by John Norman
“Gather wood for the fire,” I told her.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
It was now late, and the others were asleep.
Tende and Alice were already, hands tied behind them, wrist-tethered to the small tree which served us as slave post.
The blond-haired barbarian regarded me, and then lowered her eyes, and put a bit more wood on the fire.
It is not always easy to make a fire in the forest. There are commonly two large rains during the day, one in the late afternoon and the other late in the evening, usually an Ahn or so before midnight, or the twentieth hour. These rains are often accompanied by violent winds, sometimes, I conjecture, ranging between one hundred and ten and one hundred and twenty pasangs an Ahn. The forest is drenched. One searches for wood beneath rock overhangs or under fallen trees. One may also, with pangas, hack away the wet wood of fallen trees, until one can obtain the dry wood beneath. Even during the heat of the day it is hard to find suitable fuel. The jungle, from the heat and rain, steams with humidity. Too, like the roof of a greenhouse, the lush green canopies of the rain forest tend to hold this moisture within. It is the fantastic oxygenation produced by the vegetation, conjoined with the humidity and heat, and the smell of plant life, and rotting vegetable matter and wood, that gives the diurnial jungle its peculiar and unmistakable atmosphere, an encompassing, looming, green, warm ambience which is both beautiful and awesome. The nocturnal jungle is cooler, sometimes even chilly, and the air, a little thinner, a shade less rich, is different, the sun’s energy no longer powering the complex reaction chains of photosynthesis. Yet, at night, perhaps one is even more aware of the presence and vastness of the jungle than during the day. In the daylight hours one’s horizons are limited by the encircling greenery. In the night, in the darkness, one senses the almost indefinite extension of the jungle, thousands of pasangs in width and depth, about one.
The blond-haired barbarian stirred the fire with a stick. I watched her.
One does not make one’s camp in the jungle near tall trees. Because of the abundant amount of moisture the trees do not send down deep tap roots, but their root systems spread more horizontally. In the fierce winds which often lash the jungle it is not unusual for these shallowly rooted trees, uprooted and overturned, to come crashing down.
It seemed she wished to speak, but then she did not speak.
There is an incredible variety of trees in the rain forest, how many I cannot conjecture. There are, however, more than fifteen hundred varieties and types of palm alone. Some of these palms have leaves which are twenty feet in length. One type of palm, the fan palm, more than twenty feet high, which spreads its leaves in the form of an opened fan, is an excellent source of pure water, as much as a liter of such water being found, almost as though cupped, at the base of each leaf’s stem. Another useful source of water is the liana vine. One makes the first cut high, over one’s head, to keep the water from being withdrawn by contraction and surface adhesion up the vine. The second cut, made a foot or so from the ground, gives a vine tube which, drained, yields in the neighborhood of a liter of water. In the rain forest some trees grow and lose leaves all year long, remaining always in foliage. Others, though not at the same time, even in the same species, will lose their foliage for a few weeks and then again produce buds and a new set of leaves. They have maintained their cycles of regeneration but these cycles, interestingly, are often no longer synchronized with either the northern or southern winters and springs.
“Master,” said the girl.
“Yes,” I said.
“It is nothing,” she said, looking down.
