The Early Asimov. Volume 1

No Connection

Raph was a typical American of his times. Remarkably ugly, too, by American standards of our times. The bony structure of his jaws was tremendous and the musculature suited it. His nose was arched and wide and his black eyes were small and forced wide apart by the span of said nose. His neck was thick, his body broad, his fingers spatulate, with strongly curved nails.

If he had stood erect, on thick legs with large, well-padded feet, he would have topped two and a half yards. Standing or sitting, his mass neared a quarter of a ton.

Yet his forehead rose in an unrestricted arc and his cranial capacity did not stint. His enormous hand dealt delicately with a pen, and his mind droned comfortably on as he bent over his desk.

In fact, his wife and most of his fellow-Americans found him a fine-looking fellow.

Which shows the alchemy of a long displacement along the time-axis.

Raph, Junior, was a smaller edition of our typical American. He was adolescent and had not yet lost the hairy covering of childhood. It spread in a dark, close-curled mat across his chest and back, but it was already thinning and perhaps within the year he would first don the adult shirt that would cover the proudly-naked skin of manhood.

But, meanwhile, he sat in breeches alone, and scratched idly at a favorite spot just above the diaphragm. He felt curious and just a little bored. It wasn’t bad to come with his father to the museum when people were there. Today was a Closed-Day, however, and the empty corridors rang lonesomely when he walked along them.

Besides, he knew everything in it-mostly bones and stones.

Junior said: “What’s that thing?”

“What thing?” Raph lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. Then he looked pleased. “Oh, that’s something quite new. That’s a reconstruction of Primate Primeval. It was sent to me from the North River Grouping. Isn’t it a nice job, though?” And he returned to his work, in the grip of a momentary twinge of pleasure. Private Primeval wasn’t to go on exhibition for a week at least-not until he prepared an honorable place for it with suitable surroundings, but, for the moment, it was in his office and his own private darling.

Raph looked at the “nice job” with quite other emotions, however. What he saw was a spindly figure of contemptuous size, with thin legs and arms, hair-covered and owning an ugly, small-featured face with large, protruding eyes.

He said: “Well, what is it, Pa?”

Raph stirred impatiently: “It’s a creature that lived many millions of years ago, we think. That’s the way we think it looks.”

“Why?” insisted the youngster.

Raph gave up. Apparently, he would have to root out the subject and do away with it.

“Well, for one thing we can tell about the muscles from the shape of the bones, and the positions where the tendons would fit and where some of the nerves would go. From the teeth we can tell the type of digestive system the animal would have, and from the foot-bones, what type of posture it would have. For the rest, we go by the principle of Analogy, that is, by the outside appearance of creatures that exist today that have the same kind of skeleton. For instance, that’s why he’s covered with red hair. Most of the Primates today-they’re little insignificant creatures, practically extinct-are red-haired, have bare callosities on the rump-”

Junior scurried behind the figure and satisfied himself on that score.

“-have long, fleshy probosces, and short, shriveled ears. Their diets are unspecialized, hence the rather all-purpose teeth, and they are nocturnal, hence the large eyes. It’s all simple, really. Now, does that dispose of you, youngster?”

And then Junior, having thought and thought about it, came out with a disparaging: “He looks just like an Eekah to me, though. Just like an ugly, old Eekah.”

Raph stared at him. Apparently he had missed a point: “An Eekah?” he said, “What’s an Eekah? Is that an imaginary creature you’ve been reading about?”

“Imaginary! Say, Pa, don’t you ever stop at the Recorder’s?”

This was an embarrassing question to answer, for “Pa” never did, or at least, never since his maturity. As a child, the Recorder, as custodian of the world’s spoken, written, and recorded fiction, had, of course, had an unfailing fascination. But he had grown up-

He said, tolerantly: “Are there new stories about Eekahs? I remember none when I was young.”

“You don’t get it, Pa.” One would almost suppose that the young Raph was on the very verge of an exasperation he was too cautious to express. He explained in wounded fashion: “The Eekahs are real things. They come from the Other World. Haven’t you heard about that? We’ve been hearing about it in school, even, and in the Group Magazine. They stand upside down in their country, only they don’t know it, and they look just like Ol’ Primeval there.”

Raph collected his astonished wits. He felt the incongruity of cross-examining his half-grown child for archeological data and he hesitated a moment. After all, he had heard some things. There had been word of vast continents existing on the other hemisphere of Earth. It seemed to him that there were reports of life on them. It was all hazy-perhaps it wasn’t always wise to stick so closely to the field of one’s own interest.

