The Star Diaries (5 page)

“We believe in universal brotherhood, in the triumph of peace and concord over hatred and war, we consider that man should be the measure of all things…”

He placed a heavy claw on my knee.

“Why man?” he said. “Well never mind. Still, your catalog is negative: the absence of war, the absence of hatred—by all that’s nebular, have you no positive ideals?”

It was stifling hot.

“We believe in progress, in a better tomorrow, in the power of science.”

“At last something!” he cried. “Science, yes, good … that I can use. And on which sciences do you spend the most?”

“Physics,” I replied. “Research into atomic energy.”

“Look … I tell you what. Say nothing. Let me do the talking. I’ll handle this. Leave everything to me. And chin up!” he said as the machine stopped in front of a building.

My head was spinning, things swam before my eyes; I was led down crystal corridors, invisible barriers of some kind flew open with musical sighs, then I was plunging down, then up, then down again, the Rhohch stood at my side, immense, silent, wrapped in folds of metal, suddenly everything came to a halt, the glass balloon in front of me bulged and burst. I was standing at the bottom of the hall of the General Assembly. The amphitheater, spread out in funnel fashion, went swirling up in circular tiers of seats, immaculately white, dazzling; in the distance the tiny silhouettes of the delegations were sprinkles of emerald, gold and crimson along the spiraling ivory levels, strangely scintillating myriads it hurt to look upon. At first I was unable to distinguish eyes from medals, limbs from their artificial extensions, I only saw that they were moving rapidly, reaching across the snowy desks for sheaves of documents, black and shiny things like tiles of anthracite, while directly opposite me, at a distance of some fifty or sixty feet, flanked by walls of electronic machines, the Secretary-General sat atop a dais in the middle of a forest of microphones. Snatches of conversations floated in the air, conversations conducted in a thousand languages at once, and these stellar dialects ranged from the lowest basses to notes as shrill as the chirping of birds. With the feeling that the floor might open up beneath me any minute, I pulled my tuxedo straight. A sound rang out, reverberating endlessly, it was the Secretary-General setting in motion a machine that swung a mallet at a slab of solid gold; the vibrations made my ears throb. The Rhohch, towering above me, pointed to my place as the voice of the Secretary-General boomed from unseen loudspeakers. But before sitting down by the rectangular sign that bore the name of my native planet, I scanned the curving rows of seats, higher and higher, trying to find at least one kindred soul, at least one creature of humanoid appearance—in vain. Enormous shapes, lush, tuber-like, coils of aspic, currant jelly, fleshy stalks, pedunculations propped against the desks, faces the color of well-seasoned meat pies or gleaming like rice fritters, knots, pads, mandibles, pseudopodia holding the fates of stars both far and near, all passed before me as if in some slow-motion film, nor was there anything monstrous about them, I experienced no revulsion—contrary to the suppositions expressed so often back on Earth—as though I were not dealing here with cosmic horrors, but with beings that had emerged from beneath the chisel of some abstractionist sculptor, or perhaps a gastronomic visionary…

“Item number eighty-two,” hissed the Rhohch in my ear and took his seat. I did the same. Picking up the headphones that lay on the desk, I listened in.

“The appliances, which, pursuant to the treaty ratified by this Esteemed Assembly, were, in full accordance with the terms specified in that treaty, delivered by the Altair Commonwealth to the Sexpartite Alliance of Fomalhaut, have displayed, as was confirmed by the report of the ad hoc subcommittee of the UP, certain properties which cannot be accounted for by minor deviations from the technological prescription agreed upon by the esteemed parties involved. Granted, as the Altair Commonwealth correctly notes, the radiation sifters and planetary regulators it manufactured were indeed supposed to possess the ability to reproduce, guaranteeing thereby the creation of machine progeny, which was duly provided for in the contract drawn up between both the esteemed parties involved; nevertheless that potentiality should have taken the form, in compliance with the engineering code of ethics that binds all members of our Federation, of individual budding, and not resulted from the endowment of the abovementioned mechanisms with programs of opposing signs, which—unfortunately—did in fact take place. This programmed polarity led to the creation, within the main energy compounds of Fomalhaut, of prurient tensions and, as a consequence of these, scenes that were not only offensive to public morality but which entailed serious material losses for the plaintiff party as well. The delivered units, instead of attending to the work they had been designed to perform, devoted most of their shifts to partner selection, whereby their constant running about with plugs for the purpose of recreational coupling led to violations of the Panundrian Statute and, ultimately, mechanicographic overcrowding, for both of which regrettable phenomena the defendant party is to blame. And so we hereby declare the debt to Altair null and void.”

