Balant: A Beginning

by Sam Smith

  The next day we were to climb to the summit of the low mountain, then begin our return journey. As soon as we arrived home I determined to make a start. The rock containing the mineral would first have to be crushed. I considered that night whether we should power the hammer, that would crush the rock, by wind or water.

  I was more certain of how to harness the power of water than I was of how to control that of the wind. Yet wind would be preferable, for we could then site the hammer wherever the greatest amount of the mineral happened to be.

  Whereas, if we used water, that would mean carrying the rock to the mill; and that would make of us beasts of burden. Unless Malamud could domesticate some beast large enough to carry the rock for us. Even so it would still be slow. I decided to experiment with small models.

  Next I considered how we would extract the metal. For that we would need a furnace. Heat of that intensity would require a strong flow of oxygen. Although we wouldn't be able to match the heat of the space smelters, we should, with adequate ventilation, be able to melt any ore found on the planet. For fuel, instead of interstellar hydrogen, we would have to burn wood. A flue of stones could be easily constructed; and Malamud could find the wood that burnt the slowest and therefore kept its heat the longest. Wondering how best to gather the resultant liquefied metal, I was surprised by dawn’s yell.

  Chapter Nine

  We make two major discoveries, and the planet acquires a name.

  Not having slept, I was tired and remote that day, so the estrangement that had come between us the evening before was still with us when, late in the morning, we reached the mountain.

  From a distance this low mountain had looked as round and as smooth as the top of a helmet. We found it, however, to be as covered in cracks and fissures as were the higher more obviously jagged peaks.

  I was weary of forcing myself to be politely attentive to Dag and Malamud's every remark, wanted to be alone. The two of them, though, were determined to reach the top of the mountain; and from there see to the land beyond. Pleading giddiness I remained behind.

  Leaving all but their hatchets with me, they climbed up the sheer side of a gully and onto a shelf of rock, that they hoped would take them to the summit.

  Although the lowest of the peaks, it was still much cooler here. Leaning against a boulder I gazed down over the desert. Something away to the left of the desert was unfamiliar — a grey haze almost like a mist. With a shock I realised that it must be the southern ocean. I doubted my eyes, looked again. Its very expanse, the curvature of its horizon would brook no further doubts. That meant that we had landed much closer to the sea than I had intended.

  Leant there against that solid mountain boulder, I wondered how I could have so miscalculated. But I could not truly find it in me to rail against myself, for being tired now, feeling alienated now, I found it easy to recall the faintness from my head-wound then; and my faintness coupled with my ignorance of planetary forces had conspired to make me come in far too fast.

  I had obviously, now, overestimated the pull of gravity; but then, coming from space, any lesser speed had seemed impossibly slow. And, in travelling over the planet at such a speed, the slightest error in navigation had been exaggerated. I was even more certain now that, had Dag not told me to land when he had, we would have gone crashing into the mountains.

  Inevitably my thoughts returned to the previous evening's shameful squabble with Malamud. With much self-recrimination I realised that, although it was hard for reclusive types like me to understand the smalltalk and innocuous chatter of gregarious people, it was as hard, if not harder, for gregarious types like Malamud to understand the seemingly anti-social taciturnity, the apparent grumpiness of reclusive people like myself. For the one it was difficult to comprehend the pleasure to be derived from the amicable reiteration of stock phrases; for the other it was difficult to comprehend the pleasure to be derived from being alone with one's own thoughts. For the one, talk is an effort; for the other, silence is a strain. I resolved to be more tolerant.

  Dag called to me, his voice pitched low,

  “Come and see what we've found.”

  'I can see the sea," I called back. With gestures of alarm he signalled me to lower my voice,

  "Something else."

  I climbed up to him, followed him along the ledge to the summit, where Malamud was lying on his stomach. Following his and Dag's example I lied down beside them.

  "A settlement there," Dag said.

  In the green forest below, not ten kilometres distant, was a clearing. Within the clearing was a cluster of two storey timber buildings with pointed roofs. I made to stand so that I might get a better look. Dag held me down,

  "They may see us silhouetted against the sky.”

  "Have you seen anyone?"

  “No,” Malamud said.

  "Any metal there?" I asked Dag.

  “Can't see any. But for buildings that height, I'd assume so."

  "So why don't we forget your mining plans,” Malamud said, "and go down there and borrow some."

  "And if they have disease?" Dag asked him, "And we don't have immunity to it?"

  Malamud had no answer to that.

  The sea on this side of the mountains was much closer. At its nearest point, I estimated, it was not more than five kilometres from the settlement.

  Dag and I fell to wondering why the settlement was so far from the sea. Whoever built it could have done so much further inland; but, in all the forest as far as the eye could see, there was not one other settlement. It would seem to have some connection with the sea, so why not closer to it? Dag, referring to the lake, thought that it might be because of insects. Malamud mentioned tides.

  Dag explained to Malamud about tides, that with the planet having no moon the sea levels wouldn't alter significantly. He drew on the example of Titre, which has six moons and a misaligned axis. And, looking down on the settlement, we tried to imagine living on the surface of that wobbly planet with its uncertain seasons and unpredictable tides. In fact, by the time our speculations were finished, we were glad to be on our planet; and we had so enjoyed our fancies that we were in good humour with one another.