In the rain forest we may distinguish three separate ecological zones, or tiers or levels. Each of these tiers, or levels, or layers, is characterized by its own special forms of plant and animal life. These layers are marked off by divergent tree heights. The highest level or zone is that of the “emergents,” that of those trees which have thrust themselves up above the dense canopies below them. This level is roughly from a hundred and twenty-five feet Gorean to two hundred feet Gorean. The second level is often spoken of as the canopy, or as that of the canopies. This is the fantastic green cover which constitutes the main ceiling of the jungle. It is what would dominate one’s vision if one were passing over the jungle in tarn flight or viewing it from the height of a tall mountain. The canopy, or zone of the canopies, ranges from about sixty to one hundred and twenty-five feet high, Gorean measure. The first zone extends from the ground to the beginning of the canopies above, some sixty feet in height, Gorean measure. We may perhaps, somewhat loosely, speak of this first zone as the “floor,” or, better, “ground zone,” of the rain forest. In the level of the emergents there live primarily birds, in particular parrots, long-billed fleers, and needle-tailed lits. Monkeys and tree urts, and snakes and insects, however, can also be found in this highest level. In the second level, that of the canopies, is found an incredible variety of birds, Warblers, finches, mindars, the crested lit and the common lit, the fruit tindel, the yellow gim, tanagers, some varieties of parrot, and many more. Here, too, may be found snakes and monkeys, gliding urts, leaf urts, squirrels, climbing, long-tailed porcupines, lizards, sloths, and the usual varieties of insects, ants, centipedes, scorpions, beetles and flies, and so on. In the lower portion of the canopies, too, can be found heavier birds, such as the ivory-billed woodpecker and the umbrella bird. Guernon monkeys, too, usually inhabit this level. In the ground zone, and on the ground itself, are certain birds, some flighted, like the hook-billed gort, which preys largely on rodents, such as ground urts, and the insectivorous whistling finch, and some unflighted, like the grub borer and lang gim. Along the river, of course, many other species of birds may be found, such as jungle gants, tufted fishers and ring-necked and yellow-legged waders. Also in the ground zone are varieties of snake, such as the ost and hith, and numerous species of insects. The rock spider has been mentioned, and termites, also. Termites, incidentally, are extremely important to the ecology of the forest. In their feeding they break down and destroy the branches and trunks of fallen trees. The termite “dust,” thereafter, by the action of bacteria, is reduced to humus, and the humus to nitrogen and mineral materials. In the lower branches of the “ground zone” may be found, also, small animals, such as tarsiers, nocturnal jit monkeys, black squirrels, four-toed leaf urts, jungle varts and the prowling, solitary giani, tiny, cat-sized panthers, not dangerous to man. On the floor itself are also found several varieties of animal life, in particular marsupials, such as the armored gatch, and rodents, such as slees and ground urts. Several varieties of tarsk, large and small, also inhabit this zone. More than six varieties of anteater are also found here, and more than twenty kinds of small, fleet, single-horned tabuk. On the jungle floor, as well, are found jungle larls and jungle panthers, of diverse kinds, and many smaller catlike predators. These, on the whole, however, avoid men. They are less dangerous in the rain forest, generally, than in the northern latitudes. I do not know why this should be the case. Perhaps it Is because in the rain forest food is usually plentiful for them, and, thus, there is little temptation for them to transgress the boundaries of their customary prey categories. They will, however, upon occasion, particularly if provoked or challenged, attack with dispatch. Conspicuously absent in the rain forests of the Ua were sleen. This is just as well for the sleen, commonly, hunts on the first scent it takes upon emerging from its burrow after dark. Moreover it hunts single-mindedly and tenaciously. It can be extremely dangerous to men, even more so, I think, than the Voltai, or northern, larl. I think the sleen, which is widespread on Gor, is not found, or not frequently found, in the jungles because of the enormous rains, and the incredible dampness and humidity. Perhaps the sleen, a burrowing, furred animal, finds itself uncomfortable in such a habitat There is, however, a sleenlike animal, though much smaller, about two feet in length and some eight to ten pounds in weight, the zeder, which frequents the Ua and her tributaries. It knifes through the water by
day and, at night, returns to its nest, built from sticks and mud in the branches of a tree overlooking the water.
I listened to the noises of the jungle night, the chattering, and the hootings, and the clickings and cries, of noctutnal animals, and birds and insects.
I glanced to the blond-haired barbarian. It was nearly time to secure her for the night.
