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diff --git a/38287-8.txt b/38287-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1158ea0..0000000 --- a/38287-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,952 +0,0 @@ - WE'RE CIVILIZED! - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Title: We're Civilized! - -Author: Mark Clifton and Alex Apostolides - -Release Date: December 13, 2011 [EBook #38287] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WE'RE CIVILIZED! *** - - - - -Produced by Frank van Drogen, Greg Weeks, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. - - WE'RE CIVILIZED! - - By MARK CLIFTON and ALEX APOSTOLIDES - - - _Naturally, the superior race should win ... but superior by - which standards ... and whose?_ - - Illustrated by BALBALIS - - -The females and children worked among the lichen growth, picking off the -fattest, ripest leaves for their food and moisture, completing their arc -of the circle of symbiosis. - -The males worked at the surface of the canals, or in open excavations. -Their wide, mutated hands chipped into the rock-hard clay, opening a -channel which was to be filled with sand and then sealed off with clay -on all sides and surface. That water might seep through the sand without -evaporation, without loss, from the poles to the equator of Mars--seep -unimpeded, so that moisture might reach the lichen plants of everyone, -so that none might thirst or hunger. - -The seepage must flow. Not even buried in the dim racial memory had -there ever been one who took more than his share, for this would be like -the fingers of one hand stealing blood from the fingers of the other. - -Among the Mars race there were many words for contentment, kinship of -each to all. There were words to express the ecstasy of watching the -eternal stars, by night and by day, through the thin blackish -atmosphere. There were words to express the joy of opening slitted -nostrils to breathe deeply in those protected places where the blowing -sands did not swirl, of opening folds of rubbery skin to catch the weak -rays of the distant Sun. - -But there were no words for "mine" as separate from "yours." And there -was no urge to cry out, "Why am I here? What is the purpose of it all?" - -Each had his purpose, serene, unquestioning. Each repaired or extended -the seepage canals so that others, unborn, might know the same joys and -ecstasies as they. The work was in itself a part of the total joy, and -they resisted it no more than healthy lungs resist clear, cool air. - -So far back that even the concept of beginnings had been forgotten, the -interwoven fabric of their symbiotic interdependence seeped through -their lives as naturally as the precious water seeped through the canal -sands. As far back as that, they had achieved civilization. - -Their kind of civilization. - - ---- - -Captain Griswold maintained an impassive face. (Let that, too, be a part -of the legend.) Without expression, he looked through the screen at the -red land flashing below the ship. But unconsciously he squared his -shoulders, breathed deeply, enjoying the virile pull of his uniform over -his expanding chest. Resolutely he pushed aside the vision of countless -generations of school children, yet to come, repeating the lesson -dutifully to their teachers. - -"Captain Thomas H. Griswold took possession of Mars, June 14, 2018." - -No, he must not allow any mood of vanity to spoil his own memories of -this moment. It was beside the point that his name would rank with the -great names of all times. Still, the history of the moment could not be -denied. - -Lieutenant Atkinson's voice broke through his preoccupation, and saved -him the immodest thought of wondering if perhaps his cap visor might not -be worn a little more rakishly to one side. He must father a custom, -something distinctive of those who had been to Mars-- - -"Another canal, sir." - -Below them, a straight line of gray-green stretched to the horizon, -contrasting sharply with the red ferrous oxide of the landscape. An -entire planet of ferrous oxide--iron--steel for the already starving -technology of the Western Alliance. The captain felt a momentary -irritation that even this narrow swath displaced the precious iron ore. - -Obviously these canals served no purpose. His ship had circled the -planet at its equator, and again from pole to pole. Canals everywhere, -but nothing else. Enough time and fuel had been wasted. They must land. -Obviously there was no intelligent life. But the history of the moment -must not be marred by any haste. There must be no question within the -books yet to be written. There must be no accredited voice of criticism -raised. - -"My compliments to Mr. Berkeley," he said harshly to Lt. Atkinson, "and -would he kindly step to the control room?" He paused and added dryly, -"At his convenience." - -Mister Berkeley, indeed. What was it they called the civilian--an -ethnologist? A fellow who was supposed to be an authority on races, -civilizations, mores and customs of groups. Well, the