Cycle of Fire

X. ELUCIDATION

THE VOICE was that of the Teacher; there was no mistaking it. Equally, there was no mistaking the fact that Nils Kruger was going to have to revise a number of his ideas. Not even the race which had its headquarters at the ice cap and spread cities over most of the planet had radios, so far as he knew. Could this being have learned more electricity than seemed possible from the deserted city?

“Why were you waiting for me?” asked the boy. “I didn’t expect very much to come back, myself — or did you think I needed the fire-lighter too badly to leave it for long?”

“I was sure that Dar Lang Ahn would be back for his books; I know his people too well to doubt that. Later, I knew you would be with him.”

“How did you know?”

“I was told. I will explain that in due course. You may not believe it, but in spite of all that I have done which you may resent, I am not entirely your enemy. I am willing to allow you to live as long as your nature permits — provided that certain conditions are met.”

“And if they are not?” Kruger naturally resented the hidden being’s words.

“Then accidents will continue to happen. You cannot escape all of them.”

Slowly the meaning of this dawned on the boy.

“You mean the landslide over by the city, and the pit, were done on purpose?”

“I mean just that. I also mean that a certain door did not lock itself accidentally, and a trap was left unguarded and unlocked with a purpose, and a certain geyser was allowed to feed its outlet instead of a heat exchanger. Be sensible, Kruger; you know too little of this planet, and I know too much.”

“But you could’t…” Kruger stopped; the very fact that this thing knew about the events at the Ice Ramparts made his objection ridiculous. He changed his wording.

“How did you find out? Are you one of the Teachers from there?”

“I talk to them frequently.”

“Then did they cause those accidents at your request, or did they want to get rid of me on their own, or did you do it in spite of them?”

“They caused them at my order. They did not want you destroyed; from a purely personal viewpoint neither do I. Unfortunately you are too cooperative.”

“In what way? And why should that be a point against me?”

“I asked you many questions while you were a prisoner here, not only about yourself but about the technical knowledge you have. You answered them all, truthfully and, as far as I was able to tell, correctly. I am not an electrician myself, but I know enough to follow most of what you said.”

“What is your objection to that?”

“If you tell me, whom you had no reason to trust, you will presumably tell Dar Lang Ahn’s people. I have no objection to the state of civilization which they now enjoy, but there are good and sufficient reasons why we do not want them to match the technology of your people.”

“How do you know what our technical level is?”

“You told me enough yourself merely by being here.”

“What is your objection to their learning our technology, if you learn it too?”

“Principally, we do not want them to leave this planet. We need them here.” Kruger began to develop a strong suspicion at this point and asked a question designed to check it.

“How about these people of yours who were here in the village? Would you object to their learning?”

“Very much. They are easier to control as they are.”

“How is it that you dare tell me all this with Dar Lang Ahn listening to the conversation?”

“His Teachers know it already. They did not want to help me get rid of you, but I was able to bring pressure to bear. When their attempts failed I had them send you back here, to be persuaded if possible, destroyed if not.”

Kruger, convinced that his idea was right, leaned forward and spoke with more anger than he had felt in his previous life. “That does it. You are not the same race as Dar’s people or as the people who lived in this village. You have the villagers to do as you want in the way of everyday labor, and the rest pretty much the same thing in more complicated matters. I don’t know whether you or they are the original inhabitants of this world, but I can certainly see why you don’t want them to leave it now. You might have to do some of your own work! Isn’t that it?” Kruger was so furious by the time he reached the end of this speech that it was a wonder the hidden being could understand him, but it apparently did.

“You are partly right,” it answered calmly.

“Partly! I’m right from soup to nuts. I dare you to let me see you!”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible just now.”

“Why not? Afraid I’ll step on you?”

“Not quite that. However, our meeting under the same conditions would indeed result in the death of one of us. I could not survive in your environment and I am pretty sure you could not in mine — at least Dar Lang Ahn certainly could not.”

“Then he, and not you, is one of the natives of this world. You came and conquered it!”

“I do not know enough of the past to refute that belief, but I have reason to doubt it.”

“It’s certainly plain enough.”

“You make an extremely positive statement on remarkably little data. Would you be willing to promise not to reveal any knowledge to Dar Lang Ahn’s people, except what we approve…”

“No!”

“Let me finish — until you have learned enough about us to form a balanced opinion?”

“Who decides when my opinion is balanced?”

