The Sirian Experiments

by Doris Lessing

  This small example, which I am describing here, consisting of Klorathy’s use of the situation in this continent at this time to instruct me, Sirius, contains many aspects of Canopean planning, foresight, patience. Even as I dwelt there, in that old Sirian station, day after day with Klorathy, I knew that he had calculated that I would need this period for adjustment, for the absorption of what he was presenting to me.

  When I knew he wanted me to accompany him on a long and certainly dangerous journey to see for myself what he was describing, I resisted. Not because of the danger. I was acquiring very different attitudes to my own extinction! Once I would have regarded ‘death’, of the kind now obsolete among us, as a calamity, certainly as a loss to our community because of my vast experience. Now I was thinking that if I was worth a survival of physical extinction, then what there was in me to survive, would – must. And I was thinking, too, that if we were caught and killed by these truly horrible animals, the Lelannians, I would be in the company of Canopus, who regarded ‘death’ as a change of circumstance. No, I was resisting because of my old lack, or disability: I was not being given what I felt I was due! In the past I had sulked, or allowed myself to become impervious to what I might be learning, because Klorathy’s attention was not being given to me alone. Now, when it was being given to me alone, or rather, to me as Sirius, I still felt neglected, insufficiently appreciated, because it was only a journey among these savage Rohandans that was being offered. I would have been prepared to stay in the little station in the foothills, overlooking the long reaches of simmering rain forest, listening to what Klorathy had to tell me – even though he talked only of Lelanos and Lelannians, and their habits, and not ever of Canopus itself, which I longed so much to hear about – taking in what I knew was an education of a sort far larger than I was then equipped to understand. When Klorathy spoke, his words came from Canopus, were of the substance of Canopus – that I did know. But he was putting a term to this experience of ours, which on one level was so easygoing, even lazy, and demanding that we should go forth, into something else.

  There were various ways we might travel. One was to summon my Space Traveller, and to descend, the two of us, as representatives of Sirius – they would not know Canopus, the real and true power! – and demand to see what we wanted. Or we could pretend to be emissaries from another part of Rohanda, ‘from across the seas’. Or we could announce ourselves as from the Northern Continent, and the fact that the isthmus was closed would add to our – we hoped – mysteriousness. It was not possible to purport to come from another city in the Lelannian system, for it was a monolithic and all-pervasive tyranny, and knew everything that went on everywhere.

  The problem was my appearance: I at least could not hope to remain unremarked.

  The alternatives were put to me by Klorathy, in his way of leaving me free, so that I had to consider them, and then offer my choice to him for his acceptance. I chose descent by Space Traveller, as the easiest. He did not at once disagree, but kept hesitating, as he made suggestions, or the beginnings of suggestions, waiting for me to take up trains of thought for myself. I soon saw that to appear, suddenly, ‘from the skies’, and after such a long time during which the Sirian surveillance had been forgotten, would be to disrupt the social system totally, and in ways that ought to be calculated, weighed, planned for – in the Canopean manner. Planned for even when the subjects of this consideration were such an unpleasant kind?

  Yes, indeed, I had to accept it. What I was being given was a lesson in Canopean viewpoints – very far from ours.

  No, we were not to use the easy way. In the end it was decided to be visitors from ‘over the seas’. Prompted by him, I brought forth from within myself the advantages – and they were all inside a Canopean scope of time. The main one, from which the others flowed, was that even these ugly tyrants would be open to information or instruction from ‘over the seas’, for their legends kept references to such beings. Not by chance: some visiting Canopean had no doubt made sure that these legends would contain such memories.

  This journey of ours through the Southern Continent was a long one, and there were many aspects to it that unfolded themselves as we went, that sometimes became clear to me only later. Are still, in fact, showing new facets, when I contemplate that time. I sub mitted a full report on this journey, which is still available. There is nothing untrue, or even evasive there: on that I must insist. But I must urge, too, that it is possible, and indeed often inevitable, that one may report events as fully and honestly as one knows how – and yet find oneself up against a check, beyond which one may in no way pass. This barrier is the nature or state of those for whom the report is made. Their state at that time. Preparing this report, with one’s mind on those who will receive it – the words are chosen for you, the frequencies limited. As one’s mind goes out to touch, or assess, those who will take it in, one knows that only so much of it can be taken in. But that later, perhaps, much more will be found. I wonder if those of my fellow Sirians who have read so far – and, as I have already said, I can guess only too well the nature of some of their emotions – might care to look up that old report of the journey. I feel that both those who saw it all those ages ago, and those who read it now, for the first time, may find there a great deal that can amplify this present account of mine.