man was excess -baggage. There would be no races to contact here. A good thing, too. -These civilian experts with their theories--show them a tooth and -they'll dream up a monster. Show them a fingernail paring and they'll -deduce a civilization from it. Nonsense! - -"You wanted to see me, Captain?" The voice was young, quiet, controlled. - - ---- - -Without haste, Captain Griswold turned and faced Berkeley. Not only a -theorist, but a young theorist. These super-bright young men with their -sharp blue eyes. A lot of learning and no knowledge. A lot of wisdom and -no common sense. He carefully controlled his voice, concealing his lack -of respect for the civilian. - -"Well, Mr. Berkeley, we have quartered the globe. We have seen no -evidence of civilization." - -"You discount the canals, Captain?" Berkeley asked, as if more from -curiosity than refutation. - -"I must discount them," the captain answered decisively. "Over all the -planet we have seen no buildings, not even ruins, no evidence at all -that intelligence exists here." - -"I consider straight lines, running half the length of a world, to be -evidence of something, sir." It was a flat statement, given without -emphasis. - -Arguments! Arguments! Little men who have to inflate themselves into a -stature of importance--destroy the sacred history of the moment. But -quietly now. There must be no memory of petty conflict. - -"Where are their buildings, Mr. Berkeley?" he asked with patient -tolerance. "Where are their factories? The smoke from their factories? -The highways? The transportation facilities? Where are the airplanes? -Even this thin air would support a fast jet. I do not require they have -spaceships, Mr. Berkeley, to concede them intelligence. I do not require -they be the equal of Man. I also have some scientific training. And my -training tells me I cannot recognize the existence of something where -there is no evidence at all." - -"The canals," Berkeley answered. His voice also was controlled, for he, -too, knew the history of this moment. But his concern was not for his -own name in the history books. He knew only too well what its writers -did to individuals for the sake of expediency. His concern was that this -moment never be one of deep shame for Man. "Perhaps they have no -buildings, no factory smoke, because they don't need them. Perhaps they -don't have highways because they don't want to go anywhere. Perhaps -their concept of living is completely unlike ours." - - ---- - -Griswold shrugged his shoulders. "We speak an entirely different -language, Mr. Berkeley." - -"I'm afraid you're right, Captain," Berkeley sighed. "And it might be a -tragic thing that we do. Remember, European man spoke a different -language from that of the American Indian, the Mayan, Polynesian, -African, Indonesian--" He broke off as if the list were endless. "I ask -only that we don't hasten into the same errors all over again." - -"We can't hover here above the surface forever," Griswold said -irritably. "We have quartered the globe. The other experts are anxious -to land, so they can get to their work. We have made a search for your -civilization and we have not found it." - -"I withdraw all objections to landing, Captain. You are entirely -correct. We must land." - -The intercom on the wall squawked into life. - -"Observation to Control. Observation to Control. Network of canals -forming a junction ahead." - -"Prepare for landing, Lieutenant Atkinson," Griswold commanded sharply. -"At the junction." He turned and watched the screen. "There, Mr. -Berkeley, dead ahead. A dozen--at least a dozen of your canals joining -at one spot. Surely, if there were a civilization at all, you would find -it at such a spot." Slowly and carefully, he constructed the pages of -history. "I do not wish the implication ever to arise that this ship's -commander, or any of its personnel, failed to cooperate in every way -with the scientific authorities aboard." - -"I know that, Captain," Berkeley answered. "And I agree. The junction, -then." - - ---- - -The sigh of servo-mechanism, the flare of intolerably hot blue flame, -and the ship stood motionless above the junction of canals. Ponderously, -slowly, she settled; held aloft by the pillars of flame beneath her, -directly above the junction, fusing the sand in the canals to glass, -exploding their walls with steam. Within their warm and protected -burrows beside the canals, slitted nostrils closed, iris of eyes -contracted, fluted layers of skin opened and pulled tight, and opened -again convulsively in the reflexes of death. - -There was a slight jar only as the ship settled to the ground, bathed in -the mushrooming flame. - -"A good landing, Lieutenant," Captain Griswold complimented. "A good -landing, indeed." - -His head came up and he watched the screen to see the landscape reappear -through the dust and steam. - -"Prepare to disembark in approximately six hours, Lieutenant. The heat -should have subsided sufficiently by then. The ship's officers, the -civ--er--scientific party, a complement