“I would agree to release you from your promise whenever you asked, with the understanding that I might then find it expedient or necessary to dispose of you.”

“How do you know I’ll feel bound by a promise obtained under such terms?”

“I should not advise you to do or say anything which would give me reason to doubt the value of your word. I am sure you can see why.”

“How about Dar?”

“As I said, he may say what he wishes while he lives. He has no knowledge that I object to his people’s sharing.”

“He heard me discuss electricity with you.”

“I remember.”

“All right, I will say nothing without giving you fair warning, but I assure you that you have some heavy convincing to do.” Something very like a sigh of relief came through the speaker.

“I much prefer it that way,” was the answer. “Believe it or not, I would like to be on the same terms with you that Dar Lang Ahn seems to be.”

After those engineered accidents that will take some doing — and some believing.”

“Your words make me begin to wonder whether your race can possibly be one that never makes mistakes. Mine is not. However, I had better get to my job of explanation.

“In the first place, your idea that we simply use Dar Lang Ahn’s race for labor is quite wrong. It would be practically impossible for us to do that, since we cannot live under the same conditions they do. Their death, in a few years now, will mark the time when we can live normally on this world.”

“You mean you live during the time they die, and…”

“And most of us die during the time they live. That is correct.”

“Then that city between the volcanoes was built by your people!”

“It was. It is maintained, during our death time, by a few people of whom I am one.”

“So that’s why the electricity was on in that building.”

“When? Just now?”

“Yes, when we were in the city just before coming here.” A succession of sounds quite beyond the power of human vocal cords to imitate spluttered from the speaker, and was followed by a brief silence. Then the invisible creature spoke again.

“Thank you. I had to turn on the power some time ago to handle a steam valve — I have you to thank for that, I suspect — and forgot to turn it off again. My own life is well past its prime, I fear.”

“You mean that thing in the crater across the city — you were handling that?”

“Not at first; it is automatic. The steam comes from the same underground heat source that maintains the geysers. The heat is virtually inexhaustible, but the water is not. I had to shut the valve manually because the loss of steam was threatening most of our other machinery. Am I correct in suspecting that you are the cause of the inconvenience?”

“I’m afraid so.” Kruger told the story, his good humor returning as he did so.

“I understand,” the other said at the end. “I trust you will take the time to remove those stones before you go back to the ice cap. I could get my people here to do it, I suppose, but there are reasons why I do not want them there yet.”

“I’m willing as long as your manual valve stays off,” replied Kruger.

“We seem to be trusting each other,” was the answer. “However, let us get back to the subject. As I said, we are different from your friends; we live under different conditions, use different tools, different buildings, different foods. In short, we do not compete with them — we might almost as well be living on a different planet.”

“Then what is your objection to their living on a different planet — or at least being able to do so?”

“That is as much in their interest as ours, as any of their Teachers will tell you. If they left this planet how likely would they be to find another just like it?”

“I don’t know; there must be quite a number of them. There are vast numbers of planets in the galaxy.”

“But very few, if any, which would kill them at the proper time. I have gathered that you do not know when you are to die, and like it that way. Did you ever try to find out how your friend Dar would feel under such circumstances?” Kruger was silent; he had gathered already that Dar rather pitied the human state of eternal uncertainty. Then he remembered one of his numerous pet theories.

“I admit that Dar has been educated all his life to the idea that dying at a certain particular time is natural and inevitable, but it seems to be just a matter of education — some of his race seem to face quite happily the prospect of living longer.”

“They did not tell you that at the Ice Ramparts.” Kruger chose to interpret this answer as an admission that he was right.

“They didn’t have to; I’m not blind. All Dar Lang Ahn’s people, even your branch of them here, are the same size — and the same age. Their Teachers are also of a size, but much larger than Dar. It didn’t take a genius to see the story: either these people grow throughout their lives, or else this dying time you talk about comes before they reach their full growth. Some live through that time, and keep on growing. They are the Teachers.”

“You are quite right in the main facts, but I think your remark about the attitude of the Teachers toward their prolonged lives must have been guesswork. Did you actually talk to any of the people at the Ice Ramparts who will be the Teachers for the next time of living?”

“What do you mean? I talked to a lot of their Teachers.”

“But surely you do not think that the present group of Teachers will live through this time of dying! The fact that they are all of a size, as you said, should show you that. The next group will come from among the people who started to live at the same time Dar Lang Ahn did.”

