Possible Tomorrows

by Groff Conklin (Ed. )

  “Then you believe it changed mentally as well as physically, that it’s smarter?”

  “I’d say that, yes. It must be a fairly intelligent creature to be so hard to get rid of. But it can be lured into traps, if the bait’s strong enough.”

  “That’s what I don’t like,” said Taphetta, curling. “Let me think it over while I ask questions.” He turned to Emmer. “I’m curious about humans. Is there anything else you can tell me about the hypothetical ancestor?”

  Emmer didn’t look like the genius he was—a Neanderthal genius, but nonetheless a real one. In his field, he rated very high. He raised a stubble-flecked cheek from a large thickfingered paw and ran shaggy hands through shaggier hair.

  “I can speak with some authority,” he rumbled. “I was born on a world with the most extensive relics. As a child, I played in the ruins of their camp.”

  “I don’t question your authority,” crinkled Taphetta. “To me, all humans—late or early and male or female—look remarkably alike. If you are an archeologist, that’s enough for me.” He paused and flicked his speech ribbons. “Camp, did you say?”

  Emmer smiled, unsheathing great teeth. “You’ve never seen any pictures? Impressive, but just a camp, monolithic one-story structures, and we’d give something to know what they’re made of. Presumably my world was one of the first they stopped at They weren’t used to roughing it so they built more elaborately than they did later on. One-story structures and that’s how we can guess at their size. The doorways were forty feet high.”

  “Very large,” agreed Taphetta. It was difficult to tell whether he was impressed. “What did you find in the ruins?”

  “Nothing,” said Emmer. “There were buildings there and that was all, not a scrap of writing or a tool or a single picture. They covered a route estimated at thirty thousand light-years in less than five thousand years—and not one of them died that we have a record of.”

  “A faster-than-light drive and an extremely long life,” mused Taphetta. “But they didn’t leave any information for their descendants. Why?”

  “Who knows? Their mental processes were certainly far different from ours. They may have thought we’d be better off without it. We do know they were looking for a special kind of planet like Earth, because they vested so many of that type, yet different from it because they never stayed They were pretty special people themselves, big and long-lived, and maybe they couldn’t survive on any planet they found. Perhaps they had ways of determining there wasn’t the kind of planet they needed in the entire Milky Way. Their science was tremendously advanced and when they learned that they have altered their germ plasm and left us, hoping that some of us would survive. Most of us did.”

  “This special planet sounds strange,” murmured Taphetta.

  “Not really,” said Emmer. “Fifty human races reached space travel independently and those who did were scattered equally among early and late species. It’s well known that individuals among my people are often as bright as any of Halden’s or Meredith’s, but as a whole we don’t have the total capacity that later Man does, and yet we’re as advanced in civilization. The difference? It must lie somewhere in the planets we live on and it’s hard to say just what it is.”

  “What happened to those who didn’t develop space travel?” asked Taphetta.

  “We helped them,” said Emmer.

  And they had, no matter who or what they were, biologically late or early, in the depths of the bronze age or the threshold of atomic—because they were human. That was sometimes a frightening thing for non-humans, that the race stuck together. They weren’t actually aggressive, but their total number was great and they held themselves aloof. The unknown ancestor again. Who else had such an origin and, it was tacitly assumed, such a destiny?

  Taphetta changed his questioning. “What do you expect to gain from this discovery of the unknown ancestor?”

  It was Halden who answered him. “There’s the satisfaction of knowing where we came from.”

  “Of course,” rustled the Ribboneer. “But a lot of money and equipment was required for this expedition. I can’t believe that the educational institutions that are backing you did so purely out of intellectual curiosity.”

  “Cultural discoveries,” rumbled Emmer. “How did our ancestors live? When a creature is greatly reduced in size, as we are, more than physiology is changed—the pattern of life itself is altered. Things that were easy for them are impossible for us. Look at their life span.”

  “No doubt,” said Taphetta. “An archeologist would be interested in cultural discoveries.”

  “Two hundred thousand years ago, they had an extremely advanced civilization,” added Halden. “A faster-than-light drive, and we’ve achieved that only within the last thousand years.”

  “But I think we have a better one than they did,” said Ribboneer. “There may be things we can learn from them in mechanics or physics, but wouldn’t you say they were better biologists than anything else?”

  Halden nodded. “Agreed. They couldn’t find a suitable planet. So, working directly with their germ plasm, they modified themselves and produced us. They were master biologists.”

  “I thought so,” said Taphetta. “I never paid much attention to your fantastic theories before I signed to pilot this ship, but you’ve built up a convincing case.” He raised his head, speech ribbons curling fractionally and ceaselessly. “I don’t like to, but we’ll have to risk using bait for your pest.”

  He’d have done it anyway, but it was better to have the pilot’s consent And there was one question Halden wanted to ask; it had been bothering him vaguely. “What’s the difference between the Ribboneer contract and the one we offered you? Our terms are more liberal.”

  “To the individual, they are, but it won’t matter if you discover as much as you think you will. The difference is this: My terms don’t permit you to withhold any discovery for the benefit of one race.”

