The Star Diaries

by Stanisław Lem

  Well it was all over now, I thought, every hope was lost, and I would be limping home like a dog sent back to its kennel for having been caught with a little bird, half-smothered, in its jaws. But then, in the hum and buzz of the hall, the Secretary-General leaned over to the microphone and said:

  “The chair recognizes the representative from the Iridian delegation.”

  The Iridian was short, silvery gray and plump, like a puff of smoke caught in the slanting rays of the winter sun.

  “I would like to ask,” he said, “who will be paying the Earthlings’ enrollment fee? They themselves? It’s a considerable sum—a billion tons of platinum, not every applicant has that kind of metal!”

  An angry murmur filled the amphitheater.

  “Your question will be appropriate only when the motion of the Rhohch delegation has been taken to a vote and passed!” said the Secretary-General after a moment’s hesitation.

  “With the permission of Your Galactitude!” returned the Iridian. “I happen to be of a somewhat different opinion and therefore wish to support the question I just raised with a few observations, which I think you shall find most relevant. I have here, to begin with, a work of that renowned consultant planetologist, hyperdoctor Phrogghrus, and I quote from it as follows: …planets on which life cannot spontaneously originate have these distinguishing features: A) radical climatic changes in rapidly alternating sequences (i.e. the so-called cycle ‘spring-summer-autumn-winter’) or those even more cataclysmic, occurring at great intervals (ice ages); B) the presence of large natural satellites; their tidal influences also are inimical to life; C) frequently appearing maculations on the surface of the central or mother star, as these are a source of deleterious radiation; D) the preponderance, in area, of seas over continents; E) persistent glaciation in the polar regions; F) the atmospheric precipitation of water in its solid or liquid state… As one can plainly see…”

  “Point of order!!” cried my Rhohch, jumping up as if fired with some new hope. “I ask whether the delegation from Iridia will vote in favor of the motion, or against it.”

  “In favor of the motion, but with an amendment we shall shortly propose to this Esteemed Assembly,” the Iridian replied, then went on:

  “Revered Council! At the nine hundred and eighteenth session of the General Assembly, in this very hall, we considered the application for membership of a race of bungbrain abominoids, who presented themselves to us as ‘supremious everlasters,’ while in actual fact their forms were so impermanent that during the abovementioned session of the Assembly the composition of this abominite delegation changed fifteen times, though the session itself lasted no more than eight hundred years. These wretched creatures, when the time arrived to submit the curriculum vitae of their race, became hopelessly entangled in contradictions, solemnly assuring the Esteemed Assembly—though, mind you, without a shred of evidence—that they had been created by a certain Supreme Mover in his own perfect image, owing to which circumstance they were—among other things—spiritually immortal. Then when it came to light that their planet fit exactly the bionegative conditions of hyperdoctor Phrogghrus, the Joint Plenary Assembly appointed a special Investigative Subcommittee, and that body confirmed that the race of screwheads under suspicion had arisen not as a result of any prank of nature, but instead due to a regrettable incident brought about by third parties.”

  (“What’s he saying? Hush! Not true! Kindly remove that claw, you deviate!” went the commotion in the hall, growing by the minute.)

  “The findings of the Investigative Subcommittee,” continued the Iridian, “led to the passage, at the next session of the UP, of an amendment to article two of the United Planets Charter, which amendment reads as follows (here he unrolled a lengthy parchment and cleared his throat):

