“Why die?” said the pinlighter softly. “You tell him, Dita.”
Said Dita, “Why not try, Sir and Uncle?”
Slowly Magno Taliano turned his face toward his niece. Again his hollow voice sounded. “If I do this I shall be a fool or a child or a dead man, but I will do it for you.”
Dita had studied the work of the Go-Captains and she knew well enough that if the paleocortex was lost the personality became intellectually sane, but emotionally crazed. With the most ancient part of the brain gone the fundamental controls of hostility, hunger, and sex disappeared. The most ferocious of animals and the most brilliant of men were reduced to a common level—a level of infantile friendliness in which lust and playfulness and gentle, unappeasable hunger became the eternity of their days.
Magno Taliano did not wait.
He reached out a slow hand and squeezed the hand of Dolores Oh. “As I die you shall at last be sure I love you.”
Once again the women saw nothing. They realized they had been called in simply to give Magno Taliano a last glimpse of his own life.
A quiet pinlighter thrust a beam-electrode so that it reached square into the paleocortex of Captain Magno Taliano.
The planoforming room came to life. Strange heavens swirled about them like milk being churned in a bowl.
Dita realized that her partial capacity of telepathy was functioning even without the aid of a machine. With her mind she could feel the dead wall of the locksheets. She was aware of the rocking of the Wu-Feinstein as it leapt from space to space, as uncertain as a man crossing a river by leaping from one ice-covered rock to the other.
In a strange way she even knew that the paleocortical part of her uncle’s brain was burning out at last and forever, that the star patterns which had been frozen in the locksheets lived on in the infinitely complex pattern of his own memories, and that with the help of his own telepathic pinlighters he was burning out his brain cell by cell in order for them to find a way to the ship’s destination. This indeed was his last trip.
Dolores Oh watched her husband with a hungry greed surpassing all expression.
Little by little his face became relaxed and stupid.
Dita could see the midbrain being burned blank, as the ship’s controls with the help of the pinlighters searched through the most magnificent intellect of its time for a last course into harbor.
Suddenly Dolores Oh was on her knees, sobbing by the hand of her husband.
A pinlighter took Dita by the arm.
“We have reached destination,” he said.
“And my uncle?”
The pinlighter looked at her strangely.
She realized he was speaking to her without moving his lips—speaking mind-to-mind with pure telepathy.
“Can’t you see it?”
She shook her head dazedly.
The pinlighter thought his emphatic statement at her once again.
“As your uncle burned out his brain, you picked up his skills. Can’t you sense it? You are a Go-Captain yourself and one of the greatest of us.”
“And he?”
The pinlighter thought a merciful comment at her.
Magno Taliano had risen from the chair and was being led from the room by his wife and consort, Dolores Oh. He had the amiable smile of an idiot, and his face for the first time in more than a hundred years trembled with shy and silly love.
From Gustible’s Planet
Shortly after the celebration of the four thousandth anniversary of the opening of space, Angary J. Gustible discovered Gustible’s planet. The discovery turned out to be a tragic mistake.
Gustible’s planet was inhabited by highly intelligent life forms. They had moderate telepathic powers. They immediately mind-read Angary J. Gustible’s entire mind and life history, and embarrassed him very deeply by making up an opera concerning his recent divorce.
The climax of the opera portrayed his wife throwing a teacup at him. This created an unfavorable impression concerning Earth culture, and Angary J. Gustible, who held a reserve commission as a Subchief of the Instrumentality, was profoundly embarrassed to find that it was not the higher realities of Earth which he had conveyed to these people, but the unpleasant intimate facts.
As negotiations proceeded, other embarrassments developed.
In physical appearance the inhabitants of Gustible’s planet, who called themselves Apicians, resembled nothing more than oversize ducks, ducks four feet to four feet six in height. At their wing tips, they had developed juxtaposed thumbs. They were paddle-shaped and sufficed to feed the Apicians.
