by Tom Holt
My original brief on being assigned this mission was to visit the planet and obtain enough relevant data on its indigenous dominant species to enable Strategic Command to reach an informed decision as to whether the planet is appropriate for full-scale invasion and colonisation. In the course of my investigations I observed a number of human beings (as the species in question is referred to locally) and conducted in-depth interviews with four of them. Based on these researches, my recommendation to the joint chiefs of staff is quite straightforward. Forget it.
Our preconceived notion that human beings are a primitive, undeveloped species incapable of offering any significant resistance to our armed forces is completely wrong. On the contrary, human beings are so highly advanced that in an armed conflict between our two species, we would be lucky to escape with losses below 90 per cent.
Take, for example, the present status of their technology.They have reached such a level of symbiosis with their machines that they can actually talk to them. More than that; machines like them. My own ship developed what could only be described as a crush on a human being, with the result that its loyalties were in danger of being severely compromised. Although I did not have an opportunity to make a specific study of their defence technology, I have no doubt that it is unspeakably formidable and not to be trifled with.
If that were not reason enough to leave well alone, humans appear to be on what I can only describe as first-name terms with their Supreme Being. I interviewed a member of the human mortal/divine diplomatic corps (in the local argot, a ‘vicar’), who convinced me that humans and their gods regard each other as equals, friends even; and although I did not personally witness any divine manifestations during my visit, I am confident that any act of aggression on our part would immediately incur reprisals at the highest theological levels. To be blunt, we have enough trouble with our own god without picking a fight with someone else’s. Another good reason I feel, for leaving well alone.
As if their technology and divine patronage were not enough, the impressively ordered and integrated nature of human society should make us consider very carefully before initiating hostilities with these people. I was able to contrive an interview with the human head of state, an official described as the Prime Minister, during the course of which I discovered that humankind have transcended the crippling effects of internal politics and arrived at a method of ordering their affairs whereby the rule of one party or faction over another is now entirely obsolete. This can be deduced from the fact that the nominal head of state is a complete imbecile, incapable of being held responsible for his own actions, let alone the management of a planet. Obviously, therefore, any apparent government that may exist on Earth is purely a smokescreen, and the human race has managed to achieve that state of enlightened anarchy that we have long recognised to be the only way in which an advanced society can possibly be run, but which (to our shame) we have yet to achieve ourselves.
The last and most significant factor, however, is human tolerance, the like of which is unknown in any other part of the seven galaxies so far observed during the course of this programme. Humans display no sign whatsoever of bias or bigotry; unlike any other known life form they adamantly refuse to judge by appearances, and display neither fear of nor hostility towards people or things they do not know or understand. In other words, this race cannot be terrified into submission, and are clearly so well adjusted among themselves that a policy of divide-and-conquer would be doomed to failure from the start.
In any event we must ask ourselves: do we really want to invade this miserable lump of wet rock? It is remarkably inhospitable. During my stay on Earth the entire planet was in darkness, the result of a total eclipse of the sun that lasted for twenty-nine hjgflk, Homeworld Standard Time. That this was an everyday occurrence can be deduced from the casual attitude of the humans.They took no notice. It was business as usual. A world that spends most of its time in darkness is surely not worth considering as a potential colony.
To summarise; if we invade Earth we will be facing a race who are in complete control of their technology, who are under the direct protection of their God, who live in an idyllic form of society on which it would be impossible to improve, and who are so perfectly adjusted as to represent the highest and most advanced form of sentient life we have yet encountered. The conclusion is inescapable. On Earth, to coin a phrase, everything is for the best in the best of all possible worlds. Don’t tangle with these guys; they’ll have our lkhjgfsd for ertwgsq’ccr. Report ends.
Zxprxp played the report back a couple of times, altering a few words here and there, until he was satisfied. Then he directed the computer to set a course for home, engaged the ship’s standard cruise velocity of eight million times the speed of light, and leaned back in his tank, thanking his lucky stars for his species’ lucky escape.
Below them, the waters of the fjord tumbled and foamed about the needle-sharp rocks of Lemminggagrjot Sound. The wind ruffled their fur against the grain and scoured their eyes, and its scream deafened them.
‘Well,’ a lemming observed, ‘here we all are.’
