One Step From Earth

A Tale of the Ending

+NO MORE could the Elstaran intermovement be stemmed when IJsselDijk a leader of men funneled sametyped through oneone and fortuned intramovement canceling all tendencies and Elstaran futures subsumed. End of sentence. End of paragraph. End of chapter. End of book. Type+

Dehan stretched widely as the screen before him darkened and, an instant later, his dictation appeared on it in a solid bank of type. He touched the screen in a few places with a stylus and made corrections, then nodded with satisfaction.

+Print+ he said and pushed away from his work table. He saw that it was nearing seventy-five on the clock, almost the time he usually went swimming with Sousbois, but he was too tired for that now; the work had been intense and concentrated and he had labored at it steadily without getting enough sleep. He stretched again, yawning as well this time, and went to lie gratefully on the bed.

+Lights off+ he said and closed his eyes to the velvety darkness and was asleep.

Eighty-four the clock read when he awoke and he knew that Sousbois was long gone, but he still wanted to bathe himself. Quickly stripping off his daily clothes he put on a robe and went to the right-hand Door, the one that, by habit, he always used when going out. As he thought of the sunlight and the water his fingers automatically tapped out the correct twelve-digit code on the signal plate. The surface of the Door shimmered and he stepped through.

From the cool underground room buried somewhere inside the solid stone of some planet he walked out into the burning blue sunshine of the Ytong shore. Gasping in lungfuls of the furnacelike air he trotted quickly across the gold sand to the water's edge where little waves rolled up, breaking into hissing bubbles one after tile other. Quickly, for he could feel the sweat already dotting his skin, he dropped his robe and kicked off his sandals and fell into the water. It closed a cool embrace about him and he sank, rose, wallowed happily.

With just his head above the water he could see the narrow strand vanishing off into the distance on either hand, with the gray wall of the escarpment rising above it. As always when he looked at that immense barrier of stone he wondered idly what lay beyond it, although this was only a fleeting interest. Someone here had told him that there was probably only more stone since the land, like the sea, sported no life forms at all. Below the cliff and close to it were a number Of Doors since this was a popular bathing area. People hurried in and out of them and the shallow water was dotted with swimmers for as far as he could see in both directions. The water was very soothing, fresh and transparent, and he ducked under to cool his head and swam slowly along the featureless bottom. When he surfaced he saw that a man had emerged from the Door he had used and was trotting quickly across the searing beach just as he had done. In a moment the stranger was splashing heavily in the shallows, submerging then surfacing nearby.

+Linkica+ the newcomer said when he saw that he was not alone.

+Dehan+

They paddled near each other for a few moments, observing the customary period of silence in case either of them did not wish to converse at this time. They remained close by.

+The sun appears to have moved down toward the water+ Dehan said, squinting up at it.

+Yes. It won't be long before we must find another beach until it returns. I worked the figures out from observations once. This planet has a period of rotation of six thousand, four hundred thirty time units. The day is three thousand, two hundred fifteen long. Although it is too cold to swim in the early morning+

+You are a man of science?+

Dehan knew that the other must be of some high standing or he would not have used this Door. The ocean of Ytong was here to be enjoyed by anyone, but Doornumbers were exchanged only among people of the same levels of attainment. Somewhere on this beach was a child's Door. Perhaps a madman's Door; he neither knew nor cared.

+I am a phylogeneticist+

Dehan nodded unknowingly and splashed water onto his head. Another long word. Another speciality. There must be thousands, perhaps millions of them. +I am a historicollator+

+How interesting. I have always wanted to meet one+

Dehan closed both his eyes in the expression that meant humorous disbelief. +Can it be true? I have never met anyone other than another historicollator whoever heard of the speciality+

The other man rubbed his hairless scalp, now reddening under the sun, and smiled.

+I can pretend no great breadth of knowledge. I must admit that I searched the word out as a reference. In relation to my own work of course… +

At the mention of his work he suffered a natural embarrassment and Dehan sank beneath the water and swam in a circle to lessen it. There are certain things that are never discussed while bathing. +I should like to close my pores+ he said upon surfacing again. +And you?+

+A fine suggestion+ They waded ashore and quickly put on their robes.

