The Big Book of Science Fiction

by The Big Book of Science Fiction (retail) (epub)

  “Yes, tell them about all that you see here.”

  “Please let me know how you carry on land cultivation and how you plough the land and do other hard manual work.”

  “Our fields are tilled by means of electricity, which supplies motive power for other hard work as well, and we employ it for our aerial conveyances too. We have no railroad nor any paved streets here.”

  “Therefore neither street nor railway accidents occur here,” said I. “Do not you ever suffer from want of rainwater?” I asked.

  “Never since the ‘water balloon’ has been set up. You see the big balloon and pipes attached thereto. By their aid we can draw as much rainwater as we require. Nor do we ever suffer from flood or thunderstorms. We are all very busy making nature yield as much as she can. We do not find time to quarrel with one another as we never sit idle. Our noble queen is exceedingly fond of botany; it is her ambition to convert the whole country into one grand garden.”

  “The idea is excellent. What is your chief food?”

  “Fruits.”

  “How do you keep your country cool in hot weather? We regard the rainfall in summer as a blessing from heaven.”

  “When the heat becomes unbearable, we sprinkle the ground with plentiful showers drawn from the artificial fountains. And in cold weather we keep our rooms warm with sun-heat.”

  She showed me her bathroom, the roof of which was removable. She could enjoy a shower bath whenever she liked, by simply removing the roof (which was like the lid of a box) and turning on the tap of the shower pipe.

  “You are a lucky people!” ejaculated I. “You know no want. What is your religion, may I ask?”

  “Our religion is based on Love and Truth. It is our religious duty to love one another and to be absolutely truthful. If any person lies, she or he is…”

  “Punished with death?”

  “No, not with death. We do not take pleasure in killing a creature of God, especially a human being. The liar is asked to leave this land for good and never to come to it again.”

  “Is an offender never forgiven?”

  “Yes, if that person repents sincerely.”

  “Are you not allowed to see any man, except your own relations?”

  “No one except sacred relations.”

  “Our circle of sacred relations is very limited; even first cousins are not sacred.”

  “But ours is very large; a distant cousin is as sacred as a brother.”

  “That is very good. I see purity itself reigns over your land. I should like to see the good queen, who is so sagacious and farsighted and who has made all these rules.”

  “All right,” said Sister Sara.

  Then she screwed a couple of seats onto a square piece of plank. To this plank she attached two smooth and well-polished balls. When I asked her what the balls were for, she said they were hydrogen balls and they were used to overcome the force of gravity. The balls were of different capacities to be used according to the different weights desired to be overcome. She then fastened to the air-car two winglike blades, which, she said, were worked by electricity. After we were comfortably seated she touched a knob and the blades began to whirl, moving faster and faster every moment. At first we were raised to the height of about six or seven feet and then off we flew. And before I could realize that we had commenced moving, we reached the garden of the queen.

  My friend lowered the air-car by reversing the action of the machine, and when the car touched the ground the machine was stopped and we got out.

  I had seen from the air-car the queen walking on a garden path with her little daughter (who was four years old) and her maids of honour.

  “Halloo! You here!” cried the queen, addressing Sister Sara. I was introduced to Her Royal Highness and was received by her cordially without any ceremony.

  I was very much delighted to make her acquaintance. In the course of the conversation I had with her, the queen told me that she had no objection to permitting her subjects to trade with other countries. “But,” she continued, “no trade was possible with countries where the women were kept in the zenanas and so unable to come and trade with us. Men, we find, are rather of lower morals and so we do not like dealing with them. We do not covet other people’s land, we do not fight for a piece of diamond though it may be a thousandfold brighter than the Koh-i-Noor, nor do we grudge a ruler his Peacock Throne. We dive deep into the ocean of knowledge and try to find out the precious gems which nature has kept in store for us. We enjoy nature’s gifts as much as we can.”

  After taking leave of the queen, I visited the famous universities, and was shown some of their manufactories, laboratories, and observatories.