Contrary to popular belief the floor of the jungle is not a maze of impenetrable growth, which must be hacked through with machete or pangs. Quite the contrary, it is usually rather open. This is the result of the denseness of the overhead canopies, because of which the ground is much shaded, the factor which tends to Inhibit and limit ground growth. Looking about among the slender, scattered colonnades of trees, exploding far overhead in the lush capitals of the green canopy, one is often exposed to vistas of one to two hundred feet, or more. It is hard not to be reminded of the columns in one of the great, shaded temples of Initiates, as in Turia or Ar. And yet here, in the rain forest, the natural architecture of sun, and shade, and growth, seems a vital celebration of life and its glory, not a consequence of aberrations and the madness of abnegations, not an invention of dismal men who have foresworn women, even slaves, and certain vegetables, and live by parasitically feeding and exploiting the superstitions of the lower castes. There are, of course, impenetrable, or almost impenetrable, areas in the jungle. These are generally “second-growth” patches. Through them one can make ones way only tortuously, cuffing with the machete or panga, stroke by stroke. They normally occur only where men have cleared land, and then, later, abandoned it. That is why they are called “second-growth” patches; they normally occur along rivers and are not characteristic of the botanical structure of the virgin rain forest itself.
The blond-haired barbarian dropped some turgs on the fire.
“Why are you feeding the fire now?” I asked.
“Forgive me, Master,” she said.
I smiled. She did not wish to retire so soon. But surely she knew it was nearly time for me to tie her at the slave post.
“It is time to secure you,” I said.
“Must I be secured tonight?” she asked. Then she looked frightened. “Forgive me, Master,” she said. “Please do not whip me.”
“Go sit with your back to the slave post, in binding position,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
I let her sit there for a few minutes. She did not dare to look back at me over her shoulder.
“Come here,” I then said, “and kneel before me.”
She did so. “Please do not strike me, Master,” she begged.
“What is on your mind tonight?” I asked.
“Nothing, Master,” she stammered, her head down.
“You may speak,” I said.
“I dare not,” she whispered.
“Speak,” I said.
‘Tende and Alice are clothed,” she said.
“They are scarcely clothed,” I said, “and the bit of rag they wear may be stripped away from them in an instant on the least whim of a master.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
She looked at me, agonized, tears in her eyes.
“Do you, an Earth woman,” I asked, “desire again that opportunity, once afforded to you, but rejected by you, to beg to earn clothing?”
“Yes, Master,” she said. “I beg that opportunity.”
“Though you are an Earth woman?”
“Yes, though I am an Earth woman, Master,” she said.
“It is yours, Earth woman,” I said.
She put down her head. “I beg clothing, Master,” she sobbed.
“Do you beg to earn it?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“In any way that I see fit?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” she sobbed.
“In such a situation as this, formerly,” I said, “you spoke of Alice, your sister in bondage, as a whore.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“It now seems that it is you,” I said, “who are the whore.”
“Yes, Master,” she said. “It is now I who am the whore.”
“But you are mistaken,” I said, “in your own case, as you were in the case of Alice.”
She lifted her bead. “Master?” she asked.
“In your vanity,” I said, “you dignify yourself.”
“Master?”
“Do you think you are free?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
“The whore,” I said, “is a free woman. Do not presume, in your insolence, lest you be cut to pieces, to compare yourself with her. She is a thousand times higher than you. You are a thousand times lower than she. She is free. You are slave.”
“Yes, Master,” she said, sobbing, head down. “Please forgive me, Master.” She shook with emotion.
I regarded her.
“I beg to earn clothing, in any way my master may see fit,” she said, “and I, humbly, beg this as what I am, only a slave.”
She lifted her head. Our eyes met.
“Engage in female display behaviors,” I said.
“Master?” she asked.
“Female display behaviors,” I said. “Surely you are familiar with the biological concept, and the sorts of behavioral patterns which are subsumed beneath it.”
She looked at me.
“They are quite common,” I said, “in the animal kingdom.”
“I am not an animal,” she said.
