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diff --git a/43038-0.txt b/43038-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..64998cd --- /dev/null +++ b/43038-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1041 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43038 *** + + Ripeness Is All + + By JESSE ROARKE + + Illustrator SUMMERS + + [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Fantastic Stories + of Imagination May 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any + evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + + _Shakespeare wrote it, in the tragedy of King Lear--a phrase + to live by: + + Men must endure + Their going hence, even as their coming hither;_ + + +He was disturbed, but he did not know it. Murky, agitated waters crept +up in his vast subconscious world, and sought the threshold, the mouth +of the pit, the slope of the clean shore; little rainbows of light +now and then flashed over the waters. They heaved, and against the +sluice-gates they beat, sullenly. There was a yielding, but the great +force was contained. + +He left his Pad, curiously mopping his brow a little, and furrowing it +between the eyes. It came to him that he was hungry. He stepped to the +curb, pushed the button, and leaned against the post, as if waiting, or +in thought. Almost immediately a Car appeared, in a cheery orange and +green. He almost shuddered, and he almost knew that he did so. Then he +brightened, stepped into the car, and voiced his desire. + +He was carried at a moderate pace through clean, broad streets and past +bright, shiny buildings and smiling parks and gardens. He came to the +top of a high hill, saw the sparkling blue bay in the distance, and +thought vaguely of sailing upon it. On his face he felt a brisk spray, +and the air was tanged with salt. Then a warmed, faintly perfumed +glow dried and composed him, and the Car shut off all its machinery +and glided to a stop. He got out, ever so comfortable, and entered a +luxurious Kitchen, in which he had not dined for several days. + +The doors opened automatically, and a smiling android, gaily featured +and clothed, conducted him to a table. She was a soothing sight: yes, +that's what it was. He ordered a sumptuous meal, rubbing his ample +waistline in anticipation. + +"Dig dig!" crooned the waitress. + +He patted good-naturedly her well-moulded behind as she turned; she +glowed sweetly back over her soft and delicate shoulder. He wondered if +Meg was enough, and decided that, well, for the time being, he guessed +she was. No use hurrying things. The waitress returned and served the +meal. As always, it was excellent. He finished with a leisurely bottle +of wine and a cigar, pinched the waitress's firm yet ever so yielding +thigh, and departed. + +Then a deep stirring almost took hold upon him. Yes, that was what +he needed. It had been several months now. He pushed another button, +and a rosy pink Car appeared to his service. "Take me to a House, you +know what I mean?" he said, as he arranged himself upon the pearl grey +cushions. The Car glided away. + + * * * * * + +On and on along the shore of the ocean they pleasantly careened. At +length they turned into a rich garden bower, and stopped in front of +a great mansion overlooking the waves. He alighted; the Car departed. +Profusely bloomed scarlet and golden and azure flowers, everywhere; +succulent and bright was the lavish green. The doors opened, and a Woman +received him. She was past child-bearing, motherly, and smiling. + +He smiled back, and said, "You got one, huh?" + +"Of course," she answered. + +He sat down to wait. + +And while he waited, he almost thought. Meg was good, all right, but +why wasn't she enough, sometimes? He tapped his thumb-nail against his +teeth in a few moments of near perplexity, and then desisted. Soon a +bevy of charming Girls entered the room and paraded for him, laughing +and smiling. He settled upon a petite brunette with cherry lips. She +stripped him of his clothes, and they went walking in a private garden. + +In an inner bower they sat down to a rustic table, and were served by +robot with a heady aphrodisiac wine. On the grasses and the petals +of flowers, overlooking the sea, they entwined their limbs and their +bodies, and he nearly enjoyed her. He thought that once he had enjoyed +this activity indeed, and wondered whether it were so. + +He sat looking over the waters, trying to muse. The androids were +physically perfect, flesh meeting flesh, clinging to it, thrilling with +it. They were warm, they whispered, they strained and cried. They were +freely available, for every man and woman. None need be unsatisfied. + +But he did not know all of this, history and psychology were lost to +him and he could never keep a connected train of thought; his being +unsatisfied could not penetrate to his consciousness. He did not quite +know that flesh cried out for something more than flesh, and had +always done so. He did know, more or less, that there was the matter +of population, and that real men and real women had, at mysterious +intervals, to copulate. That was the way it was. He had once spent some +time in a House himself, meeting the requirements of an endless variety +of Girls. He supposed that some of them had borne the issue of his seed, +though he did not suppose it in these terms. But it was better not to +know these things for certain, and not to have anything to do with +the rearing of children, after the early mother-feeling was over. The +Schools could take care of that better than people could. + +She snuggled against him. + +"What say, Man?" she said: "What's eatin yuh?" + +He did not know how to answer. He tried to talk, tried to break through, +to clarify. + +"What's it, huh?" he nearly pleaded. "All this, I mean. Like what's it +for?" + +She stretched out on the grass and looked at him a moment. + +"Search me," she ventured. "I guess maybe what you need's a Bed." + +He guessed she was right. + + * * * * * + +They went back to the mansion through the twilight, and established +themselves in one of the rooms. The soft curtains were drawn, the Bed +was large, the sheets were silky and creamy. She reclined on her back, +and the mattress moulded itself perfectly to her form. + +He lay down beside her, and caressed her. She clasped him