“Never,” he replied. “That would be false beauty, artificiality rather than art.”
In presocialist times the Martians erected monuments to their great people. Now they dedicate them only to important events, such as the first attempt to reach Earth, which ended in the death of the explorers, the eradication of a fatal epidemic, or the discovery of the process of decomposing and synthesizing chemical elements. There were also monuments on stereograms in the section devoted to graves and temples (in the past the Martians had also had religion). One of the most recent works in commemoration of a great individual was dedicated to the engineer Menni had told me about. The artist had succeeded in capturing the spiritual power of a man who had led an army of labor to victory over nature and proudly repudiated the cowardly judgment morality had passed on his actions. When I paused in involuntary reflection before this panoramic monument, Enno quietly recited some verses which expressed the essence of the spiritual tragedy of the hero.
“Who wrote that?” I asked.
“I did,” replied Enno. “I wrote it for Menni.”
I could not fully appreciate the inherent beauty of poetry in a language that was still foreign to me, but the idea in Enno’s verses was lucid, the rhythm was flowing, and the rhyme rich and sonorous. This suggested a new train of thought.
“Ah,” I said, “so your poetry still uses strict meter and rhyme?”
“Of course,” said Enno, slightly surprised. “Do you mean that you find it ugly?”
“Not at all,” I explained. “It’s just that it is commonly thought among us that such form was generated by the tastes of the ruling classes of our society, and that it reflects their fastidiousness and predilection for conventions which restrict the freedom of artistic expression. Whence the conclusion that the poetry of the future, the poetry of the socialist epoch, should abandon and forget such inhibiting rules.”
“Nothing could be further from the truth,” Enno retorted vigorously. “Regular rhythmicality seems beautiful to us not at all because of any liking for conventions, but because it is in profound harmony with the rhythmical regularity of our processes of life and thought. As for rhyme, which resolves a series of dissimilarities in uniform final chords, it is intimately related to that vital bond between people which crowns their inherent diversity with the unity of the delights of love, the unity that comes from a rational goal in work, and the unity of feeling in a work of art. Without rhythm there is no artistic form at all. If there is no rhythm of sounds it is all the more essential that there be a rhythm of images or ideas. And if rhyme really is of feudal provenance, then the same may be said of many other good and beautiful things.”
“But does not rhyme in fact restrict and obstruct the expression of the poetic idea?”
“Well, what if it does? Such constraints, after all, arise from the goal which the artist has freely chosen to set himself. They not only obstruct but also perfect the expression of the poetic idea, and that is their only raison d’être. The more complicated the goal, the more difficult the path leading to it and, consequently, the more obstacles there are on the path. If you want to build a beautiful building, just think how many rules of technology and harmony are going to determine, that is, ‘restrict’ your work! You are free to choose your goal, and that is the one and only human freedom. Once you have chosen it, however, you have also selected the means to attain it.”
We went out into the garden to rest for a moment after all the new impressions of the day. It was evening already, a clear and mild spring evening. The flowers were beginning to furl up their blossoms and leaves for the night. All the plants on Mars share this feature, for it becomes very cold there after sunset. I resumed our conversation.
“Tell me, what sort of literature is most popular here?”
“The drama, especially tragedy, and nature poetry,” replied Enno.
“What are the themes of your tragedy? Where in your happy, peaceful existence is there any material for it?”
“Happy? Peaceful? Where did you get that impression? True, peace reigns among men, but there cannot be peace with the natural elements. Even a victory over such a foe can pose a new threat. During the most recent period of our history we have intensified the exploitation of the planet tenfold, our population is growing, and our needs are increasing even faster. The danger of exhausting our natural resources and energy has repeatedly confronted various branches of our industry. Thus far we have overcome it without having to resort to what we regard to be the repugnant alternative of shortening the life span of present and coming generations, but at this very moment the struggle has become particularly acute.”
“I could never have imagined that such dangers were possible, given the power of your technology and science. You said that such things have already happened?”
“Only seventy years ago, when our coal reserves were exhausted and the transition to hydroelectric power was still far from complete, we were forced to destroy a considerable portion of our beloved forests in order to give us time to redesign our machines. This disfigured the planet and worsened our climate for decades. Then, when we had recovered from that crisis, about twenty years ago it was discovered that our deposits of iron ore were nearly depleted. Intense research was begun on hard aluminum alloys, and a huge portion of our available technical resources was diverted to obtaining aluminum from the soil. Now our statisticians reckon that unless we succeed in developing synthetic proteins from inorganic matter, in thirty years we will be faced with a food shortage.”
“What of other planets?” I objected. “Surely you can find something there to replenish the shortage.”
