A Barnstormer in Oz

by Philip José Farmer

  She must be tired of looking up my nostrils, he thought. In some ways, it's an advantage to be a giant. In other ways, no.

  Though he was twice as tall as she, he did not scare her. Almost from the beginning of their acquaintance, she had been at ease with him, maybe too familiar. She could be a smartass now and then.

  "Well, magla (little boy), what is your desire?" she said, smiling.

  "I think, mawlo (little girl), that I'll check up on my luftskip (airship)."

  "Very well. You may look at it, but the queen said that you couldn't—not yet, anyway—get into it."

  "Her trust warms the cockles of my heart. Where did she think I could go?"

  But if he'd been in Glinda's place, he would have done the same.

  They rode in her chariot to the meadow where the hangar had been built around the Jenny. There were also two guards there at all-times to keep the curious from damaging her. Hank was delighted when he saw the plane's painted smiling face. It was like seeing an old friend, his only reminder of Earth.

  He gave her a good inspection while Lamblo watched him as she chatted with the two female soldiers. She wasn't the only one with eyes on him. The two cows nearby observed him with their big brown eyes and occasionally made low remarks in the eerie voices. They resembled Black Anguses except for their size. Hank glanced at them now and then, seeing not the living animals but thick juicy rare-done steaks. Though he felt ashamed, as if he were contemplating cannibalism, he could not dissolve the mental image nor stanch the saliva flow.

  He would soon have to replace his gasoline with grain alcohol. He would have to increase the size of the jet openings to the carburetor because alcohol was less efficient as fuel. That was no problem. The Quadlings had the equipment to do that. He would also have to advance the spark ignition because alcohol burned slower than gasoline. The engine would give him starting problems, but he could get ether to put into the carburetor before he started it. His flight range would be shorter.

  There was plenty of castor oil to use for engine lubrication.

  Spare parts would be a problem. He would also need replacement batteries, but he could get these made—he hoped.

  There was no rubber for the two wheels, but he could use ironrimmed wooden wheels. The landings would be harder, but what the hell.

  He would have to train mechanics....

  Suddenly, he knew that he was planning on staying here. Why not? He was like a 20th-century Columbus who'd discovered, not a continent, but an entire planet.

  Yet... if a green Tlaze should show up and he could fly back through it to Earth, would he turn away from it?

  He did not know yet. The chances were that he would never have to make a decision.

  Having satisfied himself that the Jenny was ready to fly at a moment's notice, he left the barn. Lamblo, giggling at something a guard had said, followed him. They rode into the town, which held about ten thousand citizens, not counting the animals and birds. Its red-brick main street ran for six blocks and was lined mostly with stores selling various goods. The sidestreets near it were mixed residential and business areas, and these were not longer than four blocks.

  The big square was where the farmers and vendors came to sell their products. The town hall, the military recruiting headquarters, a printing press, the weekly local newspaper, library, two temples, and some other buildings also fronted the square.

  "Suthwarzha (Southguard) is the largest community of Quadlingland," Lamblo said. "It's as big as the capital of Oz, though not nearly as splendid, from what I've heard."

  Oz, which had an area about equal to Rhode Island's, was the central sovereign state of this oasis-land. It was bordered on the north by Gillikinland, on the east by Munchkinland, on the west by Winkieland, and on the south by Quadlingland. The northwest part of Gillikinland, however, was where the dark-skinned Natawey dwelt. Hank's mother had not reported that because she had never heard of it.

  Nor was the entire oasis-land called Oz. Readers of Baum's first book knew that Oz was the small country in the middle of the land and not the name for the whole area. But in his second book, Baum decided to extend the name to cover the whole land.

  Hank had been so influenced by Baum's series that he tended to think of the oasis-country as the Land of Oz, though he knew better.

  Now, as he walked under the bright sky through the noisy crowded market of the town square, he thought of many things. It was impossible for him to concentrate on one subject because there were so many distractions. A cross section of an alien culture was around him.

  What occupied his mind for a moment was the role and status of animals. He saw a group of men, women, beasts, and birds entering the granite three-story-high town hall. He asked the blonde about them. Lamblo said that they were the elected representatives of the Quadling people. Hank decided that they would be called senators in the U.S. He felt again the slight disorientation and numbness of mind. Cattle, moose, deer, sheep, eagles, robins, cats, and... bullsnakes! These were senators?

  "Why not?" Lamblo said.

  Hank did not answer that. He would have had to describe the difference between American and Quadling political systems, and that would have plunged him into the lack of sentiency in Terrestrial animals, and that would have swept him into only-God-knew-what. He was here to learn, not to teach. At least, he was as of today.

  He was told that, though nonhumans were citizens and had the right to vote, they were the descendants of slaves. In many respects, they were still second class. They just were not as intelligent, in the main, anyway, as humans. They had never produced philosophy, music, literature, painting, sculpture, science, technology, and new institutions. They were dominated by instinct much more than their human cousins were.

  Hank questioned her further. In this world, all governments except the Natawey's were benevolent despotisms. Though sometimes, as during the reign of the late Witches of the East and the West, the despotism had been malevolent.