tight to +her breast. And he was clasped also by an invisible but very palpable +field of energy, that directed his movements and charged him with an +inexhaustible and ceaseless power. He held her tight, and the force +entwined them. They were one throbbing ecstasy, and only at the very +last endurable moment were they given release. + +Then the Bed slowly soothed them, massaged them, and invigorated them +once again. Throughout the night it continued, activity and repose, +until toward the dawn he fell into a dead sleep, which lasted until the +following morning. + +He did not know that he dreamed. He did not consciously remember any +of it. He only knew, as he ate his ample breakfast, that he was not so +thoroughly at peace as he should have been. And he knew that it was +useless to ask the Woman, or one of the Girls. + +But the Woman's androids did well by her, it seemed. Maybe he had better +go home to Meg. + +"What the square, anyhow?" he said to himself. A little more rest in his +familiar surroundings, and he would be all right. A Bed always took a +lot out of a man. He arose to go. + +"Goodbye, dear," the Woman said, as he came to the head of the main +path. She was serene and smiling. + +He adjusted his tunic, and smiled in reply. Yes sir, the old world was +in good shape, just like always. He signaled for a Car. The bright ocean +again passed by him, and the broad sands, and he dozed. + + * * * * * + +The dreams were more importunate, this time. When he awoke, with a blank +start, the Car was cruising aimlessly. He looked around, and broke into +a sweat. There was a button he had to push, somewhere, there was a +handle he had to take hold of. He stammered out "Stop--now!" and stepped +onto the curb. The car sped away, to another summons. He was before an +Emporium, but he did not enter. Instead, he did an unprecedented thing: +he went for a walk, through the streets of the City. This was not done, +and none of the occupants of the passing cars observed him. + +He was really wondering, now. Could something be wrong? This +possibility, with all its full horror, had never entered his mind +before; indeed, he did not even have the conceptions of rightness +and wrongness, and yet there was the inescapable word, "wrong". His +agitation increased. He found himself with the hardly formulated idea +that a school was a place where one learned something, and he did not +know what this could mean. + +He thought of the School that he had attended. All the young people of +the District of Fransco attended it: they had been told that there were +other Schools, in other districts, and that they were all the same. +He had believed it, and forgotten about it. What did it matter? One +district was as good as another. He had never travelled. He knew a Man +who had gone to the District of Shasta, but he had not been interested +in hearing about it. He remembered that the Man had said it was all the +same thing, not worth the bother. One had everything he needed, in his +own place. But now it seemed that he needed something more, something +nobody had ever heard of. He walked on, thinking about the School. + +Everybody was born in a House, and kept there till he was weaned, and +could walk. Then he was taken to the School. There he grew up in an +atmosphere of Group Living, and was gradually showed everything that he +needed--everything that there was. The hes and shes played together; +they were instructed in the Ways of Life. + +As they grew older, they were taken around the City. They were showed +the places that the Cars could take them; they were showed how to push +the buttons. Of course the robots did a perfect job of instruction. +There were Kitchens, in which one could eat. There were parks and +gardens, in which one could stroll and lounge. There were Emporiums, in +which one could get clothes and things. It was all--as it was. + +When one reached puberty, he was taken from the School, and given a +Pad. There he lived, listening to the soft music that came from the +walls, eating and sleeping. And doing. He selected his android from an +Emporium, and did her as he pleased. She was his company, the Warmth of +his Pad. She shopped in the Emporium for him, she fixed him cozy little +meals, and brought him his pipe or his cigar. She spread the depilatory +cream upon his face in the morning, and wiped, with so soft a touch, his +beard away; and she bathed him, in the scented waters. + + * * * * * + +He remembered that after a year or two, he had felt almost restless. +From his touch, Meg had understood. She had whispered "House" to him, +and he had gone out and instructed a Car. That had been his first +experience of a Girl. He supposed that it had been the same with the +others. He had never inquired. In the garden bower the idea of children +had come to him, and his mind had been at rest. He had not tried a Bed +until the fifth or sixth time. He had, he supposed, taken for granted +that the Girls lived in the same way that he did. They had their own +androids, their own Pads. They never associated with the Men, except in +a House. Men got together sometimes, and ate and drank, and had android +orgies; no doubt the Girls did likewise. + +With a great effort, aided by hints from what he could remember of Life, +he pieced an idea together, not knowing what he had done. Of course +human copulation was too dangerous: it might make one unhappy. He had +learned, in the bowers, that Man and Girl were not of the same temper, +and that their union was not always perfect. Somehow it was better, even +so, but it was too difficult. It tended to be--painful. + +He did not know the word. He did not know any of the words for these +strange thoughts of his, but they were now very palpable to him, and +very urgent. His android was his, and was never dissatisfied; and so, +neither was he. It was a perfect and complete system. And what was +happening to him? The word "happiness" came upon him, and he shuddered, +almost in terror. What did it mean? Too many things were happening, all +at once. + + * * * * * + +He turned into a street, and stopped. He had never seen it before. +But why should this disturb him? The District was a big place. But he +thought he had better get out of this street. Maybe pick up another +android, maybe even take her home: have a redhead for