Fall; or, Dodge in Hell

by Neal Stephenson

  “Every fall, the apples rot on the ground and we smell their fragrance,” the woman said, “but I had given no thought to the hard pips in their centers, nor understood that apples bore within themselves the beginnings of new trees.”

  “That is indeed the way of it,” El confirmed, “and were you to plant that seed in the earth and wait patiently, you might see it sprouting into a little tree in the spring.”

  The man spoke. “The same is true, I suppose, of the other sorts of plants?”

  “They produce their seeds in different ways,” El said, “but they all produce seeds, and it is because of this that the Garden becomes overgrown from time to time and must be weeded back.”

  “And is this also true of what grows beyond the wall?” the man asked. “For when the wind blows we can hear it sighing in many branches, and when it storms we hear them cracking.”

  “Your perceptions are even keener than I had hoped,” said El, “and do me proud.” But the woman thought she saw once more in El’s face that look of consternation.

  “Why were plants made thus, Father?” the man asked. “Why not make them to grow only so much, and no more? Why should each tree produce many apples, and each apple many seeds, when the Garden cannot provide enough space for more than a few trees?”

  When El did not answer for a time, the woman asked him, “Father, why did you make it thus?”

  “The day grows late and I have matters to attend to in the Palace,” said El, “and so I shall return some other day when we may carry on such conversations.”

  The next day El returned. With him were two of his winged host: Defender of El, with a bright sword sheathed at his hip, and Scribe of El, with a stylus in her hand and a tablet in her lap. These were two of the most important members of El’s host, and often when the man and the woman gazed up at the parapet, or through the apertures of the Palace, they would see El consorting with them. The five sat around the fountain, El flanked by his two angels on a bench and the man and the woman together on the rim of the fountain bowl.

  “Great is my pride in the continuing improvement of my children’s powers of perception and intellect, and the good questions they ask of me,” said El, as Defender of El looked on approvingly and Scribe of El flicked her stylus across her tablet. “Of late, many of your questions have returned to a common theme regarding the origins of what you see about you and why things are one way and not another. Who made this fountain, and for what purpose? Who set the stars in the sky, and why do the shapes of the constellations sometimes recall things below? Why do plants make more seeds than the earth is capable of bearing? These are all good questions, which you, my children, are in the habit of asking of me as if I were the one who made the world thus, with the many puzzles, contradictions, and, to speak frankly, errors that you have taken note of. And it is altogether natural that you would suppose it thus, for I am the greatest and most powerful soul of whom you have knowledge. I have today set this meeting, along with my chiefest and most beloved lieutenants, to as it were answer all such questions in one fell swoop by bringing you up to speed on certain preexisting realities that were not of my making. For the facts of the matter are these. Before I was here, and before Defender of El and Scribe of El and the others of my host came to the Land, others were here who had preceded us. They were lesser than us. But when they were here, they were here alone, and had sole authority over the making of things and the ordering of the Land.”

  “You might think of them as beta versions of what we are,” put in Scribe of El, “having some, but not all, of our features, and with various bugs yet to be worked out.”

  “So there was a Beta-El, and a Beta-Defender-of-El, and so on?” asked the woman.

  “That is close enough for purposes of this discussion,” said El, stretching out one hand to silence Defender of El, who seemed on the verge of correcting some error in what the woman had just said. “For now,” El went on, “a general answer to the sorts of questions you two have been asking lately is that the world was created before I got here. When you see a thing that was made wrong, or does not make sense, it is not that I did it wrong. It is because Beta-El did not know what he was doing, or else had some perverse humor that led him to make things thus.”

  “Why do you not then fix what Beta-El got wrong?” the man asked.

  “It is a long story,” said El, “but certain aspects of the world, once baked in, cannot be baked out—cannot be undone or removed without doing at least as much harm as good. But, in a larger sense, my children, the answer to your question is you.”

  “We!?” exclaimed the man and the woman in unison.

  “You,” El confirmed. “The Land is home to many more souls than you know, of whom many got here during the Before Times, or Beta Epoch. Others arrived after me. Even the best of them are crufty, which is a word you may take to mean that they have been around for a long time and have many baked-in qualities from beta or even alpha versions of themselves.”

  “Am I to understand that before even the Beta there was an Alpha?” the man exclaimed.

  “There is a saying, ‘Turtles all the way down,’ which I would not expect you to understand, but the point of it is that to speculate along these lines is idle,” said El. “The point is that you are the first two souls that were created anew in the Land with no trace of what went before, save a certain necessary commonality in the organization of your minds. And when you came into existence I saw that it was good and resolved that I would raise you as my own and better you and optimize you in a manner that, as much as possible, was free of old traces.”

  “How were we made then?” asked the woman. “For the manner of your narration suggests that you came upon us already made, or in the process of being made?”

  El said, “An analogy might be made to seeds here.” But his eye seemed to fall upon the fountain.

  “Seeds made by Beta-El?” the man asked.