of men. I will lead the way. -You, Lieutenant, will carry the flag and the necessary appurtenances to -the ceremony. We will hold it without delay." - -Berkeley was watching the screen also. He wondered what the effect of -the landing heat would be on the canals. He wondered why it had been -considered necessary to land squarely on the junction; why Man always, -as if instinctively, does the most destructive thing he can. - -He shrugged it away. Wherever they landed might have been the wrong -place. - - ---- - -Farther along the canals, where the heat had not reached, the Mars race -began to emerge from their protecting burrows. They had seen the meteor -hurtling downward, and it was part of their conditioning to seek their -burrows when any threatening phenomenon occurred. - -Flaming meteors had fallen before, but never in the interlocked racial -mind was there memory of one which had fallen directly on a canal -junction. Within the fabric of their instinct, they sensed the fused -sand, the broken clay walls, the water boiling through the broken walls, -wasted. They sensed the waters on the other side of the barrier seeping -onward, leaving sand unfilled. Within the nerves of their own bodies -they felt the anticipated pangs of tendril roots searching down into the -sand for water, and not finding it. - -The urgency came upon them, all within the region, to remove this -meteor; restore the canals as soon as the heat would permit. They began -to gather, circling the meteor, circling the scorched ground around it. -The urgency of getting at it before there was too much water lost drove -them in upon the hot ground. - -The unaccustomed heat held them back. They milled uncertainly, in -increasing numbers, around the meteor. - - ---- - -Since Captain Griswold had not asked him to leave the control room -during landing operations, Berkeley still stood and watched the screen. -At the first appearance of the Mars race emerging from the soil, he -exclaimed in great excitement: - -"There they are! There they are, Captain!" - -Griswold came over and stood beside him, watching the screen. His eyes -widened. - -"Horrible," he muttered in revulsion. The gorge arose in his throat and -stopped his speech for a moment. But history took possession of him -again. "I suppose we will get accustomed to their appearance in time," -he conceded. - -"They're the builders, Captain. Wonderful!" Berkeley exulted. "Those -shovel-shaped forelimbs--they're the builders!" - -"Perhaps," Griswold agreed. "But in the way a mole or gopher--still, if -they were intelligent enough to be trained for mining operations--but -then you certainly cannot call these things intelligent, Mr. Berkeley." - -"How do we know, Captain?" - -But the Captain was looking about vainly for buildings, for factory -smoke, for highways. - -"Lieutenant Atkinson!" he called. - -"Yes, sir." - -"Send an immediate order throughout the ship. The Mars things are not to -be molested." He glanced at Berkeley as he gave the order, and then -glanced away. "Double the complement of men on the landing party and see -that they are fully armed." Then back to Berkeley, "A good leader guards -against every contingency. But there will be no indiscriminate -slaughter. You may be assured of that. I am as anxious as you that -Man--" - -"Thank you, Captain," Berkeley answered. "And the planting of the flag? -The taking possession?" - -"Well, now, Mr. Berkeley, what shall we do, now that we have seen -some--things? Go away? Leave an entire planet of iron ore to be claimed -later by Eastern Alliance? The enemy is not far behind us in their -technology, Mr. Berkeley." - -He warmed to his theme, his head came up, his shoulders back. - -"Suppose these things are intelligent. Suppose they do have feelings of -one kind or another. What would happen to them if the Eastern Alliance -laid claim to this planet? Under us, at least, they will have -protection. We will set aside reservations where they may live in peace. -Obviously they live in burrows in the ground; I see no buildings. Their -total food supply must be these miserable plants. What a miserable -existence they have now! - -"We will change that. We will provide them with adequate food, the food -to fill their empty stomachs--if they have stomachs. We will clothe -their repulsive nakedness. If they have enough sense to learn, we will -give them the pride of self-employment in our mines and factories. We -would be less than human, Mr. Berkeley, if we did not acknowledge our -duty." - -The light of noble intention shone in his face. He was swept away with -his own eloquence. - -"If," he finished, "we take care of the duty, the destiny will take care -of itself!" - -That was very good. He hoped they would have the grace to quote him on -that. It was a fine summing up of his entire character. - -Berkeley smiled a rueful smile. There was no stopping it. It was not a -matter of not planting the flag, not taking possession. The captain was -right. If not the Western Alliance, then certainly the Eastern Alliance. -His