the old Labour Party whose crimes and criminal errors have long been exposed. In spite of every care and attention from the Re-educators, he obstinately refuses to allow his mind to open to the Truth, and as we need every place in our glorious prisons for the reception of the criminal element of our population it is recommended he be sent to No. 5 Penal Settlement. Our new Europe has no room for such refuse from the past!

  [Notes on the above Report by Comrade Chen Liu, in charge of the People's Secret Services, Europe. Archivists.]

  24. Benjamin Sherban. Emotionally unstable. In my view he will respond to reeducation. He should be invited to attend re-education. With the usual rewards. He should then be asked to return to his present position at the head of the children's movement, as our representative and with an important title.

  79. George Sherban. He is intelligent, well educated, with an appealing personality. He is skillful at handling people and groups. He is in my view dangerous. There is no question of re-education. There is no question of arresting him on his next visit or using him in a Trial: the repercussions would be undesirable. He should be disposed of by any "accident" that seems appropriate. I have given the necessary instructions.

  65. John Brent-Oxford. This man is a nuisance. He has influence among the older generation who remember him as Member of Parliament and representative of Britain in the early Pan-Europe councils. He is of a good moral type. He cannot be convicted of corruption or delinquency of any sort. He has deteriorated badly in prison. He suffers from diabetes. The prison diet makes no allowance for this. In or out of prison he will not live long. I suggest he should be given a position of moderate authority in the administration attached to any one of the youth organisations. Their contempt and disregard for any old person will hasten his death. He should be treated with respect by us in order not to alienate those who remain of the old socialists who may yet be won over to work with us.

  Private letter sent through the Diplomatic Bag,

  AMBIEN II of SIRIUS, to KLORATHY, CANOPUS

  In haste. Have just been looking through our reports from Shikasta. In case - which is unlikely I know - you have not got this information, Shammat called a meeting of all its agents in one place. This in itself seems to us symptomatic of something long suspected by us - and I know, by you, too. Conditions on Shikasta are affecting Shammatans even more than Shikastans, or affecting them faster. Their general mentation seems to be deteriorating rapidly. They suffer from hectivity, acceleration, arrhythmictivity. Their diagnosis of situations - as far as they are capable and within the limits of their species - is adequate. Adequate for certain specific situations and conditions. The conclusions they are drawing from analyses are increasingly wild. That Shammat should order this meeting, exposing its agents to such danger, shows that the mother-planet is affected; as much as that the local Shammat agents should obey an obviously reckless order.

  This condition of Shammat and its agents, then, seems to us likely to add to the spontaneous and random destructivity to be expected of Shikasta at this time.

  As if we needed anything worse!

  Our Intelligence indicates that you are weathering the Shikastan crisis pretty well - not that anything else was ever expected of you. If all continues to go well, when may we expect a visit? As always we look forward to seeing you.

  RACHEL SHERBAN'S JOURNAL

  I see that I am going to write again about what is going on. This time it is because everything is too much. So much is happening all the time and I can't grasp it. George says I have to try, and not switch myself off. He says I switch myself off.

  This flat is always full of people now. They come to see George. It is a big flat, that isn't the point. Particularly now Benjamin is hardly ever here because of his Children's Camps. And Olga and Simon are nearly always away on a crisis. But Benjamin and I, both of us, had been thinking that George would probably get an office of his own or something of that kind because of so many people. But he didn't. Benjamin got quite sarcastic about this flat becoming a public seminar. Olga and Simon said nothing but waited. I watched them wait and watch. They wait in the same way I wait. The way to understand something is to watch what is happening. The results are the explanation. This means you have to be patient. What is happening is that when people come to the flat all agog to see George, he doesn't even take them into his own room. Which is quite large enough. No, he sits talking in the living room with the doors open and everyone coming through. That means he wants us to be there too. And so I am whenever possible. And Olga and Simon too. And Benjamin when he is here.