+I have recently visited a frigidarium that is very unusual+ Linkica said hopefully, volunteering the information to excise the memory of his recent breach of conduct. He spoke the code number aloud, his fingers unconsciously tapping out the combinations of numerals in the air.

+I do not know it. I will be pleased to follow you+ Happier now Linkica moved quickly to the Door and activated it. Dehan stepped through behind him and his body recoiled as the subzero air and swirling snow struck at him, gasping at the sudden shock. They appeared to be on an icy ridge that fell away into snow-clouded nothingness on both sides. Ahead, barely visible through the pelting flakes, were two other Doors set into the cliff face. Linkica had to shout into Dehan's ear to be heard.

+When it is not snowing one can see impossibly far in this direction. Mountains, valleys, snowcap, terribly impressive+

+I shall… remember+ Dehan stammered through numb lips.

They shuffled across the slippery ice surface, following the groove worn by other footsteps, sharply aware that only a single waist-high bar on either side stood between them and plummeting destruction. Gratefully they passed through the Door and into a robing room and each took a cubicle. Dehan sent his soiled robe through a small Door back to his own quarters, then dried and put on a one-use lounge suit from the dispenser. His skin tingled and he felt wonderful. That was certainly a fine frigidarium. He would try it again, hopefully on a clear day.

Linkica was waiting for him at a table by the immense window. The light of twin moons flooded the valley outside, filling it with infinite shades of gray and black where hills, jungle, and river met and merged. Dehan knew this place, built into a high hillside of some tropical world. They nodded, ordered drinks, then sipped at them when they appeared on the table.

+What is your work?+ Dehan asked. +Phylogen- something you said+

+Phylogeneticist. I attempt to trace the origin of different species, ancestorship, relationships. Most useful in stockbreeding, food plants, that sort of thing+

Dehan nodded although he had no idea of what the man was talking about. Encouraged, Linkica went on.

+Some time ago I was consulted about a gene-linked human disease. I traced its origin and found the correction that must be made. Because of this I became most interested in mankind, this most unusual of all animals, and I began to trace our history. In some ways, one might say, there is a slight resemblance between my small labors and your great work. Are you working well of late?+

Dehan nodded and smiled. The man was goodmannered after all. One never discussed one's own work in detail until all present had mentioned theirs.

+I have done with the Elstaran. A tedious task, a portion of history that was singularly dull as human history goes, and entirely too long for its own worth. A dozen suns, twenty or so planets, now thankfully gone by courtesy of a fortuitous supernova. I reduced over nine hundred volumes to a single volume, losing nothing of value in so doing+

+Admirable. How we do need your sort of talent to pare the long ribbon of history to manageable units. We would drown in the superfluous were it not for you. I can state this truthfully, for in my own research I have realized for the first time the incredible length of the history of our species. Would you say millions of time units?+

+More. More+ Dehan spoke the words slowly, with deep feeling.

+That it could be so. I do believe it+ Linkica bowed his head beneath the weight of the thought. +A moment for beauty, if you will. Sunrise is near and the sky changes+

They watched silently for a brief time. The sky was lightening with a tropical swiftness. Mist rose from the trees and river and the first muted pink brought color to the grays, touching the swirls and pools with an invisible brush. It was entrancing and they opened themselves to appreciate it.

+I have uncovered strange curious quaint and mystifying facts along this endless trail of progress+ Linkica said. +Have you ever considered why we count from a twelve-digit base?+

+Mathematically it is the best. There are but eleven digits and the zero to remember. Yet still capable of infinite amplitude. Divisible as well by one, two, three, four, and six. A fine base+

+That is all?+

+That is enough+

+Have you never considered that at some time, in the dawn of our race, we must have first started to count and in our simplicity used our fingers as a basic system+ He spread his hands on the table and looked at his dozen fingers. +Could that not be possible?+

+Possible. But just a theory. You might just as well say that if we had had five fingers on each hand we would have used ten as a base+

Linkica's face went white in an instant and he lifted his glass and drained it quickly. Control returned.

