The Journey of Joenes

by Robert Sheckley

  “Well, man,” Lum said, “that is quite a tale, and it is all the more strange because I am not exactly what one would have called the military sort. But I am very glad you asked me that question.”

  The Command Post shuddered once again, throwing many officers to the floor. But Lum contrived to keep his balance, and he told Joenes the story of how he had joined the Army.

  XIV

  HOW LUM JOINED THE ARMY

  (Lum’s own words, as recorded in the Book of Fiji, Orthodox Edition)

  Well, man, I left the Hollis Home for the Criminally Insane shortly after you, and I went to New York and attended a really swinging party. It so happened I got high on C that night, which is nasty stuff if you aren’t used to it, which I was not. I mean I’ve always been a peyote man, and heroin never interested me, and I thought that cocaine was merely one of those old-fashioned kicks until I tried it that night.

  But I did try it, and I got this feeling whilst with the big C that I had a Florence Nightingale type duty to tend all the sick fighting machines of the world. The more I thought about it the surer I was, and the sadder I became as I thought of poor suffering old machine guns with burned-out barrels, tanks with rust in their treads, jets with broken landing gears, and the like. I thought of the terrible dumb agony these machines go through, and I knew that I had to heal and comfort them.

  As you can see, I was pretty well gassed, and in that state I marched down to the nearest recruiting station and joined up so as to be close to the poor machines.

  The next day I woke up and found myself in the Army, and it was a sobering not to say a frightening thought. I rushed out to find that damned enlistment sergeant who had taken advantage of a poor hophead obviously not in his right mind at the time, but he had flown to a Chicago whorehouse to give an enlistment speech. So I hastened to see my commanding officer, also called the CO, and told him that among other things I was a dope addict and a recent inmate of an institution for the criminally insane, both of which I could prove. And that furthermore I had latent homosexual tendencies, an overpowering fear of firearms, one blind eye; and also a bad back. Because of all this, I said, I could not legally be accepted into the armed services because of the provisions on page 123 paragraph C of the Enlistment Act.

  The CO looked me straight in the eye and smiled in that way only a Regular Army man or a cop can smile. He said, “Soldier, this is the first day of your new life, so I am going to overlook certain irregularities in your manner of addressing me. Now kindly get the hell out of here and report to the sergeant for duty.”

  When I didn’t go, he stopped smiling and said, “Look, soldier, nobody cares about your reasons for enlisting, or for your so-called dope jag at the time. As for the various debilities you mentioned, don’t worry about them. Hopheads have done a first-class job in Planning, and nobody can laugh at the exploits of the Homosexual Brigade during the last police action in Patagonia. All you have to do is be a good soldier and you’ll find that the Army is a good way of life. And do not go round quoting the Enlistment Act like a guardhouse lawyer, because that will make you unpopular with my sergeants, who just might beat your head to a pulp. Right? Right. Now we know where we stand, and I bear you no hard feelings. In fact I congratulate you on the patriotic zeal which led you to sign up for the special fifty-year full-duty enlistment last night. Good man! Now get the hell out of here.”

  So I left his office and wondered what to do next, since you can get out of a jail or an asylum, but not out of the Army. I was pretty down for a while, but then suddenly I was given a commission as a second lieutenant, and directly after that I was assigned to the personal staff of General Voig, who is the very topmost of the top brass.

  At first I thought all this had happened because of my pleasing personality, but then I found out it was something else entirely. It appears that when enlisting, sky-high on coke, I had put down my occupation as pimp. This came to the attention of officers who watch for special occupational groups. In my case it was reported to General Voig, who immediately put in an order for me and my services.

  At first I had no idea what to do, since I had never worked in that field. But another general’s pimp, or Special Duty Officer, as he is more politely called, gave me the word. I thenceforth arranged a party for General Voig every Thursday night, this being the only night he could spare from his military duties. It is easy work, since all I need do is put in a call to one of the numbers listed in the “Washington Defense Area Recreation Book; or, in a pinch, I send a hurry message to the Armed Services Procurement Department, which has branches in all major cities. The General has shown a hearty approval of my efficient work, and I must confess that the Army is not the grim and terrible place I had imagined it to be.