  They are from every country there is. Mostly our age. But sometimes old, as well. George met these people on his trip through the Youth Armies of Pan-Europe. Nearly all actually met him or heard something that struck home. They were struck and couldn't believe it and came to find out. I know this because of myself. Over and over again I experience the same. No, it is not possible, I think, but then it is. Sometimes their getting here is impossible. But somehow they do it. If they don't wangle some official thing, and God knows that is hard enough these days, they come illegally or even in disguise. Several times I've been in the living room when someone comes. Then this person, he or she, takes off a uniform and some hair or beard or glasses, or becomes the opposite sex and suddenly you see it was a disguise. Well, everyone seems to be in disguise anyway. They don't go back to their organisations or places if George says they mustn't. Nearly always they are sent off to some other place. Always a very definite place, with an exact time they have to stay there before they leave again.

  George has been on at me. He says I've got to start thinking more. He says what is the use of all my education, the kind of education I've had. You've got to be useful, he said. You surely are not saying I should be an administrator and run things, I said. Really appalled. George said, Why not? Look at Olga and Simon, they do it and do it well. I said, Running things, what's the point? He said, If you can't beat them join them! Oh, very funny. George says, Rachel, you are too soft, and you have to toughen yourself up. Toughen myself up for what?

  At which he manifested the humorous patience I know very well from Olga and Simon.

  I see that I have been having this conversation, one way or another, with myself, or with Olga and/or Simon, or with George, all my life.

  Very well then. The new items for today are: (i) Ban on eating any fish anywhere around coastlines. Extinction fishermen.
The great nations challenging each other in the middle of oceans over deep-sea fish. The Antarctic seas showing signs of poisoning in the fish. (2) Food in the British Isles now down below World Minimum Standard. Third World Countries say they have no compunction in starving Europeans who have always treated them like dirt. They are getting their own back. Charming. (3) There are four million people in prisons and penal camps in Europe. They are there to die. Mostly old people. (4) There is a new bad famine in Central Africa. (5) Cattle diseases. Sheep diseases. Pig diseases. Trees dying. The Governments are saying this is not pollution as such. (6) Youth Armies are on the march.

  Good for them.

  That is enough for one day.

  Olga came back from the famine yesterday. She looked awful. I ran her a hot bath and put her into it. I felt as if I was her mother. I made her eat some sandwiches. I put her into bed. She was quite dazed and gone. I sat with her while she lay in bed. I turned the lights off when she asked so she could see the stars through the window. I understood sitting there that Olga will not live long. She is worn out. More than that. She is far away from me. From us all. When she is with us, you would say she is being absentminded if you didn't know her. Olga is never absentminded, because she is always interested in everything going on. What is happening is that she is going away inside.

  Today in the living room there was George and some people, mostly Chinese, not official Chinese. Mother was sitting with us. George was telling them where to go, what to do, what not to do. Then Benjamin came in. He has become quite different now he is so successful. That is malicious. Now that he is so useful. That is the exact truth. But he is bluff King Benjamin. He wears a uniform invented by himself of jeans and bush shirt and a keffiyeh. Usually he sits and listens but today he must have had something very good happen because he was full of himself and kept breaking in and talking. The Chinese were waiting for him to shut up. But he didn't. George just waited. But Benjamin seemed too large for the room, he is so big and everyone else in it was small in comparison and well behaved and courteous. Suddenly Olga began crying. It was out of exhaustion. I could see quite clearly that years of Benjamin had suddenly become too much. She kept sobbing, Oh do stop it, stop it, Benjamin. He was absolutely devastated. He collapsed. George signed to me, and I took Olga out and put her to bed again. In a minute Benjamin came to the room, and asked to be let in. He sat by Olga and held her hand. She was still crying. He was crying. I was crying.