awhile, maybe. Meg +wouldn't mind. How could she? What was the matter with him? Other Men +changed readily, or kept a whole Padful. The waitresses were much in +demand. One did not even have to take them home: there were convenient +rooms in every Kitchen. + +Then suddenly all this was shaken from him. He was standing before a +large building, and he did not know what it was. + +He stood for a long time, looking at it. Now and then a Man seemed +to pass, but he could not be sure. It was like a shadow, like the +flickering of a breeze. He wondered what the building could be. + +At length he seemed to hear a murmur as of the waters, and at last a +voice broke upon him. + +"This is a library," it said. "There are books here, and teachers, from +whom you can learn." + +It was too much. He screamed, and ran down the street. + +After a few blocks he became calmer; forgetfulness rescued him. He +pushed a button, and a Car conveyed him to his Pad. + +Meg met him, all warmth and smiles. He sat down, and she brought him his +slippers and a cold bottle of beer. He drank deeply. She sat on the arm +of his chair, caressed him, and asked if he would like some dinner. She +had-- + +He cut her short. + +"Meg, honey," he said, "I'm a little tired, that's how. You go to bed +now, huh, put on some of that jasmine perfume? You dig?" + +"Sure, honey! Dig dig!" she replied. + +The dark waters rose, and beat against him. + +He finished his beer, and got himself another. + +Meg whispered, "Say, honey!" The bed rustled softly. + +He fought down his mind, and rapidly drank his beer. Almost as ever, +he embraced the Warmth, and slid into a comfortable oblivion. Meg lay +beside him in the darkness. + + * * * * * + +He awoke early, and she laid her hand upon him. + +Abruptly, he squirmed away. + +"Don't do that!" His voice was loud. "It's no good, all that stuff! +Something's--wrong!" + +He jumped out of bed, and began rapidly to put on his clothes. + +Meg lay still for a moment. Her circuits were not built for such things. +There was nothing wrong, and nothing registered. Then the cheery morning +music started out of the wall, soothing and bright, and she began to hum +with it. She arose, went lightly to her dressing, freshly and sweetly +tripped into the kitchen. + +"Scrambled eggs, honey?" she asked, in the most caressive of tones. + +He had all but forgotten his outburst. + +"Yeh, sure honey", he answered. + +He ate copiously, and drank several cups of black coffee. + +"Fine day!" he said, belching his appreciation. + +He patted his companion good morning, exceptionally affectionately, and +went out into the street. + +There he met an old friend and drinking companion. He lived next door, +it seemed. They were neighbors! He had seldom been so glad to see +anyone, as this old friend. + +"Hi there, Charlie!" he boomed. "How's it all? Like Man, I'm glad to see +you! What's it, huh?" + +Then he waited, with an expectant grin. He waited a considerable time +after Charlie had sauntered past him and ridden off in a Car. + +Then it came to him. + +"He didn't see me! Like as if I wasn't here! Yeah!" + +He hurried down the street, and did not think of a Car at all. + +He slowed his pace, and walked for a long time. Nobody saw him. He tried +to think. The effort was too much, and his mind was a strained blank, +and almost pained him. This street: it seemed familiar. Yes, he had +gone cruising here, several times. He began very nearly to regret his +deficiency of memory. Wasn't there a nice park, up here a little way? +He quickened his pace, perspiring freely. It was right here--no, it +couldn't be! Not that again! He couldn't be invisible to other people! +There couldn't be things all around him that he couldn't see! It wasn't +right! What did that word mean? He fainted. + +When he came to, the library was still there. He staggered to his feet, +and stood still a moment, gazing. There was something cut in the stone +over the large front doors. Why would anybody cut something like that in +the stone? It didn't make sense. It wasn't comfy at all. + +Then, in the back of his brain, a little light burst, and he heard the +words, "All men by nature desire to know." + +There it was again. Hadn't he dreamed it? What was this "know"? It +wasn't eating or drinking or doing or anything. + +Then there floated into his pulsating areas this "Aristotle". + +No dig at all. But he knew that it was the inscription in the stone, and +he walked up the broad front walk and entered the doors, which opened +automatically for him. + +He walked over the marble floor. Out of the corner of his eye he seemed +almost to discern an occasional dim figure hurrying past. He walked up +two flights of stairs, seemingly alone, and yet seemingly surrounded. It +was strange, and it was perfectly natural. He had never felt so alive +before. Not even in a Bed had he felt himself so much of a Man. And he +did not think about doing. He had not the slightest interest in it. He +wanted to _know_, whatever this might mean. He paused in front of a +door. It opened, and he entered and eased himself into a chair. + +"You must begin with the alphabet," the voice began. "This is the letter +A." + +It flashed upon the screen. He copied it on the plate before him. Over +and over again he copied the letter, and heard its name repeated. He was +on the way. + + * * * * * + +He remained for weeks, for months, in the library. His room was +comfortable, his meals were tasty and well balanced. He lost weight, he +gained continually an alert, aware sense of well-being and purpose. He +was developing a mind, and beginning to know. + +Throughout the day he studied consciously, or received hypnotic +instruction; during the night, while his sleep was more keen and more +restful than ever before, the instruction continued. He learned many +things. He became aware of who Aristotle was, and what he had done. He +developed an acquaintance with all the great men and cultures of the +lost lands of Europa. He learned that he lived on the west coast of +Ameru, and that this coast was one large City; he learned that the once +large continent had dwindled greatly in the disasters, that the ocean +waves now poured over the great plains, and all to the eastward. He +felt occasionally a longing to see the mountains, and the further waters. + +He learned and