  After visiting the above places of interest we got again into the air-car, but as soon as it began moving, I somehow slipped down and the fall startled me out of my dream. And on opening my eyes, I found myself in my own bedroom still lounging in the easy chair!

  The Triumph of Mechanics

  KARL HANS STROBL

  Translated by Gio Clairval

  Karl Hans Strobl (1877–1946) was an Austrian author and editor of fantasy and weird fiction who studied at Charles University in Prague. His own writing was strongly influenced by Edgar Allan Poe and Hanns Heinz Ewers, author of such weird horror classics as “The Spider.” After World War I, Strobl relocated to Germany, where he founded the magazine Der orchideengarten: Phantastische blätter (The Orchid Garden: Fantastic Pages) in 1919 with Alfons von Czibulka, which is now regarded as the world’s first specialized fantasy magazine, predating Weird Tales in the United States by two years. His own 1910 novel Eleagabal Kuperus was adapted as the film Nachtgestalten in 1920, starring Conrad Veidt of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.

  Strobl carved out a space for himself as a unique writer of macabre fiction, earning comparisons to the Czech writer Gustav Meyrink and to Alfred Kubin. However, Strobl also became increasingly extremist as an advocate for German nationalism. This impulse led to Strobl’s adopting right-wing and anti-Semitic views late in the 1920s. Some of the racism inherent in Strobl’s worldview had been visible as early as the illustrations commissioned for Der orchideengarten but metastasized when Strobl joined the Nazi Party before World War II and became a high official in the Nazi writers’ organization, spending the rest of his literary career producing pro-Nazi propaganda. As a result, his works were banned by the Allies at the end of the war. In horribly tangible ways, then, Strobl ended up embodying the antithesis of every hope Paul Scheerbart had had for the future of Germany and humankind.

  It would be easy to read into Strobl’s “The Triumph of Mechanics” (1907), never before translated into English, some precursor or indication of his later proclivities and political views. But what comes through behind the apparent faith and optimism about industry and industrialization is the threat inherent in a mechanized society: the rebellious artificial legions stealing the world from their masters, foreshadowing one of the themes of classic science fiction. In “The Triumph of Mechanics,” the author’s dystopia is laced with humor. This stance is in direct opposition to the “can-do, gee whiz” attitude about humanity’s endeavors on Earth and beyond the stars that dominated some early American science fiction.

  THE TRIUMPH OF MECHANICS

  Karl Hans Strobl

  Translated by Gio Clairval

  The town’s toy industry had grown considerably in the last few years. All civilized countries placed orders upon orders, eager to own mechanical toys—multicolored, marvelously precise: the Punchinello puppets banging drums, the indefatigable fencers, the madly fast automobiles, the proud war vessels propelled by veritable steam engines. Through some forceful entreat, one could export the toys to unsophisticated lands—though the demand was not as imperious. One could often find—deep in the forests and out in the deserts of Africa—little indigenous children playing with what remained of those remarkable products. A famous explorer even confessed to having been fooled in the jungle, at the edge of the Malagarasi, by a ver
y peculiar monkey: the beast sat in a palm tree, and the explorer had convinced himself he had discovered another simian species, when he glimpsed his country’s trademark, DRP* N. 105307, which destroyed his hopes. But the independent press soon placed this story in the usual category (as far as explorers of Africa were concerned) of imaginary ravings and condemned it as one more conspiracy conceived by the abhorred colonial policy.

  The automated rabbits from the firm Stricker & Vorderteil were by far in greatest demand. These small animals, exact replicas of the natural creatures, were capable, when their spring was fully wound up, of hopping around like their living models, in five or six circles.

  A mechanical engineer of universal genius, an American, of course, whose inventions seemed to fall from the heavens directly onto his lap, had designed the humble inanimate beasts specifically for the company. Unfortunately, the moment when the firm’s performance and celebrity peaked, everything collapsed like a house of cards. With the impertinence of the man who believes himself indispensible, Hopkins requested to be paid double, work half hours, and have access to a personal laboratory and a vacation property out of town. Stricker was inclined to accept, but Vorderteil opposed this decision in the strongest possible terms: “We can’t do that, if only for the sake of management’s principles; otherwise, in six months’ time Hopkins will come up with some new whim.”