  A categorical ban is hereby imposed on the engagement in any life-initiating activities on all planets of the Phrogghrus type A, B, C, D or E, also the authorities in charge of research expeditions as well as commanders of ships that land upon such globes are as of now instructed to see to—and therefore held fully responsible for—the strict observance of the aforesaid ban. This includes not only deliberate life-engendering practices like the sowing of algae, bacteria and so forth, but also the unintentional induction of bioevolution, whether through negligence or in absent-mindedness. Such contraceptive prophylaxis is dictated by the best intentions and knowledge of the UP, and particularly in cognizance of the following facts. In the first place—the natural hostility of an environment which one has externally inoculated with microorganisms gives rise, in the course of their subsequent evolution, to deviations and deformities of a sort never encountered within the domain of natural biogenesis. Secondly—these adverse circumstances produce species which are not only defective physiologically, but burdened as well with the severest forms of psychic abnormality; and if under such conditions there should develop beings possessing some small degree of intelligence—and this does on occasion happen—their existence will be filled with great mental suffering. For, upon attaining the first stage of consciousness, they immediately begin to search their surroundings for the cause of their own origin and, unable to find it there, turn in confusion and despair to blind, delusive faiths. In particular, since the normal course of evolutionary processes in the Universe is unknown to them, they take their physical shape, however hideous it may be, as well as their way—such as it is—of thinking, for ordinary phenomena, entirely typical of those manifested throughout the macrocosm. And therefore, out of deep concern for the well-being and dignity of life in general, and of sentient beings in particular, the General Assembly of the UP resolves and decrees that whosoever violates this contraceptive article of the UP Charter, effective immediately, shall be subject to sanctions and penalties pursuant to the terms of the corresponding paragraphs of the Code of Interplanetary Law.

  The Iridian, putting aside the UP Charter, lifted a massive volume of the Code, which nimble assistants placed in his tentacles, and, opening that monumental tome to the right page, read in a ringing voice:

  “Volume Two of the Interplanetary Penal Code, Section Eighty, entitled, ‘On Planetary Incontinence.’”

  Paragraph 212: The impregnating of a planet naturally barren is punishable by no less than one hundred, no more than one thousand five hundred years of full astrocism, irrespective of any civil liability for the moral and material losses suffered by the victims.

  Paragraph 213: The infraction of paragraph 212, aggravated by the conspicuous presence of malicious intent, as evidenced by manipulations of a wanton nature and with premeditation, whose purpose is the evolution of life forms singularly disfigured, to inspire universal fear or universal revulsion, is punishable by astrocism and distellation of up to one thousand five hundred years.

  Paragraph 214: The impregnating of a barren planet as a result of carelessness, oversight or through the slipshod application of appropriate contraceptive measures, is punishable by astrocism of up to four hundred years; if the act is committed in relative ignorance or otherwise reduced awareness of its consequences, the sentence may be reduced to a hundred years.

  “I make no mention,” added the Iridian, “of the penalties for interfering with an evolutionary process in statu nascendi, as that does not concern us here. However I would like to point out that the Code does provide for the material liability of the perpetrators with respect to the victims of their planetary incontinence; I will not quote the relevant sections of the Civil Code, for fear of altogether exhausting the patience of the members of this Assembly. I note only that in the catalog of spheres held to be definitively barren by hyperdoctor Phrogghrus no less than by the United Planets Charter and Interplanetary Penal Code, we find on page two thousand six hundred and eighteen, eighth line from the bottom, the following heavenly bodies: Ea, Eagron, Earlsharn, Earth, East Bong, Eblis…”

  My mouth fell open, the certification papers slipped from my hand, it grew dark before my eyes. (“Pay attention!” they were sho
uting in the hall. “Hear, hear! Who does he mean?! Down with—! Long live—!”) As for me, to the degree that it was possible, I tried crawling under the desk.

  “Esteemed Council!!” thundered the representative from Iridia, hurling the heavy volumes of the Interplanetary Code to the floor of the amphitheater (this must have been a favorite oratorical device in the UP). “We can never hear enough of matters that bring dishonor to those who would violate the United Planets Charter! We can never brand enough those irresponsible elements who would beget life in conditions entirely unsuited for it!!

  “Now here we are approached by creatures that have no inkling of the true odiousness of their existence, nor any knowledge of its cause! Now here they come knocking at the venerable door of this Worthy Assembly, and what then, pray, are we to tell them, all these abominoids, howlmouths, freaksnouts, clench-poops, corpse-lovers, mother-eaters and addlepates, wringing their alleged hands and falling to their alleged knees when they learn that in reality they belong to the subphylum ‘Artefacta,’ and that their supreme and perfect creator was some ship’s cook, who once poured out upon the rocks of a dead planet—a bucket of fermented slops, for his own amusement imparting to that wretched source of life properties which later would make it the laughing-stock of an entire Galaxy! And how, pray, will these poor devils defend themselves when some future Cato throws up to them the shameful levorotatory configuration, yes the left-handedness, of their amino acids!!” (The hall was all aboil, in vain did the machine repeatedly swing its mallet, they were howling on every side: “For shame! Down with—! Quarantine ’em! Who is he talking about? Look at the Earthling dissolve, the Meemy is leaking all over!!”)