“Where? Venus is obviously still inaccessible. Earth? Earth is inhabited, and it is otherwise uncertain how much we would be able to exploit her resources. Each trip there requires enormous energy, and according to what Menni told me recently about his latest research project, the Martian reserves of the radioactive substances necessary for such voyages are very modest. No, there are considerable difficulties everywhere, and the tighter our humanity closes ranks to conquer nature, the tighter the elements close theirs to avenge the victory.”
“But wouldn’t a simple reduction of the birth rate suffice to rectify the situation?”
“Check the birth rate? Why, that would be tantamount to capitulating to the elements. It would mean denying the unlimited growth of life and would inevitably imply bringing it to a halt in the very near future. We can triumph as long as we are on the offensive, but if we do not permit our army to grow, we will be besieged on all sides by the elements, and that will in turn weaken faith in our collective strength, in our great common life. The meaning of each individual life will vanish together with that faith, because the whole lives in each and every one of us, in each tiny cell of the great organism, and each of us lives through the whole. No! Curbing the birth rate is the last thing we would resort to, and if it should happen in spite of us, it will herald the beginning of the end.”
“Very well then, I understand that the tragedy of the whole always exists for you, at least as a potential danger. So far, however, man has won, and the collective has been able to shield the individual from this tragedy. Even if the situation should become really dangerous, the gigantic exertions and suffering caused by the intense struggle will be distributed so evenly among countless individuals that such hardships will not seriously disturb their tranquil happiness. It seems to me that you have all you need to ensure such happiness.”
“Tranquil happiness! But how can the individual help being acutely and profoundly aware of the shocks to the life of the whole in which his beginning and end are immersed? Consider also that there are contradictions arising from the simple fact that the individual is so limited in comparison to the whole; he is powerless fully to fuse with that whole and can neither entirely dissolve himself in it nor embrace it with his consciousness. If such contradictions are beyond your understanding, it is because in your world they are eclipsed by others which are more d
irect and obvious. The struggle between classes, groups, and individuals precludes both the idea of the whole and the happiness and suffering implied by the notion. I have seen your world, and I would not be able to tolerate a fraction of the insanity in which your fellow creatures live. For that reason I would not presume to decide which of us is closer to tranquil happiness: the more perfectly ordered and harmonious life is, the more painful are its inevitable dissonances.”
“But tell me now, Enno, aren’t you happy? You have your youth, your science, your poetry, and doubtless you have love. What possible experience of yours has been so severe as to make you speak so passionately about the tragedy of life?”
“How very nicely you put it,” Enno said with a strange laugh. “You do not know that at one time jolly old Enno had made up his mind to die. And if Menni had been but a single day later in sending him an invitation to travel to Earth, I am afraid your good-natured companion would not be sitting here talking to you today. Just now, however, I cannot explain all of this to you. You will see for yourself later that if there is any happiness among us, then it is not the tranquil bliss you were talking about.”
I hesitated to pursue this line of questioning any further. We got up and returned to the museum. I was no longer able to examine the exhibits systematically, however, for my attention strayed and I found it difficult to organize my thoughts. In the sculpture section I stopped in front of a statue depicting a beautiful young boy. His face reminded me of Netti, but I was struck most deeply of all by the skill with which the artist had managed to infuse incipient genius into the undeveloped body, the incomplete features, and the anxious, inquisitive gaze of the child. I stood motionless before the statue for a long while, my mind blank to everything else. Enno’s voice brought me out of my reverie.
“This is you,” he said, pointing at the boy. “This is your world. It will be a marvelous world, but it is still in its infancy. Look at the hazy dreams and disturbing images troubling his mind. He is half asleep, but some day he will awaken. I feel it, I sincerely believe in it!”
The joyous sensation these words evoked in me was mixed with a strange regret: why was it not Netti who said that!
5. The Hospital
I returned home thoroughly exhausted. After two sleepless nights and a whole day unable to work I decided to visit Netti once again, for I did not feel like going to the unfamiliar doctor in the factory settlement. Netti had been working since morning at the hospital, where I found him examining patients. When he saw me in the waiting room he immediately came over to me, gazed attentively into my face, took me by the hand and led me off to a small separate room in which the soft blue light mingled with the faint, pleasant odor of an unfamiliar perfume. Not a sound was to be heard. He seated me comfortably in a deep armchair and said: “Try not to think or worry about anything. Let me do that today. Relax, and I will return shortly/’
He left, and I did not think about anything, since I felt he had taken all my thoughts and cares upon himself. It was very pleasant, and in a few minutes I had dozed off. When I awoke Netti was standing in front of me smiling.
“Do you feel better now?” he asked.
“I am quite well, and you are an amazing doctor!” I replied. “Attend to your patients, and do not worry about me.”
“The day’s work is already done. If you like I will show you our hospital,” suggested Netti.