  Taphetta was wrong; there had been no intention of withholding anything. Halden examined his own attitudes. He hadn’t intended, but could he say that was true of the institutions backing the expedition? He couldn’t and it was too late now—whatever knowledge they acquired would have to be shared.

  That was what Taphetta had been afraid of—there was one kind of technical advancement that multiplied unceasingly. The race that could improve itself through scientific control of its germ plasm had a start that could never be headed. The Ribboneer needn’t worry now.

  “Why do we have to watch it on the screen?” asked Meredith, glancing up. “I’d rather be in hydroponics.”

  Halden shrugged. “They may or may not be smarter than planet bound animals, but they’re warier. They don’t come out when anyone’s near.”

  Lights dimmed in the distant hydroponic section and the screen with it, until he adjusted the infra-red frequencies. He motioned to the two crew members, each with his own peculiar screen, below which was a miniature keyboard “Ready?”

  When they nodded, Halden said: “Do as you’ve rehearsed. Keep noise at a minimum, but when you do use it be vague. Don’t try to imitate them exactly.”

  At first nothing happened on the big screen, and then a gray shape crept out. It slid through leaves, listened intently before coming forward. It jumped off one hydroponic section and fled across the open floor to the next. It paused, eyes glittering and antennae twitching.

  Looking around once, it leaped up, seizing the ledge and clawing up the side of the tank Standing on top and rising to its haunches, it began nibbling what it could reach.

  Suddenly it whirled. Behind it and hitherto unnoticed was another shape, like it but larger. Hie newcomer inched forward. The small (me retreated, skittering nervously. Without warning, the big one leaped and the small one tried to flee. In a few jumps, the big one caught up and mauled the other unmercifully.

  It continued to bite even after the little one lay still. At last it backed off and waited, watching for signs of motion. There
was none. Then it turned to the plant When it had chewed off everything within reach, it climbed into the branches.

  The little one twitched, moved a leg, and cautiously began dragging itself away. It rolled off the raised section and surprisingly made no noise as it fell. It seemed to revive, shaking itself and scurrying away, still within range of the screen.

  Against the wall was a small platform. The little one climbed on top and there found something that seemed to interest it. It sniffed around and reached and felt the discovery. Wounds were forgotten as it snatched up the object and frisked back to the scene of its recent defeat.

  This time it had no trouble with the raised section. It leaped and landed on top and made considerable noise m doing so. The big animal heard and twisted around. It saw and clambered down hastily, jumping the last few feet Squealing, it hit the floor and charged.

  The small one stood still till the last instant—and then a paw flickered out and an inch-long knife blade plunged into the throat of the charging creature. Red spurted out as the bigger beast screamed. The knife flashed in and out until the big animal collapsed and stopped moving.

  The small creature removed the knife and wiped it on the pelt of its foe. Then it scampered back to the platform on which the knife had been found—and laid it down.

  At Halden’s signal, the lights flared up and the screen became too bright for anything to be visible.

  “Go in and get them,” said Halden. “We don’t want the pests to find out that the bodies aren’t flesh.”

  “It was realistic enough,” said Meredith as the crewmen shut off their machines and went out “Do you think it will work?”

  “It might. We had an audience.”

  “Did we? I didn’t notice.” Meredith leaned back. “Were the puppets exactly like the pests? And if not, will the pests be fooled?”

  “The electronic puppets were a good imitation, but the animals don’t have to identify them as their species. If they’re smart enough, they’ll know the value of a knife, no matter who uses it”

  “What if they’re smarter? Suppose they know a knife can’t be used by a creature without real hands?”

  “That’s part of our precautions. They’ll never know until they try—and they’ll never get away from the trap to try.”

  “Very good. I never thought of that” said Meredith, coming closer. “I like the way your primitive mind works. At times I actually think of marrying you.”

  “Primitive,” he said, alternately frozen and thawed, though he knew that in relation to her, he was not advanced.

  “It’s almost a curse, isn’t it?” She laughed and took the curse away by leaning provocatively against him. “But barbaric lovers are often nice.”

  Here we go again, he thought drearily, sliding his arm around her. To her, I’m merely a passionate savage.

  They went to his cabin.

  She sat down, smiling. Was she pretty? Maybe. For her own race, she wasn’t tall, only by Terran standards. Her legs were disproportionately long and well-shaped and her face was somewhat bland and featureless, except for a thin, straight short nose. It was her eyes that made the difference, he decided. A notch or two up the scale of visual development her eyes were larger and she could see an extra color on the violet end of the spectrum.

  She settled back and looked at him. “It might be fun living with you on primeval Earth.”

  He said nothing; she knew as well as he that Earth was as advanced as her own world. She had something else in mind. “I don’t think I will, though. We might have children.”

  “Would it be wrong?” he asked. “I’m as intelligent as you. We wouldn’t have subhuman monsters.”

  “It would be a step up—for you.” Under her calm, there was tension. It had been there as long as he’d known her, but it was closer to the surface now. “Do I have the right to condemn the unborn? Should I make them start lower than I am?”