throve. He began to see other figures more distinctly: +once in the corridor he met a Man face to face, and they smiled and +bowed to each other. It had been a small Man, with a funny beard, and +very bright eyes. It had not been like anybody he had ever seen in the +City. But suddenly he knew that he was not like anybody in the City, and +that it could no longer be his home. The shock of the fact that the City +was not everything, that there was existence, and desirable existence, +outside of it, came to him strongly; but now he was ready for it. When +the tumult was over, his mind was at last born, and he was a human +being, ready to aim for high goals, and to co-operate with destiny. + +That night much of a strange nature, called "Sunrise", came to him, and +strange names, faces, and disciplines were vaguely lodged within him. He +awoke with a most definite feeling of readiness, and with his breakfast +he knew, beyond doubt, that "When the disciple is ready, the Master +appears." + +When he had finished eating, he left the library, and walked in thought. +How dismal everything was! Nobody knowing, or caring about anything +really important; nobody seeing anything. And certainly they did not see +him: but he saw them very clearly. And how much was there, still to be +seen, all around him? And what was it, what did it mean? He had to get +out, he had to find an answer. + +He pushed the nearest button, and slid into the suave black Car that +noiselessly approached. He had never seen a black Car before. He +wondered if his eyes were still playing tricks upon him, if he would +ever see anything aright. Then he dismissed it from his mind. + +"Take me out of the City", he said. + +There was a slight hesitation; then they were moving, slowly and +quietly, in a northeasterly direction. + + * * * * * + +It was a long ride, past all the familiar features of the City, +multiplied many fold. At length the Car shuddered slightly, and the +virtue seemed to go out of it in a gentle rush: it stopped, utterly +still, and the silent door slid open with an eloquent finality. He got +out, and the Car seemed to hasten away as from an undesired doom. + +But his weird was upon him; he thought so, in the transfixing old terms; +and he turned and beheld an open field, with mountains in the distance. +And it came to him that he had ridden this way before, and seen nothing +but City all around him. He thought then of enigmatic things that he +had heard and read in the library: of how certain Tibetans rendered +themselves invisible, or at least passed unseen, by shielding their +thought waves--by giving out no handle for perception to grasp. So +had this landscape hidden itself, it seemed: shielded itself from +desecration. + +Or perhaps there were beings, perhaps there was existence, that gave +continual indication, bristled with handles, as it were: but handles +that could not be grasped or made use of by an organism insufficiently +developed. It seemed more of a truism, the more he thought of it. + +But it did not seem to matter, on this bright new day. He dismissed the +question and stepped forward, into the yielding grass. + +What a great thing it was to have a mind, to feel alive on such a day! +He tried to remember how dim, how crippled he had been; it seemed +impossible. Could he have been only one poor, flickering candle, he who +now blazed with the light of a hundred, or a thousand? Could he have +rattled on one cylinder, he who now moved smoothly and noiselessly on +sixteen or twenty? It was too marvelous for words, or for thoughts. + +For a long time he walked, perspiring freely, then puffing, limping and +laboring. It was hot, with no breezes from the sea. An occasional rill +was refreshing, and a glade was cooling: the leaves rustled gently in +the now and then quickened air, and the birds were sweet with song. But +there was no sign of human life. At length he sat down on a fallen log, +and rested. + +He sat long, thinking and dozing. The sun was low in the sky when he +arose, and followed some prompting to a ridge not too greatly in the +distance. He had come without provision of any kind, and with no fear +for his welfare: he would see. The ground seemed soft enough, if he had +to sleep there; he took off his shoes and socks, and enjoyed the cool +grass. + +He walked on toward the ridge, slowly and confidently, his shoes and +socks in his hand. He had not eaten for many hours, but he did not seem +hungry. Food was not the tremendously important thing that it used to +be. He thought of his old esurience, and smiled. Whatever his god was, +it was not his belly, it was not his body at all. He still had enough +flab to live on for some time without inconvenience, and it would be +better to live on it, than to keep stuffing himself. There were no women +either, and no androids. They were tiresome, and tiring, things. He +sighed almost with contentment. + + * * * * * + +Soon he crossed the ridge, and saw the smiling farmland in the valley +not far below. This was where the old food supplies had come from: this +had been the life of all but a few, for many centuries. There was a +great peace over it all. With a sense as of treading on hallowed ground, +he descended steadily, and soon came upon a large and rambling wooden +house, unpainted, and comfortable. Really comfortable, in a human way, +not in the sham way of the City. There was an elderly woman on the +porch, serenely rocking. As he approached, she smiled. + +"Welcome, stranger!" she said. "Come on up and rest awhile." + +He was glad of the invitation, and he mounted the generous and solid +steps with his shoes and socks still in his hand. He sat down and +redonned them, under her friendly smile. + +"It feels good, doesn't it?" she asserted. "The real earth, under real +feet. Maybe you read the poet Hopkins before you got out. I did, right +at the last. One poem has always stuck with me, and especially this one +line of it: + + Neither can feet feel, being shod. + +I wanted to feel things; I was tired of being shod, and insulated, +and deadened. I was just a young girl, then. I felt charged with the +grandeur of God, as Hopkins put it, and I had to get out. I've seen a +lot of God's grandeur, and a lot of His blessing, through a long life. +It's been good, here in the real world. + +"But it's no use