“It is not without reason we sing His praises. For look you, at what He has done. He has seen the other worlds that circle about the sun, and the tiny ships that men built to span those distances. Though these ships are fast, faster than we can possibly dream, they take weeks and months to go from planet to planet. Yet these distances are small compared to the distance between suns. The fastest of these ships would take a thousand years to travel to the nearest star. Men knew this and abandoned hope of traveling to other suns, to see the wonders of new worlds spinning about these distant flames.
“What weak man could not do, the Great Designer did. He did build this world and send it traveling to the stars…”
“What are you saying?” Chimal asked, a sudden spurt of fear — or was it joy? — striking within him.
“That we are voyagers in a world of stone that is hurtling through emptiness, from star to star. A great ship for crossing the impalable waters of space. It is a hollow world, and in its heart is the valley, and in the valley live the Aztecs, and they are the passengers aboard the ship. Because the time has not yet come, the voyage itself is an unrevealed mystery for them, and they live out their happy lives in comfort and ease under a benevolent sun. To guard them and guide them we exist, the Watchers, and we fulfill our trust.”
As though to underscore his words a great bell sounded once, then once again. The observers raised their deuses, and on the third stroke pressed down on the rods to add a number.
“And thus one more day of the voyage is done,” the Master Observer intoned, “and we are one day closer to the Day of Arrival. We are true for all the days of our years.”
“The days of our years,” the others said in muted echo.
“Who am I?” Chimal asked. “Why am I different?”
“You are the child we have sworn to serve, the very reason for our being. For it is not written that the children shall lead them? That the Day of Arrival will come and the barrier will fall and the people of the valley shall be set free. They will come here and see the stars and know the truth at last. And on that day Coatlicue shall be destroyed before them and they shall be told to love one another, and that marriage between the clans of one village is forbidden and marriage is only proper between a man of one village and a woman of the other.”
“My mother and father…”
“Your mother and father who entered grace too early and brought forth a true child of Arrival. In His wisdom the Great Designer put a blessing upon the Aztecs to remain humble and plant their crops and live their lives happily within the valley. This they do. But upon the day of arrival this blessing will be lifted and their children will do things their parents never dreamed possible, will read the books that are waiting and they will be ready to leave the valley forever.”
Of course! Chimal did not know how it had been done, but he knew that the words were true. He alone had not accepted the valley, had rebelled against the life there, had wanted to escape it. Had escaped it. He was different, he had always known it and been ashamed of it. That was no longer true. He stood straighter and looked around at the others.
“I have many questions to ask.”
“They will be answered, all of them. We will tell you all we know and then you will learn more in the places of learning that are awaiting you. You, then, shall teach us.”
Chimal laughed out loud at that. “Then you no longer want to kill me?”
The Master Observer lowered his head. “That was my mistake and I can only plead ignorance and ask forgiveness. You may kill me if you wish.”
“Do not die so quickly, old man, you have many things to tell me first.”
“That is true. Then — let us begin.”
2
“What is it?” Chimal asked, looking apprehensively at the steaming, brown slab of meat on the plate before him. “There is no animal that I know that is big enough to provide this much meat.” The suspicious look he gave the Master Observer inferred that he suspected which was the only animal large enough to supply it.
“It is called a beefsteak, and is particularly fine cut that we eat only on holidays. You may have it every day if you wish, the meatbank can supply enough.”
“I know of no animal named a meatbank.”
“Let me show you.” The Master Observer made an adjustment on the television set on the wall. His private quarters had none of the efficient starkness of the watchmen’s cells. Here was music from some hidden source, there were paintings upon the walls and. a deep carpet on the floor. Chimal, scrubbed clean and beardless after rubbing on a depilatory cream, sat in a soft chair, with many eating utensils and different dishes set before him. And the cannibalistically large piece of meat.
“Describe your work,” the Master Observer said to the man who appeared on the screen. The man bowed his bead.
“I am a Refection Tender, and the greatest part of my work is devoted to the meatbank.” He stepped aside and pointed at the large vat behind him. “In the nutrient bath here grow certain edible portions of animals, placed here by the Great Designer. Nutrients are supplied,, the tissues grow continually and pieces are trimmed off for our consumption.”
“In a sense these pieces of animal are eternal,” Chimal said when the screen had darkened. “Though part is removed, they never die. I wonder what the animal was?”
“I have never considered the eternal aspects of the meatbank. Thank you. I will now give it much thought because it seems an important question. The animal was called a cow, that is all I know about it.”
Chimal hesitantly ate one bite, then more and more. It was better than anything he had ever tasted before. “The only thing missing are the chillies,” he said, half aloud.
“There will be some tomorrow,” the Master Observer said, making a note.
“Is this the meat you give to the vultures?” Chimal said, in sudden realization.
“Yes. The less desirable pieces. There is not enough small game in the valley to keep them alive, so we must supplement their diet.”
“Why have them at all, then?”
“Because it is written, and is the Great Designer’s way.”
This was not the first time that Chimal had received this answer. On the way to these quarters he had asked questions, was still asking questions, and nothing was held back from him. But many tunes the Watchers seemed as unknowing about their destinies as the Aztecs. He did not voice this suspicion aloud. There was so much to learn!
