Araminta Station

by Jack Vance

  Glawen rubbed his chin, in order to stimulate his thinking. Zaa had dealt with him, a police officer, with total disregard for the consequences; clearly she felt no fear of the Fexelburg police. Was it enough to say that this was Lutwiler Country, where Fexelburg police lacked jurisdiction, or - more likely - deliberately chose not to involve themselves?

  It suddenly occurred to Glawen that at no time had he suffered violence. He had been subdued by nothing more than hints and subtle menaces, and now he found himself locked in a room with his head shaved bald. He straightened in the chair, quivering with shame.

  Glawen gritted his teeth and assured himself. “What is done is done! I have been taught a good trick, if nothing else.”

  But a single question loomed larger than all the others together: why?

  Glawen became aware that the room had gone dark. He climbed on the chair and looked out the window. Night had come to Lutwiler Country. Mircea’s Wisp streamed at a slant across the sky. Glawen resumed his seat. He had noticed no source of light nor any light switch. He settled himself to wait. Ten minutes passed. There was a sound in the hall and the door opened, to reveal Lilo’s slender silhouette.

  Glawen spoke coldly: “Is there neither light nor heat in this room?”

  “There is light, certainly.” Lilo touched a button beside the door, to bring illumination from light-ribbons along the ceiling. Lilo entered the room. Quietly and thoughtfully she closed the door and came across the room. Glawen saw that she carried half a dozen books. She took them to the table and put them down, still with the half-abstracted air. Glawen watched silently as she arranged the books in a neat row along the back of the table. Sensing Glawen’s altered mood, Lilo turned her head and studied him warily. “These are the study materials you will need. As you know, I am to be your instructor, for a certain period at least. Of course the most important work will be done by you yourself: that’s where true progress is made. The texts are dense, but they yield to careful study.”

  Glawen said stonily: “I have no interest whatever in Monomantics.”

  Lilo spoke earnestly: “Your interest surely will grow, when you discover the advantages of study. Now, then! We must make a start, so that they won’t think us slackards.”

  Lilo selected one of the books and with feline delicacy settled herself upon the cot. “This is the Index of Primes. They should be memorized, even if their thrust is not immediately clear. I will read them to you, and you must listen with both ears, to receive their force and their sound, even if you don’t understand. ‘One: Duality is the stuff of grind and abrasion; it shall merge to Unity. Two -” Glawen watched her with eyes half closed as she read, wondering as to what vagaries of fate had brought her to Pogan’s Point seminary. She was, he thought, a well-meaning creature, with perhaps more warmth and sympathy to her nature than might be useful to her. She darted him a quick look: “Are you listening?”

  “Of course! You have a soothing voice. It is the only pleasant thing I have encountered here.”

  Lilo looked away. “You should not think in such terms,” she said severely. Glawen saw that she was not displeased. Lilo went on: “You have heard the Index, which we will repeat every day until you have it thoroughly committed. Now, to the sweep of our studies. Here, in green type, is Precepts, Laterals and Fluxions and in the same volume, but printed upside down in red, are Useful Terminators. These are immensely important, but at the moment you had better start with Facts and Primordials, which gives a sensible footing to what comes after. And of course you have your Primary Concepts.” She handed Glawen the book. “This must come first.”

  Glawen looked into the pages. “It seems difficult - far beyond my scope, even if I were interested, which I am not.”

  “Interest will come! Syntoraxis is essentially a progression of axioms, each deriving from the so-called Fundamental Verity. Very crudely, the Verity commands the unity of all things. Fundamental Verity is a node of intellectual force: a substance known as sthurre. To attain the pinnacle is hard, but possible. Nothing must blur the clarity of our vision. Pogan’s Point here in Lutwiler Country is exactly the right environment. There is nothing to impede our progress. The seminary has no distractions; it is neither harsh nor pleasurable –”

  “It is cold, though.”

  Lilo paid no heed. “- allow nothing to distract us, especially a foolish indulgence in transient frivolity. Pain can be ignored; pleasure is more insidious.”

  “And far nicer, don’t you think?”

  Lilo compressed her lips. “That idea lacks both merit and consequence.”