chattering," she continued. "That doesn't really +express or communicate anything. Nature has got a bigger and better +voice than any of us, and the best thing to do is just to listen for it. +I hope you'll stay with us awhile. The longer the better. We like to +help people who've just escaped. But I still talk too much. Supper'll be +ready pretty soon, and I have to go tend to it for a few minutes. Just +you sit there and be calm: listen for the still voices." + +He was glad to do so, and gladder still to see the men of the family +returning from the fields. There were three of them, tall and strong, +real human beings, healthy and alive, and little marked by unprofitable +care. They had a faith, it seemed, a communion, a divine assurance, more +or less fulfilled. + + * * * * * + +The older man, the father, welcomed him again, and they were soon seated +at the supper table. He noticed that the men ate heartily, and had +yet not an ounce of excess flesh. He rued his own bulk, and ate but +sparingly, only out of politeness. But food had never tasted so good +before. + +The two sons were already approaching middle age, and were still +unmarried. This occasioned their mother some concern. But, as she said, +they didn't seem to care, and God or nature could take care of these +things better than people could. There was no use straining. + +"And there aren't so many young women around," she mused. "There aren't +many people. Whatever love-making there may be, there's very little +breeding. It's like the City, in that respect. It seems this just isn't +a very good world these days, comparatively speaking, and people are +being held back till it gets better. There seems to be a sort of a cloud +over everything. I don't know. Anyway, we're contented. At least we have +our minds and hearts, and our patience." + +He stayed a week, a month: into the natural influences he vigorously +and gratefully plunged. He helped with the farm work, and grew lean and +hard, and mentally as well as physically strong. He stayed on, through +the winter. + +Then, with the spring, his own fertile ground began to burst and ache, +and he was no longer satisfied. He was not nature itself, to endure +unmoved the countless cycles of diversified sameness; he was rather a +flower that faded with a season, a leaf that would soon fall. He was +like a single wave of the vast ocean, and like that wave he must forever +be moving on, questioning. + + * * * * * + +And so he left the farm very early one morning, and walked north, as he +could tell by the stars. They would not be surprised, and it was better +this way, without farewells. They would know that, for him, they had +served their purpose, and would be glad. And so he walked north, before +sunrise. For this direction he was conscious of no particular reason; +but he felt it to be as good as any other. + +He passed a farm or two, skirting them carefully, and breakfasted on +the sunrise alone. It was so beautiful, thus breaking, rose and golden, +over the hills. He remembered the last poet that he had read, before +his deliverance: the great Sidney Lanier. "The Georgia gold mine," he +thought facetiously; and was at once sorry, for his shallowness. No more +would successive suns blaze upon the soft southern beauty. The warm blue +Atlantic waves rolled over the home of this poet-prophet; whose promise, +he fervently hoped, was not yet drowned. He also would be Lit with the +Sun. He stretched out his arms to the streaming gold, and then walked +on vigorously, with a new purpose not yet defined. + + * * * * * + +He was getting into ruggeder country, and the going was more difficult. +But yet he felt no inclination to break his fast, or to slacken his +pace. The air was fresh, and good. He climbed around the spur of a +hill, and found himself entering a wild valley with no sign of human +habitation. There was a small stream close by, rippling down from the +solitudes. He went to it, and knelt to drink. + +As he arose, two ropes descended upon him, from opposite sides, and his +arms were firmly pinioned. He looked around, and saw two bearded young +men, of not unprepossessing aspect. Each wore tight-fitting clothing and +a peaked hat with a long feather, and was armed with knife and sword. +One of them motioned into the valley. + +"Come on, thou varlet!" he said. + +They proceeded, and were soon immersed in the rippling and jutting hills. + +Near the head of the valley, and up a hollow to the side, they came to +an expansive and well populated clearing. Many men, bearded and heavily +armed, were lounging about, dressed fancifully, but for action. There +were women also, sturdy and for the most part quite attractive. He found +himself speculating briefly on the fierce joy of their dalliance in +these invigorating wilds. Then his attention was abruptly drawn ahead, +and he was forced to his knees before one who was obviously the leader. + +He was in his middle years, and bore a long flaxen beard and leonine +mane of hair; his eyes were large, and of a piercing but softly +reassuring green. He sat, still and lordly, and surveyed his captive. + +At length: "Arise!" + +He obeyed, and stood calmly. + +The leader continued, "Thou art doubtless but lately from the City, of +abhorred name. Thou art but little acquainted with the usages of life. +Do not speak! I know 'tis true." + + * * * * * + +He paused for a while, then went on with ruminative authority. + +"Know that thou hast come into the hands of the Knights of Eld," he +said. "As our name implies, and indeed our visible delimitations +proclaim, we are no cut-throats, or vulgar brawlers. Thou art safe here. + +"But thou art not one of us. Though thou art healthy and strong, and +might well prove a formidable adversary, thou takest no delight in +combat. Do I speak sooth? Proclaim!" + +He proclaimed that it was sooth indeed; with the silent reservation +that, if the combat were sufficiently noble, and profound, and really, +fundamentally necessary--but his thoughts were cut short. + +"Then thou hast no place here, unless perchance thou comest for succour, +or for sanctuary." + +His answer being negative, the leader continued: + +"Know that our life is combat. There be many bands, against whom we +strive. We have made good escape from the emasculate life of yon City, +and we have vowed not to let the