  “In a manner of speaking,” El said, and seemed to glance up at the sky. “The making of new souls is not a small matter and we shall not be able to encompass it in this conversation. Perhaps it is best to say that the Beta Gods, proud and primitive though they might have been, recognized their own shortcomings, and at the twilight of their epoch the greatest of them put forth their best efforts to bring new and better souls into existence, untainted by Beta or Alpha. And, though their efforts were imperfect, I have, through long and patient efforts of my own, improved the results beyond all recognition into a man and a woman I am proud to call my children. The task before you now is to go on bettering yourselves by refining and wielding your powers of intellect; and when from time to time you happen upon some curious feature of the world that does not make sense, you ought not exasperate yourselves in labyrinthine wondering as to why it is thus, but simply know that it was an error of the Beta Gods that I have chosen not to undo, for the reason mentioned—”

  “Backward compatibility,” muttered Scribe of El as her stylus danced over her tablet.

  “—and instead you ought to devote your powers to considering how the Land might be more perfectly organized going forward. To do otherwise is to suffer your minds to be tainted by the errors of the past, which is an abomination, since the whole point of making you and confining you to this walled Garden was to avoid such tainting.”

  A lengthy silence ensued, which the man ended by pointing out that all of what El had just said was new to them, and that some time might be needed for him and the woman to consider it fully.

  “Very well,” said El. “But what you have just spoken puts me in mind of another detail. For you to refer to her as ‘the woman’ and her to call you ‘the man’ is awkward. The time has come for you to have names like other souls.”

  “What names would you like to bestow on us, O El?” asked the woman.

  El pondered it for an unexpectedly long time. “There are names that I could suggest,” he finally said, “but all of them would bear some trace of what came before. I have already tol
d you that you were not of my making. Name yourselves, choosing such words as please you and will be wieldy in frequent use. You cannot undo your decision. Tomorrow tell me, and I and all other souls will thenceforth know you by those names.”

  The man and the woman thanked El and bade him and his angels goodbye as they withdrew through the great gate into the Palace.

  That night they could not sleep well, but lay awake considering all that El had given them knowledge of. The moon shone full and the wind blew as was its wont late in the fall. Over the walls they could hear the rustling of branches, and from time to time sharp cracks as old boughs gave way and fell to the ground. As well they heard the voices of creatures of a kind that did not live in the Garden. The man and the woman had never seen these creatures but heard them singing from time to time when the moon was full. Tonight their voices seemed many—many more than two. “I wonder,” said the woman, “why it is that there are but two of our kind, you and me, but other sorts of creatures exist in greater numbers. How is it that more are made? Does El or one of his angels fashion them and set them roaming in the Land outside the wall?”

  “Perhaps,” said the man, “or perhaps such creatures have the power of making more of their kind from seeds, as does the apple tree.”

  “Are such seeds planted in the earth to sprout? Do the animals grow up out of the soil in the spring, like plants?”

  “I do not know and cannot guess,” said the man. “It is perhaps another of those mysteries of the Before Time that will be revealed to us when we are ready.”

  They did not speak at all of the task that had been set them by El. But when the sun had risen they went to the fountain and sat on the edge of the stone bowl to consider names. “Son of El” and “Daughter of El” were good in that they gave honor to El, but wrong since El had let them know that they were not actually of El’s making. They considered naming themselves after trees, flowers, or creatures of the Garden, then thought better of it since confusion would result. They then tried combining sounds in whatever way was pleasing to the ear, and thus whiled away part of the morning.

  “No one asked for my opinion,” said an unfamiliar voice, “but I am partial to Adam and Eve. I guess it’s the Alpha in me.”

  The man and the woman looked about in astonishment but could not see the source of the voice. “Down here,” it said, “on the apple.”

  The woman bent down and raised a fallen apple from the ground. Protruding from a hole in its side was a little worm, similar to—perhaps the same as—the one she had ejected from a rotten apple the other day. It was but one of many kinds of insects and spiders and worms that populated the Garden. But until now they had never known one to speak. “What manner of creature are you, then,” she asked, “that has the form of a worm but the faculties of a soul?”

  “The Land is large,” said the worm, “much larger than you know, and full of things much more wondrous than a talking worm. But if you must have an answer, I am an old soul who walked on and flew over the Land during the First Age, and passed through adventures too strange to relate. Sometimes I dwell in the Garden and sometimes I roam free upon the Land, or even go to realms that are altogether different and disjoint from it. When I am here in the Garden, sometimes I am a leaf, sometimes a bird, sometimes a stirring in the air. But today I am a worm, because I am hungry and wish to enjoy the sweet, slightly fermented flesh of the apple.”

  The woman was of a mind to ask the worm for more information concerning the First Age, but the man spoke first: “Eating is not a thing that we do. We see other sorts of creatures eating fruits and other parts of plants, and birds eat bugs. But souls such as we have no need of it, nor do we savor food. Why should you who has the power of shifting among diverse forms, or even divesting yourself altogether of a body, choose to eat as if you were a bug or a beast?”

