The Blue Disc

by William B. Waits

  “If they were under pressure to fight, they treasured males to defend them, right?” commented Rick.

  “They certainly needed fighters, but it was the women who were crucial to maintaining group survival.”

  “Were women pushed into fighting?”

  “No, not fighting. We can talk about this later, if you wish.”

  “I would like that,” said Rick.

  “We have tried to remain sensitive to the fact that bearing children in the rain forest entails special risks. You can see, in this part of our medical facility, the attention we give to obstetrics to minimize the risks to women and their infants. There’s another point. We have, from the beginning, provided women the best available birth control. It was plant-based in the early years, but we now make all methods available so women can maintain control over when they wish to have children.”

  “This facility seems nice by any standard,” said Rick, “and it’s astounding to see it deep in the rain forest.”

  “Thank you.”

  As they proceeded along the corridor, Rick noted the modern medical equipment, which was completely unexpected and astounding.

  “The building next door is the Commissary, which sells things we make as well as things our village does not make. Rather than visit it now, let’s go in this building across the central path. We’re particularly proud of it.”

  The building was designed like the others with an arched roof that blended nicely with the landscape. It had no water wheel as it was across the path from the stream. Once inside, Rick saw that the building was a lot larger than it looked from the outside. Numerous small rooms were attached off the main room and all of them were lined with shelves of books, at least 80,000 of them, he estimated. Rick got close enough to examine the spines, which had catalogue numbers.

  “This is some library,” he said, in understatement.

  “It’s taken us a while to collect these, as you might imagine,” said John, beaming from ear to ear. “Since our first trip to La Puerta in 1825, we’ve acquired books with a passion. This library is what allows us to understand our world.”

  “But the climate is so rainy here. How did you possibly preserve these books from the elements once you brought them here?” asked Rick.

  “Preserving our books from moisture was the central purpose when we constructed this building. The primary line of defense was, and still is, the roof, which is the best roof we know how to build. You can see how tightly the shingles fit together and how carefully the timbers are crafted. Our best chippies did it, to be sure.”

  Each shingle precisely overlapped its neighbors, completely blocking out the sunlight that Rick knew beat on its top.

  “The overlaps are sealed with a sticky plant resin and there are additional layers of water protection above the shingles.”

  “Very nice work,” murmured Rick, squinting at the roof.

  “Thank you. But, even now, we have to check constantly that the roof remains sound and that our precious library doesn’t turn into a giant mold culture. Over the years, we’ve developed ventilation techniques that lower the humidity, but it’s a constant battle.”

  “The library is very important to you,” said Rick.

  “Important, indeed. Collecting, using, and preserving these books is our most important achievement during our time in the rain forest. As we say, ‘Libraries are the greatest monuments of homo sapiens’. It’s even carved over the doorway over there,” he said pointing across the room. “Libraries house the collective knowledge that humans have acquired over the centuries. The extent of it is impressive, even though the smartest individuals among us can know only a fraction of it.”

  “It’s amazing that you have acquired this many of them. How did you get them?” asked Rick.

  “Through a constant commitment over a great many years. We purchased books during every trip we made to La Puerta, paying for them with a portion of our profits from the sales of our medicines. It was difficult to find books in English in La Puerta but, over time, we established a good relationship with an English language bookstore that kept a stock for us and ordered many, many other volumes at our request.”

  “What kinds of books did you get?”

  “Before our forebears began to travel to La Puerta in 1825, they, in effect, made their own books. They formed the habit of writing down what they experienced and learned. When they had a stack of good notes, they bound them up and stored them in our library. The space needed was small at this time: four bookcases around the wall of the bunker, and then, when this library was built, they were moved to that room over there. Whatever they learned from their neighbors about the rain forest and how to live in it, they recorded in journals. Whatever they learned about diseases, they recorded in journals. We even have the ship’s log and journals from the Cork.

  “The first books they brought back from La Puerta had to do with basic needs: survival books, medical books, and botany books. What was the best way to administer plant-based medicines? Which plants were effective disease fighters? How could they identify food plants and poisonous plants? They also acquired books on constructing shelters, making weapons, and producing cloth. Although they didn’t need clothes to keep them warm, they were used to wearing them and they protected them when they traveled through the rain forest and shielded them from the sun when they fished on the river.

  “They acquired numerous books on gardening, because the swidden plots they cultivated were closer to garden plots than to English agricultural farms. They got books on preserving food, not that they had to worry about stocking up for the winter, but they needed to keep extra food on hand in case they ran short.

  “They made it a regular practice to learn about the animals in the rain forest environment. They found helpful books, but they encountered many species that were not mentioned in any of the books, so they had to learn about those from their neighbors or on their own.

  “Over the years, our needs outgrew our small buildings. We brought back books on constructing larger buildings, particularly books that explained wooden beam construction. We also learned from books how to utilize water power from our small river.”