  However, though the supreme rulership was based on heredity or a coup d'etat or just the very long life of the ruler, there was no nobility and the lower levels of government were quite democratic. The officials of the local and county governments and much of the state government were elected by popular vote.

  "How long have women had the vote?" Hank said. He was thinking that in his own country, up until a little more than two years ago, they had been denied suffrage in most states.

  "For at least a thousand years," Lamblo said.

  In America, Negroes had the right to vote but were afraid in many areas to go to the polls. And Indians were denied the right.

  "A philosopher of my world, I forget his name, said that the best government was a benevolent despotism. The main trouble with that system was that the despot died, and usually someone not so benevolent took over the reins of power."

  "Is that so?" Lamblo said. "We haven't had that disadvantage in Quadlingland. Our queen has reigned over us for almost three hundred years."

  Hank would have been more staggered by this revelation if he had not been conditioned to accept it by Baum's Oz series. Though he had thought that Glinda's longevity was a fiction, some part of his mind had accepted it as true.

  "She looks as if she is only twenty-five."

  "She's looked that way for two hundred and seventy-five years."

  "What's her secret?"

  "Witchcraft, of course," Lamblo looked puzzled. "But she is a white witch. Her long life and non-aging come from a different source than that of the red witches."

  "Which is what?"

  "I don't know. If I did, I'd be a witch, too."

  She wrinkled her snub nose. "Maybe. It takes great courage, some say great foolishness, to be a witch or wizard. And, though the advantages are great, there is always a great price to pay."

  "What is the price?"

  "I don't know. I wouldn't dare ask Queen Glinda, and even the priests and priestesses won't say. Probably because they don't know."

  If
there was true magic in this world, then its principles of physics were not quite the same as in his world. But he had had evidence from the beginning that this was not just an exact counterpart of Earth.

  He shook his head as if his thoughts were drops of water he was trying to shake off. Too much data was coming in too fast. He was confused. To the confused, the world was chaos. He needed time and experience to sort out the facts. He had to organize them into a system his mind could be comfortable with.

  He would not, however, be as comfortable as these people. They apparently just accepted what was and did not question it. But then, he was, in his own world, much like them. Why did he accept the "law" of gravity, for instance? Or the principle that all people were, in theory at least, politically equal? Or that he had a right to eat meat because cows and pigs could not speak?

  Yes, but what about the carnivorous domestic creatures, the cats and hawks? What did they eat?

  He sighed. He must be patient, take his time.

  Nevertheless, he could not stop asking questions.

  Hank knew from the maps his instructors had shown him that this oasis-land was about the area of Alaska. People had been here for thousands of years, yet it was not crowded. There were many large forests and comparatively uninhabited mountain areas. Why was the land not jammed with humans? Especially when they seemed to be much healthier, much less disease-ridden, than those on Earth?

  "The wise rulers of the past knew that they would soon run out of land on which to grow crops for the ever-increasing people. The trees would all be cut down. The rivers and lakes would be poisoned. There would be terrible wars for the land and the water. In time, this green land might become like the desert surrounding it.

  "So they used a medicine made from a Natawey plant. This made males sterile while it was being taken. And laws were passed that only so many babies could be born, just enough to replace the dead. Of course, the number of babies was allowed to increase until the number of people had reached the estimated maximum. I mean, the maximum that the land could support and still have many woods. Though it was long ago determined that this land could feed and house even more, it was decreed that the limit not be exceeded. That was a thousand years ago, and since then the laws have been strictly enforced."

  Hank was skeptical. What about passion and negligence?

  What happened when the male neglected to take the contraceptive but nevertheless impregnated a woman? What about the babies born from rape?

  "No innocents of Guth (God) are killed!" Lamblo said. "That would be horrible! Unthinkable! Surely, your people don't murder babies?"

  Hank hesitated, then said, "Only from anger or cruelty or negligence or indifference or madness. It..."

  "Only?"

  Her blue eyes were wide; her mouth open.

  "I mean that it's not from policy. It..."

  He stopped. He did not want to be sidetracked into this kind of conversation.

  "What happens to the male?"

  "He's sterilized."

  "What if he commits rape?"

  The case was thoroughly investigated to make sure of the circumstances in which the crime occurred. Whatever the situation, even if the woman was partly at fault, the male was sterilized. But a man who'd been seduced suffered no other judicial punishment. Where the man had no excuse at all, he was killed.

  "How?"

  "His head is chopped off."

  "What's the punishment for other crimes?"

  If what she said was true, crime was much less frequent here. Maybe that was because of the smallness and closeness of most communities.

  Murder and rape and illegal fatherhood were capital crimes. So was the attempted assassination of the ruler. Other offenses seemed to bring light sentences—from his viewpoint, anyway.

  Hank was impressed by the comparatively small number of insane and by the therapy they got. But then these people could afford to treat the insane well because of their rareness. However, it said much for their mental health that insanity was so rare.

  "But if an unexpected pregnancy occurs, does that mean that someone who might have been allowed a baby has to do without?"

  "No. The unscheduled baby is given to the woman who would have been scheduled to have one of her own."

  "That seems cruel to both the mother who has to give up her child and to the woman who can't then bear her own."