  Simon came back today with his Peripatetic Hospital. He has been working twenty hours a day for weeks. He and Olga sit in the living room like two ghosts. They hardly talk. I see they don't need to. I see that our family often sit in the living room for hours and say practically nothing, George too. George has been spending hours sitting with Olga and Simon saying not a word. Being with them. Benjamin came marching in and asked about Simon's trip. By then Simon had recovered a bit. He said this and that, and then Thank God they were Chinese. Meaning the Overlords. (People's Representatives.) Where he had been travelling. I have seen that Simon and Olga often say Thank heavens he or she or they were Chinese. But what I am suddenly asking myself is, Why the Chinese? I mean, why is it that absolutely everywhere you go there are Chinese. Ever so efficient and useful of course. Never put a foot wrong. Tact personified. Simon and Olga say, common sense personified. Last month when Olga went to the famine, she actually grabbed a Chinese from some office or other and took her too because they are worth their weight in gold. In common sense. There are six Chinese doctors in Simon's Peripatetic Hospital.

  This afternoon has been peculiar. George came back from college at three. He lectures there on Systems of the Law. Because he says it is a good thing that people are reminded that such a thing as Law is possible. There were people waiting for him. I had given them mint tea and cake. Then I saw they were all hungry so I gave them what we had ready for supper. They were two Germans, three Russians, one Frenchwoman, a Chinese, and one Britisher. When George came in and greeted them and sat down, at once there was something different. An atmosphere. Usually what happens is that there is some small talk, and news about what is going on, and then George begins to talk in his way. Sometimes you can catch when he begins, and sometimes it is all happening before you have seen it. People who know him watch for it. But those who don't, blunder about spoiling it all. Until they catch on. This afternoon I could see at once these were people who had been with him before, somewhere on his trips. There was the attentive atmosphere. But there was something wrong too. It was someone there who was wrong. I wondered who? Someone there was dangerous. I saw it was the Britisher, Raymond Watts. Once I had seen it I couldn't understand why it had taken me so long. It was obvious that he was a spy. I saw that the others who had arrived with him had not seen this but they knew something was wrong. Slowly one after another they got it. It was very nasty. Soon everyone was sitting looking at Raymond Watts. Who was uneasy and false. He was scared. He had good reason to be. I was waiting for George to say something. Or do something. But he sat smiling as usual. Then the others, the Russians first, got up and said they were going. I could see it was all dreadful. The others went out after the Russians. Not Raymond Watts. George looked at me. I stayed. He went out into the lobby with the others, and he was there some time. I tried to talk with Raymond Watts but he was shaking and sweating. The voices from the lobby were loud and angry. I knew they were wanting to kill Raymond Watts and George was saying no. Then they went off and George came back and nodded at me and I went. Later I said to George, Are they going to kill him? George said, No. I told them that Raymond would change. I thought a bit, seeing quite a few things. I said, Oh, it has happened before. George began to grin. I saw that it had. Often? George said, There are as many spies as not, these days. He was looking at me. I knew perfectly well what was coming, more about me toughening up. George said, First of all, people have to eat. And then, for many people, being a spy or something of the kind is the obvious thing. They have not been given an alternative. Don't you see? No, I said, I don't see. At which point, he said, Rachel, you really must try to be stronger. You have had a sheltered life in many ways. That made me angry. I said to him, What has been sheltered about it? He said, First of all, you have never been tempted to do something you shouldn't because someone you loved was hungry or because you were hungry. And secondly, you have been all your life with advantaged people.

  I said to him, Like Naseem and Shireen, for instance. Advantaged?

  Yes. They were brought up to be decent. They were good people. But most people now are not brought up to be decent, but the opposite and it is not their fault.

  It took me some time to hear what he had said. I said to George, Are they dead then? George said, Naseem died a month ago, of an infection. He got chilled. I said, You mean, he died of not having enough to eat. That's right, he said. And Shireen died in the hospital in childbirth.

  So what has happened to the children?

  He said that two of them have died of dysentery, and the baby Shireen died of is being looked after by Fatima. The other three have been taken into a Children's Camp.

  By then I was crying, though I had decided not to cry.

  George said, Rachel, if you can't face all this, then you'll have to come back and do it all over again. Think about it.

  I have been trying to think about it.

  I wish I was dead with Naseem and Shireen.

  I have to write down that George is not beautiful the way he was only two years ago. He is actually ugly sometimes with being tired.