quarrel was not with the captain nor with the duty, but with the -destiny. The issue was not to be decided now. It had already been -decided--decided when the first apeman had crept into the tree nest of -another and stolen his mate. - -Man takes. Whether it be by barbaric rapine, or reluctant acceptance of -duty through carefully contrived diplomacy, Man takes. - -Berkeley turned and made his way out of the control room. - - ---- - -Outside, the soil shifted in its contortions of cooling. The wind -whispered dryly over the red landscape, sending up little swirls of -dust, eternally shifting it from one place to another. The soil was less -hot, and as it cooled, the Mars race pressed inward. Theirs was the -urgency to get at this meteor as quickly as possible, remove it, start -the water flowing once more. - -"Observation reports ground cool enough for landing!" The magic words -seemed to sing into the control cabin. - -"Summon all landing party," Captain Griswold commanded immediately. - -The signal bells rang throughout the ship. The bell in the supercargo -cabin rang also. With the other scientists, Berkeley dressed in his -protecting suit, fitted the clear glassite oxygen helmet over his head, -fastened it. Together with the rest, he stood at the designated airlock -to await the captain's coming. - -And the captain did not keep them waiting. At precisely the right -moment, with only a flicker of a side glance at the photographic -equipment, the captain strode ahead of his officers to the airlock. The -sealing doors of the corridor behind them closed, shutting off the -entire party, making the corridor itself into a great airlock. - -There was a long sigh, and the great beams of the locks moved -ponderously against their weight. There was the rush of air from the -corridor as the heavier pressure rushed out through the opening locks, -to equalize with the thin air of Mars. With the air rushed outward -fungus spores, virus, microbes; most of them to perish under the alien -conditions, but some to survive--and thrive. - -The red light above the lock was blinking on-off-on-off. The officers, -the scientists, the armed men, watched the light intently. It blinked -off for the last time. The locks were open. The great ramp settled to -the ground. - - ---- - -In ordered, military file, the captain at their head, the landing party -passed down the corridor, through the locks, out upon the ramp beneath -the blue-black sky; and down to the red soil. Captain Griswold was the -first man to set foot on Mars, June 14, 2018. The photographers were -second. - -Now the Mars race was moving closer to the ship, but the ground was -still too hot for their unprotected feet. The pressing need for removing -the meteor possessed them. The movement of the men disembarking from the -ship was to them no more than another unintelligible aspect of this -incredible meteor. - -The sound of a bugle pierced the thin air, picked up by the loudspeaker -from the ship, reverberating through their helmets. The landing party -formed a semi-circle at the foot of the ramp. - -Captain Griswold, his face as rigidly set as the marble statuary of him -to follow, reached out and took the flag from Lieutenant Atkinson. He -planted it firmly, without false motion, in the framework one of the men -had set upon the baked ground to receive it. - -He pointed to the north, the south, the east, the west. He brought his -hands together, palms downward, arms fully out-stretched in front of -him. He spread his arms wide open and down, then back together and up; -completing a circle which encompassed all the planet. He held out his -right hand and received the scroll from Lieutenant Atkinson. - -With a decisive gesture, not quite theatrical, he unfurled the scroll. -He read in a voice firm enough to impress all posterity: - -"By virtue of authority invested in me from the Supreme Council of the -Western Alliance, the only true representatives of Earth and Man, I take -possession of all this planet in the name of our President, the Supreme -Council, the Western Alliance, Earth, and in the name of God." - - ---- - -The ground was cool enough now that their feet might bear it. The pain -was great, but it was lost in the greater pain of feeling the killing -obstruction the great meteor had brought to their canals. The Mars race -began to press inward, inexorably. - -It was in the anticlimactic moment, following the possession ceremony, -when men milled around in uncertainty, that Lt. Atkinson saw the Mars -race had come closer and were still moving. - -"The monsters!" he exclaimed in horror. "They're attacking!" - -Berkeley looked, and from the little gestures of movement out of his -long training he deduced their true motive. - -"Not against us!" he cried. "The ship." - -Perhaps his words were more unfortunate than his silence might have -been; for the ship was of greater concern to Captain Griswold than his -own person. - -"Halt!" Griswold shouted toward the approaching Mars race. "Halt or I'll -fire!" - -The Mars race paid no