He asked Junior: “Are there Eekahs here among the Groupings?”

Junior nodded rapidly: “The Recorder says they can think as good as us. They got machines that go through the air. That’s how they got here.”

“Junior!” said Raph severely.

“I ain’t lying,” Junior cried with aggrieved virtue. “You ask the Recorder and see what he says.”

Raph slowly gathered his papers together. It was Closed-Day, but he could find the Recorder at his home, no doubt.

The Recorder was an elderly member of the Red River Gurrow Grouping and few alive could remember a time when he was not. He had succeeded to the post by general consent and filled it well, for he was Recorder for the same reason that Raph was curator of the museum. He liked to be, he wanted to be, and he could conceive no other life.

The social pattern of the Gurrow Grouping is difficult to grasp unless born into it, but there was a looseness about it that almost made the word “pattern” incongruous. The individual Gurrow took whatever job he felt an aptitude for, and such work as was left over and needed to be done was done either in common, or consecutively by each according to an order determined by lot. Put so, it sounds too simple to work, but actually the traditions that had gathered with the five thousand years since the first Voluntary Grouping of Gurrahs was supposed to have been established, made the system complicated, flexible-and workable.

The Recorder was, as Raph had anticipated, at his home, and there was the embarrassment of renewing an old and unjustly neglected acquaintanceship. He had made use of the Recorder’s reference library, of course, but always indirectly-yet he had once been a child, an intimate learner at the feet of accumulated wisdom, and he had let the intimacy lapse.

The room he now entered was more or less choked with recordings and, to a lesser degree, with printed material. The Recorder interspersed greetings with apologies.

“Shipments have come from some of the other Groupings,” he said. “It needs time for cataloguing, you know, and I can’t seem to find the time I used to.” He lit a pipe and puffed strongly. “Seems to me I’ll have to find a full-time assistant. What about your son, Raph? He clusters about here the way you did twenty years ago.”

“You remember those times?”

“Better than you do, I think. Think your son would like that?”

“Suppose you talk to him. He might like to. I can’t honestly say he’s fascinated by archaeology.” Raph picked up a recording at random and looked at the identification tag: “Um-m-m-from the Joquin Valley Grouping. That’s a long way from here.”

“A long way… The Recorder nodded. “I have sent them some of ours, of course. The works of our own Grouping are highly regarded throughout the continent,” he said, with proprietary pride. “In fact”-he pointed the stem of his pipe at the other-”your own treatise on extinct primates has been distributed everywhere. I’ve sent out two thousand copies and there are still requests. That’s pretty good-for archaeology.”

“Well, archaeology is why I am here-that and what my son says you’ve been telling him… Raph had a little trouble starting: “It seems you have spoken of creatures called Eekahs from the Antipodes, and I would like to have such information as you have on them.”

The Recorder looked thoughtful: “Well, I could tell you what I know offhand, or we could go to the Library and look up the references.”

“Don’t bother opening the Library for me. It’s a Closed-Day. Just give me some notion of things and I’ll search the references later.”

The Recorder bit at his pipe, shoved his chair back against the wall and de-focused his eyes thoughtfully. “Well,” he said, “I suppose it starts with the discovery of the continents on the other side. That was five years ago. You know about that, perhaps?”

“Only the fact of it. I know the continents exist, as everyone does now. I remember once speculating on what a shining new field it would be for archaeological research, but that is all.”

“Ah, then there is much else to tell you of. The new continents were never discovered by us directly, you know. It was five years ago that a group of non-Gurrow creatures arrived at the East Harbor Grouping in a machine that flew-by definite scientific principles, we found out later, based essentially on the buoyancy of air. They spoke a language, were obviously intelligent, and called themselves Eekahs. The Gurrows, of the East Harbor Grouping, learned their language-a simple one though full of unpronounceable sounds-and I have a grammar of it, if you’re interested-”

Raph waved that away.

The Recorder continued: “The Gurrows of the Grouping, with the aid of those of the Iron Mountain Grouping-which specialize in steel works, you know-built duplicates of the flying machine. A flight was made across the ocean, and I should say there are several dozens of volumes on all that-volumes on the flying machine, on a new science called aerodynamics, new geographies, even a new system of philosophy based on the plurality of intelligences. All produced at the East Harbor and Iron Mountain Groupings. Remarkable work for only five years, and all are available here:’

“But the Eekahs-are they still at the East Harbor Groupings?”