I put down the phones with a splitting headache. To hell with these machines offending the public morality, Altair, Fomalhaut and all the rest of it! I had had enough of the UP and wasn’t even a member yet. I felt ill. Why did I ever listen to Professor Tarantoga? What use to me was this awful honor that obliged me to blush for the sins of others? Instead I should have—

An invisible current ran through me, for there on the enormous board flashed the digits 83, and I felt a vigorous jab. It was my Rhohch who, jumping to his claws or perhaps feelers, pulled me after him. The sun lamps floating beneath the ceiling of the hall directed upon us a blazing flood of azure light. Bathed on all sides by beams of radiance which seemed to shine right through me, and numbly clutching my thoroughly limp roll of certification papers, I heard the powerful bass of the Rhohch booming at my side, voluble and unconstrained, filling the entire amphitheater, yet the content of his speech reached me only in snatches, like sea foam during a storm, spraying the one who dares lean out over the pier.

“…this marvelous Arrth (he couldn’t even pronounce the name of my native planet properly!) … this noble humanity … and here its distinguished representative … elegant, amiable mammals … atomic energy, released with consummate skill in the foothills of their mountains … a youthful, buoyant culture, full of feeling … a deep faith in jergundery, though not devoid of ambifribbis … (evidently he was confusing us with someone else) … devoted to the cause of interstellar solidarity … in the hopes that their admittance into this august body … bringing to an end the embryonic phase of their social development … though alone and isolated on their galactic periphery … plucky, independent … surely deserving…”

“So far, in spite of everything, it’s going well,” flashed the thought. “He’s praising us, not badly either … but wait, what’s this?”

“True, they are paired! Their rigid underpinning … but one must understand … in this Esteemed Assembly exceptions to the rule have the right to be represented too … there is no shame in abnormality … the difficult conditions that shaped them … aqueousness, even when saline, need not be an obstacle … with our assistance in the future they can rid themselves of this ug … of this unfortunate appearance, which the Esteemed Assembly with its customary generosity will be willing, I trust, to disregard … and so on behalf of the Rhohch Delegation and the Sidereal Union of Betelgeuse I hereby move that humanity from the planet Oreth be recognized as a member of the United Planets, and that the honest Orthonian standing here be accorded therewith the full rights of an accredited delegate to that organization. That is all.”

A mighty roar broke out, interspersed with strange whistlings, but no applause (nor could there have been any, in the absence of hands); this din and racket abruptly subsided at the sound of a gong, and the voice of the Secretary-General could be heard:

“Do any of the esteemed delegations intend to speak to the motion now under consideration, namely the recognition of Humanity from the planet Areth?”

The radiant Rhohch, evidently extremely pleased with himself, dragged me back to my seat. I sat down, mumbling some incoherent words of appreciation for his services, when two pale green rays shot out simultaneously from different parts of the amphitheater.

“The representative from Thuban has the floor!” said the Secretary-General. Something rose to speak.

“Esteemed Council!” came the far yet piercing voice, not unlike the sound of sheet metal being cut, but the timbre quickly ceased to occupy my attention. “We have just heard, from the mouthparts of polpitor Voretex, a warm recommendation for the race of a distant planet, till now unknown to those assembled here. I should like to express my keen disappointment that the unexpected absence at today’s session of sulpitor Extrevor has deprived us of the opportunity to acquaint ourselves more particularly with the history, the manners and the nature of that race, whose presence in the UP all Rhohchdom so eagerly desires. Now I am no specialist in the field of cosmic teratology, however I
would
like, to the extent of my modest abilities, to supplement what we have just had the pleasure of hearing. First of all, in passing only, parenthetically as it were, I will point out that the native planet of humanity is called not Oreth, Areth or Arrth, as was said—not out of ignorance, of course, but purely, as I am quite convinced, in the heat of the oratorical moment—by my worthy colleague the preceding speaker. An insignificant detail, to be sure. However the other term, ‘humanity,’ which I made use of, is taken from the language of the race of Earth—the correct name, incidentally, for that obscure little planet—while
our
sciences designate the Earthlings somewhat differently. I trust it shall not unduly weary this Esteemed Assembly if I take the liberty of giving the full name and classification of the species whose membership in the UP we are considering, quoting for that purpose from an excellent work of specialists, namely the Galactical Teratology of Grammpluss and Gzeems.”

The representative from Thuban opened the enormous volume on his desk to the place indicated by a bookmark, and read:

“In accordance with the accepted systems of taxonomy and nomenclature, all anomalous forms found in our Galaxy are contained within the
phylum Aberrantia
(Deviates, Freaks), which is divided into the subphyla
Debilitales
(Boobs) and
Antisapientinales
(Screwheads). To the latter subphylum belong the classes
Canaliacaea
(Thuglies) and
Necroludentia
(Corpselovers). Among the Corpselovers we distinguish, in turn, the orders
Patricidiaceae
(Fatherbeaters),
Matriphagideae
(Mothereaters) and
Lasciviaceae
(Abominites, or Scumberbutts). The Abominites, highly degenerate forms, we divide into the
Cretininae
(Clenchpoops, viz.
Cadaverium Mordans
or the Chewcarcass Addlepate) and
Horrosrissimae
(Howlmouths, with the classic example of the Outchested Backshouldered Dullard,
Idiontus Erectus Gzeemsi).
A few of the Howlmouths have actually been known to create their own pseudo-cultures; among these are such species as
Anophilus Belligerens,
the Bungfond Tuff, which calls itself
Genius Pulcherrimus Mundanus,
or that most curious specimen, possessing an entirely bald body and observed by Grammpluss in the darkest corner of our Galaxy—
Monstroteratum Furiosum
(the Stinking Meemy), which has given itself the name of
Homo Sapiens.”