  And that, Joenes, is what brings me here. Speaking as General Voig’s aide and good friend, I can tell you that this war, whoever in hell we’re fighting, could not be in better hands. I think this is important for all men to know since lies are frequently told about men in high positions.

  Furthermore, Joenesy, I think I should point out that there has just been an explosion here in the Command Post, and this hints of greater things to come. Also a few lights have gone off, and the air is growing just a shade musty. Therefore, since our services are obviously not needed down here, I suggest that you and I split this scene and cut out entirely, if such indeed is still possible.

  Are you with me, Joenesy? Are you all right man?

  XV

  THE ESCAPE FROM AMERICA

  (As told by Paaui of Fiji)

  Joenes had been stunned by a small explosion occurring near his head. In a state of shock, he let his friend lead him to an elevator that plunged them still deeper into the bowels of the earth. When they opened the elevator door, they were standing in a wide passageway. Ahead of them was a sign, reading: emergency underground survival roadway, for authorized personnel only.

  Lum said, “I don’t know if we are authorized personnel, but technicalities must be forgotten at a time like this. Joenes, are you able to speak? Straight ahead should be a vehicle that will carry us to what I sure as hell hope is safety. The General told me about this set-up, and I trust the old buzzard wasn’t merely having his bit of fun.”

  They found the vehicle where Lum had expected it to be, and drove underground for many hours until they emerged on the eastern shore of Maryland, facing the Atlantic Ocean.

  Here Lum’s vigorous will faltered, and he was unable to think what to do next. But Joenes had recovered full possession of his senses. Taking Lum by the arm, he went down to the silent beach. Then he turned south and walked for several hours, coming at last to a deserted little harbor.

  Joenes selected one sailing ship from the many that lay at the docks, and began transferring to it food, water, charts, and nautical instruments, taking them from the many other sea-going ships in the harbor. The job was not half done when missiles began screaming overhead, and Joenes decided to cast off immediately.

  The boat was several miles out to sea before Lum roused himself, looked around, and asked, “Uh, man, like where we bound?”

  “To my home,” Joenes said. “To the island of Manituatua in the South Pacific.”

  Lum considered that, and said mildly, “Sort of a long trip, isn’t it? I mean, what with rounding Cape Horn and all that jazz, it’s probably something like eight or nine thousand miles, huh?”

  “Something like that,” Joenes said.

  “You wouldn’t maybe consider going to Europe instead, which is only like three thousand miles?”

  “I’m going home,” Joenes said firmly.

  “Yeah. Well,” Lum said, “east or west, home’s the best. But we’re somewhat short of food and water for a trip like this, and I suspect that little may be available along the way. Nor do I have the most perfect confidence in this boat, which I believe is already beginning to leak.”

  “All quite true,” Joenes said. “But I think the leaks can be fixed. As for food and water, we’ll hop
e for the best. Lum, there’s really no other place that I know of worth going to.”

  “O.K.,” Lum said. “I wasn’t knocking it, I just thought I’d kick around a few thoughts to see if they would roll away. Since they won’t, I, like you, will simply hope for the best. Also I think you should write your memoirs during this jaunt, since they would make interesting reading, and would serve to identify our poor starved cadavers should someone happen to come across this boat.”

  “I am not at all convinced that we are going to die,” Joenes said, “though I must admit it seems a strong possibility. But why don’t you write yours, Lum?”

  “I may write a sketch or two,” Lum said. “But for the most part I am going to think about men and governments and how to improve them, bringing to the task every resource of my hophead mind.”

  “I think that’s admirable, Lum,” Joenes said. “Together we have many things to tell people, if only we can find people to tell things to.”

  Thus, in perfect accord, Joenes and his loyal friend set sail upon a darkening sea, down a perilous coast, towards a distant and uncertain goal.