“That takes care of the vultures,” he had a sudden memory of a wave of death washing toward him, “but why the rattlesnakes and scorpions? When Coatlicue entered the cave a number of them came out. Why?”
“We are the Watchers and we must be stern in our duty. If a father has too many children he is not a good father, because he cannot provide for them all and therefore they go hungry. It is the same with the valley. If there were too many people, there would not be enough food for all. Therefore when the population exceeds a certain number of people of both sexes, worked out on a chart kept for that purpose, more snakes and insects are permitted to enter the valley.”
“That’s terrible! You mean those poisonous things are raised just to kill the people?”
“The correct decision is sometimes the hard one to make. That is why we are all taught to be strong and steadfast and to hew to the plan of the Great Designer.”
There was no immediate answer to that. Chimal ate and drank the many good things before him and tried to digest what he had learned so far. He pointed his knife at the row of books across the room.
’I’ve tried to read your books, but they are very difficult and many of the words I don’t know. Aren’t there simpler books someplace?”
“There are, and I should have thought of it myself. But I am an old man and my memory is not as good as it should be.”
“May I ask… just how old are you?”
“I am entering my one hundred and ninetieth year. As the Great Designer wills, I hope to see my full two hundred.”
>
“Your people live so much longer than mine. Why is that?”
“We have much more to do in our lifetimes than simple farmers, therefore our years are the reward of our service. There are machines that aid us, and the drugs, and our eskoskeletons support and protect us. We are born to serve, and the longer that life of service, the more we can do.”
Once again Chimal thought about this, but did not speak his thoughts. “And the books you were talking about…?”
“Yes, of course. After today’s service I will take you there. Only Observers are allowed, those who wear the red.”
“Is that why I am wearing these red clothes as well?”
“Yes. It seemed wisest. It is the best, and most suitable for the First Arriver, and all the people will respect you.”
“While you are at the service I would like to see the place where the watchmen are, where they can see into the valley.”
“We will go now, if you are ready. I will take you myself.”
It was a different sensation to walk these tunnels without fear. Now, in his red clothing with the Master Observer at his side, all doors were open to him and the people saluted when they passed. Watchman Steel was waiting for them at the entrance to the observation center.
“I want to ask forgiveness,” she said, eyes downcast. “I did not know who you were.”
“None of us knew, Watchman,” the Master Observer said, and reached out to touch her deus. “Yet that does not mean we should avoid penance, because an unconscious sin is still a sin. You will wear a mortification, thirty days, and come to love it.”
“I do,” she said fervently, hands clasped and eyes wide. “Through pain comes purification.”
“May the Great Designer bless you,” the old man said, then hurried away.
“Will you show me how you work?” Chimal asked.
“I thank you for asking me,” the girl answered.
She led him into a large, circular, high-domed room that had screens inset into the wall at eye level. Watchmen sat before the screens, listening through earphones and occasionally talking into microphones that hung before their lips. Another raised observation station was in the center of the room.
“The Master Watchman sits there,” Steel said, pointing. “He organizes the work of us all and guides us. If you will sit here I will show you what to do.”
Chimal sat at an empty station and she pointed out the controls.
“With these buttons you choose the pickup you wish to use. There are 134 of them, and each one has a code and a watchman must know every code for instant response. They take years to learn because they must be perfect. Would you care to look?”
“Yes. Is there a pickup at the pond below the falls?”
“There is. Number 67.” She tapped the buttons and the pool appeared, seen from behind the falls. “To hear, we do this.” Another adjustment and the splashing of water was clear in his headphone, and the song of a bird belled out from the trees. The image was sharp and in color, almost as though he were looking through a window in the rock at the valley outside.
“The pickup is mounted on the valley wall — or inside of it?” he asked.
“Yes, that is where most of them are so they will not be detected. Though of course there are many concealed inside the temples, such as this.” The pool vanished and Itzcoatl appeared, pacing on the broad steps of the pyramid below the temple. “He is the new first priest. As soon as he was officially declared so, and had made the proper prayers and sacrifices, we permitted the sun to rise. The Sun Tenders say that they always welcome a chance to stop the sun for a day. It is a good chance to overhaul and adjust it.”
Chimal worked the controls, picking numbers at random and feeding them into the machine. There appeared to be pickups all around the valley walls, and even one set into the sky above that gave a panoramic view of the entire valley. It could be turned and had a magnifying attachment that could bring the valley floor very close and clear, though of course there was no sound with the picture.
“There,” Steel said, pointing at the image, “you can see the four high rocks that are along the river bank. They are too steep to be climbed…”
“I know, I have tried.”
“… and each one has a twin pickup on its summit. They are used to observe and control Coatlicue in the case of special circumstances.”
“I had one of them on screen earlier,” he said, pressing the buttons, “number 28. Yes, there it is.”
“You remember that code very quickly,” she said in awe. “I had to study many years.”
“Show me some other things here, if you will,” Chimal asked, rising.
“As you wish. Anything.”
