“They’re so anxious to learn!” She was having trouble adjusting to that; that was dead against EETA doctrine. “But why wouldn’t they listen to the teachers we sent to the villages?”
“You heard old Shatresh—the fellow with the pornographic sculpture and the yellow robe. These young twerps act like fools, and sensible people don’t pay any attention to fools. What’s more, they’ve been sent out indoctrinated with the idea that shoonoon are a lot of lying old fakes, and the shoonoon resent that. You know, they’re not lying old fakes. Within their limitations, they are honest and ethical professional people.”
“Oh, come, now! I know, I think they’re sort of wonderful, but let’s don’t give them too much credit.”
“I’m not. You’re doing that.”
“Huh?” She looked at him in amazement. “Me?”
* * * *
“Yes, you. You know better than to believe in magic, so you expect them to know better, too. Well, they don’t. You know that under the macroscopic world-of-the senses there exists a complex of biological, chemical and physical phenomena down to the subnucleonic level. They realize that there must be something beyond what they can see and handle, but they think it’s magic. Well, as a race, so did we until only a few centuries pre-atomic. These people are still lower Neolithic, a hunting people who have just learned agriculture. Where we were twenty thousand years ago.
“You think any glib-talking Kwann can hang a lot of rags, bones and old iron onto himself, go through some impromptu mummery, and set up as shoonoo? Well, he can’t. The shoonoon are a hereditary caste. A shoonoo father will begin teaching his son as soon as he can walk and talk, and he keeps on teaching him till he’s the age-equivalent of a graduate M.D. or a science Ph. D.”
“Well, what all is there to learn—?”
“The theoretical basis and practical applications of sympathetic magic. Action-at-a-distance by one object upon another. Homeopathic magic: the principle that things which resemble one another will interact. For instance, there’s an animal the natives call a shynph. It has an excrescence of horn on its brow like an arrowhead, and it arches its back like a bow when it jumps. Therefore, a shynph is equal to a bow and arrow, and for that reason the Kwanns made their bowstrings out of shynph-gut. Now they use tensilon because it won’t break as easily or get wet and stretch. So they have to turn the tensilon into shynph-gut. They used to do that by drawing a picture of a shynph on the spool, and then the traders began labeling the spools with pictures of shynph. I think my father was one of the first to do that.
“Then, there’s contagious magic. Anything that’s been part of anything else or come in contact with it will interact permanently with it. I wish I had a sol for every time I’ve seen a Kwann pull the wad out of a shot-shell, pick up a pinch of dirt from the footprint of some animal he’s tracking, put it in among the buckshot, and then crimp the wad in again.
“Everything a Kwann does has some sort of magical implications. It’s the shoonoo’s business to know all this; to be able to tell just what magical influences have to be produced, and what influences must be avoided. And there are circumstances in which magic simply will not work, even in theory. The reason is that there is some powerful counter-influence at work. He has to know when he can’t use magic, and he has to be able to explain why. And when he’s theoretically able to do something by magic, he has to have a plausible explanation why it won’t produce results—just as any highly civilized and ethical Terran M.D. has to be able to explain his failures to the satisfaction of his late patient’s relatives. Only a shoonoo doesn’t get sued for malpractice; he gets a spear stuck in him. Under those circumstances, a caste of hereditary magicians is literally bred for quick thinking. These old gaffers we have aboard are the intellectual top crust among the natives. Any of them can think rings around your Government school products. As for preying on the ignorance and credulity of the other natives, they’re only infinitesimally less ignorant and credulous themselves. But they want to learn—from anybody who can gain their respect by respecting them.”
Edith Shaw didn’t say anything in reply. She was thoughtful during the rest of the meal, and when they were back on the observation deck he noticed that she seemed to be looking at the shoonoon with new eyes.