  "Life is a compromise," Lamblo said. "Give and take. What hurts one blesses another—perhaps. In any case, the laws try to make sure that there's not too much hurt for some and too many blessings for others. The system isn't perfect. Is yours nearly as good? Better?"

  Hank did not reply.

  He decided he wanted to return to his suite, take a shower, drink some booze, do some thinking. Lamblo had purchased a bottle of this world's equivalent of Scotch. It had been imported from Gillikinland because Quadlingland did not have the environmental requirements for making it. Since trade between these countries was very limited, the price was very high.

  "The Queen is paying for it," Lamblo said. "But I imagine that she'll get from you what you owe her for it. In one way or another."

  Much of the business was done by barter, but there were coins of various denominations. Gold and silver, being so common, were not the bases of the money system. Instead, copper and nickel were used.

  They started walking toward Lamblo's parked chariot. On the way, Hank wondered what means were used to keep the domestic nonhuman population down. Lamblo said that they, too, used the contraceptive liquids.

  Hank said, "But what about the wild animals?"

  "They eat each other," she said, shuddering.

  Hank dropped behind to look at some tobacco on a stand. But he forgot about that because of the entrancing swing of Lamblo's hips. Holy smoke! Now there was something that was the same on both worlds. And it had been so long, far too long...

  Lamblo turned when she became aware he was no longer with her. She must have read his expression. She smiled knowingly, and she walked back to him.

  "Well, Handsome Giant?"

  He cleared his throat.

  "Well, ah, I was just thinking. Why haven't I been given this sterilizing drink?"

  "Because you've been a prisoner until today. However, the queen has ordered me to put in a supply for you and to make sure that you drink it daily."

  "Yes?" he said, studying her.

  "You'll get it as soon as you return to your rooms."

  "Why would I need it?" he said. He waved a hand to indicate the tiny people around them. "I'm so big. It seems impossible."

  She burst out laughing.

  "Just how much experience have you had with women?"

  His face warmed.

  "Plenty."

  "I don't really doubt that, magla. But they must all have been giantesses. I assure you that little women have no trouble with big men."

  How would you know? He did not voice the thought; it would have been indiscreet.

  She touched the back of his hand with a finger, an exquisite finger, a child's. The contact made tiny lightning balls roll over him and through him. "Come," she said in a suddenly husky voice.

  She turned and walked to the chariot. He followed her and got into the vehicle. After making sure that he was holding the front rail, she told the two moose to return to the castle as quickly as possible. They started trotting, but one of them turned his head and said, "You promised we could have the rest of the day off."

  Lamblo laughed and said, "Very well. But you talk too much."

  Hank raised his eyebrows. Had she planned this? Well, what if she had?

  He scarcely noticed anything during the trip back. When they were in his apartment, Lamblo at once went to a table on which was a bottle of red-purple fluid, the spermatocide. She opened it, saying, "The other bottles will be in the chest of drawers by your bed."

  She poured out about six ounces into a stone cup carved into a gargoyle face. Hank took it by the big flaring ears and gulped the stuff d
own. It tasted like a mixture of walnuts and cranberry juice, and something unidentifiable, sharp yet pleasant.

  "It'll take full effect in fifteen minutes," Lamblo said.

  He belched but did not excuse himself. Quadling custom did not require that. Neither did flatulence unless it occurred in the presence of the queen.

  Lamblo sat down in the chair used by the instructors. She started to take off a calf-length boot. "I'll take a bath."

  "Must you?"

  She removed the other boot and then her socks.

  "Himin! (Heavens!) My feet are so dirty!"

  "It's good clean dirt," he said thickly.

  She rose and unbuttoned her jacket. "Very well."

  "It's been so long that it won't take long," he said. "The first time."

  She smiled. "Your conference with Little Mother isn't until after breakfast."

  Hank hated himself at that moment, though not overly much. He wished that it was Glinda, not Lamblo, standing before him.

  That's not fair to her, he thought. But when had anybody anywhere ever been fair in this situation?

  Lamblo's eyes widened.

  "You are indeed a giant, magla."

  Hank had always had to have several cups of coffee before breakfast. It was the only way to start the day. He was out of luck here. He could not, however, be grumpy with Lamblo. After their long night, he'd have been a real heel to treat her churlishly. So he forced himself to smile and to chat away lightly, though he seldom spoke a word until coffee had humanized him.

  He drank the apple juice instead of the warm milk—he couldn't down that so early—and he ate his egg omelette mixed with walnuts, his delicious brown bread and butter and jam, and slices of a melon. The latter must be indigenous; it tasted different from any he'd ever had.

  Oh, God, for coffee and orange juice and bacon in the morning! And for roast beef and ham and chicken and turkey and mashed potatoes, and tomatoes in his salad, and bananas and peanut butter! At least, he had apples. The ancient Goths had been introduced to the apple tree by the Romans, and seedlings had been brought into this world by the ancestors of the Amariikians. They had also brought in lettuce. Which meant that the ancestors were probably Ostrogoths, East European or maybe even Asia Minor tribes. Lettuce had not been grown in Western Europe until the Middle Ages.