  We dressed ourselves as differently from the current Lelannian mode as possible: they expressed their hierarchic society most fully in their clothes, which were elaborate, stiff, and ornamented. We wore simple robes, and made sure that the current protective devices were well concealed; though we believed that all memory of such things had been forgotten.

  Klorathy took me straight, not to the new capital but to a main research centre.

  It was situated well away from areas of habitation, was guarded heavily. The actual appearance of the place was not dissimilar to our research establishments that had been in past times quite plentiful over this and the other Southern Continent: this fact did give me some unpleasant moments, and I wondered if our practices had been noted by the ancestors of this present breed, and copied. I did not mention my suspicion to Klorathy, who, however, as it passed through my mind, said only: ‘May I suggest that we reserve all comment and comparison until after our journey is done?’

  The station consisted of laboratories of various kinds, and compounds and camps for the retention of the experimentees: a local tribe.

  When we arrived in the place, and said that we were ‘from afar, over the long blue seas’ – a phrase which was part of their heritage of song – they showed a disposition to worship us, which we discouraged, asking to be shown examples of their technical knowledge.

  Their awe was a disadvantage, because it made it difficult for them to produce simple answers to straight questions; but we could see enough without that.

  These currently ruling animals seemed to have inherited the worst of the two originating breeds. The heavy slablike uniformity of the Grakconkranpatls remained: there was a truly extraordinary lack of variation in feature and build. Any lightness or quickness was derived from the subtle vitality of the old Lelannians, but this had degenerated into mental dishonesty and capacity for self-deception, which showed itself in their faces and eyes as shiftiness, evasiveness. It is truly astonishing how a characteristic may become deformed into its opposite under the pressure of degeneration.

  Experiments then in progress at the station included the following:

  In order to find out the capacities for endurance and perseverance of their subject animals, they had built a very large tank, with slippery sloping sides on which it was not possible to find a purchase. This was filled with water. About a hundred particularly healthy and strong tribesmen had been selected and put into this tank to swim there until they drowned. All around the edge of the tank researchers stood with stopwatches in their hands. Others guarded the instruments with which they were measuring the pulse rate and breathing of the experimentees: from time to time an animal would
be selected, pulled out of the water, and tested, and then, in spite of cries and pleadings, would be flung back in again.

  The team of researchers, as they tired, were replaced. Astonishing feats of endurance were performed. It was not the most pleasant of sights. Though it was certainly interesting to see the differences between the swimming animals. Some, when they were thrown in, suspecting the nature of the experiment, at once allowed themselves to drown. This tendency was regarded as a measure of intelligence. Some cried and begged to be taken out. Some panicked and clung to others so that one might see two or three or more drown at a time, sinking during their struggles. Others were silent and conserved their strength and swam around and around and around, regarding their masters on the edges with a look in their eyes that – I have to record for the sake of truthfulness – I had seen in the eyes of some of our subject races … the Lombis, for instance. Some, seeing others weaken, went to support them knowing that their own ends would be nearer. But a few swam on for several days. And even when they seemed half-conscious, swam on, and on, until at last they sank. To stand on those high banks, while some of the unfortunate animals scrabbled and clutched at the slippery slopes beneath me, calling out for aid – I soon found this too upsetting, and suggested to Klorathy that we should leave.

  There was another experiment to measure strength and endurance. They had a large cauldron under which were piles of wood. The cauldron, from which it was impossible to climb, because the sides sloped inwards, was filled with water. Into this they put, one at a time, males, females, children, and lit the fires, and slowly heated the water. This was to measure the different rates at which the experimentees succumbed to the heating water. Again the differences were remarkable. A few managed to stay alive until the water was nearly at boiling point. (This part of my account will be more fully appreciated if the reader equips himself with a basic knowledge of Rohandan chemistry.)

  In a third experiment they transplanted limbs and organs. It was unpleasant to see all this work being done on techniques that had not only been in use with us for so long but were already becoming superseded – though we did not (do not yet) appreciate that. Yes, I am making this comparison quite soberly.

