The Big Book of Science Fiction
Page 13
“Citizens,” it went, “take courage! It is for the last time that you are looking at the free sky, your sky. From now on it belongs to someone else. The stars will twinkle for others, the sun will shine for others. Our great, glorious, and lovable Principal City is to turn into a huge, dark, pallidly electrical vault. A new city is to be built above it, and it will be strictly forbidden for us to enter it. Construction of Upper City is going to take ten years, and there will be less of the free sky above us with each passing day. This is, dear citizens, the conquerors’ dreadful decision. Be patient! Take courage! Let reason help you, reason and the only wisdom on earth—the wisdom of hope. It is impossible for Principal City to perish so terribly and irrevocably.
“This is blind fate testing us. Let hope, good spirits, and belief in the fortunate change of circumstances help you.”
This was followed by the dry articles of the peace treaty.
6
That night was unmatched in anxiety. Even before the President’s announcement was published, rumors had begun to spread throughout Principal City that some enormous metallic tubes had been erected by the enemy ten versts* from the city and aimed at it.
There were anxious speculations in evening newspapers that those constructions were meant for washing the President’s announcement off, should the conquerors find its wording disagreeable—machines that generated artificial rain or darkened the sky.
Yet special midnight editions of newspapers disproved that assumption: it turned out that the machines and tubes had been installed by the enemy’s Efficient Philosophy Association with a view to producing omni-audible machine-generated systematic laughter to mock failures and wrong actions of the government, political parties, and people of Principal City.
The newspaper that was first to reveal the true purpose of the machines and tubes supplied the article with a word of advice—to close the doors and windows tight and, if possible, to stay indoors so as not to hear that hurtful but—alas!—inescapable laughter.
Yellow sheets of paper were coming in two or three issues per hour. There had been enough time to reprint this item and furnish it with belligerent comments and threats saying that the residents of Principal City would not take such abuse, that it was necessary to urgently deploy all drums in Principal City, all bells small and large, all hooters and other instruments capable of making great noise, and if those would not be enough, not to stop short of a cannonade.
At two past midnight, the first peals of the terrible machine laughter came.
The unparalleled oppression of its sounds made the hearts of all living beings inhabiting Principal City leap and shrink.
The machine laughter had two effects, amusing and depressing at once.
No one slept that night.
Teenagers, grown-ups, women, and old people alike wandered about the streets, laughing wildly. Many of them were sobbing. Still many more, surrendering to the infectiousness of machine sounds, roared and wept at the same time.
There were some attempts to counteract the action of those truly infernal machines, too. Somewhere, there was the beating of drums, screaming, explosions somewhere, and there was incessant shooting, but soon it became evident that if the laughter endured, the ramifications would be disastrous.
A delegation from academics, humanitarian societies, and universities approached the President of Principal City, making a request to enter into negotiations with the Efficient Philosophy Association without delay and exercise their best efforts to stop that demoralizing, inhumane, unknown laughter.
The delegation submitted several reports to the President that dealt with the immediate effects caused by that monstrous torture in only three hours. Even fragmentary accounts showed that in Principal City, five million strong, there were dozens of mental disorders, about eighty suicides, and a vast, incalculable number of grave nervous shocks.
The President of Principal City received the delegation while sitting by the open window. Perfectly calm, he reclined there gazing wearily at the vague outlines of the houses and roofs. Even the harshest peals of roaring laughter, which bore a distinct resemblance to that of a healthy, deep-chested, clever, and revengeful man, failed to make the President wince.
Still calm, he listened to the agitated delegates and, complying humbly with their request, gave the required written orders.
7
Two people set out in a government-owned airplane to meet the chairman of the Efficient Philosophy Association: the internationally acclaimed writer Claude, whose humanitarian ideas left the whole cultural world awestruck, and the scientist Glavatsky, whose genius and tireless work of forty years made it possible to deliver humankind from the plague of consumption.
There was no doubt that these two men would make a proper impact on the academics of the winning country and bring an end to the oppressing form of philosophical sermon.
The delegates got an honorable welcome, as could be expected. In as few as thirty minutes they were received by the governing board of the association, and their appeal was given full attention.
However, the appeal was dismissed.
The chairman of the Efficient Philosophy Association, a little wizened old man in round spectacles, while bending respectfully and folding his arms on his stomach, stated to the renowned delegates of Principal City:
“I would be happy if I could humor you. But, I regret to say, we find it impossible to waste such a good chance to battle with the outdated, fruitless, and, in our view, detrimental epidemic of optimism which Principal City had been stricken by and, as you see, fallen victim to. Of course it is deplorable to hear about the shocks and diseases you describe in your reports, but we strongly believe there will be considerably more morally reborn, invigorated, and even spiritually resurrected persons in Principal City eventually. We feel compelled to carry on our sermon of laughter for nine more hours. It is not incurious to note that the Syndicate of Satirical Clubs and Magazines had tried to obtain a license for laughter from His Royal Majesty before we did, but we succeeded in proving, just in time, that our form of sermon was the only one of a scientific and complete nature, so the Academy of Sciences granted the monopoly to us. The syndicate had intended to alternate wholesome scientific laughter with whistling, a rather dubious measure, as well as with some ironic howls and catcalls, the reasonability of which cries for, I should say so, severe testing and can hardly be recognized as satisfactory from a scientific point of view.”
