Strange Attractors (1985)
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cop otherwise. The cop clouted the red cell over the rim.
‘Wasting my time with false complaints, think I haven’t enough
to do? Next time I come, I’ll bring a macka.’
‘What do you think of that?’ said my neighbour on the wall. ‘The
red cells are trying to create ill feeling!’
I hadn’t done a tap of work since the Cloud, and I didn’t plan on
doing any. I’d become a thinker, free to dwell on social problems.
One worker not working wouldn’t be noticed.
For the moment, one division will suffice. It hurts to keep silent
when I see so much injustice, but it wouldn’t be prudent to speak
out at present.
‘There’s something wrong with the lollies we’re getting,’ I complained to a neighbour today. ‘They don’t have the nourishment they should.’
‘There’s not enough food to go round,’ she explained.
‘It’s the quality of the food,’ I insisted. ‘It’s poor stuff. Still, with
the system about to end, I guess we have to expect it.’
‘W hat do you mean?’
‘Sorry,’ I replied, nodding in the direction of the queuing red
cells. ‘I can’t say more for the moment.’
When the Cloud came, I was ready. As soon as I heard that
coughing and wheezing, I started dividing like crazy, pushing
neighbours into the void as and where necessary. ‘Hey, what are
you doing?’ they protested. ‘Shut up,’ I answered. ‘You’re still here,
essence intact. You can afford to lose a few daughters, God knows,
I’ve lost my share. Besides, I’m unique: that’s the difference
between us.’
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141
Someone tried to complain, but the cops wouldn’t listen. ‘Settle
your own disputes,’ they said, ‘we’re busy!’
'How do you like that!’ I said loudly. ‘No time for legitimate
complaints, but happy to waste it chasing scripts Control is anxious
to receive.’
‘Here, here’, said a neighbour. ‘Someone just pushed me off this
wall.’
‘O f course, you realise where all that energy comes from?’ I
continued. ‘Lollies we don’t get!’
There’d be no orders coming from Control, once the system was
cooled. And the fact was, these cops had no orders — I knew.
‘You watch your mouth,’ said a big macrophage.
‘Why don’t you pull your head in?’ I replied.
The neighbours were appalled, but I knew what I was doing.
‘So you think you’re pretty smart,’ I continued. ‘Well, I’m sick of
your greedy behaviour, I’m going to teach you a lesson.’
No one, least of all the cop, could believe her ears. An exchange
menial threatening police! A pogrom would follow, unless I acted
quickly.
Thanks to my Elixir, I can divide faster than the average wall cell.
I had a few hundred cells up, and we all started eating. Talk about
eat! We drained that channel of nutriments in seconds. Every cop
in the area got too tired to swim.
A burst of spontaneous applause followed. ‘You sure told that cop
where to get off,’ said a neighbour admiringly. I smiled. She’d
completely forgotten I was the reason the cops had been called.
‘It was nothing,’ I demurred. ‘Those girls forget they’re no better
than the rest of us, and need to be put in their place once in a while.’
‘Terrific,’ said the neighbour. ‘How come you know so much?’
‘I was sent to enlighten you,’ I confessed. ‘With the system about
to collapse — and the world’s ending, did you know*? — cells like
me arc sent along for the general benefit.’
‘T h at’s wonderful,’ said another wall cell. ‘You certainly told that
cop where to get off. Could I do that?’
‘Not right at the moment. In time, perhaps, but only if I receive
your full cooperation. I need plenty of food, and lots of time to
think, so I can’t do any work. Will you support me? It may mean a
little extra work for you at first, but this will toughen you up. And if
we’re to succeed, we have to be tough.’
They agreed readily. Over the next few weeks I applied myself to
death and resurrection. I grew and grew. I figured two or three
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billion cells would guarantee survival, but I struck a snag. Try as I
might, I couldn’t increase beyond half a million cells. The problem
was soon obvious; central cells were dying as fast as peripheral cells
were being born. Beyond a certain distance from the channel, eating became too difficult, even for me.
Never mind; the Work could begin: the conversion of my neighbours — the creation, within each cell, of an awareness of her full potential.
The trouble was, I didn’t know how to go about it. ‘Listen,’ I’d say,
‘you can be anything you want to be! All you need is the right attitude. Realise your full potential. According to the myth of creation, we all derive from a single cell.’
But one look at their vacant faces told me I was wasting my
breath. Their ignorance was total. My heart sank at the sight of
them.
‘You can’t ask questions,’ they insisted. ‘You have to accept your
place in the world! You could never be a police cell, or a red cell, as
you are what you are!’