“Um-m-m. I’m pretty certain they are. They refused to return to their own continents. They call themselves ‘political refugees.’ “

“Politi. …what?”

“It’s their own language,” said the Recorder, “and it’s the only translation available.”

“Well, why political refugees? Why not geological refugees, or oompah refugees. I should think a translation ought to make sense.”

The Recorder shrugged: “I refer you to the books. They’re not criminals, they claim. I know only what I tell you.”

“Well, then, what do they look like? Do you have pictures?”

“At the Library.”

“Did you read my ‘Principles of Archaeology?’ “

“I looked through it.”

“Do you remember the drawings of Primate Primeval?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Then, look, let’s go down to the Library, after all.”

“Well, sure.” The Recorder grunted as he rose.

The Administrator of the Red River Gurrow Grouping held a position in no way different in essentials from that of the Museum Curator, the Recorder or any other voluntary job holder. To expect a difference is to assume a society in which executive ability is rare.

Actually, all jobs in a Gurrow Grouping-where a “job” is defined as regular work, the fruits of which adhere to others in addition to the worker himself-are divided into two classes: one, Voluntary Jobs, and the other, Involuntary or Community Jobs. All of the first classification are equal. If a Gurrow enjoys the digging of useful ditches, his bent is to be respected and his job to be honored. If no one enjoys such burrowing and yet it is found necessary for comfort, it becomes a Community Job, done by lot or rotation according to convenience-annoying but unavoidable.

And so it was that the Administrator lived in a house no more ample and luxurious than others, sat at the head of no tables, had no particular title other than the name of his job, and was neither envied, hated, nor adored.

He liked to arrange Inter-Group trade, to supervise the common finances of the Group, and to judge the infrequent disagreements that arose. Of course, he received no additional food or energy privileges for doing what he liked.

It was not, therefore, to obtain permission, but to place his accounts in decent order, that Raph stopped in to see the Administrator. The Closed-Day had not yet ended. The Administrator sat peacefully in his after-dinner armchair, with an after-dinner cigar in his mouth, and an after-dinner book in his hand. Although there was something rather timeless about six children and a wife, even they had an after-dinner air about them.

Raph received a multiple greeting upon entering, and raised two hands to his ears, for if the various Administratelets (Only applicable title. Author.) had a job, it was noisemaking. Certainly, it was what they liked to do, and certainly others reaped most of the fruits therefrom, for their own eardrums were apparently impervious.

The Administrator shooed them.

Raph accepted a cigar.

“I intend leaving the Grouping for a time, Lahr,” he said. “My job necessitates it.”

“We won’t enjoy your going, Raph. I hope it will not be for long.”

“I hope not. What have we in Common Units?”

“Oh, ample for your purposes, I’m sure. Where do you intend going?”

“To the East Harbor Grouping.”

The Administrator nodded and blew out a thoughtful puff of smoke: “Unfortunately, East Harbor has a surplus in their favor registered in our books-I can verify that, if you wish-but the Common Units of Exchange on hand will take care of transportation and necessary expenses.”

“Well, that’s fine. But tell me, what is my status on the Community Job Roster?”

“Um-m-m-I’ll have to get the rolls. You’ll excuse me a moment.” He trundled away, heaving his great weight across the room and out into the hallway. Raph paused to poke at the youngest of the children who rolled up to him, growling in mock ferocity with gleaming teeth-a black little bundle of thick fur, with the long, childish snout that had not yet broadened away from the shape of the animal ancestry of half a million years earlier.

The Administrator returned with a heavy ledger and large spectacles. He opened the ledger meticulously, riffled the pages to the proper place and then drew a careful finger down the columns.

He said: “There’s only the question of the water supply, Raph. You’re due on the Maintenance gang for this next week. There’s nothing else due for at least two months.”

“I’ll be back before then. Is there any chance of someone subbing for me on the Water Maintenance?”

“Um-m-m-I’ll get someone. I can always send my oldest. He’s getting to job age and he might as well taste everything. He may like working on the dam.”

“Yes? You tell me if he does, then. He can replace me, regularly.”

The Administrator smiled gently: “Don’t plan on that, Raph. If he can figure out a way of making sleeping useful to all of us, he’ll certainly take it up as a job. And why are you going to East Harbor Grouping, by the way, if it’s something you care to talk about?”

“You’ll laugh, perhaps, but I have just found out that there exist such things as Eekahs.”