  XVI

  THE END OF THE JOURNEY

  (Written by the Editor and compiled from all available sources)

  Of their voyage down the coast of the two Americas, around Cape Horn, and then northwest to the islands of the South Pacific, very little need be said. The trials that Joenes and Lum under-went were severe, and the dangers they faced were many. But this has been true in equal degree for a multitude of sailors throughout all ages, including our own. We note, with profound pity how Joenes and Lum suffered under the tropical sun, were tossed by hurricanes, ran short of food and water, had their craft damaged, lost a mast, saw dangerous reefs to leeward, and so forth. But having expressed our sympathy, we must also observe that the details are the same as those told in countless other tales of small-boat passages. This sameness does not detract from the value of the experience; but it does cause a certain slackening of interest on the part of the reader.

  Joenes himself never spoke to any great extent about that terrible trip, since he was interested in other things. And the only words Lum is reported to have said, when asked about his sensations during the voyage, were, “Well, man, you know.”

  We do indeed know. So we pass on to Joenes and Lum at their journey’s end, starved but still living, unconscious and cast up on the shore, and nursed back to health by the inhabitants of Manituatua.

  When he recovered his senses, Joenes inquired about his sweetheart Tondelayo, whom he had left in the islands. But that high-spirited girl had grown tired of waiting, had married a fisherman from the Tuamotos, and was now the mother of two children. Joenes accepted this with good grace, and turned his attention to world affairs.

  He found that only a few effects of the war had been noted on Manituatua and its neighboring islands. These islands, long out of touch with Asia and Europe, had suddenly lost communication with America. Wild rumors poured in. Some said there had been a great war in which all the great countries of the Earth had destroyed each other. Others put the blame on alien invaders of an unbelievably malevolent disposition. Some said there had been no war at all, but rather a plague, followed by a general collapse of Western civilization.

  These and many other theories were argued and are argued still. Your editor holds to the view expressed by Joenes, of a spontaneous and chaotic explosion of warfare, culminating in the destruction of America, the last of the great civilizations of the Old World.

  Little effect of this could be noticed on the islands of the South Pacific. Rumors were rampant, and missiles were sometimes observed overhead. Most of these plunged harmlessly into the sea, but one fell upon Molotea, completely destroying the eastern half of that atoll with the loss of seventy-three lives. American missile bases, situated mostly in Hawaii and the Philippines, waited for orders that never came, and speculated endlessly on the identity of the enemy. The last missile plunged into the sea, and no more came. The war was over, and the Old World had perished as completely as though it had never been.

  Both Joenes and Lum were conscious but feeble during those days. The war was months past before they had regained their entire strength. But at last, each of them was ready to play his part in the shaping of the new civilization.

  Sadly, they saw their duties in different ways, and were able to reach no substantial agreement. They tried to keep their friendship intact, but this became increasingly difficult. Their followers compounded the difficulties, and some thought that these two haters of war might start a war themselves.

  But this was not to be. Joenes’s influence in the South Pacific islands, from Nukuhiva in the west to Tonga in the east was predominant. Therefore Lum and his followers provisioned a number of canoes and sailed eastward, past Tonga to the Fijis, where Lum’s ideas had excited considerable interest. They were both in middle age at this time, and they took leave of each other with genuine sorrow.

  Lum’s final words to Joenes were: “Well, man, I guess every cat has to find his own scene where he can swing. But frankly it bugs me going off this way, you know? You and I been through it, Joenesy, and we’re the only ones who know. So even though I think you’re wrong, keep punching in there, keed, and get the word across. I’m going to miss you, man, so take it easy.”

  Joenes expressed similar sentiments. Lum sailed to the Fijis, where his ideas found the greatest possible reception. Even today, Fiji is the center of Lumism, and the Fijians do not speak the dialect of English derived from Joenes, but rather the dialect of English that Lum spoke. Some experts consider this to be the purest and most ancient form of the English language.

  The most striking part of Lum’s philosophy can be told in his own words, as written in the Book of Fiji:

  Look, the whole thing happened in the way it happened on account of machines.

