“Let’s get on,” Lingman said. He didn’t want to waste any time. He didn’t have any time to waste.
Helmeted, they walked along the little path.
“Not so fast,” Lingman murmured.
“Right,” Morran said. They walked together, along the dark path of the planet that was different from all other planets, soaring alone around a sun different from all other suns.
“Up here,” Morran said. The legends were explicit. A path, leading to stone steps. Stone steps to a courtyard. And then—the Answerer!
To them, Answerer looked like a white screen set in a wall. To their eyes, Answerer was very simple.
Lingman clasped his shaking hands together. This was the culmination of a lifetime’s work, financing, arguing, ferreting bits of legend, ending here, now.
“Remember,” he said to Morran. “We will be shocked. The truth will be like nothing we have imagined.”
“I’m ready,” Morran said, his eyes rapturous.
“Very well. Answerer,” lingman said, in his thin little voice, “what is life?”
A voice spoke in their heads. “The question has no meaning. By ‘life’, the Questioner is referring to a partial phenomenon, inexplicable except in terms of its whole.”
“Of what is life a part?” Lingman asked.
“This question, in its present form, admits of no answer. Questioner is still considering ‘life’, from his personal, limited bias.”
“Answer it in your own terms, then,” Morran said.
“The Answerer can only answer questions.” Answerer thought again of the sad limitation imposed by his builders.
Silence.
“Is the universe expanding?” Morran asked confidendy.
“‘Expansion’ is a term inapplicable to the situation. Universe, as the Questioner views it, is an illusory concept.”
“Can you tell us anything?” Morran asked.
“I can answer any valid question concerning the nature of things.”
The two men looked at each other.
“I think I know what he means,” Lingman said sadly. “Our basic assumptions are wrong. All of them.”
“They can’t be,” Morran said. “Physics, biology—”
“Partial truths,” Lingman said, with a great weariness in his voice. “At least we’ve determined that much. We’ve found out that our inferences concerning observed phenomena are wrong.”
“But the rule of the simplest hypothesis—”
“It’s only a theory,” Lingman said.
“But life—he certainly could answer what life is?”
“Look at it this way,” Lingman said, “suppose you were to ask, ‘Why was I born under the constellation Scorpio, in conjunction with Saturn?’ I would be unable to answer your question in terms of the zodiac, because the zodiac has nothing to do with it.”
“I see,” Morran said slowly. “He can’t answer questions in terms of our assumptions.”
“That seems to be the case. And he can’t alter our assumptions. He is limited to valid questions—which imply, it would seem, a knowledge we just don’t have.”
“We can’t even ask a valid question?” Morran asked. “I don’t believe that. We must know some basics.” He turned to Answerer. “What is death?”
“I cannot explain an anthropomorphism.”
“Death an anthropomorphism!” Morran said, and Lingman turned quickly. “Now we’re getting somewhere!”
“Are anthropomorphisms unreal?” he asked.
“Anthropomorphisms may be classified, tentatively, as, A, false truths, or B, partial truths in terms of a partial situation.”
“Which is applicable here?”
“Both.”
That was the closest they got. Morran was unable to draw any more from Answerer. For hours the two men tried, but truth was slipping farther and farther away.
“It’s maddening,” Morran said, after a while. “This thing has the answer to the whole universe, and he can’t tell us unless we ask the right question. But how are we supposed to know the right question?”
Lingman sat down on the ground, leaning against a stone wall. He closed his eyes.
“Savages, that’s what we are,” Morran said, pacing up and down in front of Answerer. “Imagine a bushman walking up to a physicist and asking him why he can’t shoot his arrow into the sun. The scientist can explain it only in his own terms. What would happen?”
“The scientist wouldn’t even attempt it,” Lingman said, in a dim voice, “he would know the limitations of the questioner.”
“It’s fine,” Morran said angrily. “How do you explain the earth’s rotation to a bushman? Or better, how do you explain relativity to him—maintaining scientific rigor in your explanation at all times, of course.”
Lingman, eyes closed, didn’t answer.
“We’re bushmen. But the gap is much greater here. Worm and superman, perhaps. The worm desires to know the nature of dirt, and why there’s so much of it Oh, well.”
“Shall we go, sir?” Morran asked. Lingman’s eyes remained closed. His taloned fingers were clenched, his cheeks sunk further in. The skull was emerging.
“Sir! Sir!”
And Answerer knew that that was not the answer.
Alone on his planet, which is neither large nor small, but exactly the right size, Answerer waits. He cannot help the people who come to him, for even Answerer has restrictions.
He can answer only valid questions.
Universe? Life? Death? Purple? Eighteen?
Partial truths, half-truths, little bits of the great question.
But Answerer, alone, mumbles the questions to himself, the true questions, which no one can understand.
How could they understand the true answers?
The questions will never be asked, and Answerer remembers something his builders knew and forgot.
In order to ask a question you must already know most of the answer.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
“The Mountain without a Name” copyright © 1954 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Citizen in Space, Ballantine Books.
“The Accountant” copyright © 1954 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.
“Hunting Problem” copyright © 1955 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine.
“A Thief in Time” copyright © 1954 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine.
“The Luckiest Man in the World” copyright © 1954 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Fantastic Universe under the title “The Fortunate Person.”
“Hands Off“ copyright © 1954 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine.
“Something for Nothing” copyright © 1954 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine.
“A Ticket to Tranai” copyright © 1955 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine.
“The Battle” copyright © 1954 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in If.
““Skulking Permit” copyright © 1954 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine.
“Citizen in Space” copyright © 1955 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Playboy under the title “Spy Story.”
“Ask a Foolish Question” copyright © 1953 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Science Fiction Stories.
Copyright © 1955 by Robert Sheckley
ISBN: 978-1-4976-5069-5
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Citizen in Space Page 22