8
Two weeks had passed since that memorable night.
Little had outwardly changed in Principal City, aside from a somewhat increased rate of fires. However, a great many public officials and private citizens considered the arson attacks on libraries and archives as a worldwide crisis.
The conquerors barely showed themselves. They were furthering and consolidating their victory by way of official negotiations and issuing decrees and statutes.
Actions of individual guerrilla parties had ceased. The conquerors, for their part, stopped showering Principal City with flowers, and there had not been any music to be heard for a long time. That left only glowing advertisements that consumed the sky by night, but residents of Principal City had become accustomed to them with time.
The shops were open. City traffic was resumed to the full extent. Newspapers and magazines got out on schedule.
The incipient exodus of wealthy citizens from Principal City was checked by the enemy’s prohibitive decree, but even that failed to dishearten the community in any real way.
As a matter of fact, the spirit of apathy and indifference was taking hold of more and more people day by day. Automatic cinematographic machines, installed on many streets of Principal City and filming passersby continuously for further examination by the Society of Love for People, now captured a large percentage of figures displaying a languorous gait, vacant and depressed expressions, and facial tics. In a sign of mourning and protest the members of the society began wearing black bands on their left arms.
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Suicides became a frequent thing. Newspapers published self-murderers’ suicide notes, confessions, and aphorisms in advertisement sections. A respectable old pigeon fancier poisoned all his pigeons—more than ten thousand birds—with cocaine, painted them black, and let them go into the city. He poisoned himself later in the day, while the poor creatures rushed about the city in a daze for a few more hours until they dropped dead on roofs and pavements, cooing plaintively.
Morals were visibly degenerating. Circulation of newspapers specializing in confessions had soared. A great success, humor sheets throve and multiplied, making vicious and vulgar mockery of everything that had been dear to Principal City just yesterday, everything that everyone had believed in and worshipped.
Party leaders, heads of social movements, and groups engaged in settling personal scores were harassing each other. Bitter confusion and spiritual devastation were universal now. Even serious-minded and governmental newspapers started dedicating a lot of space to personal polemics that were not free of spiteful accusations, vindictive attacks, and intent to offend and humiliate rather than to establish the truth.
Narcotic clubs, games of chance, lechery, and consumption of wine and sweetmeats spread most extensively, and, finally, murders and scams escalated in frequency. The most typical example of the latter was the trial of a lawyer who had joined as a conquerors’ agent and sold to the residents of Principal City, in secrecy and at a sky-high price, counterfeit permits granting a right to reside in the yet-to-be-built Upper City.
All theaters were open and overflowing with indifferent spectators in search of oblivion. Concerts and balls became much more common than before. There was no merriment about them, though.
The Society of Love for People arranged splendid pageants to fight despondency. On huge motor vehicles adorned by flowers and gaudy decorations, clowns played antics, singers sang, and acrobats showed tricks.
9
By a special conquerors’ decree the government of Principal City was dismissed and its parliament dissolved.
In place of those, the conquerors suggested that Principal City should elect the Government of Obedience, made up of six members.
1. The Minister of Quiet, whose task was reducing noise in Principal City to a minimum so that it would not disturb inhabitants of the soon-to-be Upper City.
2. The Minister of Politeness, who was responsible for protecting the workers and supervisors who were constructing Upper City from propaganda and exploitation of pity, as well as from insults, sneers, and various annoyances.
3. The Minister of Responsibility. This office ensured the reliability of the residents of Principal City and guaranteed, by way of establishing a strictly scientific system, the absolute physical and psychological impossibility of any attacks on the well-being and tranquillity of Upper City coming from below.
4. The Minister of Quantity, whose duty was to limit and, if need be, to reduce population growth so that overcrowdedness of Principal City would not affect the well-being of Upper City in any way.
5. The Minister of Illusions, in charge of creating an illusion of the sky by means of grand scenery, wherever it would be possible.
6. The Minister of Hopes. This last one was to inspire the residents of Principal City in the spirit of wise hope for circumstances to change for the better in the future.
The decree terminated with two notes.
The first one stated that the Party of the Obedient that had emerged in the city had approached the conquerors with a proposal to rename Principal City as Dark City. In this regard His Royal Majesty deigned to respond that such renaming would be premature but he asked to express gratitude to the right-minded part of the public that had displayed such a remarkable act of wise resignation.