In the screen-views of Bluelake, Beta had already set, and the sky was fading; stars had begun to twinkle. There were more fires—one, close to the city in the east, a regular conflagration—and fighting had broken out in the native city itself. He was wishing now, that he hadn’t thought it necessary to use those screens. The shoonoon were noticing what was going on in them, and talking among themselves. Travis, after one look at the situation, hurried back to the bridge to make a screen-call. After a while, he returned, almost crackling with suppressed excitement.
“Well, it’s finally happened! Maith’s forced Kovac to declare martial rule!” he said in an exultant undertone.
“Forced him?” Edith was puzzled. “The Army can’t force the Civil Government—”
“He threatened to do it himself. Intervene and suspend civil rule.”
“But I thought only the Navy could do that.”
“Any planetary commander of Armed Forces can, in a state of extreme emergency. I think you’ll both agree that this emergency is about as extreme as they come. Kovac knew that Maith was unwilling to do it—he’d have to stand court-martial to justify his action—but he also knew that a governor general who has his Colony taken away from him by the Armed Forces never gets it back; he’s finished. So it was just a case of the weaker man in the weaker position yielding.”
“Where does this put us?”
“We are a civilian scientific project. You are under orders of General Maith. I am under your orders. I don’t know about Edith.”
“Can I draft her, or do I have to get you to get General Maith to do it?”
“Listen, don’t do that,” Edith protested. “I still have to work for Government House, and this martial rule won’t last forever. They’ll all be prejudiced against me—”
“You can shove your Government job on the air lock,” Miles told her. “You’ll have a better one with Planetwide News, at half again as much pay. And after the shakeup at Government House, about a year from now, you may be going back as director of EETA. When they find out on Terra just how badly this Government has been mismanaging things there’ll be a lot of vacancies.”
The shoonoon had been watching the fighting in the viewscreens. Then somebody noticed that the spot of light on the navigational globe was approaching a coastline, and they all rushed forward for a look.
* * * *
Travis and Edith slept for a while; when they returned to relieve him, Alpha was rising to the east of Bluelake, and the fighting in the city was still going on. The shoonoon were still wakeful and interested; Kwanns could go without sleep for much longer periods than Terrans. The lack of any fixed cycle of daylight and darkness on their planet had left them unconditioned to any regular sleeping-and-waking rhythm.
“I just called in,” Travis said. “Things aren’t good, at all. Most of the natives in the evacuee cantonments have gotten into the native city, now, and they’ve gotten hold of a lot of firearms somehow. And they’re getting nasty in the west, beyond where Gonzales is occupying, and in the northeast, and we only have about half enough troops to cope with everything. The general wants to know how you’re making out with the shoonoon.”
“I’ll call him before I get in the sack.”
He went up on the bridge and made the call. General Maith looked as sleepy as he felt; they both yawned as they greeted each other. There wasn’t much he could tell the general, and it sounded like the glib reassurances one gets from a hospital about a friend’s condition.
“We’ll check in with you as soon as we get back and get our shoonoon put away. We understand what’s motivating these frenzies, now, and in about twenty-five to thirty hours we’ll be able to start doing something about it.”
The
general, in the screen, grimaced.
“That’s a long time, Mr. Gilbert. Longer than we can afford to take, I’m afraid. You’re not cruising at full speed now, are you?”
“Oh, no, general. We’re just trying to keep Alpha level on the horizon.” He thought for a moment. “We don’t need to keep down to that. It may make an even bigger impression if we speed up.”
He went back to the observation deck, picked up the PA-phone, and called for attention.
“You have seen, now, that we can travel around the world, so fast that we keep up with the Sky Fire and it is not seen to set. Now we will travel even faster, and I will show you a new wonder. I will show you the Sky Fire rising in the west; it and the Always-Same will seem to go backward in the sky. This will not be for real; it will only be seen so because we will be traveling faster. Watch, now, and see.” He called the bridge for full speed, and then told them to look at the Sky-Fire and then see in the screens where it stood over Bluelake.