  “You had mentioned that your ancestors brought with them knowledge of water power.”

  “Yes they did, but over the decades, we needed to stay abreast of improvements in that technology in Europe and America. As you know, those parts of the world made heavy use of water to power their textile and other industries into the second half of the nineteenth century. We needed to know the best designs and dimensions for the wheels, the best ratios for the gears, that sort of thing.”

  “With your emphasis on the practical, have you pursued other interests, such as the arts?” asked Rick.

  “I fear my description has overemphasized the practical. We’ve always had some variety in the books we acquired. People could request whatever they wanted to read and those requests were frequently honored. It’s just that it helps to be adequately housed, fed, and clothed so you can enjoy the musical play, you understand. While in the early years, our forebears opted for a heavier dose of practical works with immediate applicability, since then, our love for the arts has flourished.”

  “You had a rare opportunity to construct a society, operating on your own principles, free from the weight of European history and practice,” commented Rick. “Did you think about what kind of society you wanted to build?”

  “Yes, that has always been a concern of ours. Early on, our forebears didn’t make a lot of changes from our English traditions, except for changes to our marriage rules, because we didn’t think that we knew enough to do it correctly. Over the years, we bought history and anthropology books to educate ourselves about the experiences of others. Not surprisingly, we developed a special interest in utopias since that was basically what we were creating. They’re right over here,” John said, motioning toward a case of books against one side of the room. “Most of the ones you’re familiar with are there: Plato, S
t. Thomas More, Bellamy, Wells, Huxley, and Orwell, to name a few. Although, as a group, they were useful to us, we did not pick any of them as a guide for us.”

  “Why is that?”

  “They weren’t realistic enough. I know that writers of utopias are supposed to think differently about society. That’s what they do. However, many of them thought so differently that the changes they recommended were unrealistic. In this environment, we didn’t have the luxury of pursuing goals we suspected were unachievable.”

  “How were they unrealistic?” asked Rick.

  “Most utopias are highly conformist. The organizing principles of the society are so wonderful that everyone buys into them. Really? When has there ever been a society in which everyone supported its principles? If they did, there would be little creative or critical thinking, I would wager. Anyway, it was clear from our readings in anthropology and history that there’s a lot of variation in human temperaments, in likes and dislikes, within any given society. The wisest path in building a society, it seemed to us, was to expect differences of opinion and accommodate them. Eventually, we fostered a culture that exposes individuals to central values that we hold dear, and yet gives them latitude to go their own ways in such matters as religion, who they wish to marry, and where they want to live, just to name a few.”

  “So you favor a broad exposure to ideas?”

  “Yes, individuals should be free to pursue the liberal arts, the fine arts, or anything else that catches their interest. The ultimate societal goal is to make available the widest range of quality ideas that we can—including ideas that are strange, unconventional, offbeat, or provocative. You never know when someone in the society will put together a little of this and a little of that and solve a problem that has perplexed us.”

  “Are you concerned about the exposure of your group to the ideas of outside society?” asked Rick.

  “Not really. After all, providing exposure was the point in getting the books.”

  “Villagers can read anything?” asked Rick.

  “We impose no restrictions on what anyone can read.”

  “You don’t restrict ideas from the outside world, but you do control the adoption of material things from outside society.”

  “Minds should be allowed to roam freely, even encouraged to do so. However, once you allow outside goods in unreservedly, the consumption values of outsiders will follow close behind, and the society will never be the same. Our villagers will start wallowing in things. At least, that’s our conclusion. We can discuss this at greater length later, but now I’d like to show you the next building.”

  As they walked toward the door of the library, Rick gazed one last time at the spacious interior with its many shelves of books. Reading was obviously very important in Euromamo life and that shed light on another matter: their speech. Although the Euromamo were located deep in the rain forest, they’d been reading English over the decades as that language was evolving in England and America, and that explained why their accent was modern rather than unchanged since the eighteenth century. He had even heard some slang.

  Outside, Rick asked what the large building was to their right.

  “The school. It’s in session now so let’s defer visiting it until later.”

  “That’s fine with me.”

  The building straight ahead of them was the largest in the village, boasting a considerable footprint and a high domed roof. Large potted plants framed the oversized doors. Behind the doors was a foyer, which led to the big main room. Rows of cushioned wooden seats, divided by two gangways (as John called them), faced a stage in front. Rick’s eyes were drawn upward to the massive timber beams that arched high overhead, supporting the roof. He could just make out on the lower ends of the beams that they were assembled from pieces and carefully pegged together.

  “This is the main room of our entertainment center. Here we hold plays, political speeches, religious services, and other community meetings. In short, the building houses our most important functions, except for the Origins Ceremony, which we hold in the bunker.”

