lower levels of development, and Dr. Brenner is right not to exclude the
possibility that certain microorganisms might be found on Jupiter and even
some simple equivalent to plants.
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Z. Živkovic
His conclusion that the absence of free oxygen on Jupiter means that beings
which might correspond in terms of level of development to terrestrial animals
cannot exist there, rests on a mistaken belief that the chemistry of oxygen, on
which earthly life is based, is universally valid. We met this same type of
fallacy, in its intentional form, in “Report on Planet Three.”
This fallacy will soon be unmasked. Falcon discovers certain forms of life
that he assumes to be considerably more complex than microorganisms and
plants. However, a further implication arises from Dr. Brenner’s statement.
Not for one moment does the exobiologist bring into question the possibility
of there being a difference between living beings and the non-living phenom-
ena in the atmosphere of Jupiter. This differentiation is based exclusively on
size. His point of view is soon confirmed by Falcon in the Kon-Tiki space
capsule: after looking through his telescope, he declares that
“[There] is life on Jupiter. And it’s big...”
“The things moving up and down those waxen slopes were still too far away
for Falcon to make out many details, and they must have been very large to be
visible at all at such a distance. Almost black, and shaped like arrowheads, they
maneuvered by slow undulations of their entire bodies... Occasionally, one of
them would dive headlong into the mountain of foam and disappear
completely from sight.”
The standards by which Falcon judges his discovery of living beings in
Jupiter’s atmosphere are obvious ones. They involve a demonstrable aspiration
towards purposeful, meaningful “behavior,” manifested in this case as a regular
rhythmic movement which cannot simply be the product of the blind and
chaotic forces of nature, but must be the result of a certain organization of a
higher order. Although the reasons for this “behavior” do not have to be
intuitively evident, it always has its phenomenal, discernable aspect, through
which unarticulated natural phenomena can be perceived in the background.
However, there may appear in nature nonliving phenomena characterized
by hints of similar meaningful and purposeful “behavior.” A good example of
these phenomena in “A Meeting with Medusa,” the gigantic “Poseidon’s
wheels,” are an exceptionally law-abiding light phenomenon which at first
makes Falcon think that there are living beings in front of him.
With similar nonliving natural phenomena, however, the noumenal back-
ground can always be easily comprehended: Mission Control very quickly
discovers the key to this unusually regular fiery display in the Jovian atmo-
sphere on the basis of corresponding phenomena from the oceans of Earth. In
the field of the non-living, there are no noumenal differences between the
phenomena: the “Poseidon’s wheels” will in principle be the same both on
Earth and on Jupiter.
The Theme of First Contact in the SF Works of Arthur C. Clarke
17
The differentiation starts only on the level of life, because here conclusions
can no longer directly be drawn intuitively on the basis of phenomenon. This
split between the level of phenomenon and that of noumenon is not, indeed,
significant at lower degrees of evolution, where the noumenal identicalness of
natural phenomena is still proportionally preserved. Things, however, change
radically with the appearance of organisms which possess self-awareness.
The central character of the novella is first confronted with the difficulties
which appear in relations between the planes of phenomenon and noumenon
when he tries to understand something more of the nature of the living beings
he encounters first in the Jovian atmosphere. Falcon establishes that they are
creatures far larger than any earthly ones, which is not strange when one bears
in mind that they are made according to the measure of the world they inhabit.
Closer examination shows him that these unusual creatures have nothing that
might remind him of sense organs—and this is also understandable, consid-
ering that every similarity with terrestrial creatures on the plane body structure
would be in obvious disharmony with the great exophysical differences
between the two planets.
In both these cases, Falcon does not succumb to possible fallacies of
anthropomorphism. Without reluctance, he readily accepts the possibility
that the proportionately evolved beings living within the gaseous mantle of
the giant planet are essentially different from the inhabitants of our own world,
both in shape and in size.
Problems arise when he needs to fathom those specific characteristics of the
mantas that cannot be identified through simple observation. Falcon tries to
discover some higher order in the “behavior” of these creatures which might
help him to discover the possible purposefulness directing them, the key to
their “intelligence.” But he suddenly comes up against a dead end because the
available data by which he might arrive at some reliable pointer to the
noumenal nature of the huge creatures living in the clouds of Jupiter are
shown to be either insufficient or ambiguous.