Gustible’s planet matched Earth in several respects: in the dishonesty of the inhabitants, in their enthusiasm for good food, in their instant capacity to understand the human mind. Before Gustible began to get ready to go back to Earth, he discovered that the Apicians had copied his ship. There was no use hiding this fact. They had copied it in such detail that the discovery of Gustible’s planet meant the simultaneous discovery of Earth…
By the Apicians.
The implications of this tragic development did not show up until the Apicians followed him home. They had a planoforming ship capable of traveling in non-space just as readily as his.
The most important feature of Gustible’s planet was its singularly close match to the biochemistry of Earth. The Apicians were the first intelligent life forms ever met by human beings who were at once capable of smelling and enjoying everything which human beings smelled and enjoyed, capable of following any human music with forthright pleasure, and capable of eating and drinking everything in sight.
The very first Apicians on Earth were greeted by somewhat alarmed ambassadors who discovered that an appetite for Munich beer, Camembert cheese, tortillas, and enchiladas, as well as the better grades of chow mein, far transcended any serious cultural, political, or strategic interests which the new visitors might have.
Arthur Djohn, a Lord of the Instrumentality who was acting for this particular matter, delegated an Instrumentality agent named Calvin Dredd as the chief diplomatic officer of Earth to handle the matter.
Dredd approached one Schmeckst, who seemed to be the Apician leader. The interview was an unfortunate one.
Dredd began by saying, “Your Exalted Highness, we are delighted to welcome you to Earth—”
Schmeckst said, “Are those edible?” and proceeded to eat the plastic buttons from Calvin Dredd’s formal coat, even before Dredd could say though not edible they were attractive.
Schmeckst said, “Don’t try to eat those, they are really not very good.”
Dredd, looking at his coat sagging wide open, said, “May I offer you some food?”
Schmeckst said, “Indeed, yes.”
And while Schmeckst ate an Italian dinner, a Peking dinner, a red-hot peppery Szechuanese dinner, a Japanese sukiyaki dinner, two British breakfasts, a smorgasbord, and four complete servings of diplomatic-level Russian zakouska, he listened to the propositions of the Instrumentality of Earth.
These did not impress him. Schmeckst was intelligent despite his gross and offensive eating habits. He pointed out: “We two worlds are equal in weapons. We can’t fight. Look,” said he to Calvin Dredd in a threatening tone.
Calvin Dredd braced himself, as he had learned to do. Schmeckst also braced him.
For an instant Dredd did not know what had happened. Then he realized that in putting his body into a rigid and controlled posture he had played along with the low-grade but manipulable telepathic powers of the visitors. He was frozen rigid till Schmeckst laughed and released him.
Schmeckst said, “You see, we are well matched. I can freeze you. Nothing short of utter desperation could get you out of it. If you try to fight us, we’ll lick you. We are going to move in here and live with you. We have enough room on our planet. You can come and live with us too. We would like to hire a lot of those cooks of yours. You’ll simply have to divide space with us, and that’s all there is to it.”
That really was all there was to
it. Arthur Djohn reported hack to the Lords of the Instrumentality that, for the time being, nothing could be done about the disgusting people from Gustible’s planet.
They kept their greed within bounds—by their standards. A mere seventy-two thousand of them swept the Earth, hitting every wine shop, dining hall, snack bar, soda bar, and pleasure center in the world. They ate popcorn, alfalfa, raw fruit, live fish, birds on the wing, prepared foods, cooked and canned foods, food concentrates, and assorted medicines.
Outside of an enormous capacity to hold many times what the human body could tolerate in the way of food, they showed very much the same effects as persons. Thousands of them got various local diseases, sometimes called by such undignified names as the Yangtze rapids, Delhi belly, the Roman groanin’, or the like. Other thousands became ill and had to relieve themselves in the fashion of ancient emperors. Still they came.
Nobody liked them. Nobody disliked them enough to wish a disastrous war.