“Eekahs? Yes, I know.” The Administrator pointed a finger. “creatures from across the seal Right?”

“Right! But that’s not all. I’ve come from the Library. I’ve seen trimensional reproductions, Lahr, and they’re Primate Primeval, or almost. They’re primates, anyway, intelligent primates. They’ve got small eyes, Hat noses, and completely different jawbones-but they’re at least second cousins. I’ve got to see them, Lahr.”

The Administrator shrugged. He felt no interest in the matter himself. “Why? I ask out of ignorance, Raph. Does it matter, your seeing them?”

“Matter?” Raph was obviously appalled at the question. “Don’t you know what’s been going on these last years? Have you read my archaeology book?”

“No,” said the Administrator, definitely, “I wouldn’t read it to save myself a turn at Garbage Disposal.”

Raph said: “Which probably proves you more suited to Garbage Disposal than archaeology. But never mind. I’ve been fighting single-handed for nearly ten years in favor of my theory that Primate Primeval was an intelligent creature with a developed civilization. I have nothing on my side so far but logical necessity, which is the last thing most archaeologists will accept. They want something solid. They want the remains of a Grouping, or artifacts, structures, books-get it. All I can give them is a skeleton with a huge brain-pan. Stars above, Lahr, what do they expect to survive in ten million years? Metal dies. Paper dies. Film dies.

“Only stone lasts, Lahr. And bone that’s turned to stone. I’ve got that. A skull with room for a brain. And stone, too, old sharpened knives. Ground flints.”

“Well. “ said Lahr, “there are your artifacts.”

“Those are called eoliths, dawn stones. They won’t accept them. They call them natural products, fortuitously shaped by erosion into the shapes they have, the idiots.”

Then he grinned with a scientific ferocity: “But if the Eekahs are intelligent primates, I’ve practically proven my case.”

Raph had traveled before, but never eastward, and the decline of agriculture on the road impressed him. In early history, the Gurrow Groupings had been entirely unspecialized. Each had been self-sufficient, and trade was a gesture of friendliness rather than a matter of necessity.

And so it was still in most Groupings. His own Grouping, the Red River, was perhaps typical. Some five hundred miles inland, set in lush farm land, agriculture remained centric. The river yielded some fish and there was a well-developed dairy industry. In fact, it was food exports that provided cause for the healthy state of the store of Common Units.

As they traveled eastward, however, the Groupings through which they passed paid less and less mind to the shallowing soil and more and more to the smoking factory structures.

In the East Harbor Grouping, Raph found a trading center which depended for its prosperity primarily upon ships. It was a more populous Grouping than the average, more densely packed, with houses, on occasion, within a hundred yards of each other.

Raph felt an uncomfortable prickling at the thought of living in such close quarters. The docks were even worse, with Gurrows engaged at the huge Community Jobs of loading and unloading.

The Administrator of this East Harbor Grouping was a young man, new at his job, overwhelmed with the joy of his work, and beside himself with the pleasure of welcoming a distinguished stranger.

Raph sat through an excellent meal, and was treated to a long discourse as to the exact derivation of each dish. To his provincial ears, beef from the Prairie Grouping, potatoes from the Northeast Woods Grouping, coffee from the Isthmus Grouping, wine from the Pacific Grouping, and fruit from the Central Lakes Grouping were something strange and wonderful.

Over the cigars-South Island Grouping-he brought up the subject of the Eekahs. The East Harbor Administrator grew solemn and a little uneasy.

“The man you want to see is Lernin. He’ll be glad to help you all he can. You say you know something of these Eekahs?”

“I say I would like to know something. They resemble an extinct species of animal I am familiar with.”

“Then that is your field of interest. I see.”

“Perhaps you can tell me some of the details of their arrival, Administrator,” suggested Raph, politely.

“I was not Administrator at the time, friend, so that I lack firsthand information, but the records are plain. This group of Eekahs that arrived in their flying-machine…you’ve heard about these aeronautical devices?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Yes. Well…apparently they were fugitives.”

“So I have heard. Yet they claim not to be criminals. Isn’t that so?”

“Yes. Queer, isn’t it? They admitted that they had been condemned-this was after long and skillful questioning, once we had learned their language-but denied that they were evildoers. Apparently, they had disagreed with their Administrator on principles of policy.”

Raph nodded his head knowingly: “ Ah, and refused to abide by the common decision. Is that it?”