That interested me greatly, and we set off on a tour of the spacious, beautiful building. Most of the Martian patients were there for surgery or treatment for nervous disorders.
“Do you mean to say that the safety measures in your factories are inadequate?” I asked Netti.
“There are practically no foolproof measures that would entirely rule out accidents. These patients, however, have come here from an area with a population of over two million. A few dozen victims from a region of that size is not so very many. Most of them are beginners who have not yet familiarized themselves with the machines they are operating. You know that people here like to switch from one area of production to another. Due to their own absentmindedness, specialists, scientists, and artists are especially accident-prone. They are constantly reflecting and pondering over other things, and then of course their attention lapses.
“What of those with nervous disorders? I suppose they are suffering from exhaustion?”
“No, there are no such patients here. There are special hospitals for them, since special facilities are needed to treat those who may harm themselves or others.”
“In such cases do you also use coercion on the patients?”
“To the extent that it is absolutely necessary, of course.”
“Now this is the second time I have encountered coercion in your world. The first was in the Children’s Colony. Tell me, am I right in concluding that you have not wholly succeeded in eliminating these elements from your life but must knowingly permit them?”
“Yes, in the same sense that we permit illnesses and death. You might say that force is regarded as a bitter medicine. What rational being would decline to resort to violence in self-defense, for example?”
“You know, somehow this makes our two worlds seem much more alike.”
“The main difference between them, however, does not at all lie in the fact that you have a great deal of violence and coercion and we have only a little. The chief distinction is that in your world both phenomena have been codified as laws and norms of justice and morality which dictate private and public behavior and are a constant source of oppression. Violence exists among us only as a symptom of disease or as the rational act of a rational being. In neither case does it either arise from or result in any privately or socially enforced laws or norms.”
“But you also have rules which limit the freedom of your mentally ill and your children?”
“Yes, purely scientific rules on the care of the sick, and pedagogical rules. But of course even these technical regulations cannot foresee all the cases where force must be used, or its degree, or all the means of applying it. All such things depend on a combination of specific factors.”
“In that case arbitrariness must be possible on the part of educators or those who care for the mentally ill.”
“It depends what you mean by the word ‘arbitrariness.’ If you mean unnecessary, excessive violence, then it is possible only in the case of someone who is ill and needs treatment. A reasonable and conscious person is of course incapable of it.”
We walked past the patients’ wards, operation rooms, medicine storerooms, and the personnel quarters and ascended to the top floor. We entered a large, beautiful room whose transparent walls gave a view of the lake, the forest, and the distant mountains. It was furnished elegantly and luxuriously and adorned with statues and paintings of great aesthetic value.
“This is the room for the dying,” said Netti.
“Do you bring everyone here to die?” I asked.
“We bring them or they come themselves,” replied Netti.
“But are they still able to walk?” I asked with surprise.
“Those who are physically healthy can, of course.”
I understood that he meant suicides.
“Do you mean that you put this room at their disposal for them to commit the act?”
“Yes, together with the means of assuring them a peaceful, painless death.”
“There are no obstacles at all?”
“If the patient’s mind is clear and he is really determined, what obstacles could there possibly be? A doctor, of course, first offers to talk with them. Some agree to do so, others do not.”
“Are suicides common among you?”
“Yes, especially among old people. When the vital force becomes weak and blunted, many prefer not to wait for the natural end.”
“What about younger people who are still strong and healthy?”
“Yes, even that happens, though not often. As far as I can recall there have been only two such instances at this hospital. I
n a third case we managed to discourage the attempt in time.”
“Who were these unfortunate people, and what drove them to their deaths?”
“The first was my teacher, a remarkable doctor who made many scientific discoveries. He was extraordinarily sensitive to the suffering of others. This was what originally channeled his mind and energy into medicine, but it also proved his undoing. He could not bear what he saw. He concealed his state of mind so well that the disaster came as a complete surprise. It happened after a serious epidemic broke out in connection with the draining of an inlet of the sea, when millions of tons of fish were stranded and rotted. The illness was as painful as your cholera but even more dangerous, being fatal in nine out of ten cases. Due to this slight chance of recovery the doctors were unable even to comply with the requests of their patients for a quick and easy death. After all, a person in the throes of a severe fever cannot be considered to be in his right mind. My teacher worked dreadfully hard during the epidemic, and his research contributed to eradicating it fairly quickly. When that was done, however, he refused to live any longer.”
The room for the dying
“How old was he at the time?”
“About fifty of your years. For us that is still relatively young.” “And the second case?”
“A woman whose husband and child had died at the same time.” “And the third?”
“Only the comrade who survived it would be able to tell you about that.”
“I see. But tell me something else,” I said. “How do you Martians manage to preserve your youth so long? Is this a peculiarity of your race, the result of better living conditions, or is there some other explanation?”
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