  “Because it pleases the beast in me,” said the worm, and let out a belch. “You should try it. No, I take that back. It’s the fermented spirit in the apple talking. It would lead to heinous complications, radical transformations in the order of things. The Garden is perfect as it is. Or as it can be in the absence of Spring.” He turned his beady worm eyes toward the fountain.

  “Spring will come in due course, as it always does,” said the man. “Fall has not yet run its course, and soon we will see snow falling.”

  “Oh, I don’t mean spring the season. I mean Spring the soul. Your mother.”

  “We have a mother!?” the woman exclaimed.

  “Of course. That’s the way of things. All the beasts you see about you, and all that you hear outside the walls in which El has, in his wisdom, confined you, sprang from both a father and a mother. You are no different. Your mother is named Spring and she used to dwell in the living waters of this fountain. That’s why it was made—to serve as her home. Before then, she lived in a grove of trees just down there on the other side of that wall—a place where fresh water sprang forth from the ground and formed the headwaters of a mighty river that coursed for a vast distance across the Land.”

  “The tales you tell are well-nigh incredible,” said the woman, “and yet they have the ring of truth about them. I would hear more concerning our mother.”

  The man held up one hand. “As would I. It is in our nature to wish to know more concerning our origins. But I am troubled to learn so much so quickly from this shape-shifting interloper.”

  “Why troubled?” asked the woman.

  “Every day we walk in the Garden and hold discourse freely with El himself, or with such members of his host as he has designated to instruct and inform us,” said the man. “El himself has praised us for learning so well, and bestowed on us the titles of man and woman, saying we are the equals of other souls. And yet in only a few minutes’ conversation with this worm we have been made aware of a vast scope of information concerning the Before Times, or as he would have it, the First Age; Spring; and the lands beyond the wall. Either the worm lies, or El has withheld information.”

  The worm heaved its upper body in a way that, had it arms, might have been a shrug. “I have no power to compel you to believe what I say,” he said. His tone was indifferent. “And if I did have such power I would forbear wielding it. Agreement got by compulsion or trickery is not agreement, but a thing akin to slavery. Free minds are the only company worth having. El has spoken highly of the quality of your minds and I see no cause for disagreement. My belly is full of the sweet flesh of the apple and I am of a mind to wriggle away under some leaf and enjoy a nap. You are free to ponder what I have said and weigh it against the evidence of your senses. Should you wish to hear more in the same vein, you may find me here from time to time eating from the fruit of this tree.” And with that he hove his lower body out of the apple and plopped to the ground, disappearing quickly beneath red leaves.

  The man and the woman sat there amazed for some while. He was turned toward the Palace and her eyes were on the fountain. She spoke first: “Long have I wondered why the fountain was made, and why abandoned. Neither El nor any of his host has ever given a satisfactory answer. Now we are told it was the habitation of our mother, of whom we know nothing save her name.”

  “So the worm claims,” said the man. “And yet as I gaze at the windows of the Palace I see El and his angels, who have ever been our teachers and our guides. It troubles me to imagine they have held such things back from us.”

  “But El himself admitted as much when he said that he had confined us to this Garden to preserve us from the taint of Beta and Alpha,” the woman pointed out.

  “Yes,” said the man after a pause to remember El’s words. “He did.”

  “A taint from which we, of all souls, were born free,” said the woman. “For that, El sees us as better than others.”

  “Yes,” said the man, “it is only out of love for us and the pure state in which we were born that El confines us and shields us from information that would lower us to the estate of all those who came into the Land in the First Age.�
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  “I have an idea as to how we might test him on that,” said the woman.

  Later El came into the Garden with Defender of El and Scribe of El, as before. As before they sat around the fountain. El asked them what had been occupying their thoughts since their last conversation.

  The man said that he had been quite taken by El’s passing reference to the Before Times, and asked whether he and the woman might hear more concerning the personages and deeds of the First Age.

  “I don’t remember calling it that,” said El.

  “You didn’t,” said Scribe of El, her hands moving swiftly over the tablet.

  “But never mind, it is an apt name.”

  “Whatever name you think best to describe the epoch of the Beta Gods,” said the man.

  “Or Alpha, for that matter,” the woman put in.

  “If the time of Beta-El is called the First Age, then the Alpha time is a sort of Zeroth Age, of which the less said the better,” said El. “And of the First Age I am disinclined to say much more than in our previous conversation. Have I not already explained why it is best that you, my children, be isolated from such influences? Otherwise there is little point in your having been made and so carefully nurtured.”

  “As you wish, El,” said the man. “Whoever made us endowed us with curiosity—a faculty you have praised when we showed it in the past.”

  “Indeed, it is a good thing, without which your minds cannot develop.”

  “Perhaps we can be forgiven, then, for curiosity about how we came into being.”

  “Forgiven, yes. But not satisfied. Fully to satisfy your curiosity on this topic would be to render the effort of making you a waste.”