+An interesting number. Did you pick it by chance? Or has there been a system of mathematics using base ten in the same manner that computers use base two?+

+I do not remember. But we can find out easily enough+

Dehan strolled across the room to the computer outlet that graced all public places. He was experienced, greatly experienced, at ruthlessly tracking down the most stubbornly hidden facts, and this was simplicity itself in comparison. At all times he knew the right questions to ask. His fingers moved on the control squares constantly, changing the displays at almost the very instant they appeared. Through the local computer to the infinite computer, linked through transmatter connections to all the memory units in the galaxy, to mathematics and history and ever deeper. He returned quickly to the table and sipped his drink.

+An interesting fact discovered. At one time, oh dear, dear, how long ago, the base of ten was universally used. It was replaced by twelve, undoubtedly because of its superiority. So it appears that the finger theory must be dismissed+

+Not at once. My researches have disclosed that at one time a large proportion of mankind had but ten fingers+

+A coincidence+ Dehan did not believe the words even as he spoke them.

+Possibly. But if there is an explanation — what is it? If the two facts are interconnected the resulting logical equation can be read in one of two ways. When the shift from base ten to base twelve occurred there was a resulting change in the number of fingers+

+Highly improbable+

+I agree. Therefore we must consider the alternative that some great mutation, change, or conflict swept the human race. Perhaps there were Opposing groups and the twelves won over the tens in a great war…+

+There has never been a war like that. I would know+

+Of course. But it is an interesting problem+

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks and watching daylight come to the valley below them. The morning fogs burned away as the first rays of the great orange sun struck through the mountain crags. There were crude dwellings beside the river and Dehan touched the window controls. Instantly the image expanded, so enlarged they appeared to be right in among the huts. A blue-skinned aborigine waddled through the doorway, yawning long saurian jaws to show impressive rows of pointed teeth. It picked up a stick and dug at some irritation in the deep folds of skin while looking on coldly at the growing activity around.

+Time bound+ Linkica said. +We were once that way, too. The ontological evidence is clear+

+I do not know what you are referring to+

+These creatures. Their life cycles are bound to the planetary rotation. They sleep during periods of darkness and are awake during their day+

+How unnatural+

+Not at all. It is the natural outcome of a planetary existence. It has taken us thousands of generations to outgrow our dependence upon a waking-sleeping cycle, to reach the present point where we sleep for short periods whenever we feel tired+

+I can imagine no other way to sleep. And if this change were made, what possible reason could there be for it?+

+That appears obvious. The Doors. Their introduction must have altered every facet of existence+

Dehan raised his eyebrows. +Then you are not one of those who believe that the Doors have been with us from the dawn of time?+

+A child's myth. The Doors are artifacts that we still build. Though now they are single unit, solid block, solid-state construction, almost indestructible, they were not always that way. Earlier forms can be found in museums. Have you never wondered why there are always two Doors together, always?+

+I never considered. It is just the natural way of things+

+There is a reason. An engineer told me. Perfect as the Door mechanism is there can be, once in a very long while, a failure of mechanism. If this happens the other Door is always standing ready. There are many places where it would be embarrassing to be without a Door+

+Indeed!+ Dehan said and felt cold at the thought, thinking about his room. It was embedded in the solid rock of a world whose name he forgot. He had never been on its surface because it was airless. At one time it had been mined for precious metal, and great tunnels were driven through the heart of the stone mountains. When the ore was gone the tunnels had been plugged with molten slag. At intervals. Doors had been left in the boxlike openings to be furnished as private quarters. Very private. Without the Doors they were but bubbles in the rock. It would be a lonely, forgotten death for anyone trapped in one of them.