  The monsters created by their crude techniques were, I suppose, not without interest, when I was able to quell my – by then soaring – indignation. The mammary glands of some females had been grafted on their backs. Others had them on their thighs. The sexual organs of males were transferred to their faces, so that the organs for eating and progeniture were adjacent. This caused severe psychological maladjustment, which they found, surprisingly, of interest. I saw a child that had had legs grafted on to its hips! And we were told that this unfortunate at least would have an adequate future, for it would be used as entertainment for the ruling classes: it was able to revolve itself on these four legs as on the spokes of a wheel. The technicians did seem quite pleased to be able to reassure us when they could – as in the case of this cartwheeling child. They did not enjoy causing pain, they insisted. But they believed that the experimentees, being of an inferior kind, did not feel physical or psychological pain as they themselves did. I have not before encountered this trick of the mental processes – at least not since the very early days of our science, when there were tendencies to assure ourselves of the invulnerability of our experimentees.

  At least Sirius can say that not for many long ages have we been hypocrites … I said this then, to Klorathy, who merely repeated that we should wait for the end of our journey to make comments.

  Before we left that place we were taken on a tour of the compounds. They housed several hundred tribespeople: males, females, children. Long sheds contained tiers of bunks in which they slept. These were built of concrete because, as was explained to us, the animals were thus more easily protected from vermin and kept clean: the interiors of the sheds, and the animals, were hosed down once a day with water that had chemicals in it. Some animals took cold and died of this treatment: the hot steamy climate disposed them to respiratory diseases. They were fed from large pots filled with porridge made of a cereal introduced by us long before from our Planet 17. They were made to do exercises twice a day, because unfit animals were of no use in research work. There was a prison and punishment block for offenders, and a small hospital for the sick. The compound was surrounded by tall fences, and guarded heavily. As we made our tour, a male tribesman stood forth, holding up his hands palms out – in their gesture for entreaty. As the guards went forward to club him back among his fellows, I asked them to let him speak. He wanted to make a petition. He said that many of the experiments being made on them were unnecessary, because the information needed could be gained by simply asking them – as for instance, as to abilities of endurance compared among individuals. In their native habitat, before their subjection, their own traditions told them that there had been an extensive and rich knowledge of the nature of their physiques, and of their mental processes. They had used a medicine based on plants and on psychological understanding. Also, they had known how to live in and with the terrain in such a way that this was not damaged.

  The poor fellow came out with this in a rush, because of his fear of being checked, looking all the time at me, begging for my protection. He stood naked there before us, his features marked with the signs of long imprisonment, but he had a self-respect that was impressive. This ‘inferior’ race was obviously, and at even the most cursory inspection, superior to their masters – particularly in the honesty and straightforwardness of their understanding and means of expressing themselves.

  He said that at no time had the Lelannians ever asked the natives about what might be known by them, and which could be used generally, to benefit everyone. Never had the Lelannians been prepared to listen, though the natives had continually tried to offer their knowledge, their expertise … but the Lelannians were not prepared to listen then either – clubs and whips descended; soon the poor fellow was lying senseless in his blood, and the group of technicians who were showing us around showed indignation at the ‘impertinence’ and then went on with the self-satisfied stupidity that was their characteristic, to say that ‘these animals were always up to their tricks’. I was seething with indignation, not only because of the injustice I had witnessed but because of the waste of it all. I was thinking that never had Sirius – at least, not since our civilized time began – gone into a planet and destroyed the precious knowledge of its inhabitants, the irreplaceable knowledge – for only those who have been evolved from the earth and air and liquid of a planet can know its real, its innermost, nature.

  But Klorathy stood silent by me. I knew him enough to understand that a tightening of his face showed he was suffering. But he made no sign, only turned to go. And we made our way through the packed masses of naked tribespeople, all beseeching us with their eyes and holding up their palms to us, afraid to speak, but taking this opportunity to make their cause known to those who – they could see – were not Lelannians.

  Before we left the place we had to endure a long feast at which we played our parts. The feast was nauseating. The flesh of the natives and other animals was its main feature. The technicians of this place were glad of an excuse for a feast, we could see: they saw themselves as sophisticates banished for long tours of duty in a backwater, and longed to be returned to the capital.