  “What an impressive building! It must have been challenging to construct this ceiling span without its collapsing.”

  “Yes. The record in the library chronicles the challenges that they faced. Construction started in 1875, and it took them five years. Before even starting, the builders scoured books on the Pantheon, Hagia Sophia, and gothic cathedrals for ideas about how to construct it. The books were helpful, but since the builders were working with wooden beam construction, the best information they got was from an Amish book on barn-building.”

  “That makes sense. It must have been tough to figure out the weight and forces of the structure so it could stand.”

  “Very challenging, but it was not enough that it would stand after it was built. The builders also had to figure out the order of adding the pieces during construction, and how to support the weight while it was being built.”

  Rick remembered a photograph he had seen of the extensive scaffolding supporting the Guggenheim Museum in New York while it was being constructed.

  “This room took a lot of scaffolding to support it as the roof went on,” John mused.

  “I noticed the additional rooms attached to the outside of the building,” observed Rick.

  “Yes, they go all around,” said John. “They are structural and counteract the outward thrust of the roof…”

  “…like the rooms around Hagia Sophia that the Turks built after they conquered Constantinople,” added Rick.

  “And the flying buttresses around Notre Dame de Paris,” added John. “The rooms are useful in other ways as well, serving as meeting rooms and general purpose rooms. Let me show you some of them.”

  They returned to the outside and walked around the left side of the building.

  “This first room is the posting room where all public notices are placed. It is one of our most important public rooms. You should know where it is.”

  They continued about two-thirds of the way around the building.

  “I have some news to give you about your living arrangements,” he said as he motioned Rick toward an outside door. “The Leader has made this room available for you to live in while you are with us. As you know, the bunker has ritual significance for us and, after you move here, we’ll again have free use of it. Equally important, it would be dangerous for you to walk in the rain forest between the bunker and the village until you learn how to spot threats. In the unlikely event that you need to go into the rain forest, you should have a Euromamo with you to spot dangers, at least during your first two months. Otherwise, you simply won’t see them. A coral snake might bite your ankle and you’d be done for.”

  The room was about ten feet by fourteen feet, with a slanted roof. Two massive wooden beams angled downward from the top of the inside wall to the top of the shorter outside wall and then continued downward into the ground about six feet outside the building. They buttressed the large span of the main room. A table with two chairs was positioned along one side of the room, and there was even an ottoman for his feet. For sleeping, he could hang his hammock from the hooks in the rafters. His clothes and other possessions would go in two wooden chests along the end wall.

  “This should work out well. It will be a nice place to work,” observed Rick, his pleasure apparent in his voice. “Nice ottoman.”

  “Pouf, as we call them. In any regard, I take it that you are agreeable to moving from the bunker to the entertainment center?”

  “Yes. The Leader’s offer is most generous,” responded Rick. “I greatly appreciate it.”

  “I’ll let the Leader know.”

  “It’s getting dark. Shouldn’t I be getting back to the bunker?” Rick asked as they left the entertainment center.

  “Yes. I’ll walk you to the bunker tonight and come by for you mid-morning tomorrow. I’ll bring some youths with a cart to move your backpack here.”

  “Thank you, John. That’ll be very help
ful. By the way, what will I do about food?”

  “You’ll eat in our communal dining hall, the Leader has decided. The village operates a kitchen with attached dining hall as a part of our social wealth. It’s over there,” he said pointing to a large building connected by a path to the entertainment center. “All villagers contribute food and labor to the kitchen so anyone may eat in the dining room.”

  Rick inhaled the savory scent of food being cooked.

  “How do you prevent people from showing up for food without having contributed food to the kitchen?” he asked. “Isn’t the system abused?”

  “Mooching is tempting but we educate all Euromamo that, as a matter of honor, they should give some of their food to the kitchen. If you make a kill, Rick, you will be expected to do the same.”

  “I understand. The kitchen is that part to the right?”

  “No, that’s the tearoom…in case you want teacakes and a cuppa. The kitchen is behind the dining room.”

  John pointed out five tightly constructed buildings across the pathway behind the kitchen. Each was about twenty feet square.

  “Those are where we store our food.”

  “They’re pretty large,” observed Rick.

  “Our food reserves have to be big enough to get us through difficult times.”

  “What kinds of food do you store in them?”

  “Nuts, smoked and salted meat and fish, dried fruits and vegetables, preserved vegetables in jars, and root vegetables. You can see the chimney smoking above the roof of the last building. That’s where we smoke our meat.”

  “Isn’t it difficult to store food in the heat of the rain forest?”

  “The heat presents challenges, but we’ve developed some special techniques. Our storage buildings have extra-thick roofs and they’re built halfway below ground. Two of them we cool by running water from the Bel Ami around them and we wet down the roofs. It works well enough.”

  “How did you develop the practice of communal eating?”