Actual trade was minimal. They bought large quantities of foodstuffs, paying in rare metals. But their economy on their own planet produced very little which the world itself wanted. The cities of mankind had long since developed to a point of comfort and corruption where a relatively monocultural being, such as the citizens of Gustible’s planet, could not make much impression. The word “Apician” came to have unpleasant connotations of bad manners, greediness, and prompt payment. Prompt payment was considered rude in a credit society, but after all it was better than not being paid at all.
The tragedy of the relationship of the two groups came from the unfortunate picnic of the lady Ch’ao, who prided herself on having ancient Chinesian blood. She decided that it would be possible to satiate Schmeckst and the other Apicians to a point at which they would be able to listen to reason. She arranged a feast which, for quality and quantity, had not been seen since previous historic times, long before the many interruptions of war, collapse, and rebuilding of culture. She searched the museums of the world for recipes.
The dinner was set forth on the telescreens of the entire world. It was held in a pavilion built in the old Chinesian style. A soaring dream of dry bamboo and paper walls, the festival building had a thatched roof in the true ancient fashion. Paper lanterns with real candles illuminated the scene. The fifty selected Apician guests gleamed like ancient idols. Their feathers shone in the light and they clicked their paddlelike thumbs readily as they spoke, telepathically and fluently, in any Earth language which they happened to pick out of the heads of their hearers.
The tragedy was fire. Fire struck the pavilion, wrecked the dinner. The lady Ch’ao was rescued by Calvin Dredd. The Apicians fled. All of them escaped, all but one. Schmeckst himself. Schmeckst suffocated.
He let out a telepathic scream which was echoed in the living voices of all the human beings, other Apicians, and animals within reach, so that the television viewers of the world caught a sudden cacophony of birds shrilling, dogs barking, cats yowling, otters screeching, and one lone panda letting out a singularly high grunt. Then Schmeckst perished. The pity of it…
The Earth leaders stood about, wondering how to solve the tragedy. On the other side of the world, the Lords of the Instrumentality watched the scene. What they saw was amazing and horrible. Calvin Dredd, cold, disciplined agent that he was, approached the ruins of the pavilion. His face was twisted in an expression which they had difficulty in understanding. It was only after he licked his lips for the fourth time and they saw a ribbon of drool running down his chin that they realized he had gone mad with appetite. The lady Ch’ao followed close behind, drawn by some remorseless force.
She was out of her mind. Her eyes gleamed. She stalked like a cat. In her left hand she held a bowl and chopsticks.
The viewers all over the world watching the screen could not understand the scene. Two alarmed and dazed Apicians followed the humans, wondering what was going to happen.
Calvin Dredd made a sudden reach. He pulled out the body of Schmeckst.
The fire had finished Schmeckst. Not a feather remained on him. And then the flash fire, because of the peculiar dryness of the bamboo and the paper and the thousands upon thousands of candles, had baked him. The television operator had an inspiration. He turned on the smell-control.
Throughout the planet Earth, where people had gathered to watch this unexpected and singularly interesting tragedy, there swept a smell which mankind had forgotten. It was an essence of roast duck.
Beyond all imagining, it was the most delicious smell that any human being had ever smelled. Millions upon millions of human mouths watered. Throughout the world people looked away from their sets to see if there were any Apicians in the neighborhood. Just as the Lords of the Instrumentality ordered the disgusting scene cut off, Calvin Dredd and the lady Ch’ao began eating the roast Apician, Schmeckst.
Within twenty-four hours most of the Apicians on Earth had been served, some with cranberry sauce, others baked, some fried Southern style. The serious leaders of Earth dreaded the consequences of such uncivilized conduct. Even as they wiped their lips and asked for one more duck sandwich, they felt that this behavior was difficult beyond all imagination.
The blocks that the Apicians had been able to put on human action did not operate when they were applied to human beings who, looking at an Apician, went deep into the recesses of their personality and were animated by a mad hunger which transcended all civilization.
The Lords of the Instrumentality managed to round up Schmeckst’s deputy and a few other Apicians and to send them back to their ship.
The soldiers watching them licked their lips. The captain tried to see if he could contrive an accident as he escorted his state visitors. Unfortunately, tripping Apicians did not break their necks, and the Apicians kept throwing violent mind-blocks at human beings in an attempt to save themselves.