  “For Mutis and Zaa, perhaps. Not for me. I grieve for pleasures I’ve missed, but I spare not a thought for the pain I have neglected to suffer.”

  Lilo said sternly: “You must not be flippant! Such ideas are debilitating and disturb the flow of logic. As the primer tells us, the erratic impulses of evolution have caused anomalies which we have been trying to correct. Our goal is the imposition of order on chaos. Remember ‘Three’ in the Index? ‘Unity is purity! Energy is direction! Duality is collision, disorder and stasis!’”

  Half amused, Glawen studied Lilo’s features, which, like those of Zaa, were fine, delicate and accented by large dark eyes. Lilo asked: “Are those ideas firmly in your mind?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Duality is to logical unity what death is to life. The chapter ‘Opposites and Apposites’ analyzes the subject in broad outline and is adequate for the beginner’s needs.”

  “What do you mean by ‘Duality’?”

  “That should be clear even to you! Duality is the source of the Great Schism which drove us apart from the Polymantics. In any event, they were dominated by the masculines, which again caused polarities. In the Progressive Formula, which we endorse, sexual polarization is either ignored or avoided.”

  “And what do you think of that?”

  “There is no need for me to think. The Monomantic Creed is correct.”

  “But how do you feel, in personal terms?”

  Lilo again compressed her lips. “I have never thought to analyze the subject. Introspection is not a productive employment.”

  “I see.”

  Lilo darted him a sidelong glance. “What of yourself?”

  “I like Duality.”

  Lilo gave her head a shake of disapproval, though seeming to smile. “I suspected as much. You must accept Unity!” She darted him another quick glance. “Why do you look at me like that?”

  “I wonder how you think of yourself. Female? Male? Unified? Type unknown? Or what?”

  Lilo looked off across the room. “These ideas are not considered appropriate for discussion. An irrational evolution has blighted us with dualism; we thrust it aside with all the force of our philosophy!”

  “You did not answer my question.”

  Lilo sat looking down at the Index. “How do you regard me?”

  “You are properly female.”

  Lilo gave a slow reluctant nod. “I am physiologically female, that is true.”

  “If you let your hair grow you might even be considered pretty.”

  “What an odd thing to say! It would mean conscious duality.”

  Impelled in equal part by mischief, malice and feckless Clattuc gallantry, Glawen went to sit beside Lilo on the cot. She looked at him with startled eyes. “Why are you doing that?”

  “So that we can study Duality together and learn how it works. It’s far more interesting than Monomantics.”

  Lilo went to sit in the chair. “That is the most extraordinary suggestion I have ever heard!”

  “Are you interested?”

  “Of course not. We must give our attention wholly to the approved regimen.” A musical tone sounded. “It is time for supper. Come; you and I will go together.”

  In the refectory Glawen and Lilo were served bread, beans and boiled greens from a row of iron pots. They went to sit at a long table. About thirty other members of the order hunched over their platters. Glawen aske
d Lilo: “Is anyone here your special friend?”

  “We love each other and all of humanity with the same deep fervor. You must do the same.”

  “I find it hard to love Mutis.”

  “At times Mutis is inclined to be arbitrary.”

  “But you love him, nonetheless?”

  After a moment Lilo said: “All of us must generate our share of universal love.”

  “Why waste any on the likes of Mutis?”

  “Ssst! Quiet! You are a noisy person. In the refectory silence is the rule. Many of us set aside this time to ponder, or to clarify some apparent paradox, and no one wants to be disturbed.”

  “Sorry.”

  Lilo looked down at Glawen’s plate. “Why aren’t you eating?”

  “The food is revolting. The beans are spoiled and the greens are burned.”

  “You will be hungry if you do not eat.”

  “Better hungry than sick.”

  “Come, then; there is no point sitting here in idleness.”

  Once more in the chamber Lilo primly seated herself in the chair, and Glawen sat on the cot. Lilo said: “We should now discuss the Primordials.”

  “Let’s talk about something more interesting,” said Glawen.

  “What services does Zaa expect of me?”