  Machines are therefore bad. They are also made of metal.

  So metal is even worse. I mean it’s evil.

  So as soon as we get rid of all the damned metal, every thing will swing.

  This was only a part of Lum’s teachings, of course. He also had firm theories on the need for intoxication and ecstatic joy (“You gotta swing”); about ideal behavior (“Nobody oughta bug anybody”); about the limitations societies should observe (“They shouldn’t get on anybody’s back”); about the need for good manners, toleration, and respect (“You shouldn’t put nobody down”); about the importance of objectively determined sense-data (“I dig real things the most”); about co-operation within a societal-framework (“It’s pretty good when all the cats swing together”); and many other things, covering nearly every aspect of human life. These examples are taken from the Book of Fiji, where all of Lum’s sayings can be found complete with annotations.

  In those early days of the New World, the Fijians were most interested in Lum’s theory about the evil inherent in metal. Being a naturally adventurous and far-travelling people, they set sail in great fleets, led by Lum, to throw metal into the sea wherever they could find it.

  On their expeditions, the Fijians gathered new advocates for the fiery Lumist faith. They spread the destruction of metal throughout the Pacific, journeying past Australia to the shores of the Americas. Their exploits are recorded in numerous songs and stories, particularly of the work they did in the Philippines, and, with the aid of the Maoris, in New Zealand. Only late in the century, long after Lum’s death, were they able to complete their work in Hawaii, thus ridding the Pacific Islands of an estimated nine-tenths of their metal.

  At the height of Fijian prestige, those fierce men briefly conquered many of the islands they touched at. But they were far too lacking in numbers to make their conquests endure. For a while, Fijians ruled in Bora Bora, Raiatea, Huahine, and Oahu; but the local populations either absorbed them or drove them out. Also, most Fijians respected Lum’s explicit instructions concerning islands other than the Fijis: “Do your bit and then split the scene; above all, do not hang around and b
e a party-poop.”

  Thus ended the Fijian adventure.

  Joenes, unlike Lum, left behind no organized body of philosophical writings. He never explicitly disapproved of metal, but he was himself indifferent to it. He distrusted all laws, even the best, while at the same time recognizing the necessity for them. For Joenes, a law took its goodness from the nature of the men who administered it. When the nature of those men changed, as Joenes believed was inevitable, then the nature of the law changed too. When this happened, new laws and new lawgivers had to be found.

  Joenes taught that men should strive actively towards virtue, and at the same time recognize the extreme difficulties involved in that striving. The greatest of these difficulties, as Joenes saw it, was that all things, even men and their virtues, were continually changing, thereby forcing a lover of the good to abandon his illusions of permanence and to search out the changes occurring in himself and others, and to center his goodness in a never-ending search for momentary stability in the midst of life’s metamorphoses. On a quest like this, Joenes pointed out that one needed luck, which was indefinable, but absolutely essential.

  Joenes spoke of this and many other things, always stressing the excellence of virtue, the necessity for an active will, and the impossibility of perfection. Some say that in his old age Joenes preached in an entirely different way, and told men that the world was nothing more than a horrid toy built by evil gods; the form this toy took was that of a theatre, in which the gods put on endless plays for their own amusement, creating and using humans for the cast. And what the gods did was to stuff these men full of consciousness, and imbue this consciousness with virtues and ideals, hopes and dreams, and all manner of qualities and contradictions. Then, with the actors so constituted, the gods set problems for them, and found vast enjoyment in the spectacle of these strutting puppets, filled with their own importance, convinced of their place in the scheme of things, suspecting or proving their immortality, laboring to resolve the dilemmas the gods had put before them. The gods roared with laughter at this spectacle, and nothing delighted them more than to see some little puppet determined to live with decency and to die with dignity. The gods always applauded this, and laughed at the absurdity of death, the one thing that rendered all of man’s solutions impossible. But even this was not the most terrible thing. In time, the gods would tire of their theatre and little human puppets, would put them all away, tear down the theatre, and turn to other amusements. After a little while, not even the gods would remember that there had been men.