  I was indeed sweating like a pig. The Iridian, raising his stentorian voice above the general roar, cried:

  “I shall now put a few final questions to the honorable delegation from Rhohchia! Is it not true that many years ago there landed on the then dead planet of Earth a ship carrying your flag, and that, due to a refrigerator malfunction, a portion of its perishables had gone bad? Is it not true that on this ship there were two spacehands, afterwards stricken from all the registers for unconscionable double-dealing with duckweed liverworts, and that this pair of arrant knaves, these Milky-Way ne’er-do-wells, were named Gorrd and Lod? Is it not true that Gorrd and Lod decided, in their drunkenness, not to content themselves with the usual pollution of a defenseless, uninhabited planet, that their notion was to set off, in a manner vicious and vile, a biological evolution the likes of which the world had never seen before? Is it not true that both these Rhohches, with malice aforethought, malice of the greatest volume and intensity, devised a way to make of Earth—on a truly galactic scale—a breeding ground for freaks, a cosmic side show, a panopticum, an exhibit of grisly prodigies and curios, a display whose living specimens would one day become the butt of jokes told even in the outermost Nebulae?! Is it not true that, bereft of all sense of decency and ethical restraints, both these miscreants then emptied on the rocks of lifeless Earth six barrels of gelatinous glue, rancid, plus two cans of albuminous paste, spoiled, and that to this ooze they added some curdled ribose, pentose, and levulose, and—as though that filth were not enough—they poured upon it three large jugs of a mildewed solution of amino acids, then stirred the seething swill with a coal shovel twisted to the left, and also used a poker, likewise bent in the same direction, as a consequence of which the proteins of all future organisms on Earth were LEFT-handed?! And finally, is it not true that Lod, suffering at the time from a runny nose and—moreover—egged on by Gorrd, who was reeling from an excessive intake of intoxicants, did willfully and knowingly sneeze into that protoplasmal matter, and, having infected it thereby with the most virulent viruses, guffawed that he had thus breathed ‘the fucking breath of life’ into those miserable evolutionary beginnings?! And is it not true that this leftwardness and this virulence were thereafter transmitted and handed down from organism to organism, and now afflict with their continuing presence the innocent representatives of the race Artefactum Abhorrens, who gave themselves the name of ‘homo sapiens’ purely out of simple-minded ignorance? And therefore is it not true that the Rhohches must not only pay the Earthlings’ initiation fee, to the tune of a billion tons of platinum, but also compensate the unfortunate victims of their planetary incontinence—in the form of COSMIC ALIMONY?!”

  With these words pandemonium broke loose in the amphitheater. I cowered—flying through the air in every direction came portfolios, volumes of the Interplanetary Penal Code, and even material evidence, objects such as badly rust-eaten jugs, barrels, pokers, though Lord knows how they got there; perhaps the clever Iridians, having some score to settle with the Rhohches, had been conducting archeological research on Earth since time immemorial, collecting the incriminating evidence, which was all carefully stored on board their Flying Saucers; but I found it difficult to ponder such a point, for everything was heaving around me, tentacles and claws flashed past, and my Rhohch, extremely agitated, leaped up from his seat screaming something, but it was lost in the general bedlam, while I continued to sit, as it were, in the eye of the storm, and the last thought that pounded in my brain was the question of that sneeze with premeditation which had brought us into the world.