“More confusing than that. They insist there was no common decision. They claim that the Administrator decided on policy of his own accord.”

“And was not replaced?”

“Apparently those who believe he should are considered criminals -as these were.”

There was a frank pause of disbelief. Then Raph said: “Does that sound reasonable to you?”

“No, I merely relay to you their words. Of course, the Eekah language is quite a barrier. Some of the sounds can’t be pronounced: words have different meanings according to position in the sentence and according to tiny differences in inflection. And it happens often that Eekah words even when best translated are a complete puzzle.”

“They must have been surprised to find Gurrows here,” suggested Raph, “if they are members of a different genus.”

“Surprised!” The Administrator’s voice sank: “I’ll say they were surprised. Now, this information has not been generally published for obvious reasons, so I hope you remember that it’s confidential. These Eekahs killed five Gurrows before they could be disarmed. They had an instrument that expelled metal pellets at high speed by means of a controlled explosive chemical reaction. We have duplicated it since. Naturally, under the circumstances, we are not branding them criminals, for it is reasonable to assume that they did not realize we were intelligent beings. Apparently,” and the Administrator smiled ruefully, “we resemble certain animals in their world. Or so they say.”

But Raph was galvanized into a sudden enthusiasm: “Stars above! They said that, did they? Did they go into details? What kind of animals?”

The Administrator was taken back: “Well, I don’t know. They give names in their language. What meaning has that? They called us giant ‘bears.’ “

“Giant what?”

“Bears. I haven’t the slightest idea what they are, except presumably that they look like us. I know of no such in America.”

“Bears. Bears.” Raph stumbled over the word. “That’s interesting. It’s more than interesting. It’s stupendous. Do you know, Administrator, that there is a great dispute among us as to the ancestry of Gurrows? Living animals related to Gurrow sapiens would be of immense importance.” Raph rubbed his huge hands with pleasure.

The Administrator was pleased at the sensation he had caused. He said: “And a puzzling thing in addition is that they call themselves by two names.”

“Two names?”

“Yes. No one knows the distinction yet, no matter how much the Eekahs explain it to us, except that one is a more general name, and one a more specific. The basis of the difference escapes us.”

“I see. Which is ‘Eekah‘?”

“That is the specific one. The general one is”-the Administrator stumbled slowly over the harsh syllables-”Chim-pan-zee. There, that’s it. There are a group called Eekahs and there are other groups with other names. But they are all called Chim…what I said before.”

The Administrator sought through his mind for other juicy items of miscellany with which he was acquainted, but Raph interrupted him.

“May I see Lernin tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“Then I shall do so. Thank you for your courtesy, Administrator.”

Lernin was a slight individual. It is doubtful if he weighed more than two hundred and fifty. There was also an imperfection in his walk, a slight lameness. But neither of these facts made much of an impression on Raph once the conversation had begun, for Lernin was a thinker who could impose his vigor upon others.

It was Raph whose eagerness dominated the first half of the conversation, and Lernin’s comments were as luminous and as brief as lightning flashes. And then, there was a sudden whirl of the center of gravity, and Lernin took over.

“You will excuse me, learned friend,” Lernin said with a characteristic stiffness that he could make so amiable, “if I find your problem unimportant. No, no”-he lifted a long-fingered hand-”not, in the uncomplicated talk of the times, merely unimportant to myself because my interest lies elsewhere, but unimportant to the Grouping of all the Groupings-to every single Gurrow from end to end of the world.”

The concept was staggering. For a moment, Raph was offended; offended deep in his sense of individuality. It showed in his face.

Lernin added quickly: “It may sound impolite, crude, uncivilized. But I must explain. I must explain because you are primarily a social scientist and will understand-perhaps better than we ourselves.”

“My life-interest,” said Raph angrily, “is important to myself. I cannot assume those of others in preference.”

“What I talk about should be the life-interest of all-if only because it may be the means of saving the lives of all of us.”

Raph was beginning to suspect all sorts of things from a queer form of joking to the unbalance of mind that sometimes came with age. Yet Lernin was not old.

Lernin said, with an impressive fervor: “The Eekahs of the other world are a danger to us, for they are not friendly to us.”

And Raph replied naturally: “How do you know?”

“No one other than myself, my friend, has lived more closely with these Eekahs who have arrived here, and I find them people with minds of emotional content strange to us. I have collected queer facts which we find difficult to interpret, but which point, at any rate, in disquieting directions.