An unusually violent wave dashed itself into spray against the cliff face, showering the lemmings with droplets of salt water. Instinctively, they flinched.
‘Nice day for it,’ a lemming said.
Although physics, mathematics, Sir Isaac Newton, Galileo and thirty-two-feet-per-second weren’t part of their species’ mental database, the lemmings instinctively knew what was coming next. They saw it all in rather less complex terms - trot-trot-AAAAaaaaaagh-splosh! - but the basic essentials were all there, encoded in their DNA. If pressed, they’d have come up with something like When you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go, or even It’s a far, far better thing.
‘You can see ever such a long way from up here,’ a lemming said. ‘Look, isn’t that the little grassy hollow where we found those particularly tasty roots?’
A lemming craned its neck. ‘I do believe you’re right,’ it said. ‘My, those roots were scrummy. Next year, we must make a point of . . .’
The sentence faded away. The lemmings avoided looking at each other, but all that left for them to look at was the extravagantly copious quantity of Down below their feet. More Down, they couldn’t help feeling, than we know what to do with. Easily a lifetime supply.
‘Oh well,’ sighed a lemming, its mouth full of a last nibble of tender, fleshy grass. ‘Might as well get on with it, now we’re here.’
Not a lemming spoke. Not a lemming moved. In their minds, where an ancient voice should have been chanting, there was an awkward silence.
‘Duty calls,’ muttered another. ‘A lemming’s gotta do what a lemming’s gotta do.’
Far below, the sea curled its lips, opening a gap under the crest of a wave just the right size for a multitude of lemmings to fit into. It waited. If the sea had had hands, it’d have clapped them slowly.
‘Alternatively,’ a lemming said.
It paused, embarrassed. Suddenly, it was aware that it had its species’ undivided attention.
‘All I was going to say was,’ it said, ‘we could try that other method.’
‘What other method?’
The lemming waggled its whiskers. ‘Well,’ it said, ‘there was that lemming, remember, and it wanted to be the leader, and it said Don’t jump. And so what I was thinking was, instead of jumping, why don’t we try politics instead?’
Some of the lemmings asked for further details. What, they asked, is politics?
‘Ah,’ the lemming replied enthusiastically. ‘Listen to this.’
So the lemming told them about politics; and after a show of paws, they decided to give it a whirl. First they had an election. Then, once they’d chosen their leader, they held an improvised inauguration ceremony and invested their new head of state with full powers to represent their interests and act with full and unfettered discretion on their behalf in all matters appertaining to the public interest and the future of the species.
‘So that’s politics, is it?’ a lemming said, as they made their way back towards the grassy hollow where the nice roots were. ‘You know, I think it could quite easily catch on.’
A glorious pink sunset, seen from above. Two men walk up the path, fishing rods over their shoulders, tackle-boxes in their hands. At the door, a younger man waits.
‘Hi, Dad,’ he calls out. ‘Hi, Jay. Have a good trip?’
The older man nods. ‘It made a nice change,’ he said.
‘Catch anything?’
Both men nod and hold their hands apart, indicating the approximate size of notional fish. ‘But you should have seen the one that got away,’ the older man adds.
‘That’s great. Come on in out of the cold, Martha’s got the kettle on.’ The younger man turns to lead the way.
‘Anything happen while we were away?’
The younger man shrugs. ‘All fairly quiet, really,’ he replies. ‘A slight glitch with the computer. Sun went on the blink for a day or two. Spot of trouble with a revolt in Hell. All sorted. Shall I carry your rods for you?’
‘Thanks,’ the older man replies. ‘They’re heavier than they look. When you say a slight glitch—?’
His elder son frowns disapprovingly. ‘Dad,’ he says, ‘you’ve only just got home. Relax. You did say it was all under control now, didn’t you, Kevin?’
‘Oh yes. All in apple-pie order.’ Fortunately he hadn’t specified which apple. His father and brother nod.
‘That’s all right then,’ his father says. ‘Had a good time while we’ve been away? Been behaving yourself? No wild parties?’
‘Actually, it was pretty boring,’ Kevin says, with a shrug. ‘Next time you go, can I come too?’
‘Next time . . .’ his father says; and then they pass through the door, and it shuts, and here we are on the other side.
Next time. Well. We’ll see.