It would take us too far afield were I to outline here the entire theory of Professor Tarantoga, showing how first the potatoes taught themselves to fly by flapping their leaves, and how subsequently they ventured out beyond the atmosphere of Tairia, finally to establish themselves on the masses of rock that orbited the planet. Which was all the easier for them inasmuch as, preserving their vegetable metabolism, they could remain in space indefinitely, doing without oxygen and drawing their vital energy directly from the sun’s rays. In time they grew so bold as to fall upon rockets flying past the planet.
Any scholar in Tarantoga’s place would have published this brilliant hypothesis and rested on his laurels, but the Professor vowed not to rest until he had captured at least one predacious potato.
So then, the theoretical side of the problem having been dealt with, it was time to turn to the practical, of equal if not greater difficulty. The potatoes lurked in the crevices of large boulders, and to venture into that moving labyrinth of rushing rock in search of them would have been pure suicide. On the other hand Tarantoga did not intend to shoot a potato; it was a live specimen he wanted, one full of health and kicking. For a while he considered driving them from cover, but rejected that idea too as unsatisfactory, then he hit upon a plan entirely new, which later was to win him widespread fame. He decided he would bag a potato using bait. For this purpose he purchased, in a school supply store on Taffetum, the biggest globe he could find, a beautifully painted sphere twenty feet in diameter. He also obtained a great quantity of honey, sealing wax and fish glue, mixed this well in equal amounts, and smeared the resultant substance over the surface of the globe. He then fastened the globe to a long line from the rocket and flew off in the direction of Tairia. When he had drawn sufficiently near, the Professor hid behind the corner of a nebula close by and cast the line with the bait. The whole plan hinged upon the natural curiosity of potatoes. After an hour or so a light vibration indicated that something was approaching. Carefully peering out, Tarantoga observed several potatoes shaking their leaves and tentatively shifting their tubers as they made their way towards the globe; apparently they took it for some unknown planet. After a while they gathered up courage and squatted on the globe, sticking to its surface. The Professor quickly drew in his line, attached it to the tail of the rocket and headed back to Taffetum.
It is difficult to picture the enthusiasm with which the dauntless scholar was received. The captured potatoes, globe and all, were thrown into a cage and put on public display. Furious and wild with fear, the potatoes flailed the air with their leaves and stamped their roots, but obviously this got them nowhere.
When, on the following day, the college of sciences went to Tarantoga in order to present him with an honorary degree and a heavy medal of esteem, the Professor was gone. Having crowned his efforts with success, he had set off in the night, destination unknown.
The reason for his sudden departure is well known to me. Tarantoga hurried because in nine days he was supposed to meet me on Coerulea. I myself was at the same time speeding towards the appointed planet from the opposite end of the Milky Way. We intended to set out together for a still unexplored arm of the Galaxy which extended out beyond a dark nebula in Orion. The Professor and I were not yet personally acquainted. Desiring to earn the reputation of a man true to his word and punctual, I squeezed all the power I could out of the engine, but alas, as it so often happens when we’re in a particular hurry, an unforeseen accident ruined my plans. Some tiny meteor or other punctured the fuel tank and, lodging itself in the exhaust pipe, cut the motor dead. With a sigh I put on my spacesuit, picked up a strong flashlight and the tools, then left the cabin and went outside. While extracting the meteor with a pair of pliers I inadvertently knocked the flashlight, which drifted off a considerable distance and began independently to sail through space. I plugged the hole in the tank and returned to the cabin. I couldn’t chase after the flashlight, having lost practically my entire supply of fuel; as it was, I barely made it to the nearest planet, Procyton.
The Procytes are intelligent beings and very much like us; the one difference, unimportant really, lies in the fact that they have legs only to the knee, lower down is a wheel, not artificial but forming a part of the body. They move about with great speed and grace, like acrobats on unicycles. Their knowledge is extensive, astronomy in particular excites them; stargazing is in fact so widespread, that no one, young or old, goes anywhere without a hand telescope. Sundials are used exclusively and pulling out a mechanical timepiece in public constitutes a serious breach of conduct. The Procytes also have a number of civilizing devices. I recall how, the first time I visited them, I attended a banquet in honor of old Maratillitec, their famous astronomer. At one point I got into a discussion with him about some issue in astronomy. The Professor disagreed with me, our conversation grew sharper and sharper in tone, then the old man glared and it looked as if he would explode any moment. Suddenly he jumped up and rushed from the hall. After five minutes he returned and sat down beside me, pleasant, smiling, as placid as a child. Intrigued, I asked later what had caused this magical transformation of mood.
“What?” said the Procyte I’d approached. “You really don’t know? The Professor used the steam room.”
“The steam room?”
“The name of the device comes from the expression ‘to blow off steam.’ A person seized with anger or feeling hostility towards someone enters a small chamber padded with cork and there gives vent to his emotions.”