  Stricker agreed. The American, a grin hovering about his face, listened to his boss’s decision and responded by handing over his notice. The slight consternation and discontent caused by this reaction vanished when the owners realized all the crucial secrets of fabrication were safe and the enterprise risked nothing.

  “What if,” said the anxious Stricker, “Hopkins creates a competing firm?”

  “Leave it to me,” said Vorderteil in a soothing tone, as he was, through a few discreet dealings, acquainted with the town’s mayor. The defector would receive no permission to start his business.

  Meanwhile, Hopkins worked as if nothing had happened. He continued to supervise the factory’s production, changing a few small-scale details, as if he intended to work for Stricker and Vorderteil forever. One could say he invented as easily as he drew breath. During these last weeks, important orders of rabbits came in, and the firm was forced to increase its means of production, to fabricate those legions of small animals. Hopkins, wearing his customary smile, left at the end of his notice, doffed his impeccable top hat, and bowed low to his former employers. He remained worryingly quiet about his future projects, and what Stricker’s fretful nature had correctly intuited turned out to be true. Through his discreet dealings with the mayor’s office, Vorderteil learned that Hopkins had bought a vacant lot and had filed a building permit, to build a new factory.

  “Guess,” Vorderteil cried, “what he’s going to fabricate?”

  “I have no idea,” Stricker answered, and this time he really had no clue.

  “Toys made of glazed colored glass. That’s what he wants to do. Glazed colored glass! Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

  Stricker had never heard of such a thing, but he deemed Hopkins capable of anything, even of making glazed colored glass toys, which is why he blanched, nodded, shrugged his shoulders, and hunched over, thus losing three centimeters in height.

  Vorderteil yelled: “Glazed glass. And colored! Nonsense!”

  “Calm down. It’s probably a mistake. Maybe Hopkins meant to say ‘gasified air.’ I think I heard something about it.”

  At these words, Vorderteil banged his fist on the table, so forcefully the huge recorder placed over his head oscillated. He cried:

  “This is a serious matter. Don’t be facetious, now that everything we worked for is crumbling around our ears. When Hopkins says glazed glass, he thinks glazed glass, and, if I understand well, he gave an overview of his project, from which it would appear that he has discovered a process to solidify air, a method that allows submitting air to very high temperatures, giving it all the properties of glass, except for fragility.”

  “That would be an industrial revolution, and he is very obliging, given that he intends to use this breakthrough technology to make toys. Who knows where he’ll stop?”

  “Very obliging, yes. But what if, all of a sudden, children were given dice, skittles, puppets, locomotives made of colored glass that never break, and the toys are completely safe? Maybe he will even make automated rabbits, oh!”

  Vorderteil threw himself back so violently in his armchair that the huge Shannon recorder fell on his head. While papers flittered around him, he bounded to his feet.

  “That must be avoided at all costs, and if you, Mr. Stricker, indulge in incomprehensible nonchalance, I myself must thank God for having connections that will help me foil Hopkins’s nefarious plan.”

  The following weeks, many discussions took place through the usual discreet channels, between the mayor and Vorderteil. It ensued that these secret dealings caused a firm refusal of all the requests, appeals, and revisions filed by Hopkins. To the point that Stricker, crushed by his associate’s repeated victories, saw himself shrink about two centimeters in height every day.

  After the seventeenth rejection of Hopkins’s request, a peculiar din resounded before the city hall’s door, and the American, flanked by two enormous mastiffs, entered the antechamber, which was made narrow by thick folders, all sorts of carefully kept clutter, and rolled-up sheets of paper containing building plans.

  Secretaries and clerks took refuge in the adjacent rooms, while the doors moaned under the weight of the mastiffs, which were leaning into the panels. Thanks to the two monsters, whose heads reached up to his shoulders, Hopkins was able to get into the mayor’s office. Here he stood, Hopkins, facing the mayor, hat in hand, while the mastiffs, giving in to their instinct, sniffed the cabinets all around the room, upending vases and unabashedly leaving the marks of their huge paws on the delicate patterns of the rug, and the mayor tried to find something to say:

  “Don’t you know that dogs are not allowed inside?” he ended up yelling.