One of the Apicians was so undiplomatic as to ask for a chicken salad sandwich and almost lost a wing, raw and alive, to a soldier whose appetite had been restimulated by reference to food.
The Apicians went back, the few survivors. They liked Earth well enough and Earth food was delicious, but it was a horrible place when they considered the cannibalistic human beings who lived there—so cannibalistic that they ate ducks!
The Lords of the Instrumentality were relieved to note that when the Apicians left they closed the space lane behind them. No one quite knows how they closed it, or what defenses they had. Mankind, salivating and ashamed, did not push the pursuit hotly. Instead, people tried to make up chicken, duck, goose, Cornish hen, pigeon, sea-gull, and other sandwiches to duplicate the incomparable taste of a genuine inhabitant of Gustible’s planet. None were quite authentic and people, in their right minds, were not uncivilized enough to invade another world solely for getting the inhabitants as tidbits.
The Lords of the Instrumentality were happy to report to one another and to the rest of the world at their next meeting that the Apicians had managed to close Gustible’s planet altogether, had had no further interest in dealing with Earth, and appeared to possess just enough of a technological edge on human beings to stay concealed from the eyes and the appetites of men.
Save for that, the Apicians were almost forgotten. A confidential secretary of the Office of Interstellar Trade was astonished when the frozen intelligences of a methane planet ordered forty thousand cases of Munich beer. He suspected them of being jobbers, not consumers. But on the instructions of his superiors he kept the matter confidential and allowed the beer to be shipped.
It undoubtedly went to Gustible’s planet, but they did not offer any of their own citizens in exchange.
The matter was closed. The napkins were folded. Trade and diplomacy were at an end.
Himself in Anachron
And Time there is
And Time there was
And Time goes on, before—
But what is the Knot
That binds the time
That holds it here, and more—
&
nbsp; Oh, the Knot in Time
Is a secret place
They sought in times of yore—
Somewhere in Space
They seek it still
But Tasco hunts no more…
HE FOUND IT
from “Mad Dita’s Song”
First they threw out every bit of machinery which was not vital to their lives or the function of the ship. Then went Dita’s treasured honeymoon items (foolishly and typically she had valued these over the instruments). Next they ejected every bit of nutrient except the minimum for survival for two persons. Tasco knew then. It was not enough. The ship still had to be lightened.
He remembered that the Subchief had said, bitterly enough: “So you got leave to time-travel together! You fool! I don’t know whether it was your idea or hers to have a ‘honeymoon in time,’ but with everyone watching your marriage you’ve got the sentimental mob behind you. ‘Honeymoon in time,’ indeed. Why? Is it that your woman is jealous of your time trips? Don’t be an idiot, Tasco. You know that ship’s not built for two. You don’t even have to go at all; we can send Vomact. He’s single.” Tasco remembered, too, the quick warmth of his jealousy at the mention of Vomact. If anything had been needed to steel his determination, that name had done it. How could he possibly have backed out after the publicity over his proposed flight to find the Knot. The Subchief must have realized from the expression on his face something of his feelings; he had said with a knowledgeable grin: “Well, if anybody can find the Knot, it’ll be you. But listen, leave her here. Take her later if you like but go first alone.” But Tasco could remember, too, Dita’s kitten-soft body as she nestled up to him holding his eyes with her own and murmuring, “But, darling, you promised…”
Yes, he had been warned, but that didn’t make the tragedy any easier. Yes, he could have left her behind, but what kind of marriage would they have had with the blot of her bitterness on the first days of their married life? And how could he have lived with himself if he had let Vomact go in his place? How, even, would Dita have regarded him? He could not deceive himself; he knew that Dita loved him, loved him dearly, but he had been a hero ever since she had known him and how much would she have loved him without the hero image? He loved her enough not to want to find out.
The Rediscovery of Man - The Complete Short Science Fiction of Cordwainer Smith - Illustrated Page 26