heed. Slowly they came forward, each step on the -hot ground a torture, but a pain which could be borne. The greater -torture, the one they could not bear, was the ache to press against this -meteor, push it away, that they might dig the juncture clean again. As a -man whose breath is stopped fights frantically for air, concerned with -nothing else, so they felt the desperation of drying sands. - -They came on. - -"For the last time," Griswold shouted, "halt!" He made a motion with his -hands, as if to push them back, as if to convey his meaning by signs. -Involuntarily, then, his eyes sought those of Berkeley. A look of -pleading, helplessness. Berkeley met the glance and read the anxiety -there, the tragic unwillingness of the man to arouse posterity's rage or -contempt. - -It was a brief glance only from both men and it was over. Captain -Griswold's head came up; his shoulders straightened in the face of the -oncoming monsters. They were close now, and coming closer. As always, -the experts were free with their advice when it was not needed. When the -chips were down, they could do no more than smirk and shrug a helpless -shoulder. - -He gave the command, and now there was no uncertainty. - -"Fire!" - - ---- - -The celebration was being held in the Great Stadium, the largest, most -costly structure that Man had ever built. It was a fitting structure for -the more important football games; and used on occasion, if they could -be fitted in without upsetting the schedule, for State affairs. Now the -stadium was filled to capacity, its floor churned by the careless feet -of the thousands upon thousands who had managed to obtain an entrance. - -From the quarter-mile-high tiers of seats, from the floor of the -stadium, the shouts welled up, washing over the platform at the North -end. - -"Griswold! Griswold!" - -It was not yet time for history to assess the justice of the massacre. - -The President raised his hand. The battery of video cameras picked up -each move. - -"Our hopes, our fears, our hearts, our prayers rode through every -space-dark, star-flecked mile with these glorious pioneers." He turned -then to the captain. "For the people of Earth, _Admiral_ Griswold, this -medal. A new medal for a Guider of Destiny, Maker of Empire, Son of -Man!" - -The voice faltered, stopped. - -The crowd on the floor of the stadium was pressing outward from the -center, screaming in pain and terror. At the moment when the people -should be quiet, rapt in reverence, they were emptying the floor of the -stadium. But not willingly. They were being pressed back and out, as a -great weight pushes its way through water. Those who could move outward -no farther were crushed where they stood. - -And then the ship appeared. - -Hazy of outline, shimmering with impossible angles, seen by its glinting -fire of light rather than by its solid form, as if its reality were in -some other dimension and this only a projection, the ship appeared. - -The President's hand reached out and gripped Griswold's shoulder as he -leaned back and back, trying to determine its vast height. A silence -then clutched the crowd--a terrified silence. - -A full minute passed. Even on the platform, where all the pioneers of -Mars were assembled with Earth's dignitaries, even there the people -cowered back away from this unseeable, unknowable horror. - -But one man leaned forward instead, frantically studying the shimmering -outline of the ship. One man--Berkeley. - -With the training of the ethnologist, a man who really can deduce an -entire civilization from mystifying data, he recognized the tremendous -import. - -At the end of that minute, without warning, a group of figures hovered -in the air near the floor of the stadium. - - ---- - -Quickly, Berkeley's eyes assessed their form, their color, the -increasing solidity of the humanoids. There are some movements, some -gestures, common to all things of intelligence--the pause, the -resolution, the lift of pride. - -"No!" he screamed and started forward. "Oh, no! We're civilized. We're -intelligent!" He was pulled back, as in his terror he tried to leap from -the platform to get at the humanoids. - -Held there, unable to move, he read the meaning of the actions of the -group hovering near the ship. One flashed a shining tentacle around, as -if to point to the stadium, the pitifully small spaceship on display, -the crowds of people. - -The leader manifestly ignored him. He flowed forward a pace, his ovoid -head held high in pride and arrogance. He pointed a tentacle toward the -south end of the stadium, and a pillar of leaping flame arose; fed with -no fuel, never to cease its fire, the symbol of possession. - -He pointed his tentacles to the north, the south, the east, the west. He -motioned with his tentacles, as if to encircle all of Earth. - -He unfurled a scroll and began to read. - ---MARK CLIFTON & ALEX APOSTOLIDES - - _Transcribers note_: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science - Fiction August 1953. 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