  “Of course I know,” Hopkins answered, smiling. “Dogs must stay outside.”

  “So how dare you introduce your tykes here!”

  “These? But they’re not dogs.”

  “Oh, yes? What are they then?”

  “They’re machines, Mr. Mayor.”

  And Hopkins called one of the mastiffs closer, and unscrewed its head so that it was possible to glimpse the gearwheels inside; he also explained how the animals moved their limbs and sniffed, particularly emphasizing the clever mechanism that allowed the dogs to wag their tails.

  “What in the hell is this for…?” asked the mayor, an almost imploring expression on his nonplussed face, while the cogs, wheels, springs, and electrical batteries spun frenetically.

  Hopkins switched his dogs’ mechanisms off and riposted through another question:

  “Why wouldn’t you let me build my factory?”

  “For that, you should address the Civil Engineering Office, in order to learn whether it is possible to obtain a building permit.”

  “I have already put the same question to the Civil Engineering Office. There, I was told to address the Police Office.”

  “Well, then, and…?”

  “From there, I was sent to the Technical Assistance Office.”

  “Well, then, and…?”

  “There, they wanted me to go to the Civil Engineering Office again, but at this point I decided to address you directly.”

  The mayor, seeing himself abandoned by all his auxiliary offices, resigned himself to replying.

  “We didn’t respond favorably to your request because the legal requirements were not met.”

  “But everything’s perfect, and if you don’t believe me, I shall do whatever it takes to obtain your agreement, one way or another.”

  Under the dogs’ lackluster stare, which seemed as threatening as the glint in their master’s eyes, the mayor dared not to contradict his interlocutor.
The three creatures that fenced the mayor inside a magical circle resembled receptacles of accumulated force waiting for a switch-on to explode into action, unleashing destruction.

  In a wavering voice, he asked: “And now, what do you intend to do?”

  “Oh, I can choose one among hundreds of possibilities…like…rabbits, for example.”

  “Ra—rabbits?”

  “Yes…I can set a billion mechanical rabbits on the town.”

  There, the mayor burst into laughter. “A billion! And…mechanical…ha-ha.”

  “I’m under the impression you have no idea what a billion is, and you don’t know a thing about the perfection of mechanics, not to mention the effects of inanimate objects to which one lends movement….”

  But the mayor, who couldn’t control his fits of laughter, kept saying, “Ra—rabbits. Au-tomated…ra—rabbits. Ha-ha.”

  “Then you take responsibility for it?”

  “But of course…of course.”

  “All right,” said Hopkins, and he tipped his hat by way of a farewell.

  He turned on his dogs’ switches and, followed by the monsters, exited, an amiable smile at the corner of his mouth. It took the mayor two hours to recover, and only after all the heads of departments succeeded in restraining their serious cases of the giggles, he went home, a vague air of satisfaction about him. Exhausted by his unusual exertions, he couldn’t wait to tell his wife about the joke. In front of the door, he saw in a corner, shyly nestled against the wall, looking miserable, a cute little white rabbit produced according to the renowned process of the Stricker & Vorderteil firm. Amused by the thought that Hopkins had already placed a little white rabbit by his door, the mayor extended a hand to seize the small beast, but the rabbit hopped away, quickly escaping him. Still intent on the idea of pursuit, the mayor saw with satisfaction that not far down the street, a few rascals had trapped the animal. The story told by the mayor was sheer pleasure to his wife as her thrifty nature immediately envisaged the opportunity of procuring children’s toys at no cost. When little Edwige appeared clutching a little white rabbit she had found on the porch, the mayor’s wife laughed joyously. She burst out laughing again when Richard brought in a rabbit, which settled in on the kitchen table, and again when Fritz and Anna emerged from the dark depths of a cave, each carrying a rabbit.