‘The human being,” I said, “is not alien to nature, nor disjointed from it. He is, in some respects, one of its most interesting and sophisticated products. He is not something out of nature nor apart from nature but one of its complex fulfillments. It is not that he is less an animal than, say, the zeder or sleen, but rather that he is a more complicated animal than they. In a sense, given the rigors of evolution and selection, the human contains in itself not less animality than his brethren whom we choose to place lower on the phylogenetic scale than ourselves but more. The human is not less of an animal than they, but more. In him there is, in a sense, that of complexity and sophistication, a greater animality than theirs.”
“I am aware, as any educated person,” she said, “of our animal heritage.”
“It is not only your heritage,” I said. “It is, now, and recognize it, if you dare, your reality.”
She looked down.
“Perhaps, someday,” I said, “sleen will become sufficiently intellectual to make mistakes in reasoning. When they do, their first fallacy will doubtless be to decide that they are not really sleen.”
“That is silly,” she said. She smiled.
“Is it less silly,” I asked, “if it is done by human beings?”
“Perhaps not,” she said.
“To be sure,” I said, “if I have a problem in algebra I will give it to a mathematician before I will turn it over to a sleen. The reason for that, however, is not that the sleen is an animal and the mathematician is not, but rather that the mathematician is better at algebra than a sleen. The word ‘animal’ may be used in various senses, not all of them complimentary to animals. In the literal sense of ‘animal’ the human being is an animal. In a rather different sense of ‘animal’, we sometimes draw a distinction between human beings and animals, that is, we take the category of animals and divide it in two, calling one sort of animals, ourselves, human beings, and letting what is left over, the other sorts of animals, count as the animals. Do not ask me to explain the logic of that distinction. There are also senses of ‘animal’ which are complimentary and derogatory, for example, ‘He has an animal charm’ or ‘He acts like an animal when he is drunk’.”
I looked at her.
“Also,” I said, “if you are interested in these matters, you are not simply an animal in the literal sense, in the biological sense of ‘animal’, but in the sense that persons, individuals with rights before the law, are distinguished from animals.”
She regarded me, frightened.
“In
that sense, my dear,” I said, “I am not an animal, and you are an animal. Yes, my dear, you are legally an animal. In the eyes of Gorean law you are an animal. You have no name in your own right. You may be collared and leashed. You may be bought and sold, whipped, treated as the master pleases, disposed of as he sees fit. You have no rights whatsoever. Legally you have no more status than a tarsk or vulo. Legally, literally, you are an animal.”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
“You may now engage in female display behaviors,” I said.
“I do not know any,” she said.
I laughed.
“I am not a lewd girl,” she said.
“Does the slave have pride?” I asked.
“No, Master,” she said.
“Perform,” I said.
“I do not know how,” she wept. “I do not know how!”
“Peel away the hideous encrustations of your antibiological conditioning,” I told her. “Hidden in every cell in your body, in the genetic codes of each minute cell, the product of a long, complex evolution, lie the marvels of which I speak. In the deepest part of your brain lies the provocation to these truths. You are the result of thousands upon thousands of women who have pleased men. Evolution has selected for such women. Do not tell me that you do not know these behaviors. Deny them, if you will, but they have been bred into you. They are a part of your very being. They are, my sweet slave, in your very blood.”
“No,” she wept.
“Perform,” I said.
She threw back her head with misery, and clutched at her hair and then, suddenly, startled, her hands at her hair, looked at me, her eyes wide. The line of her breasts had been lifted nicely.
“Yes,” I said, “consult the animal in you.”
“What am I doing?” she wept.
She now sat, and extended her leg, and took her right ankle in her hands, and moved her hands slowly from her ankle to her calf. Her toes were pointed, emphasizing the sweet curve of her calf.
“Is it not now coming back to you?” I asked. “Is it not almost like a memory, a kinesthetic and intellectual recollection? Are you not now getting in touch with certain feared basic and rudimentary feelings and reactions? Can you not, now, begin to sense the ancient truths, those of the female before the male?”