“But how were they chosen? Why cannot Dar here join them?”

“He could, but I am sure he does not wish to. The Ice Ramparts are the only place on Abyormen where his kind can live during the time my people hold the planet. They simply cannot accommodate the whole race; some selection must be made. Since long training is needed they are selected early in life.”

“You suggested that those chosen are not too happy about it. I find that hard to believe.”

“A chosen Teacher accepts from a sense of duty. Living beyond the natural time exacts a penalty; you saw that the Teachers at the Ice Ramparts moved slowly when they moved at all. You did not see them all; three out of four, by this time, are virtually cripples. Their size increases, but their strength does not keep up with it. Their joints become stiff, their digestion untrustworthy. Physical ills develop which make life far more of a burden than a pleasure. They accept this lot because if they did not each new group of their people would have to start from the beginning, and this world, during their time of living, would be inhabited by nothing but wild animals.”

“Is the same true for the Teachers of your race?”

“It is. However, I am not as near the end of my duty as are those at the ice cap; I must last through, or nearly through, my people’s next time of living. Life is not too bad for me, so far.”

“But just what are the differences between your races? And what change in conditions kills off one and starts the other growing? Does it affect any other life forms on the planet?”

“The first question is difficult to answer unless we can work out some means of your seeing me, and I don’t know how that would be possible. My environment would have to be separated from yours to permit us both to live, and I know of no barrier through which we could see.” Kruger started to suggest glass or quartz and discovered he did not know the word for either substance. Before he could invent a sentence to describe them the voice went on, “The change in conditions is pretty thorough, but the most important factor is temperature. It gets much hotter (Kruger whistled gently) and the air changes.”

“Do you breathe air, or water, or both?” asked the boy. “Your city extends into the ocean.”

“Only at the moment. During our living time the oceans disappear almost completely. We suppose that they travel as vapor to that portion of Abyormen on which neither sun shines and are there precipitated in either liquid or solid state. We have not been able to explore such regions, for fairly obvious reasons, but knowledge of the conditions at the Ice Ramparts lends support to this theory.”

“But the sun Arren shines on the Ramparts, most of the time.”

“Just now, yes; the region I mentioned is a quarter of the way around the planet from the point you speak of.”

“I begin to get the situation,” Kruger said. “I had already realized that Abyormen was traveling in a pretty eccentric orbit around Theer; if what you say is correct Theer itself is doing much the same around Arren.”

“So we have deduced, though the precise size and shape of the path is not known for certain. We have been unable to devise measuring devices which would give us the needed values. We are sure, however, that both suns are much larger than Abyormen and very distant from it, so it seems reasonable to suppose that Abyormen rather than the suns is moving.”

“I can see the sort of thing that must happen to this place; I suppose my last question was wasted — if the temperature changes as you say, it must affect all the life on the planet. I’ve wondered why most of the trees and animals of a particular species seemed to be about the same size, now it’s quite reasonable. Most of them must have started growing at about the same time.”

“I take it that this is not the case on your world.” The words were half a question. Kruger spent some time describing the seasonal changes of Earth and the way in which various forms of life adapted to them.

“It seems, then,” was the Teacher’s comment to this information, “that most of your creatures either continue through the full year at more or less normal activity, or else become dormant for the unsuitable season. On this world the first is not possible, at least not for us, and I find it hard to imagine a creature able to stand the full extremes of Abyormen’s climate. The second seems to me to be extremely wasteful; if one type of life cannot stand the situation for part of the year why should not another take its place during that period?”

“It seems sensible,” admitted Kruger.

“Then what objection do you have to my race’s sharing Abyormen with Dar Lang Ahn’s?”

“None whatever. What bothers me is your treatment of them, forbidding me to tell them enough of the physical sciences to let them get out from under your control. You certainly don’t seem to mind my giving you all the information I can.”

“To me personally, no. To my people, I would have the same objection that I do for Dar Lang Ahn’s.”

“You mean you don’t want your own people to be able to build space ships, supposing I were able to tell them how?”

“I mean just that.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. What objection could you have to some of your people’s wanting to go off and leave Dar’s folk alone?”

“I said long ago that we need Dar’s race, though you chose to interpret my words differently. What is more, his people need ours just as badly, even though Dar Lang Ahn doesn’t know it — his Teachers do, at least.”

“Then why don’t you treat them as friends instead of inferiors?”