  Lilo gave a nervous flutter of the hand. “I would not care to venture an opinion.”

  “Who telephoned to tell her I was coming?”

  “I don’t know. Now, in regard to the books, I will leave them at your disposal. Since they are valuable, I have been instructed to secure a receipt.” Lilo rose to her feet and extended a sheet of paper. “You must affix your symbol and your name to this.”

  Glawen waved aside the receipt. “Take the books away. I don’t want them.”

  “But they are indispensable for your studies.”

  “This travesty must come to an end, the sooner the better. I am Captain Glawen Clattuc, a police officer. I am conducting an investigation. When I complete my inquiries I intend to leave.”

  Lilo stood frowning down at the receipt. “Still, you must sign this paper; these are Zaa’s instructions.”

  “Read what is written on the receipt.”

  In an uncertain voice Lilo read the document. “‘I, Glawen, acknowledge receipt of six books, here listed by title” - Lilo read the titles - “‘which I will use carefully and diligently as my studies dictate. I will pay the usual royalty to the Monomantic Institute for this usage, and also a reasonable charge for sustenance, accommodation and other sundries.’”

  “Give me the pen,” said Glawen. At the bottom of the page he wrote: “I, Glawen Clattuc of Clattuc House, Araminta Station, Cadwal, Captain of Police and affiliate of the IPCC, will pay nothing whatever. I am here in my capacity as a police officer, and will depart as soon as convenient. Any claims for reimbursement of any kind must be made to the IPCC office at Fexelburg.”

  Glawen returned the paper to Lilo. “Take the books. I do not intend to use them.”

  Lilo took the books and went to the door. Glawen jumped up and stood in the doorway. “Never mind the lock. Since I am not studying, I will take my chances with distraction.”

  Lilo went slowly out into the hall, where she paused and looked back with a troubled expression. She said at last: “It’s better that I lock the door.”

  “I don’t like it. It makes me feel a prisoner.”

  “It is for your convenience, and safety.”

  “I will take the chance.”

  Lilo turned and went off down the hall. Glawen watched as she disappeared down the purportedly dangerous staircase. For an instant he was prompted to follow, but decided against precipitating a confrontation. Let Plock from the IPCC deal with these extraordinary folk.

  On the other hand, no harm could come of taking precautions. He looked up and down the hall, and saw no one. He ran to the wardroom where Mutis had cut his hair. From a shelf he took six clean bed sheets and returned to the door. Once again he looked out into the hall. It was still empty. He returned to his chamber as quickly as he had come. Standing on the chair, he lay the sheets on top of the tall wardrobe where they could not be seen. After a moment’s thought he also concealed the bundle he had made of his clothes.

  Half an hour passed. Mutis opened the door and looked into the room. “Come with me.”

  Glawen spoke in a cold voice: “Have you no manners? Knock at the door before you enter!”

  Mutis gave him a dull uncomprehending stare and signaled with a sweep of his heavy hand. “Come.”

  “Come where?”

  Mutis scowled and stepped forward. “Need I make myself any more clear? The word was ‘Come’!”

  Glawen slowly rose to his feet. Mutis seemed to be in an ugly mood. “Hurry!” growled Mutis. “Do not keep me waiting. So far you have come off easily.”

  Glawen sauntered from the chamber. Mutis pressed close behind him. “Have I not said: ‘Hurry’?” He drove his fist into the small of Glawen’s back; Glawen jerked his left elbow into Mutis’ neck; he turned to see the flat small-featured face contorting so that the mouth was a small pink circle. Mutis lurched forward; Glawen tried to strike out and jump back, but too late; Mutis overpowered him and bore him to the floor. Glawen rolled and kicked, to catch Mutis in the ear. He jumped to his feet and stood panting, but now the hall was full of confusion and hooded figures in flapping gray gowns. Anonymous hands seized Glawen and pulled the hood down over his eyes so that he could not see. He heard Mutis speaking in a furious babble, and a shuffling rustle, as if Mutis were trying to push toward him.

  Glawen was half led, half pushed down two flights of stairs: Here there was further confusion: exclamations and questions. Mutis at last gave sullen instructions: “To the old place; those were the orders.”