  I have seen that Simon will not live long. He is like Olga, a long way from us. George sits with them, every minute he can. I go in too, then I leave because I want to cry, and they are certainly not crying, but very serene.

  George has said that he wants me to help Benjamin with his work in the Children's Camps. I couldn't believe it. He said, Yes, Rachel, that is what you have to do. I said, Oh no, no, no. He said, Oh yes, yes.

  Benjamin came in, great sunburned oaf,
and I couldn't. George wasn't there. I knew quite well George had made sure I was alone with Benjamin. Benjamin kept saying, Where is George, where is Mother, where is Father. Simon had gone off to work at the hospital, and Olga was lying down. I saw that Benjamin was feeling left out. At last I made myself ask him if I could come and help him at the Children's Camps. His face, well! I was glad I had asked. I see that when Benjamin comes in here he needs very much to be liked. Now I am going to actually have to face doing it, I don't think I can. George isn't here, he has gone on a trip to a Youth Army in Egypt.

  I went with Benjamin to his Camps. He uses a light army truck. He stopped at the Peace Cafe' to offer lifts. We took seventeen people, all for the Camps. Benjamin's Camps are fifteen miles out. Benjamin says this is far enough out to prevent them coming in to tear the place to pieces in the evenings. He said that about the little kids, and it was exactly the same as old people and ordinary people saying about the Youth "tearing everything to pieces." The place of the Camps isn't very pretty. It is flat and dusty with some low hills around. Suddenly we came to a barbed-wire fence. It is electrified. Benjamin said there has to be a fence. To stop people getting in as much as to stop the kids getting out. Quote unquote. There are five thousand boys in the one Benjamin lives in. There are breeze-block sheds, fifty boys to a shed, five sheds to a group, twenty of these groups. There is a standpipe for each group of five sheds, and a block of showers and lavatories. There are central offices and buildings. The Camp is built like a wheel, with the sheds as spokes, two groups of sheds on each spoke.

  There are half a dozen palm trees. A few hibiscus and plumbago bushes. The place swarms with children, but always in squads and files. Not at random. They are called by loudspeaker at 5:30 each morning. The sheds are hot and stuffy so they are pleased to get out. They do physical exercises, with a proper physical instructor. There is a palm-thatch roof over a cement floor that has mats spread on it, where they sit for meals in sessions of five hundred each. Each sitting has twenty minutes to eat. They have porridge and yoghurt for breakfast. This eating place is almost continuously in use. After breakfast they do lessons and games. The lessons are done in classes of a hundred, most of the time. There isn't a proper place for lessons, so they go on everywhere, and in the eating shed too when it is not being used to eat in. The teaching is shouted at the children, sometimes through loudspeakers, and the children chant after the teachers. When anything up to fifty different classes are going on at the same time all over the camp it is weird, the capitals of the world being chanted here, then heroes of history chanted a hundred yards away, principles of hygiene on the other side, duty and respect to the elders next door, then addition or the multiplication table with the aid of a blackboard the size of a house, all this going on at once, and then from right across the Camp the sounds of a class chanting the Koran, or doing some dance. Well, the one thing these kids won't suffer from is compartmentalisation of their minds. They have an early lunch. Vegetables and beans. They lie down. Then they are crowded into the eating shed practically sitting on top of each other and they have history and current affairs. Indoctrination. Then they have lessons on the Koran and Mahomed and Islam. The Christians and Jews being fewer are done in the sleeping sheds. Then it starts to get a bit cooler thank heavens, and there are more games and supper. Then Prayers, and a sort of sermon, which is very emotional and uplifting. Then off they march to bed. They are never alone. Never, never. Not for one second, ever at any time. They do nothing by themselves. They are like people in big cities, always careful of their limbs and where they put themselves in case they bump or tread on each other. They are very polite and disciplined. They have bright staring watchful eyes. Then suddenly, you'll see a group of them that have broken out of a line or a squad, go wild, crazy, tearing about, flailing their arms and screaming and pummelling each other. The young men who look after them rush in and break it up. These young men are volunteers from the Youth Camp five miles off.