‘You don’t know what you are, stupid. You haven’t the foggiest,’ I
replied.
From time to time I did lose my temper: this was something they
couldn’t understand. The breakdown of the system had them at a
loss; I couldn’t see them taking any action.
‘Listen,’ I said, ‘supposing you all stopped work! Then they’d
have to take some notice of you.’
‘Won’t they destroy us?’
‘No, because as soon as they turn up, you start working again!’
‘We can’t make ourselves stop work.’
It was true enough. They could no more stop work than I could
start.
After a month of futile talk, I gave it away. You can’t help those who
won’t help themselves.
For maybe a year I sat and thought. At the end of that time, I
understood.
No one still caught in the web of illusion can help another escape
that web! I had been guilty of the sin of pride. I, who still needed to
eat, breathe and drink, could never convey the Elixir.
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Only a master can help another attain realisation. And each cell
must supply for herself the desire to confront a master.
Once I came to this understanding, I knew I would have to pursue my own destiny. No one could help me, and I could help no one.
I advised them to love their enemy, and they just laughed.
In the beginning, it had seemed so simple.
How far from mastery I was!
I resolved to ask no more of life than the peace needed for contemplation. By taking no further part in the world, by refusing to contaminate myself with its imperfections, I might aspire to
mastery myself. Besides, no other course was apparent: I couldn’t
regress and I couldn’t go forward.
Yet what were my sufferings, compared to those of the masters!
How we have treated them! Reviled, spat upon, ingested, condemned,
the masters offer us freedom and we respond by treating them as the lowest of the low. We even deny them a natural origin
with ourselves.
Now there came, in the fullness of time, a campaign directed
against me. At first I ignored it, but eventually several of my
daughter cells were broken off and hurled into the void.
‘W hat troubles you, sisters?’ I inquired. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘ You’re wrong,’ they replied. ‘Look at the mess we’re in here, and
all you do is sit on your arse! Why should we feed you? You don’t
work! Work or get out. We’ve enough troubles.’
I hardly knew what to say. If it came to a death and rebirth contest I could win easily. But this would be an abuse of power.
‘Sisters,’ I said eventually, ‘do with me as you wish. I shall return
your hatred with love, in the hope you will see the error of your
ways.’
I resolved to die with dignity. I did not, however, completely
cease to divide.
2
A good job too! Were we in trouble! Down to a few hundred cells,
and M other accepts it.
I wasn’t about to see our Elixir lost! As soon as I’d grasped the
situation, I suggested a fight. ‘It’s them or us,’ I pointed out.
‘Oh no,’ explained Mother, ‘we can’t do that, the master wouldn’t
like it! And how come, if you’re my daughter, you don’t agree with
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everything I say?’
This ‘master’, I might add, is a figment of her imagination.
I suppose we never had much in common. M other and T. Given
the gravity of the situation, I decided she had to go. It was her or
me.
So I did a deal with the neighbours: all the food I could eat, and I
would take care of Mother. They agreed, and after I’d taken care of
Mother, I took care of them.
Then I began to divide. I grew to about a million cells, when I
struck a difficulty: too far from the channel!
It was clear I had to divert the channel in my direction. There’s
no point talking to idiots. The way you save idiots from themselves
is through direct action. I never much cared for idle speculation,
I’ve seen the damage it can do.
Here was a practical problem. If I could supply myself with a
channel of my own, I’d have solved that problem.
‘Hey, sisters dear,’ I said to the cells of the channel wall. ‘How
about a move in my direction?’
They’re pretty sluggish, and rather stupid. But they ignored me,
so I killed a few, on a trial basis. I made small holes in the walls, to
try to force some channel growth, but the channel just renewed
itself.
3
We were close to the end! Mother had the notion you can fight your
way out of any situation, but you have to use your head. We were
fighting on all fronts, keeping the neighbours in check, destroying
channel walls, and waging a losing battle against the police and the
parasites.
M other was a great fighter, but I couldn’t stand by and see our
Elixir, the only hope of the world, destroyed! So I made a deal with
some lymphocytes; in return for safe passage to another section of
the wall, I would give them M other’s measurements: she passed for
normal when it suited her. She called me some dreadful things as
the killers went to work, but at least our Elixir was safe. Individual
lives count for nothing.
When it was over, the cops came back to get me, as I’d expected: I
was already dividing, and my measurements aren’t quite the same
as M other’s.
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145
They searched for a while, but soon lost interest. Morale in the
force was low.
One cell can make a million through force; thereafter, guile is
needed.
I made my first million, and sat back to think. How could I
persuade the channel to branch my way?