It turns out that the secretive mantas can be either unintelligent, harmless
herbivores or intelligent bandits. Since they pay no attention to the Kon-Tiki
during their first encounter, Falcon at first concludes that they are indeed
harmless vegetarians. The events of the next day cause Falcon to change his
opinion: these same mantas, which had completely ignored him while he
floated among them, simply change into intelligent bandits with a highly
developed strategy of attack when they pounce on those other strange inhab-
itants of the Jovian atmosphere—the giant medusae.
It is symptomatic that, in both cases, there is the same measure of intelli-
gence: a capability for aggression. Falcon’s initial conclusion that the mantas
18
Z. Živkovic
are not intelligent is based on the fact that they do not attack him, while their
transformation into “intelligent birds of prey” is directly conditioned by the
circumstance that they take an aggressive attitude towards the medusae.
Doubts nevertheless remain with regard to the possibility of establishing the
intelligence of the mantas only on the basis of their external “behavior,” in
view of the fact—as is soon demonstrated—that the attack on the medusae was
fated to fail from the beginning, because the victim, not so fated, has a weapon
which would discourage a far mightier and more intelligent enemy, and it is
evident that there are certain contradictions in the “criterion of aggression”
which Falcon had in mind when coming to the above conclusions.
The nature of these contradictions becomes clear if one considers more
closely the name which Falcon gives to these strange “mantas.” At first glance,
it might seem that he was led to choose this appellat
ion because of the
similarity of the form and way of movement of these strange inhabitants of
the great waxen clouds to that of manta rays. The events in the first part of “A
Meeting with Medusa” suggest, however, that this seemingly superficial anal-
ogy has considerably deeper roots.
1.3.2 Medusae and Mantas
The tragic crash of the giant dirigible, the Queen Elizabeth, indirectly enables
Falcon to become, as a cyborg, a suitable astronaut for the mission to Jupiter.
At the same time, his human identity is seriously brought into question.
During the Jupiter episode, the disunion between the “nightmares brought
from Earth” and the new, no longer human status to which he increasingly
belongs reaches a culmination.
The Queen Elizabeth resembles an inhabitant of the seas of the planet Earth
which in its resembles a jellyfish: a medusa.
“He had once encountered a squadron of large but harmless jellyfish pulsing
their mindless way above a shallow tropical reef, and the plastic bubbles that
gave Queen Elizabeth her lift often reminded him of these—especially when
changing pressures made them crinkle and scatter new patterns of reflected
light.”
The association is, at this moment, a completely spontaneous one, and there
are no complex themes behind it at all. However, each time it reappears, even
if only in an indirect form, it is burdened with references to the tragic events
that follow soon after its first appearance. In Falcon’s nightmares, indeed, the
past happenings are not so much linked with the air crash itself as with the
moments and hours after regaining consciousness—his rebirth. But the last,
The Theme of First Contact in the SF Works of Arthur C. Clarke
19
firmly rooted representation from his previous, human status of the associa-
tions of the Queen Elizabeth will, like a gigantic medusa, acquire the value of a
double-meaning symbol, the ominous nature of which will change depending
on which of Falcon’s two identities—innate and human or acquired and
cyborg—predominates.
Although the conflict between these two identities started during his
physical recovery on Earth, the exceptional circumstances in which Falcon
finds himself while descending through the atmosphere of Jupiter are inten-
sified to the utmost limit. This intensification has, however, a gradual charac-
ter: the initial circumstances much more stimulate fear of the loss of his old
identity than joy in acquiring a new one.
It is quite understandable why the encounter with a possibly intelligent
entity in medusa form cannot arouse euphoria in him. It awakes recollections
of a completely different kind.
When he calls the strange inhabitants of the gigantic waxen clouds
“mantas,” Falcon defines his attitude towards them, casting doubt on the
validity of his conclusions about the nature of these creatures and practically
preventing him from developing any intuition about them. Conditioned by
feelings of danger and fear, Falcon’s perception of the mantas narrows down to
the plane of aggression, and this inevitably results in the anthropomorphiza-
tion of aliens by ascribing to them a negative emotional stance towards man.
Only with this in mind can we understand the background to some of
Falcon’s statements during his encounter with the mantas. For example, the
effect of his attitude is evident in Falcon’s first statement after he has informed
Mission Control of his discovery of living beings. Up to this moment, Falcon
has been at a safe distance from the mantas, and that they have been paying no
attention to him. “And even if they try to chase me,” he says, stifling the echo
of a distant earthly cry, “I’m sure they can’t reach my altitude.”