  The conflict was not new nor confined to them. In one form or another, it governed personal relations between races that were united against non-humans, but held sharp distinctions themselves.

  “I haven’t asked you to marry me,” he said bluntly.

  “Because you’re afraid I’d refuse.”

  It was true; no one asked a member of a higher race to enter a permanent union.

  “Why did you ever have anything to do with me?” demanded Halden.

  “Love,” she said gloomily. “Physical attraction. But I can’t let it lead me astray.”

  “Why not make a play for Kelburn? If you’re going to be scientific about it, he’d give you children of the higher type.”

  “Kelburn.” It didn’t sound like a name, the way she said it. “I don’t like him and he wouldn’t marry me.”

  “He wouldn’t, but he’d give you children if you were humble enough. There’s a fifty per cent chance you might conceive.”

  She provocatively arched her back. Not even the women of Kelburn’s race had a body like hers and she knew it.

  “Racially, there should be a chance,” she said. “Actually, Kelburn and I would be infertile.”

  “Can you be sure?” he asked, knowing it was a poor attempt to act unconcerned.

  “How can anyone be sure on a theoretical basis?” she asked, an oblique smile narrowing her eyes. “I know we can’t”

  His face felt anesthetized. “Did you have to tell me that?”

  She got up and came to him. She nuzzled against him and his reaction was purely reflexive. His hand swung out and he could feel the flesh give when his knuckles struck it.

  She fell back and dazedly covered her face with her hand. When she took it away, blood spurted. She groped toward the mirror and stood in front of it She wiped the blood off, examining her features carefully.

  “You’ve broken my nose,” she said factually. “I’ll have to stop the blood and pain.”

  She pushed her nose back into place and waggled it to make sure. She closed her eyes and stood silent and motionless. Then she stepped bade and looked at herself critically.

  “It’s set and partially knitted. I’ll concentrate tonight and have it healed by morning.”

  She felt in the cabinet and attached an invisible strip firmly across the bridge. Then she came over to him.

  “I wondered what you’d do. You didn’t disappoint me.”

  He scowled miserably at her. Her face was almost plain and the bandage, invisible or not, didn’t improve her appearance any. How could he still feel that attraction to her?

  “Try Emmer,” he suggested tiredly. “He’ll find you irresistible, and he’s even more savage than I am.”

  “Is he?” She smiled enigmatically. “Maybe, in a biological sense. Too much, though. You’re just right”

  He sat down on the bed. Again there was only one way of knowing what Emmer would do—and she knew. She had no concept of love outside of the physical, to make use of her body so as to gain an advantage—what advantage?—for the children she intended to have. Outside of that nothing mattered, and for the sake of alloying the lower with the higher, she was as cruel to herself as she was to him. And yet he wanted her.

  “I do think I love you,” she said. “And if love’s enough, I may marry you in spite of everything. But you’ll have to watch out whose children I have.” She wriggled into his arms.

  The racial disparity was great and she had provoked him, but it was not completely her fault Besides . . .

  Besides what? She had a beautiful body that could bear superior children—and they might be his.

  He twisted away. With those thoughts, he was as bad as she was. Were they all that way, every one of them, crawling upward out of the slime toward the highest goal they could conceive of? Climbing over—no, through—everybody they could coerce, seduce or marry—onward and upward. He raised his hand, but it was against himself that his anger was turned.

  “Careful of the nose,” she said, pressing against him. “You’ve already broken it once.”

  He
kissed her with sudden passion that even he knew was primitive.

  There were no immediate results from the puppet performance and so it was repeated at intervals. After the third time, Firmon reported, coming in as Halden pored ova the meager biological data he’d gathered on the unknown ancestor. Wild guesses mostly, not one real fact in all the statistics. After two hundred thousand years, there wasn’t much left to work with.

  Firmon slouched down. “It worked,” he said. “Got three a few hours ago.”

  Halden looked at him; he had hoped it wouldn’t work. There was satisfaction in being right, but he would rather face something less intelligent Wariness was one thing, the shyness and slyness of an unseen animal, but intelligence was more difficult to predict “Where are they?” he asked.

  “Did you want them?” Firmon seemed surprised at the idea.

  Halden sighed; it was his own fault Firmon had a potentially good mind, but he hadn’t been trained to use it and that counted for more than people thought “Any animal smart enough to appreciate the value of a knife is worth study on that account. That goes double when it’s a pest.”

  “I’ll change the cremation setting,” said Firmon. “Next time, we’ll just stun them.”

  The trap setting was changed and several animals were taken. Physically, they were very much as Halden had described them to Taphetta, small four-legged creatures with fleshy antennae. Dissection revealed a fairly large brain capacity, while behavior tests indicated an intelligence somewhat below what he had.

  A still, it was more than he wanted a pest to have, especially since it also had hands.

  The biological mechanism of the hands was simple. It walked on the back of the front paws, on the fingers of which were fleshy pads. When it sat upright, it often did, the flexibility of the wrists permitted the forepaws to be used as hands. Clumsy, but because it had a thumb, it could handle such tools as a knife.