+Logic forces us to a single conclusion+ Linkica said. +There must have been a time, unimaginable as it is to us, when mankind did not possess the Doors+

+It follows then, that you are a monolinearist, not a multifontist?+

+Of course. For one thing it is biologically impossible to have a single species occur in a number of different places. and then be able to interbreed. Just as there was a time when we had no Doors, so was there a time when we were confined to one restricted area of space+

+To but a single planet?+

Linkica smiled. +You said it — I did not. It carries the theory almost too far+

+Why? I do not tempt you into rash statements for I am as enthusiastic a monolinearist as you are, even though it is an unfashionable attitude to hold these days. I will go even further. I believe we did originate on a single planet at one time. Just as those creatures out there are natives of this world and incapable of leaving+

+You force agreement from me. I admit to physical change, but never considered that cultural change must accompany it. We may have originated from as crude a background as this one. If so — it had to be a single planet+

+I have long thought so, and during my work have traced mankind's movements backward as far as possible. Always I have found the simpler growing into the complex. My researches have been exhaustive+

Linkica shielded his eyes for a moment in the sign of great appreciation. +Can it be that you have discovered this proto world, this home world?+

+Perhaps. Though I doubt it. I have traced back all records, the oldest records, to an incredibly ancient world. I do not know if it is the planet, only that there are none older+

+I humbly request the code+

+A pleasure to share it+ Dehan spoke the digits aloud. +In fact we could go there now and see it+

+You are kinder than I thought possible+

+I am pleased to take you. So few show any interest at all+

Dehan led the way through the Door to a small and crudely furnished room.

+So rarely do people come here that it is sealed for the most part. See my visits on the graph. The first in many thousand units+ He examined the controls and nodded with satisfaction. +Air, temperature, all is well+

They passed through a sealing door into a long, corridorlike room. There were viewing ports set into one wall while everywhere else were cabinets and displays.

+Dead now+ Linkica said, looking out on the desiccated landscape. A sun, scarcely brighter than the other stars, shown as a cold, unblinking disc in the black sky. Air gone, water gone, life gone, bare sand and rock stretched flatly to the horizon. Yet nearby great monoliths, fissured and eroded, still bore witness of having been shaped by some intelligence.

+These cases contain the few identifiable objects found here+

Linkica turned with a high anticipation that slowly faded and died.

+These could be — anything+ he said, pointing to the eroded lumps of metal and stone.

+I know. But should we expect more?+

+Of course not. You are correct+

Linkica looked once more at the mute age-old shapes, then out again at the dead plain. He shivered, although the room was warm and comfortable. +I feel the weight of ages here. More time than I can possibly understand has passed for this world. I see how short my own individual span of existence is and how unimportant+

+I have felt the same thing myself, here, many times. It is said that a man's mind cannot encompass the idea of its own death, but when I am here I can begin to see how a species might die. If we had not had the Door we would be here, trapped here, dead here, if this were the only world we had ever known+

+Give thanks it was not. Mankind is universal. We rule everywhere+

+But for how long? Is not one galaxy — in the fullness of time — like one planet? Will it not die? Or could we not be displaced by some other creature? Something stronger, newer, better. I must admit that this is a recurrent nightmare I have. The Doors are everywhere. Might one of them not be in the wrong spot? A planet say where this other specie waits. To subtly move among us, displace us and end our existence for all time?+

+It is possible+ Linkica agreed. +All things are possible in the fullness of eternity. But it would be a painless conquest. We would never know. Why do you point? What is it?+

+There. I wished to talk with you first before you saw this last artifact+

The lights grew brighter as they approached and the figure could be plainly seen. Painting or photograph, it lay beneath a thick, transparent coating and many details were visible despite its age.

+What is this creature?+ Linkica asked. +Very like a man, indeed. But look, it has fur upon its skull as we do not, nor does it have a nictitating membrane in its eyes. The anatomy is wrong, the joints — and look. Five fingers on each hand, ten in all — +

He stopped, struck silent by memory, and turned wide-eyed and numb toward Dehan who nodded slowly.

+This is what frightens me. The word inscribed beneath the figure is the name of a leader so great that I have found references to him in a few sources. Our sources. Ancient records. It appears then, looking at this man…+

+But we are men!+

+Are we? We call ourselves men and have mankind's cultural heritage. But is it not possible that — as we theorized earlier — that mankind could be replaced? That we have indeed replaced them?+

+Then — who are we?+ A shudder passed through him at the thought.

+We? We are mankind now. By cultural inheritance if not by blood line. But that is not what disturbs me. It is a more selfish thought+

For a long moment there was only silence in the lifeless room on a dead world.

+I think always. What thing is waiting out there, that will sometime — perhaps even now — replace us?+