A clamor went up in the hall. The Secretary-General set in motion his machine with the mallet.

“Stiff upper lip!” hissed the Rhohch. I couldn’t see him, what with the glare from the sun lamps, or perhaps it was the sweat getting into my eyes, A ray of hope flickered within me, for someone was demanding to be heard on a point of order. Presenting himself to the assembly as a member of the Aquarius delegation, who was also an astrozoologist, he began to take issue with the Thubanian—but alas, only on the grounds that—as a disciple of the school of Professor Hagranops—he considered the classification put forward to be incomplete. For he distinguished, after his mentor, the separate order
Degeneratores,
to which belonged the Fouljowls, Upgluts, Necrovores and Stifflickers: the application of the term “Monstroteratus” to man, he also felt, was incorrect—instead one should follow the nomenclature of the Aquarian School, employing the more consistent term of Bug-eyed Bogus
(Artefactum Abhorrens).
After a brief exchange of remarks, the Thubanian resumed his speech:

“The honorable representative of Rhohchia, urging upon us the candidacy of this so-called Man the Wise or—to be more precise—this Bug-eyed Meemy, a typical example of a Corpselover, failed to mention—in his recommendation—the word ‘albumin,’ apparently thinking it indecent. And indeed, the word does evoke associations, which propriety forbids me to elaborate on here. To be sure, the possession of EVEN THAT kind of living matter carries with it no disgrace. (Cries of “Hear, hear!”) It is not in the albumin that the problem lies! Nor in the bestowing upon oneself, when one happens to be a corpseloving howler, the title of sapient human. This is but a weakness, quite understandable if not forgivable, dictated by one’s
amour-propre.
No, the problem lies not here, Esteemed Council!”

My attention began to wander, blur, go blank—I was catching only snatches.

“And even carnivorism is no one’s fault, if it results in the course of natural evolution! Yet the differences separating so-called man from his animal relatives are practically nonexistent! Just as an individual who is
higher
may not claim that this gives him the right to devour those who are
lower,
so one endowed with a somewhat
higher
intelligence may neither devour nor murder those of
lower
mentality, and if he absolutely must do this (shouts of “He musn’t! Let him eat spinach!”)—if, I say, he
must,
by reason of some tragic hereditary affliction, he should at least consume the bloodied victims with dismay, in secret, in his lair and the darkest recesses of the cave, torn by feelings of remorse, anguish, and the hope that he will be able, someday, to free himself from that burden of unremitting murder. But such, alas, is not the behavior of our Stinking Meemy! It desecrates the mortal remains, chopping, stewing, skewering, it toys with them, only afterwards to ingest them in public feeding places, in the presence of cavorting naked females of its species, which serves to whet its appetite for the dead; the necessity of changing this stage of affairs, that cries out to the entire Galaxy for revenge, never even enters its colloidal head! On the contrary, it has provided itself with higher justifications, which, residing somewhere between the stomach, that crypt of innumerable victims, and eternity, entitle it to continue murdering with a clear conscience. So much then, not to take up the time of this Esteemed Assembly, for the activities and habits of ‘man the wise.’ Among its ancestors there was one that seemed to promise much, I speak of the species
homo neanderthalensis.
He deserves our attention. Similar in appearance to modern man, he possessed a brain case of greater capacity, hence a larger brain, or intellect. A gatherer of mushrooms, inclined to meditation, a true lover of the arts, gentle, phlegmatic, there is no doubt but that he would have made a strong candidate for membership in our Esteemed Organization. Unfortunately he no longer is among the living. Would perhaps the delegate from Earth, whom we have the honor here to entertain, care to tell us what became of the ever-so-civilized and likable Neanderthal? I see he does not, so I must speak for him. The Neanderthal was exterminated root and branch, wiped off the face of the Earth by our selfsame
homo sapiens.
And as if the foul deed of fratricide was not enough, Earth’s scholars then began to blacken the name of the annihilated victim, ascribing to themselves—and not to it, their cerebral superior—the higher intelligence. Today we have among us, here in this venerable hall, within these lofty walls, a representative of the corpse-eaters, one who is resourceful in the pursuit of lethal pleasures, a cunning architect of wholesale slaughter, and whose physical appearance inspires in us both ridicule and horror, a horror we are scarcely able to overcome. Today we see, there on that hitherto white, unsullied seat, a creature that lacks even the courage of a consistent criminal, for it ever seeks to dress its body-strewn career with the splendor of false names, names whose true and terrible meaning may be deciphered by any objective student of interstellar civilization. Yes, Esteemed Council…”