  Glawen heard murmurs of doubt and soft comments which he could not comprehend. He tried to throw off the hands which gripped him so that he could raise the hood, but without success.

  Mutis spoke: “I will now take him in charge. He is docile; I need no more help.”

  “He is quick and strong,” said a voice hard by Glawen’s ear. “We will come too, and prevent violence.”

  “Ah, bah!” grunted Mutis.

  Glawen was taken along a corridor which smelled of wet stone, ammonia and an aromatic odor as of fungus crushed underfoot. He heard a creak and a scrape, and he was thrust forward.

  Hands released their grip; he was free. Once more he heard the creak and scrape, and the thud of a closing door, then silence.

  Glawen pulled the hood from his face. He could see nothing. He stood in absolute darkness.

  After a moment Glawen moved back toward the door and found the wall. Echoes, or perhaps another subtle perception, informed him that he stood to the side of a large room: a subterranean place, to judge by the odor of wet rock. The only sound was a soft tinkle of running water.

  Glawen stood motionless for five minutes, trying to gather into coherent form what remained of his composure. “I seem to have made a number of mistakes,” said Glawen to himself. “Conditions are truly going from bad to worse.”

  He felt the wall behind him, encountering natural stone: uneven, damp and smelling of mold. It would seem that he stood at the very core of Pogan’s Point.

  Glawen started a cautious exploration, testing the floor as he went, half expecting to some upon the tip of a chasm: a trick which might well be expected from the Monomantics, so that when Plock came to look for him, the Ordene Zaa in tones of injured innocence could say: “The crazy Captain Clattuc? We could not restrain him! He chose to enter a cave and fell into a chasm! We had nothing to do with it!”

  But Glawen found no chasm. The floor seemed level. Glawen groped ten paces to the left of the door, then returned and tested ten paces to the right. The apparent curvature of the wall - assuming that the chamber was circular - would indicate a diameter of about sixty feet. The circumference would then be, roughly, about two hundred feet. Glawen went back to the door
and prepared to wait. Sooner or later, someone must come to see to his needs. Or perhaps no one would come - ever. Glawen wondered if this might have been the fate of the missing tourists, who had sought too zealously for Zonk’s Tomb. It was not a cheerful notion. He had kicked Mutis in the ear, but he could not die happy on that account alone.

  Half an hour passed. Glawen became uncomfortable leaning against the wall and seated himself on the floor. His eyes grew heavy and despite the cold hard stone he began to doze.

  Glawen awoke. Time had gone by: several hours at least. He felt cold and cramped and miserable. His mouth was unpleasantly dry. He listened. No sound but the plash of running water, coming generally from the right. He heaved himself to his feet and felt for the door. A sudden idea entered his mind; perhaps it had never been locked! What a fine sardonic joke to play on the foreign policeman: to put him in a dungeon and leave him to starve - behind a door which had never been locked!

  Glawen tested the door. It felt dismally solid. He groped along the panel and around the frame, but found neither latch nor hinge nor draw chain. Glawen drew back and gave the door a great buffet with his shoulder. The door failed to move. Glawen uttered a despondent grunt.

  An hour passed, or perhaps two; Glawen found himself unable to judge. In any case the wait had become most tedious, and he could hope for little better the rest of the long night; almost certainly he would be confined until morning, while everyone else enjoyed the comfort of their warm beds.

  Glawen heaved a sad sigh, and took command of himself. Fury at this point was a futile exercise.

  His mouth was thick with thirst. Keeping always in contact with the wall, he crawled on hands and knees to the right, and after about twenty yards came upon a rill of cold water. He cupped up a handful and tasted. The water was harsh with minerals and barely potable. Glawen drank a few mouthfuls, enough to assuage his thirst, and rising to his feet groped around the wall and back to the door.

  An unknown period of time passed. Glawen sat by the door, his mind numb.

  From high up on the wall came a sound. Glawen lifted his head. The sound was repeated; he identified it as the squeak of a door moving on dry hinges. The sound was joined to a crack of light which revealed the outlines of a balcony, twenty feet above the floor.