This time when I landed on Procyton I saw, from the air, crowds of people marching in the streets: they were waving lanterns and cheering. Leaving my rocket to the care of the mechanics, I went on to the city. As I soon learned, they were all celebrating the discovery of a new star, which had appeared in the sky the night before. This made me think, and when after a warm welcome Maratillitec invited me to his powerful refractor, as soon as I put my eye to the lens I realized that the star in question was only my flashlight sailing through space. Instead of telling the Procytes, however, I decided—somewhat frivolously—to play at being a better astronomer than they and, making a quick calculation in my head as to how long the flashlight batteries would last, announced to those assembled that the new star would shine white for six hours, then turn yellow, red, and finally go out altogether. This prediction met with general disbelief, and Maratillitec with his customary hotheadedness exclaimed that if that happened, he would eat his beard.
The star began to dim at the time foretold by me, and that evening, when I showed up at the observatory, I found a group of crestfallen assistants, who informed me that Maratillitec, wounded in his pride, had shut himself up in the study, there to carry out the promise he had so rashly given. Fearing that this might cause him some injury, I tried to reason with him through the door, but to no avail. I put my ear to the keyhole and heard a rustling that confirmed the words of the assistants. In the greatest agitation I wrote a letter explaining everything, gave it to the assistants, with the request that they hand it over to the Professor immediately following my departure, whereupon I ran to the airport as fast as my legs could carry me. I did this because I wasn’t sure whether or not the Professor would be able, before confronting me, to use the steam room.
I left Procyton at one in the morning in such haste, I completely forgot about the fuel. A million miles or so out the tanks ran dry and I became a cosmic castaway on a ship adrift in space. Only three days remained till the time of my rendezvous with Tarantoga.
Coerulea was perfectly visible through the window, glowing at a distance of barely three hundred million miles, but all I could do was look at it in helpless rage. Yes, the most trifling events can sometimes have tremendous consequences! For want of a nail…
About an hour later I noticed a planet slowly looming larger; the ship, yielding passively to its pull, began to pick up speed, till finally it was plummeting like a stone. Determined to make the best of a bad business, I took my seat at the controls. The plane
t was rather small, desolate, yet homey; I observed oases heated volcanically and with running water. There were plenty of volcanoes; they belched fire and columns of smoke continually. Now I hurtled through the atmosphere, maneuvering the rudders, trying everything I could to decrease velocity, but that merely postponed the moment of impact. And then, flying over a range of volcanoes, I got an idea; after a moment’s thought, I reached a desperate decision and, directing the nose of my craft downwards, like a thunderbolt plunged straight into the gaping mouth of the largest volcano. At the last minute, when those red-hot jaws had already engulfed me, with a skillful flip of the rudder I turned the rocket around nose-upward and in this position sank into that bottomless pit of roaring lava.
Risky, but there was no other way. I hoped that the volcano, stirred by the violent blow of the rocket, would react with an eruption—and I was not disappointed. A blast of thunder shook the walls and in a column of flame, lava, ash and smoke that rose for many miles I flew up and out into the sky. I steered in order to fall on course straight for Coerulea, and succeeded perfectly.
Three days later I was at my destination, and only twenty minutes late. But I didn’t find Tarantoga there; he had taken off already, leaving me a letter held at the post office.
Dear Colleague! [he wrote] Circumstances impel me to set out at once, therefore I propose that we meet in the heart of the unexplored region; since chorographical stars have no names, I'll give you directions: fly straight ahead, turn left at the blue sun, then right at the next, orange; there you’ll find four planets, I'll be on the third from the left. Looking forward to meeting you!
Sincerely yours,
TARANTOGA
Fuelling up, I blasted off at dusk. The trip took one week, and when I entered the unknown territory I found the right stars without any trouble; carefully following the Professor’s instructions, on the morning of the eighth day I saw the designated planet. This massive globe was covered with thick green fur, which turned out to be a gigantic tropical rain forest. The sight of it disconcerted me somewhat, for I had no idea how to go about locating Tarantoga, however I counted on his ingenuity—and was not mistaken. Flying straight for the planet, at eleven that morning I noticed on its northern hemisphere certain faint lines that took my breath away.
I always say to young, inexperienced astronauts, “Don’t believe it if someone tells you he approached a planet and saw its name written on it; that’s an old cosmic joke.” This time however I was at a loss, for there across the green woodland clearly stood the inscription:
Couldn't wait. See you at next planet.
TARANTOGA
The letters were each a mile in size, otherwise of course I wouldn’t have spotted them. Thoroughly amazed and also curious as to how the Professor had drawn that giant sign, I flew closer. Then I saw that the lines of the letters were wide avenues of leveled, trampled trees, distinctly separate from the untouched areas.
Still mystified, I did as the sign said and hurried on to the next planet, which was inhabited and civilized. At sunset I reached the airport. In vain did I inquire there after Tarantoga; this time too there was a letter waiting for me.
Dear Colleague:
My deepest apologies for letting you down like this, but in connection with a certain family matter that will not brook delay I must alas go home at once. To lessen your disappointment I am leaving a package at the main office—kindly claim it; it contains the fruits of my latest research. You are undoubtedly curious as to how, on the previous planet, I left you that written message; it was really quite simple. That globe is going through an epoch corresponding to the Carboniferous on Earth and is populated by giant lizards, including terrible atlantosaurs one hundred and fifty feet long. Having landed on the planet, I crept up to a great herd of atlantosaurs and provoked them until they attacked me. I began then to run quickly through the forest in a calculated way, such that the trail of my flight would assume the shape of letters, and the herd charging after me mowed down all the trees. Thus were produced those avenues two hundred and fifty feet in diameter. Quite simple, as I said, but rather fatiguing, in that I was obliged to run nearly thirty miles and at a rapid clip besides.