The other note gave Principal City permission to satisfy the natural need of indignation during the space of five days. For that period, the conquerors would withdraw all troops from the vicinity of Principal City so that nothing prevented its residents from showing their emotions freely. What is more, the government, army, and people of the winning country would declare themselves—for all the five days meant for indignation—supremely tolerable to anything that would be spoken of them, no matter in what form.
The sixth and seventh days would be dedicated to the election of the Government of Obedience, and by the noon of the eighth day everything should have been carried out to the letter and the government formed, or else Principal City would be wiped off ruthlessly from the face of the earth in a few hours.
10
Before long, upon the conquerors’ request, there began vigorous work to radically disinfect Principal City, which had to be perfectly neat and wholesome as a future foundation for Upper City.
The residents of Principal City were inoculated against all diseases. On the insistence of the authorities, the Bureau of Food made it obligatory for everyone to take bromide daily. Without a pharmacy receipt and evidence that the due dose had been taken, even essential foods were not to be handed out.
Principal City was a singular sight now: people of all classes, standings, and positions, one and all, were cleanly and tidily dressed, well combed and well bathed, their homes a model of cleanliness and order.
There was only a marginal need for repressions.
The Government of Obedience demonstrated maximum energy.
Under the Ministry of Politeness, cadres of supervisors, agents, and policemen were formed. They performed their duties diligently, guarding workers who were already erecting steel and concrete supports for Upper City.
Principal City lived a restless, hurried life of labor now. There was the unceasing clatter of clanging iron and steel, banging hammers, groaning cutters, metallic gritting of winches, and hooting of construction motorcars.
On most streets, there were people digging pits, taking measurements, putting up scaffolding, and in some areas the roofs of buildings were as crowded as squares or streets.
11
A lot of time had passed.
Upper City was growing by leaps and bounds. The western part was almost finished, and people settled there. Litter was taken away daily by cargo airplanes. There was smoke curling from chimneys. By this time, crematoriums had started incinerating the dead. Children went to schools. There were barracks and prisons. There was a lunatic asylum. In the middle of a broad square positioned right above the magnificent park of Principal City the royal palace soared up, beautiful and stylish.
It had become almost totally dark in Principal City. Flats in unaffected houses were rented out at high prices, but soon enough those houses were built over too.
At one time both society and the press talked a great deal about a clever backdrop painted by a certain artist, a believable substitute of the sky for two whole streets and a square. The Ministry of Illusions awarded that artist a medal.
It was strictly prohibited for the residents of Lower City to enter Upper City. This was one of the fundamental articles of the law: those who broke it were put in special Prisons for the Curious, known for their severe regime.
The ministers of the Government of Obedience had changed several times during that period.
There had been a few uprisings in Principal City, all of them brutally suppressed. In two cases small riotous areas were surrounded by a steel vise of vehicles and troops and then mercilessly cemented.
The huge resulting cubes of cement, graves to so many lives, came to be known as the Cubes of Immature Dreams.
Both times, after the rebels had been defeated, the Efficient Philosophy Association fought ideas of optimism with the sermon of machine laughter.
By contrast, during the periods of obedience and reaction the association announced to residents of the darkened Principal City through deafening bellows of giant phonographs:
“We love you!!! We love you!”
“Man loves obedience in his neighbors!”
“The meaning of life lies in suffering and self-improvement!”
An
d once the machines of the association bellowed deafeningly all day long,
“Know thyself! Know thyself!!!”
The only minister of the government who had never left his post was the Minister of Hopes. He was old and jolly.
“Citizens!” he preached every Sunday. “Dear citizens! Hope! There will come a time when adverse circumstances change! We shall see the sun and sky again! Have faith! Above all, have faith and hope!”
Before long, Upper City took its full shape. It was a large, lively, busy, and important city. There were also a lot of social movements, a lot of social contests between parties. There were parties of equality and justice, too, as there were champions who struggled for liberation of Lower City. They made passionate speeches. They had print media and clubs of their own.
Down below in Principal City, there also were dreamers, champions of justice and equality.
By and large, though, both groups lived a life of restlessness and peace at the same time, often tormented and rarely joyous, but always or nearly always full of hope—just the way people live in the world.
12
The horror came without warning. On a sultry summer noon a factory blew up on the outskirts of Principal City. The risk of fire in the city had been factored in, and usually was quenched in a few minutes.
But it was otherwise this time.
The firefighters were met with gunshots. The workers injured by the explosion were shooting. Those remaining unharmed joined them. Hundreds of bullets burst from the burning building in every direction.
The spirit of rebellion swept through Principal City. Weapons, bombs, explosion devices, and explosives seemed to come out of thin air.
There were people rushing about the streets and screaming frantically:
“Arm yourself! Arm yourself! To arms!”