That was even better; now they were racing with the Sky-Fire and catching up to it. After half an hour he left them still excited and whooping gleefully over the steady gain. Five hours later, when he came back after a nap and a hasty breakfast, they were still whooping. Edith Shaw was excited, too; the shoonoon were trying to estimate how soon they would be back to Bluelake by comparing the position of the Sky Fire with its position in the screen.
* * * *
General Maith received them in his private office at Army HQ; Foxx Travis mixed drinks for the four of them while the general checked the microphones to make sure they had privacy.
“I blame myself for not having forced martial rule on them hundreds of hours ago,” he said. “I have three brigades; the one General Gonzales had here originally, and the two I brought with me when I took over here. We have to keep at least half a brigade in the south, to keep the tribes there from starting any more forest fires. I can’t hold Bluelake with anything less than half a brigade. Gonzales has his hands full in his area. He had a nasty business while you were off on that world cruise—natives in one village caught the men stationed there off guard and wiped them out, and then started another frenzy. It spread to two other villages before he got it stopped. And we need the Third Brigade in the northeast; there are three quarters of a million natives up there, inhabiting close to a million square miles. And if anything really breaks loose here, and what’s been going on in the last few days is nothing even approaching what a real outbreak could be like, we’ll have to pull in troops from everywhere. We must save the Terran-type crops and the carniculture plants. If we don’t, we all starve.”
Miles nodded. There wasn’t anything he could think of saying to that.
“How soon can you begin to show results with those shoonoon, Mr. Gilbert?” the general asked. “You said from twenty-five to thirty hours. Can you cut that any? In twenty-five hours, all hell could be loose all over the continent.”
Miles shook his head. “So far, I haven’t accomplished anything positive,” he said. “All I did with this trip around the world was convince them that I was telling the truth when I told them there was no Dark Place under the World, where Alpha and Beta go at night.” He hastened, as the general began swearing, to add: “I know, that doesn’t sound like much. But it was necessary. I have to convince them that there will be no Last Hot Time, and then—”
* * * *
The shoonoon, on their drum-shaped cushions, stared at him in silence, aghast. All the happiness over the wonderful trip in the ship, when they had chased the Sky Fire around the World and caught it over Bluelake, and even their pleasure in the frozen delicacies they had just eaten, was gone.
“No—Last—Hot—Time?”
“Mailsh Heelbare, this is not real! It cannot be!”
“The Gone Ones—”
“The Always-Cool Time, when there will be no more hunger or hard work or death; it cannot be real that this will never come!”
He rose, holding up his hands; his action stopped the clamor.
“Why should the Gone Ones want to return to this poor world that they have gladly left?” he asked. “Have they not a better place in the middle of the Sky Fire, where it is always cool? And why should you want them to come back to this world? Will not each one of you pass, sooner or later, to the middle of the Sky Fire; will you not there be given new bodies and join the Gone Ones? There is the Always-Cool; there the crops grow without planting and without the work of women; there the game come into the villages to be killed in the gathering-places, without hunting. There you will talk with the other Gone Ones, your fathers and your fathers’ fathers, as I talk with you. Why do you think this must come to the World of People? Can you not wait to join the Gone Ones in the Sky Fire?”
Then he sat down and folded his arms. They were looking at him in amazement; evidently they all saw the logic, but none of them had ever thought of it before. Now they would have to turn it over in their minds and accustom themselves to the new viewpoint. They began whooshing among themselves. At length, old Shatresh, who had seen the Hot Time before, spoke:
“Mailsh Heelbare, we trust you,” he said. “You have told us of wonders, and you have shown us that they were real. But do you know this for real?”
“Do you tell me that you do not?” he demanded in surprise. “You have had fathers, and fathers’ fathers. They have gone to join the Gone Ones. Why should you not, also? And why should the Gone Ones come back and destroy the World of People? Then your children will have no more children, and your children’s children will never be. It is in the World of People that the People are born; it is in the World that they grow and gain wisdom to fit themselves to live in the Place of the Gone Ones when they are through with the bodies they use in the World. You should be happy that there will be no Last Hot Time, and that the line of your begettings will go on and not be cut short.”