I sincerely regret that this time too we cannot make me another's acquaintance. Let me then shake your intrepid hand and offer expressions of the highest regard for your many virtues and courage.
TARANTOGA
P.S. I strongly recommend you take in the concert at the city this evening—it’s excellent.
T.
I picked up the package set aside for me at the airport office, ordered it delivered to the hotel, and myself went on to the city. It presented a most unusual sight. The planet spins with such velocity, that day alternates with night there every hour. Due to the centrifugal force produced by this, a freely hanging plumb line is not perpendicular to the ground, as on Earth, but rather makes an angle of 45 degrees with it. All the houses, towers, walls, in general every sort of edifice stands leaning towards the surface of the ground at a 45-degree angle, which affords a somewhat peculiar sight to the human eye. The houses on one side of the street appear to be bending over backwards, while on the other side they lean and hang above the first. The planet’s inhabitants, in order not to fall, possess through natural adaptation one short leg and one long. A man however, when walking, must constantly bend one knee, which after a certain time becomes extremely difficult and painful. Therefore I proceeded slowly, so that by the time I reached the building where they were supposed to hold the concert, the doors to the hall were being closed. I hurriedly bought a ticket and ran inside.
Hardly had I taken my seat when the conductor rapped with his baton and everyone fell silent. The members of the orchestra began to move with energy, playing on instruments I’d never seen before, horns with perforated funnels similar to shower heads; the conductor now lifted both his front extremities with feeling, now spread them out, as if calling for “pianissimo,” but my amazement only grew, for so far I had heard not a single sound. Casting a furtive glance on either side, I saw ecstasy written on the faces of my neighbors; more and more bewildered and uneasy, I tried discreetly cleaning out my ears, but with no result. Finally, afraid that I had lost my hearing, I quietly tapped my fingernails together, however this faint sound was distinctly audible. So then, not knowing what to think of this, perplexed by the general signs of esthetic satisfaction, I sat through to the end of the work. A burst of applause rang out; the conductor gave a bow, once again rapped his baton, and the orchestra proceeded to the next movement of the symphony. All around people were entranced; I heard a great deal of sniffing and took this as an indication of deep emotion. Then at last came the stormy finale—or so I assumed, judging by the violent exertion of the conductor and the beads of sweat that formed on the brows of the musicians. Again thunderous applause. My neighbor turned to me, expressing his admiration for the symphony and its performance. I muttered something in reply and fled out onto the street in complete confusion.
I had already walked a few dozen steps away from the building, when something made me turn and look at its façade. Like the others, it was inclined at a sharp angle to the street; over the entrance loomed a sign that said Municipal Olfactorium, and below were pasted program posters, on which I read:
ODONTRON
“THE MUSK SYMPHONY”
I Preludium Odoratum
II Allegro Aromatoso
III Andante Olens
Featuring
as guest conductor, in a rare appearance,
the famous nasalist
HRANTR
With a curse I turned on my heel and made straight for the hotel. I didn’t blame Tarantoga for my failure to enjoy the concert; he had no way of knowing that I was still suffering from the cold I’d caught on Satelline.
To make up the disappointment to myself, immediately after arriving at the hotel I unpacked my package. It contained a movie projector, a reel of film, and a letter that went as follows:
MY
DEAR COLLEAGUE!
You will recall our telephone conversation when you were visiting the Little, and I the Big Dipper. I said at the time that I suspected the existence of beings able to live at high temperatures on hot, molten planets, and that I intended to do research in this direction. You saw fit to express your doubt that such an undertaking would succeed. Well, here you have the proof before you. I selected a fiery planet, approached it by rocket as near as possible, then lowered on a long asbestos rope a fireproof filming device and microphone; in this fashion I took a number of interesting shots. The results of this little experiment I am taking the liberty of enclosing herewith.
Yours,
TARANTOGA
Burning with curiosity, no sooner had I finished reading than I put the film in the machine, hung my bedsheet up over the door and, turning off the light, started the projector. At first on that improvised screen there were only flickering patches of color; I heard hoarse noises and a crackling as if of logs in a furnace, then the picture sharpened.
The sun was sinking beneath the horizon. The surface of the ocean quivered; across it flitted tiny blue flames. The fiery clouds grew pale in the gathering darkness. The first faint stars appeared. Young Rodrillo, weary after studying all day, had just emerged from his fludget to take an evening stroll. There was nowhere in particular he was going; leisurely moving his twoons, he inhaled with pleasure the fresh, fragrant vapors of burning ammonia. Someone approached him, barely visible in the growing dusk. Rodrillo strained his scrotchers, but it wasn’t until the other came nigh that the youth recognized his friend.
The Star Diaries Page 29