  The next thing I knew, someone seized me by the hair, painfully, till I groaned; it was the Rhohch, trying to demonstrate how solidly I’d been fashioned by Earth’s evolution and how little I deserved being called a paltry sort of creature, stuck together—and flimsily at that—out of rotten bits of refuse, and he walloped me over the head again and again with his enormous, heavy claw… I felt the life slowly going out of me, my struggling grew weak, weaker, I couldn’t breathe, I gave a few last kicks in agony—and collapsed on my pillow. Half-conscious, I jumped up immediately, sat on the bed, feeling my neck, head, chest, to make sure that all that I had undergone was but the product of an awful dream. I heaved a sigh of relief, but then, later, some slight doubts began to trouble me. I told myself, “For God’s sake, it’s only a dream!” Somehow that didn’t help. Finally, to dispel these gloomy thoughts I went to see my aunt on the Moon. But an eight-minute ride on a lunibus that stops right outside my house, no, I can hardly call this the eighth stellar voyage—more worthy of that title, surely, would be the journey taken in my sleep, in which I suffered so for all humanity.

  THE

  ELEVENTH

  VOYAGE

  It was going to be one of those days. The mess in the house, bad enough when I’d had my servant sent out for repairs, was growing worse. I couldn’t find a thing. There were mice nesting in my meteor collection. They had gnawed the prettiest chondrite.

  While I was making coffee the milk boiled over. That electrical numskull had hidden the dishrags along with my handkerchiefs. I really should have taken him in for an overhaul back when he started shining my shoes on the inside. I used an old parachute for a dishrag, then went upstairs, dusted off the meteors and set a mousetrap. I’d collected all the specimens myself. It’s not that difficult—all you do is come up on the meteor from behind and drop a net over it.

  Then I remembered the toast and ran downstairs.

  Burnt to a crisp, of course. I tossed the toast in the sink. The sink stopped up. I waved my hand in disgust and took a look in the mailbox.

  It was full of the usual morning fare—two invitations to conferences somewhere in the godforsaken backwaters of the Crab Nebula, fliers advertising cream for polishing your rocket, a new issue of The Jet Trackman, nothing of interest. The last item was a dark, thick envelope sealed with five seals. I weighed it in my hand, then opened it.

  The Secret Minister for matters concerning Cercia has the honor to request the presence of Mr. Ijon Tichy at a meeting to be held on the 16th of this month, 17.30 hours, in the small lecture hall of Lambretanum. Admittance only to those bearing invitations. X-rays required.

  We urge the matter be kept in strictest confidence.

  An illegible signature, a seal,


  and stamped across in red,

  diagonally, the words:

  COSMIC IMPORTANCE. CLASSIFIED!!

  Well now, here was something at last, I thought. Cercia, Cercia… I knew the name, but couldn’t quite place it. I looked it up in the Cosmic Encyclopedia. Ceres, Cerulia, that was all. Curious, I thought. The Almanac didn’t have it either. Yes, this was interesting indeed. Definitely a secret planet. “That’s what I like,” I murmured and began to dress. It was ten already, but I had to straighten up after my servant. The socks I found right away, in the refrigerator, and it seemed to me that I was finally catching on to the train of thought of that unhinged electronic brain, when suddenly I was faced with a singular fact: no pants. None, nowhere. Only jackets and coats were hanging in the closet. I searched the whole house, I even cleaned out the rocket—nothing. Except I discovered that that broken-down blockhead of mine had drunk up all the oil in the basement. He must have done it recently too, because a week ago I’d counted the cans and they were all full. This was so infuriating that I seriously considered whether I shouldn’t have him scrapped after all. He didn’t like getting up in the morning, and for months now would stuff his earphones with wax at night. You could ring until your arm fell off. Absent-mindedness, was his excuse. I threatened to unscrew his fuses, but he only rattled in disdain. He knew I needed him.

  I divided the entire house into squares according to the Pinkerton method and began a search as thorough as if I’d been looking for a pin. Finally I found a laundry ticket. The scoundrel had sent all my pants to the cleaner’s. But what had happened to the pants I was wearing the day before? I simply couldn’t recall. Meanwhile it was time for lunch. No point in trying the refrigerator—besides the socks, it contained only stationery. I was getting desperate. I took my spacesuit out of the rocket, put it on and walked to the nearest department store. They stared at me a little on the street, but I bought two pair of pants, one black, one gray, returned home in the spacesuit, changed and—in the foulest possible mood—went out to a Chinese restaurant. I ate what they gave me, drank down my anger with a bottle of Mosel, and, looking at my watch, realized it was almost five. I’d wasted an entire day.