There were murmurs of agreement with this. Most of them were beginning to be relieved that there wouldn’t be a Last Hot Time, after all. Then one of the class asked:
“Do the Terrans also go to the Place of the Gone Ones, or have they a place of their own?”
He was silent for a long time, looking down at the floor. Then he raised his head.
“I had hoped that I would not have to speak of this,” he said. “But, since you have asked, it is right that I should tell you.” He hesitated again, until the Kwanns in front of him had begun to fidget. Then he asked old Shatresh: “Speak of the beliefs of the People about how the World was made.”
“The great Spirit made the world.” He held up his carven obscenity. “He made the World out of himself. This is a make-like to show it.”
“The Great Spirit made many worlds. The stars which you see in dark-time are all worlds, each with many smaller worlds around it. The Great Spirit made them all at one time, and made people on many of them. The Great Spirit made the World of People, and made the Always-Same and the Sky Fire, and inside the Sky Fire he made the Place of the Gone Ones. And when he made the Place of the Gone Ones, he put an Oomphel-Mother inside it, to bring forth oomphel.”
* * * *
This created a brief sensation. An Oomphel-Mother was something they had never thought of before, but now they were wondering why they hadn’t. Of course there’d be an Oomphel-Mother; how else would there be oomphel?
“The World of the Terrans is far away from the World of People, as we have always told you. When the Great Spirit made it He gave it only an Always-Same, and no Sky Fire. Since there was no Sky Fire, there was no place to put a Place of the Gone Ones, so the Great Spirit made the Terrans so that they would not die, but live forever in their own bodies. The Oomphel-Mother for the World of the Terrans the Great Spirit hid in a cave under a great mountain.
“The Terrans whom the Great Spirit made lived for a long time, and then, one day, a man and a woman found a crack in a rock, and went inside, and they found the cave of the Oomphel-Mother, and the Oomphel-Mother in it. So they called all the other Terrans,
and they brought the Oomphel-Mother out, and the Oomphel-Mother began to bring forth Oomphel. The Oomphel-Mother brought forth metal, and cloth, and glass, and plastic; knives, and axes and guns and clothing—” He went on, cataloguing the products of human technology, the shoonoon staring more and more wide-eyed at him. “And oomphel to make oomphel, and oomphel to teach wisdom,” he finished. “They became very wise and very rich.
“Then the Great Spirit saw what the Terrans had done, and became angry, for it was not meant for the Terrans to do this, and the Great Spirit cursed the Terrans with a curse of death. It was not death as you know it. Because the Terrans had sinned by laying hands on the Oomphel-Mother, not only their bodies must die, but their spirits also. A Terran has a short life in the body, after that no life.”
“This, then, is the Oomphel Secret. The last skin of the fooshkoot has been peeled away; behold the bitter nut, upon which we Terrans have chewed for more time than anybody can count. Happy people! When you die or are slain, you go to the Place of the Gone Ones, to join your fathers and your fathers’ fathers and to await your children and children’s children. When we die or are slain, that is the end of us.”
“But you have brought your oomphel into this world; have you not brought the curse with it?” somebody asked, frightened.
“No. The People did not sin against the Great Spirit; they have not laid hands on an Oomphel-Mother as we did. The oomphel we bring you will do no harm; do you think we would be so wicked as to bring the curse upon you? It will be good for you to learn about oomphel here; in your Place of the Gone Ones there is much oomphel.”
“Why did your people come to this world, Mailsh Heelbare?” old Shatresh asked. “Was it to try to hide from the curse?”
“There is no hiding from the curse of the Great Spirit, but we Terrans are not a people who submit without strife to any fate. From the time of the Curse of Death on, we have been trying to make spirits for ourselves.”
The H. Beam Piper Megapack Page 118