They went first to the refectory where one of the tenders insisted that they be seated and brought them warm drinks. The others had to help themselves to food,
“Everyone seems to know about me,” he said.
“We were told at the morning service. You are the First Arriver, there never has been one before, and everyone is very excited.”
“What are we drinking?” he asked to change the subject, not enjoying the look of awe on her white face, the gaping mouth and slightly reddened nostrils. “It is called tea. Do you find it refreshing?” He looked around the large room, filled with the murmur of voices and the rattle of eating utensils, and suddenly realized something. “Where are the children? I don’t think I have seen one anywhere.”
“I do not know anything about that,” she said, and her face was, if possible, whiter. “If there are any they must be in the place of the children.”
“You don’t know? That’s a strange answer. Have you ever been married yourself, Watchman Steel? Do you have any children?”
Her face was bright red now, and she gave a small muffled cry as she sprang to her feet and ran from the refectory.
Chimal finished his tea and returned to find the Master Observer waiting for him. He explained what had happened and the old man nodded gravely.
“We can discuss it, since all things are guided by the observers, but the watchmen feel soiled by this kind of talk. They lead lives of purity and sacrifice and are far above the animal relationships that exist in the valley. They are Watchers first, women second, or women never for the most faithful ones. They weep because they were born with female bodies which embarrass them and hamper their vocation. Their faith is strong.”
“Obviously. I hope you won’t mind my asking — but your Watchers must come from someplace?”
“There are not many of us and we lead long and useful lives.”
“I’m sure of that. But unless you live forever you are going to need new recruits. Where do they come from?”
“The place of the children. It is not important. We can go now.” The First Observer rose to leave, but Chimal was not through yet.
“And what is at that place? Machines that make full grown children?”
“I sometimes wish there were. My hardest task is the controlling of the place of the children. There is no order. There are four mothers there now, though one will die soon. These are women who have been chosen because, well, they did not do satisfactory work in their studies and could not master their assignments. They became mothers.”
“And the fathers?”
“The Great Designer himself has ordered that. A frozen sperm bank. The technicians know how to use it. Great are His mysteries. Now, we must leave.”
Chimal knew that was all he would hear at this tune. He dropped the subject but did not forget it. They retraced the route they had taken when he had come here, after the observers had seen the alarm and gone to capture him. Through the great hall and down the golden corridor. The Master Observer pushed open one of the doors and showed him inside.
“It has been here since the beginning, waiting. You are the first. Simply sit in the chair before the screen and you will be shown.”
“You will stay with me?”
For the first time the old man’s down-tilting mouth curv
ed reluctantly into a resigned smile. “Alas, that is not to be. This place is for arrivers only. It is my faith and my duty to tend it for them so it will always be ready.” He went out and the door closed behind him.
Chimal sat in the comfortable chair and looked for a switch to start the machine, but this was not necessary. His weight in the chair must have actuated the device because the screen lit up and a voice filled the room.
“Welcome,” the voice said. “You have come to Proxima Centauri.”
EROS, one of the many asteroids in the asteroid belt, an area of planetary debris between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter, though there are violations to this rule. Eros is the most exceptional, with its orbit almost reaching that of Earth’s at one point. Eros, cigar shaped, twenty miles long, solid rock. Then the plan. The greatest plan executed by mankind in a history of great plans, originated by the man first called the Great Ruler now, truly, the Great Designer. Who else but He could have conceived of a project that would take sixty years to prepare — and five hundred years to complete?
Eros, swinging close to Earth to receive its new destiny. Tiny ships, tinier men, jump the gap of airless space to begin this mighty work. Deep inside the rock they drill to first prepare their quarters, for many will live out their lives here, then further in to hollow out the immense chamber that will house a dream…
FUEL TANKS, filling them alone takes sixteen years. What is the mass of a mountain twenty miles long? Mass, it will supply its own reaction mass, and the fuel will eject that mass and someday it will move, out and away from the sun that it has circled for billions of years, never to return…
THE AZTECS, chosen after due consideration of all the primitive tribes of Earth. Simple people, self sufficient people, rich in gods, poor in wealth. Still, to this day, there are lost villages in the mountains, accessible only by footpath, where they live as they did when the Spaniards first arrived hundreds and hundreds of years earlier. One crop, corn, consuming most of their time and supplying most of their food. Vegetarians for the most part, with a little meat and fish when it is available. Brewing a hallucinatory drink from the maguey, seeing a god or a spirit in everything. Water, trees, rocks, all have souls. A pantheon of gods and goddesses without equal; Tezcatlipoca lord of Heaven and Earth, Mixtec lord of death, Mictla-tecuhtli lord of the dead. Hard work, warm sun, all-pervading religion, the perfect and obedient culture. Taken, unchanged, and set down in this valley in a mountain in space. Unchanged in all details, for who can guarantee what gives a culture adhesion — or what, if taken away, will bring it down? Taken whole and planted here, for it must continue unchanged for five hundred years. Some small truths added, minor alterations it is hoped will not destroy it. Writing. Basic cosmology. These are needed when the Aztecs finally emerge from the valley and their children take up their destiny.
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