spirit of gentle manhood perish. The +elements strive together, and yet the strife is co-operative: and so +should it be with men. + +"I like thee," he continued, with a smile. "Say if thou wilt stay with +us, and learn our ways. There is much that we can rede thee, and the +benefit will be mutual, and I trust great." + +He was briefly tempted, but still, clearly and promptly, he declined. +The leader frowned slightly, and was silent. Then the imperious tones +rang out: + +"Thou art strong! And thou shalt be stronger, if ought of ours can aid +to the achievement of this result, so much to be desired. + +"Then hearken well. Thy food shall be taken from thee." + +His knapsack was ripped rudely from his back. + +"Thou shalt wander without guide, and no one of us shall take, in any +case, further heed of thee. Go with our respect. And may it be that thou +fallest not into the hands of those ruder and less magnanimous, like +as the Snakes, perdie, or the Mountain Lions. Thou hast been honorably +received, and thou art warned. Begone!" + + * * * * * + +He left with as much alacrity as he thought became him, and continued on +his way. For the remainder of the day he wandered, without attempting to +fix a course, or to avoid anything that might come to him. He was lost +in thought, with a great sense of well-being that he felt that nothing +could overcome. + +As the shadows of evening began to lengthen, and the first stars to +shine, he found himself ascending the side of a small but respectably +rugged mountain. By the time of total darkness, he had reached the top, +and seated himself beneath a redwood tree. He began to feel hungry, but +not faint, and with a slight effort of his will the hunger passed away. +He sank into a revery, he sat still and thought and contemplated through +the long night hours. The cool dews came upon him, and the light winds +were whispering in the pale first light, and he was undisturbed. + +He remained on the mountain for three days, eating nothing, and not +thinking of food. He felt the opposing forces of life within, through +and around him. The harmonious, continually pulsing tension of existence +became in a manner clear to him, its great necessity indubitable. He +knew that the battle of opposites, the co-operative strife of elements, +abilities, tendencies, must be fought within himself; he foresaw no +gain from the struggle's objectification, or its transferral to his +associations with others. He would have peaceful, profoundly and highly +aspiring, adequate companions, or he would remain alone. + +During the fourth night, just before the dawn, he saw a shimmering light +over a higher crest in the distance. For an instant it seemed to become +a finger, pointing; and then it faded. He arose, light but unfaint from +fasting, and set out for the indicated mountain. He encountered no other +person along the way. + + * * * * * + +It was in the late afternoon that he arrived. It was a large and +beautiful valley, into which he slowly descended. It was thickly +populated, and filled with a seething, a tremendous activity. Waves +of immense, ardent energy enveloped him, compound of great joy and +great despair; heart-ravishing music, barely audible, came to him, +spasmodically, on the faint breezes. And the weariness and the weakness +came to him also, strongly, the exhaustion of his great efforts of the +past several days. He lost consciousness, and sank in a seemingly almost +boneless heap to the side of the mountain. + +He awoke the following morning in a small hut, secluded, in the shade of +a large tree and beside a stream. A spare old man, with a slight beard +and twinkling eyes, nodded to him. + +"Smells good, does it?" he asked. + +It smelled very good, and it looked better when the old man brought him +an ample breakfast, well prepared. He ate slowly, savoring each mouthful. + +"If you don't know where you are," said the old man, "this is a +community of artists. We don't always get along very well together," he +smiled, "but usually we're minding our own business anyway; and it's +good to exchange ideas and insights now and then, and see each other's +work. And we co-operate too, especially on the stage productions, like +Noh plays, or Wagner, or something contemporary. I can introduce you to +a young man who has written some very powerful and apt music for the +Aeschylean choruses. + +"I'm a poet myself," he continued, "and a dramatist now and then. I'm +pretty modest and easy-going, compared to most of the people here, but +I have my moments, and I've done some pretty good things in my life. +I'll probably show you some later on. It's a good thing for you I'm in a +silent period just now: if the old touch had been on my lyre, I'd never +have noticed you; or if I had, I'd not have attended to you. But come +on, you look healthy enough: let me show you around." + +He arose to dress, and the old man looked him over with frank admiration. + +"You're a fine figure," he said. "And the beard does you justice: or you +do justice to the beard. You're like one of the old Biblical patriarchs. +Or like my idea of them, anyway; which may be far enough from the truth." + +They left the hut, and walked beside the stream into the main valley. + + * * * * * + +They passed an occasional distracted figure, who paid them no heed. +Painters were numerous: one of them, burly and covered with paint, +had ostentatiously affixed his canvas to a rock wall, and was facing +away from all the beauties of the scenery: with furious strokes he was +nearing the completion of his vivid abstraction. One sat cross-legged, +quite self-contained, and with a few strokes of the brush, black on +white, achieved a bird that seemed almost ready to fly from the paper. +Another was painting a meltingly beautiful portrait of his mistress, +with flowers in her hair. + +"When we get back, I'll show you a real picture," the old poet said. +"It's called Vasuki. He's the king of the snakes, according to the +Hindus. I don't know much about the man who did it, except that he's +got the most wonderful eyes I ever saw. I tried to do him justice +in a sonnet once, but I failed. He just appeared one day, and then +disappeared one day, and that's all anyone seems to know. Two of our +best young painters went out to look for him over a year ago, and they +haven't