  Although we still had not seen anyone moving among the buildings, smoke was now curling up from beyond the pointed roofs. We assumed that meant that meals were being prepared. That reminded us of our own hunger; so, crawling backwards, we left the summit.

  We had decided to make our return journey along the edge of the desert, so that we might investigate the mineral-bearing rocks.

  On our descent to the desert, we arrived at the rock strata of the caves.

  "There's a track here," Malamud said, "going into one of the caves.”

  We all examined the track, and tried to imagine what creature could have made it, for it was perfectly smooth. Another peculiarity was that it appeared to both begin and end at the cave mouth.

  “A bird,” Dag said. "Comes out from its cave and flies away, lands here and goes in.”

  Malamud, who had tracked many animals, told Dag that all the birds he had seen had had feet like lizards, yet even where this track passed over sand it was still smooth, showed not one imprint of a talon.

  It was a puzzle that we had to solve, for — having left the mountain later than we had intended — these were the caves in which we had to sleep that night. So Malamud quickly made a fire in another cave; and, with our torches alight, we set off to investigate.

  The smooth track led gently up and around to the left. We went in single file: Dag was first, I was last. We had only gone a few metres into the cave when I stopped them with a whisper. They turned back to me and I pointed to their footprints on the track. Our curiosity vastly increased, we crept on, having to crouch as the cave narrowed.

  Dag halted and pressed himself to one side so that Malamud and I could see beyond him. The track ended in a cavern.

  "Whatever it is," Dag whispered, "it's in there. If it's dangerous no point in the three of us getting att
acked. You two wait here, and I'll have a look.”

  "There's daylight in there,” I said. Dag nodded and crept forward, pausing at every step to listen.

  At the entrance to the cavern Dag seemed to become immobile. Malamud and I waiting, glanced apprehensively to one another. Then Dag slowly straightened and, half turning to us, though keeping his eyes on whatever it was in the cavern, he said,

  "Come here.”

  The loudness of his ordinary voice nearly made my already racing heart leap from my throat. Indeed, so startled were Malamud and I, that we almost ran to the cavern. Only to stop in astonishment at its entrance.

  Light came into the cavern from a small hole near the high roof. On a shelf of rock, below that hole, lay the white skeleton of a man. At his head and at his feet stood two robots. One was a tall thin valet, the other a squat machine minder. The minder’s display lights twinkled at us.

  I have no idea how long we three stood staring speechlessly at that tableaux. I can remember immediately seeing that the valet had been corroded, probably by rain that had come through the hole. It was leant slightly forward as if attentively listening for its master's next instruction.

  I saw also, at almost the same time, that the track had been made by the minder rolling out to occasionally recharge itself from the sun, standing in the cave entrance, then rolling back to await further instructions.

  As for my emotions as we three mutely stood there...

  First I was overcome with melancholy, for such could be our fate. I wondered what vain hopes of rescue had died with that Spaceman.

  Next I was lifted by hope; for, with the minder’s help, I could now possibly repair the shuttle, recommence our mayday transmissions and so expedite our rescue from this planet.

  Yet, there before me, as if in mockery of all such hopes and tentative plans, lay the skeleton of another Spaceman. A Spaceman who had been better equipped than us to survive; and there lay his naked bones as testament to his failure.

  And mixed in among my emotions was an incredulous wonder — by what colossal fluke had that Spaceman come to the selfsame planet as us? I could see that, once anyone in space had decided to seek refuge on this planet, then the uninhabited desert was the obvious place to land; and, having landed, the caves provided ready made accommodation. But what coincidence, what calamity, had brought that Spaceman, before us, to this same uncharted galaxy?

  Dag was the first to speak,

  “How long do you think he's been here?”

  “Is it a he?" Malamud said.

  Not one of us stepped forward for a closer look.

  “I don’t think that minder’s being produced anymore," I said, "The valet is certainly an old model.”

  The sibilants we spoke seemed to cling to the sides of the cavern.

  "I wonder," Malamud broke the new silence, "if all these cavemen who start off civilisations aren't marooned Spacemen? Like Pi, their minds on loftier matters, they forget to wash and grow hairier and hairier."

  I found myself looking startled to Malamud; for I too had been imagining such castaways seeking the confines of a cave — within its gloom and constant temperature, sheltered from the planet's noises and weather, hidden from the glaring brightness of the planet's surface — a close approximation of their living quarters in Space. In no culture has the evolutionary leap to intelligence been satisfactorily accounted for. As Dag had predicted, Malamud had given me pause for thought.

  "Wonder where his ship is?" Dag said.

  "Command!" I told the minder. Its lights twinkled into an interrogative pattern.

  “Where is the ship?"

  “No data," it replied.

  I told Dag that the minder had a limited memory, enough only to contain working instructions. A minder does not need more since programmes for whatever machine it is working on are given it beforehand.

  "Must have been a rich man to have a valet," Malamud said.

  "And a full size ship to have a minder," I said.