The next day, while he is watching a shoal of mantas charging an enormous
medusa, Falcon abruptly declares this move to be an attack, but soon realizes
that the facts do not favor such a conclusion. Above all, the differences in the
sizes of these creatures are so great that the mantas on the back of the medusa
appear “about as large as birds landing on a whale.” When the medusa reacts to
their presence, Falcon immediately returns to his first instinctive assumption
and even identifies emotionally with the “attacked” medusa.
“It was impossible not to feel a sense of pity for the beleaguered monster...
Yet he knew his sympathies were on the wrong side. High intelligence could
develop only among predators—not among the drifting browsers of either sea
or air. The mantas were far closer to him than was this monstrous bag of gas.”
20
Z. Živkovic
The easy and effective defense by the medusa shows that Falcon’s intuitions
about the mantas rests upon anthropomorphization—an anthropomorphiza-
tion rooted in fear of the ray—like form of the mantas, and ultimately, in fear
of loss of human identity. Aggression as a “yardstick of intelligence” does not
help Falcon to perceive the true nature of the bizarre denizens of the waxen
clouds.
The medusa’s reaction follows too late to remove this yardstick completely.
In the meantime, it has even expanded its reach into that area where no direct
association with a medusa exists. A link between fear and intelligence also
appears between the two encounters with the mantas, when the stupendous
firework display of “Poseidon’s wheels” begins in front of the astonished
Falcon.
Faced with the enormity and regularity of this fantastic natural phenome-
non, he conceives for the first time that there might be intelligent beings in the
atmosphere of Jupiter. “No man could look upon such a sight without feeling
like a helpless pygmy in the presence of forces beyond his comprehension. Was
it possible that, after all, Jupiter carried not only life but also intelligence? And, perhaps, an intelligence that only now was beginning to react to his alien
presence?”
The possibility of the appearance of intelligent aliens at the beginning of the
mission to Jupiter is accompanied every time by a deep feeling of fear. The
perplexity that remains after the disappearance of the mantas is, however,
properly recompensed by the appearance of a new creature which—at least at a
superficial narrative level—shows not only convincing signs of intelligence but
less indifference. This encounter with the medusa takes place under circum-
stances which have an important influence on all the later conclusions that
Falcon reaches about this strange creature. This event follows immediately
upon the discovery of the mantas—that is, after a specific anthropomorphic
mechanism has already been activated in Falcon’s consciousness.
Although brief, the events that happen from the moment of the sighting of
the huge “oval mass,” at the base of a terraced layer of Jovian clouds, until the
dusk prevents further observation, are sufficient to determine the direction
Falcon’s later deliberations on the medusae.
The “oval mass” reminds Falcon of a “forest of pallid trees,” since he
discerns something resembling “hundreds of thin trunks, springing from the
> white waxy froth.” The lyrical charge that characterizes this association testifies
that it is not a question of a simple analogy of notions deprived of any
emotional stance, but rather a complex mechanism behind which there no
longer stands an indifferent objectivity.
The Theme of First Contact in the SF Works of Arthur C. Clarke
21
This subdued, emotionally colored image, without precedent in Falcon’s
earlier mental reservations, suggests that his ability to come to unbiased
conclusions is impaired. The nature of this impairment is soon defined by
the second image that comes to Falcon’s mind: the “oval mass” reminds him of
a “giant mushroom”—in which one can already perceive an approximation to
the central symbol of his nightmares, that of the “medusa.”
The disturbance of the equilibrium of indifferent objectivity here is, indeed,
still an inconspicuous and innocent one, since the first passing glance at the
“oval mass” has not provided any basis for assuming that a certain form of life
is involved; however, when specific indicators suggest this possibility, that
equilibrium will be brought into question more seriously.
As in the case of the mantas, the indicator of life in support of the
unarticulated laws of nature is represented also this time by a certain coherent
organizational order which is not met in non-living phenomena in the macro
world. Just before he dives into the shadow of the Jovian night, Falcon sees the
incredible synchronization of the strange “trees” bending, which casts doubt
on his previous assumption about the nonliving nature of the “oval mass.”
In favor of the new assumption that this is a living being is the circumstance
that the “enormous tree” is no longer in the same place where Falcon saw it
first. Two data are thus learned on the plane of phenomenon that are
conditionally relevant for drawing a conclusion as to whether it is a living
creature, but are utterly insufficient to learn anything at all about it on the level of noumenon.
Nevertheless, Falcon joins unawares in one such understanding, and the
far-reaching, distorted effect of this will seriously affect the validity of his next conclusions about the medusa. Along with the observation that the “oval
mass” is a living being, Falcon again links an image that brings into even
Zoran Zivkovic - First Contact and Time Travel Page 4