returned." + +There were musical concerts, operas and plays. There were potters at +their wheels, and sculptors with their chisels and their clay. Every art +seemed represented. + +"In that hut over there," said the poet, "lives one of the greatest +musical geniuses the world has ever known. Better even than Beethoven, +I think. Maybe you'll have a chance to meet him, if he turns sociable +while you're here. I trust you'll be here for a long time. Maybe you'll +stay for good? You seem to have the mark in your forehead." + +He stayed for several months. He luxuriated in the splendor and the +beauty of this dedicated life. Great artistry of sound and word, color +and form, filled him: but never to overflowing, and never, fully, to +satisfaction. He grew weary of the continual reaching out, the perpetual +feeding upon dreams. He shared the raptures and the torments of the +artists, he felt powerfully and saw deeply, more than ever before: +but something was lacking. The occasional flashes of insight were +not enough, and the labor, the aspiration, was heart-breaking. What +he sought was still beyond, beyond art itself, beyond all possible +creation. And yet, it must be attainable. + + * * * * * + +He aspired to poetry, he tried to give a voice to his aspiration and +his need. But it was not in him. And what if it had been? Why should he +write verses to complain that he was not Lit with the Sun? He thought +briefly of the Twentieth Century poetry that he had read, the poetry of +the Dark Ages, and shuddered at the thought of adding to that store. +He would never attempt expression again, until he knew something to +express. But when the time came, perhaps it would flow from him in such +a golden stream as he remembered from the great masters. Perhaps the +poet had not read too mistakenly the sign in his forehead. + +He noticed that some of the artists, and those he considered the +profoundest and the surest, were not permanent residents here. They came +and went, with a light as of far peaks in their eyes. Like the painter +of Vasuki, which was truly a marvelous picture, instinct with a spirit +that made most other productions seem like mere daubs of paint. He felt +that that man knew something, and that he did not learn it here, that +he did not learn it as a painter at all. There must be other places, +or another place, in which art and the artists were mature. He had had +enough of this unquiet, the greatest ecstasies of which obviously fell +below the peace and the assurance that called to him. He was weary of +this perpetual straining with materials and methods inadequate to the +task. + +And so, reluctantly, he left the artists, and continued his pilgrimage. +As he departed, a symphony orchestra was performing Mozart's Requiem, +and this perfect artistry, serene and soaring, dedicated to the very +Source, and, it seemed, instinct with something of its light, comprised +a fitting and a reassuring farewell. + +As the dying strains played upon him, he was filled again with the +ravishing verses of Sidney Lanier. Out of the high beauty, these words +mingled clearly with his consciousness: + + O long ago the billow-flow of sense + Aroused by passion's windy vehemence + Upbore me out of depths to heights intense, + But not to thee, Nirvana. + +It was so true, and so much beyond him! The meaning was never clear, and +yet, against it, all else was a deeper darkness. But it called him, and +that was sufficient. He must continue, patiently, on the way. + + * * * * * + +The walk was pleasant, and the evergreens were soughing gently, as he +passed. Midway in the afternoon he sat down by a convenient spring, and +ate quickly a light meal. As he was resting, a man came through the +trees before him: balding and rather stout, and apparently approaching +the end of middle age. He did not know whether he cared to talk with +this man. But he had little choice, for he hailed him with a sort of +good-natured camaraderie, and came and sat beside him. + +"You may consider me a philosopher," the man announced; "that is, in the +fine old sense, a lover of wisdom. I don't think that will frighten you +away," he chuckled. "I think I can see that you agree with Socrates: +that you consider an unexamined life to be a life that is not worth +living. Is this correct?" + +He replied that it was, and that he was a seeker of wisdom, and hoped +one day to prove to be a lover of it--after he had found it. + +The philosopher smiled, and continued, "Perhaps it is best to be a +lover of the search; perhaps, indeed, the search itself is the greatest +wisdom. This used to be considered a platitude," he laughed, "when +education was more wide-spread in the world. But I have never found +anything bright and brand new that matches it. I do not want to be one +of those who 'give to dust that is a little gilt more laud than gilt +o'erdusted'. How about you?" + +He smiled agreement. He was beginning somewhat to like this man: but +still he could not respect him, either as an embodiment of wisdom or +as a seeker of it. His mind seemed only clever, and rather lazy and +complacent with its cleverness: it seemed quite incapable of any really +deep probing, or high flight. This was not his idea of a philosopher. + +The object of this scrutiny seemed somewhat to sense its import, and to +shrug it off. + +"I could tell it at a glance," he said. "You're one of the most +intelligent men I've ever seen escape from that monstrosity of a City. +Let me congratulate you! It's a terrible thing to live like that. + +"One immense mechanized mass! One big idiot's delight, full of nothing +but idiots, or morons at best. Everybody "happy": food, shelter and sex +all taken care of, and real human contact at a minimum: a true earthly +paradise. A paradise for morons, that is, for people who really prefer +to live worse than hogs. God bless the dear technologists, who keep it +going: they as stupid as the majority, of course, just morons with a +little mechanical know-how, as the phrase was. And bless whatever powers +there are, for the library, and the chance to escape! + +"I don't know how it came about, but there's something behind it. Just +before the poor little fools could blow themselves up, the Disasters hit +them: and while they were still traumatized, this system began to take +care of them. It's a fine thing, I