  Dag wondered if the small settlement could be the crew from the ship. I doubted it,

  "They wouldn't have left the minder here. They could have used it.”

  We looked again to the minder.

  "Ask it how long it’s been here,” Dag said.

  “It won't know,” I told him.

  “Ask it.”

  The minder didn't know.

  I told Dag that the valet would have known — it had a more capacious memory. If I could repair it then it would answer all his questions.

  “Ask the minder the name of this planet," Dag said. The minder replied with a string of obscenities. Malamud nervously snickered. I asked it again. This time I thought I detected a name at the end of the obscenities. I looked to Dag for confirmation,

  “Balant?"

  Chapter Ten

  Opportunities and plans, elation and disappointment.

  Our torches began to splutter. I told the minder to follow me, and we all of us left that melancholy cavern.

  Night being almost upon us we hurriedly selected a cave, more for its distance from the skeleton than for comfort, and Malamud built up another fire while Dag and I found some branches with which to block the one entrance.

  After our meal we sat around the fire in that low cave and quizzed the minder. In the hope of eliciting more information about its master, we exercised our brains in thinking up new questions to ask it and in the rephrasing of old ones. But it had already told us all that it knew.

  Our frustration was increased by knowing that the valet contained a history of its master's foibles. However, until exhaustion overtook us, we spent half that night in futile speculation as to how that spaceman could have come to Balant, for we had ascertained that such indeed was the planet's name. Had his ship crashed? If so, how had he and the two robots survived such a crash? Or had he been forced to land on Balant due to a grievous malfunction aboard his ship? And, if that were so, where was his ship? I put an end to such conjecture by sarcastically wondering if he had been one of those spacemen searching for his origins.

  Wondering if, out of the shuttle and his ship — if we could find it — we might be able to make one good ship, we decided that on the morrow we would take both robots back to the shuttle. The minder and I would then make a start at attempting to repair the shuttle, while Dag and Malamud returned here to search for the spaceman’s ship.

  Come the morning Dag and I made one last visit to the cavern to collect the valet. To pick it up we had to bend down close to the skeleton. Overcoming our horror Dag and I studied it for any evidence of its identity. Dag even stirred the grey dust beneath its bones — the dust that had been Its flesh. But not one clue did we find.

  My sepulchral whispers seeming to whistle through the bare bones, I wondered why the skeleton was so clean. Dag pointed to a line of small insects on the cavern wall.

  Having both become used to the weights on Balant, we were surprised by the lightness of the valet. Dag put more effort into lifting it than was required, staggered backwards and almost sitting on the skeleton. I quickly took the valet from him, carried it easily under one arm.

  Dag emerged from the cave behind me, paused to study its entrance.

  "We can't leave him exposed like this," he said. He began climbing up the cliff beside the cave. I soon realised his intention; and Malamud and I, together with the two robots, moved away from the cliff. When he was about five metres above the cave entrance, Dag gripped hold of a bush; and, with both his feet, pushed at a large loose rook. He soon had it teetering back and forth. With one final lunge of his legs, he sent it skidding and bouncing down the cliff. The rock brought with it a shower of smaller stones. This landslide blocked the cave entrance.

  As soon as Dag rejoined us we dropped down the hill to the more thinly wooded level below the caves. With the minder rolling along behind us, we took turns carrying the valet. When we came to a stream, or some large roots, or the path became too steep, we also carried the minder.

  Far the f
irst time in months we had real objectives, made such good progress that we spent that night in the same caves that we had slept in on our first night out. And, at first light next morning, we set off directly for the shuttle.

  We arrived before noon. The foliage we had heaped over the shuttle was now all brown, with one green vine creeping up over the tail engine. The opened door breathed out a warm moist stench like stagnant mud. My hand over my face I entered the shuttle, found some rotten cake-fruit and cast it out.

  Dag and Malamud deposited the water and wood, that we had collected along our way that morning, then they immediately set off back along the desert edge to search for the spaceman’s ship.

  No sooner had they said their goodbyes than I began unscrewing the panels below the shuttle’s console.

  Since we had found the minder my thoughts had all been concentrated on repairing the shuttle. To that end I had had Dag and Malamud making meter lengths of vine rope as we had walked along. Every stage of the repairs I had considered, even to where and how I should stack the panels I had removed.

  The next stage was to test the weight of the two fused blocks. Although at an awkward angle, I could just about lift the pair of them from the lower one’s seating. So, looping the two ropes lengthways below the upper block, I tied them around the horizontal stanchions under the console. I then tightened those two ropes until the lower block was hanging above its seating.

  This time, with the tools to hand, I studied the fused blocks anew, directed the minder where to cut. And I doubt that I can find here the words to fully relate my pleasure in seeing that cutter come sliding out of the minder’s casing, nor the sense of marvel with which I watched that tiny spinning disc slice into that first blob of fused metal. To be back in the world of intelligent machines... even if, so far as the minder went, its intelligence was strictly limited. It, nevertheless, still owned the clear uncluttered logic of machines. I can remember thinking at that moment that, if I’d had a violin, I would have remained contentedly on Balant to the end of my days.