“They are friends. I feel a particularly strong attachment for Dar Lang Ahn; that is one reason you were so well treated while you were in this place before, and why I sent my villagers away rather than risk violence when you came this time.”

“If you are so fond of Dar — whom you have never seen before in your life, as nearly as I can see — why did you keep his books? That has bothered him more than anything else that has happened since I have known him.”

“That was for experimental reasons, I am afraid. I wanted to learn more about you. I am sorry that Dar Lang Ahn suffered, but I am glad to have learned something of your capacity for sympathy and friendship. His books will be on the trap at the place where we used to talk as soon as I can get them there after ending this conversation.”

“How about my fire-lighter?”

“Do you really want it? I took it apart, I’m afraid, and am not sure that I could get it back together again. The condenser (he had to stop to explain this word) was, of course, quite familiar to us, but the part that turns the sun’s heat into electricity was not. If you can spare it my scientists would be interested — when we have some.”

“I thought you didn’t want your people to learn too much.”

“I don’t, but I seriously doubt that this particular device will get any of them off the planet. I judge that it is less practical for our purposes than the generators we already use, which tap the volcanic heat of Abyormen.”

“Then you are living underground, near volcanoes where it is hot enough to suit you? I should think from what I saw of this continent that a good many of you must live through the cold time.”

“I am underground, as you say, but there are not many of us. Only four live in this area; similar numbers are in each of our other cities.”

“But you must have a lot more room to live in during your bad season than the others do. They’re cramped under that ice cap…”

“Which is many hundreds of miles across at its smallest. It would be possible to dig caverns and, probably, store food enough for most if not all of the race.”

“And there are volcanoes for I don’t know how many hundreds of miles down the length of that peninsula I followed from the place I was left. In short, there doesn’t seem to be any reason why both races can’t live at full strength all the time. What’s wrong with the idea?”

“I have been giving you hints as to what is wrong with it all through this conversation. I told you each race was necessary to the other; you seem to believe that is due to our laziness. I mentioned that other planets would be unsuitable because they would not kill us at the right time; you appear to have put that down to superstition. I tell you that I have a strong personal interest in Dar Lang Ahn’s welfare, and apparently you simply don’t believe it. You remark on your own that there is no technical impossibility, or even great difficulty, in our remaining alive throughout the year if we choose. Instead of putting all those items together, you treat them as a group of separate impossibilities. I confess I have been trying ever since this conversation started to get some sort of idea of human intelligence, and you are certainly not giving me a high one. Can you honestly not think of an explanation that will embrace all those facts?”

Kruger frowned, and no one spoke for a minute or so; then Dar Lang Ahn made a remark.

“If you are testing intelligence, Teacher, you’d better compare his with mine. I’ve lived on Abyormen all my life and don’t see what you’re driving at.”

“Your training would prevent it.”

“Then I’d like to think that mine does the same thing,” snapped Kruger, somewhat annoyed. “Why should I be able to win your guessing game if he can’t?”

“Very well, I do not wish to cause you anger. The explanation will, I think, be easiest if you give me some words in your language. I understand that individuals of your race are directly concerned with the production of other individuals. What is the newly produced being called?”

“A child — son or daughter, according to…”

“The general term will be enough. Is there a word describing the relationship of two childs produced by the same individual?”

“Brother or sister, according…”

“All right, I will assume either word is usable. I have no child, since I am still alive, but Dar Lang Ahn is a child of my brother.”

The silence was much longer this time, while Nils Kruger fitted piece after piece of the jigsaw puzzle into place, and his attitude grew from one of sheer disbelief, through gradual recognition of the possibilities, to acceptance. “You win — Uncle!” he said weakly, at last. “But I still don’t see…”

Kruger’s sentence was interrupted — and not by the Teacher.

“I think I’ll say ‘uncle’ too.” The voice was a slow drawl that the boy had never to his knowledge heard before, but it was speaking English. “I can stand,” it went on, “an occasional word that sounds like good old English in any collection of random noises, and will gladly put it down to coincidence. However, when ‘child,’ ‘son,’ ‘daughter,’ ‘brother,’ ‘sister,’ and ‘uncle’ all occur within the same thirty-second period, coincidence goes a long, long way out the window. Mr. Nils Kruger, if you’ve been contributing heavily to the conversations we’ve been recording for the last couple of weeks, I hope you’ve developed a good accent. If not, a couple of philologists I know are going to be very, very angry indeed!”