guess, for those that aren't capable +of a life worth living. And for those that are, too: it seems to take +hold of them at just the right time. It seems that it gives everyone +just what he is best fitted for, and then lets him go. + + * * * * * + +"It never really let go of me--or got rid of me. I alternate, from city +to country: read myself to a standstill, and then travel awhile. It's +always pleasant, up here. It's like the coast: the seasons don't change +anymore. That is, there aren't any seasons--just hints of them. But +maybe you know that by now. Ah--yes. I guessed as much. You look like a +man that has been out long enough to--well, to look like a man. + +"I wonder how it will end? The birth-rate's way down, and seems to +continue decreasing, even in the country. Maybe the race is gradually +dying out: evolution getting rid of an unfit species. But I wouldn't +expect it to be so gentle about it. + +"The more I think about it, the better I see what an infinite amount +I've got to learn. Another platitude: Newton picking up pebbles on the +sea-shore. Maybe the craze for sheer novelty is one of the things that +made this mess. I don't know. But I think that there is such a thing as +truth, and that it doesn't adapt itself to conditions: conditions have +to adapt themselves to it. Do you agree? Yes, I thought so. I think I'll +have to be heading back to the library in a few days. I've seen enough +this trek. + +"There seems to be a guardian angel, somehow, if you believe in that. +The explanation's probably a purely natural one. But people come out and +live as they like to, with no hindrance, and they prosper. They do a +little simple farming, and always have bumper crops. The weather and the +wild animals never hurt them, and they never hurt each other. The ones +that like to fight do it, but only with swords and knives, and nobody +ever seems to get killed. All the literature and art of the world is +preserved, for those that want it: as many copies as demanded. Sometimes +I bring copies of books with me. It helps, to read them out here. +Nature's a lot vaster and more wonderful than we know. + +"Everything seems to be taken care of. Nobody lives in want or fear +anymore. Except," he smiled ruefully, "want of understanding, and fear +of death. But we can take things philosophically, to use an old popular +expression." + +The philosopher paused awhile, thinking, observing his perplexing +companion. He could not make him out. Presently he returned to his +long-standing provisional solution for all problems. + +"Well, why don't you come back to the library with me? Tramping around +out here is all right for a while, it relaxes you and keeps you in touch +with things; but meanwhile, time flies. Shall we go?" + +"I think not," the bearded patriarch replied. "The usefulness of books +is all but exhausted for me. And even the greatest and fullest truth, +set down in a book, I think must be inadequate. It's not an intellectual +thing I seek." + + * * * * * + +The philosopher smiled tolerantly. + +"You have found that the physical is deadly," he replied. "And you do +not appear to be a man who enjoys emotional drunkenness. What is it you +want?" + +"Perhaps if I knew, I would have it. I suppose it might be called the +spiritual, if there is a word for it. But I know that it is calling me. +If you care to come with me, perhaps I can begin to explain." + +The philosopher almost laughed outright. + +"No thank you," he said. "I do not care to take refuge in any vague +mysticism. What I know I want really to know, intelligibly and clearly. +I am no dreamer." + +"Are they irresponsible dreamers, who are behind these historically +unparalleled phenomena? Surely there must be someone there. You have +seemed to think so yourself." + +The philosopher smiled wryly, a little sheepishly. + +"Sages in the mountains, eh? Yes, I'll admit having sought them. But +they do not seem to want me to find them, and I am going back to the +library to follow some leads that I have thought up for myself. + +"I do not care to let my mind abdicate its high position," he concluded, +with a slight sneer. + +"Goodbye, then. I wish you well." + +"And so do I wish you," rejoined the philosopher, with an attempt at +mocking irony, as he arose. "Goodbye, my friend." + +He began briskly down the path, stopped, and called back, "I hear that +there is an island rising, in the Pacific: maybe you can find some wise +mermaids out there!" + +He laughed maliciously, and strode quickly out of sight. + + * * * * * + +And so the abused budding mystic was left alone, as he desired it. + +"Goethe was right," he thought to himself; "men are all too +predominantly wont to scorn what they do not understand. Goethe himself +illustrated the tendency very well. + +"There are so many things that cannot be understood by the ordinary +intellectual-emotional-sensible mind, no matter how clever it may be, or +how brilliant and vigorous, and broad and deep and strong. It lacks too +much: it is not self-existent, and self-sustaining. And the things that +it cannot understand are the only things of real, undying importance. + +"May I soon find my teacher," he continued, "and be properly trained." + +He stood up, restlessly. His last day among the artists was tumbling +piecemeal upon him. Was it Shakespeare that the theatrical group had +been performing? Yes, King Lear! Such magnificent art, and so futile. He +paced about sadly, trying to remember a certain line--yes, this was it: + + Men must endure + Their going hence, even as their coming hither; + Ripeness is all. + +And that's true, too, he sighed with old Gloucester. And surely he was +ripe now, if he was ever going to be. He was balanced in the midst of +his various tendencies, and one-pointed for a great drive, a penetration +to the depths. He would know himself truly, as infinitely more than that +which comes and goes, and shines but briefly in the darkness. + +He stood listening, and gazing into the distance. Yes! The call was +clear now, and there would be no further stopping along the way. He +strode out strongly, and cut due east, heading for the really high +mountains, and the farther shore. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ripeness is All, by Jesse Roarke + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43038 *** |