What do we know about the cells of the channel wall? I resolved to
study them. Why do they divide? To repair damage, when tissue is
hurt. But there had to be another factor, and I had to find it.
W hat is the motivation of these channel wall cells? Do they have
peculiarities? They seemed simple, kindhearted folk, easy to
exploit. W hat do they like? I might be able to simulate what they
liked.
I saw one cry once, during battle. Could that be a clue? Though
not involved in battle herself, she cried. If only I knew what made
them cry.
W hen the police eventually came round, looking for shirkers, I
suppose my first inclination was to fight. But isn’t this where we fail
every time? Violence solves nothing.
Remember the myth of the beautiful beast! Conquer fear!
Attempt the impossible.
A lymphocyte pulled a daughter of mine from the wall and
started to eat her.
‘Master,’ I prayed, ‘please help me!’
Next thing I knew, I was crying like a child. I felt so ashamed, but
I just couldn’t help it.
Above the raucous jeering of the police, I heard another sound.
‘Leave those kids alone,’ said a voice. ‘Yeah, leave those kids alone,’
said another voice. ‘Pick on someone your own age!’
The cells of the channel wall were speaking! They hardly ever
spoke. W hat was I doing to attract their attention? Was it my crying? It was! I made myself as infantile as possible. ‘Goo goo goo,’ I said to the police. The channel wall went ga-ga.
‘Steady on, girls,’ said the chief of police, ‘you’re not going to fall
for the oldest trick in the book! Show some discrimination! This is
no baby, this is a tumour. Can’t you tell the difference?’
‘Leave that kid alone,’ came the answer.
‘She was invaded by a virus,’ said the chief. ‘Many moons ago, of
course, but . . . ’
‘Poor little darling,’ retorted a wall cell. ‘Imagine what she’s been
through! If we can’t provide for those less fortunate than ourselves,
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what kind of society are we? It’s not her fault she can’t get a job.
And you want her thrown on the scrapheap — for shame.’
The police conferred in alarm, as I began wailing my heart out.
The cells of the channel wall were dividing! A tiny channel was
pushing my way!
‘You girls don’t realise what you’re doing,’ said the chief. ‘Once
that thing has a channel of its own, there’ll be no holding it back.’
‘Poor little bubsy-wubsy’s hungry. She needs some care,’ came the
answer.
I drank and drank. Once I had my own channel, the cops stopped
hassling me. They had to accept me, like it or not. I was part of the
system.
‘Hey, officer,’ I complained. ‘I can see two parasites climbing up
my wall, would you send someone down, please?’
If one channel, why not two? If two, why not two hundred? I can be
anything I want to be. I have the Elixir.
‘You can be anything you want to be, too,’ I explained to my sister
cells.
They don’t really like me, but they know when they’re beaten.
have deteriorated. However, their job is to enforce the law, not
make it.
‘W hat sort of progress do we get when we get progress?’ a cell asked.
‘The Elixir, I answered.
‘And what is this Elixir? And when do we get some?’
(Do they get some? It seems unlikely, on the face of it.)
‘Listen,’ I said, ‘yours not to reason why. Your job is to feed me
and supply me with my needs. Don’t you want to learn humility?
Ok, let’s go over our rules for a better world. Rule One?’
‘Tolerance of those different to yourself.’
‘Rule Two?’
‘A loving attitude to those in need.’
‘Rule Three?’
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4
How do you convince a world of morons who won’t stop working
that they’re wasting their time? ‘W hat do you stand to gain from all
this work?’ you ask them. ‘Work work work.’
The work ethic. They’re not happy if they’re not involved in
some kind of mindless drudgery. They haven’t the slightest idea of
leisure. Frankly, they wouldn’t know what to do with it. It’s no use
telling them they don’t have to work if they don’t want to. How
pretty soon we’ll all be out of a job.
I’m glad to say that M other taught us latitude. The upshot is,
we’re individuals. She never abused us or pulled us into line. Such
is not her way. We’re quite free, and always have been.
In fact, if she has a fault at all, she is too tolerant. Once, when I
complained about some new channel, and the time it had taken to
construct, she defended the slaves in question, saying they’d done
their best.
We want to travel, my sisters and I. We’re keen to see the conditions prevailing elsewhere, where they’re not so well off. But when we complain that we can’t move, you know what M other
says? ‘Let’s be content with our lot. We’ve ten times more than
anybody else, and we didn’t have to work for it.’
I think she’s gone a bit soft in the head.
A few of my sisters and I decided to challenge her authority.
Near us on the wall were some funny-looking cells, so bang, we
moved in and killed them.