“I’ll list a few: Eekahs in organized groups kill one another periodically for obscure reasons. Eekahs find it impossible to live in manner other than those of ants-that is, in huge conglomerate societies-yet find it impossible to allow for the presence of one another. Or, to use the terminology of the social scientists, they are gregarious without being social, just as we Gurrows are social without being gregarious. They have elaborate codes of behavior, which, we are told, are taught to the young, but which are disobeyed in universal practice, for reasons obscure to us. Et cetera. Et cetera. Et cetera.”

“I am an archaeologist,” said Raph, stiffly. “These Eekahs are of interest to me biologically only. If the curvature of the thigh bone is known to me, I care little for the curvature of their cultural processes. If I can follow the shape of the skull, it is immaterial to me that the shape of their ethics is mysterious.”

“You don’t think that their insanities may affect us here?”

“We are six thousand miles apart, or more, along either ocean,” said Raph. ‘We have our world. They have theirs. There is no connection between us.”

“No connection,” mused Lernin, “so others have said. No connection at all. Yet Eekahs have reached us, and others may follow. We are told that the other world is dominated by a few, who are in turn dominated by their queer need for security which they confuse with an Eekah word called ‘power,’ which, apparently, means the prevailing of one’s own will over the sum of the will of the community. What if this ‘power’ should extend to us?”

Raph bent his mind to the task. The matter was utterly ridiculous. It seemed impossible to picture the strange concepts.

Lernin said: “These Eekahs say that their world and ours in the long past were closer together. They say that there is a well-known scientific hypothesis in their world of a continental drift. That may interest you, since otherwise you might find it difficult to reconcile the existence of fossils of Primate Primeval closely related to living Eekahs six thousand miles away.”

And the mists cleared from the archaeologist’s brain as he glanced up with a live interest untroubled by insanities: “ Ah, you should have said this sooner.”

“I say it now as an example of what you may achieve for yourself by joining us and helping us. There is another thing. These Eekahs are physical scientists, like ourselves here in East Harbor, but with a difference dictated by their own cultural pattern. Since they live in hives, they think in hives, and their science is the result of an ant-society. Individually, they are slow and unimaginative; collectively, each supplies a crumb different from that supplied by his fellow-so that a vast structure is erected quickly. Here the individual is infinitely brighter, but he works alone. You, for instance, know nothing of chemistry, I imagine.”

“A few of the fundamentals, but nothing else,” admitted Raph. “I leave that, naturally, to the chemist.”

“Yes, naturally. But I am a chemist. Yet these Eekahs, though my mental inferiors, and no chemists in their own world, know more chemistry than I. For instance, did you know that there exist elements that spontaneously disintegrate?”

“Impossible,” exploded Raph. “Elements are eternal, changeless-”

Lernin laughed: “So you have been taught. So I have been taught. So I taught others. Yet the Eekahs are right, for in my laboratories I have checked them, and in every detail they are right. Uranium gives rise to a spontaneous radiation. You’ve heard of uranium, of course? And furthermore, I have detected radiations of energy beyond that produced by uranium which must be due to traces of elements unknown to us but described by the Eekahs. And these missing elements fit well into the so-called Periodic Tables some chemists have tried to foist upon the science. Though I do wrong to use the word ‘foist’ now.”

“Well,” said Raph, “why do you tell me this? Does this, too, help me in my problem?”

“Perhaps,” said Lernin, ironically, “you will yet find it a royal bribe. You see, the energy production of uranium is absolutely constant. No known outward change in environment can affect it-and as a result of the loss in energy, uranium slowly turns to lead at an absolutely constant rate. A group of our men is even now using this fact as a basis for a method of determining the age of the earth. You see, to determine the age of a stratum of rock in the earth, then, it is but necessary to discover a region in it containing a trace of uranium-a widely spread element-and to determine about it the quantity of lead-and I might here add that the lead produced from uranium differs from ordinary lead and can be easily characterized-and it is then simple to determine the length of time in which that stratum has been solid. And of course, if a fossil is found in that stratum, it is of the same age, am I not correct?”

“Stars above,” and Raph rose to his feet in a tremble, “you do not deceive me? It is really possible to do this?”

“It is possible. It is even easy. I tell you that our great defense, even at this late date, is co-operation in science. We are a group now of many, my friend, from many Groupings, and we want you among us. If you join us, it would be a simple matter to extend our earthage project to such regions as you may indicate-regions rich in fossils. What do you say?”

“I will help you.”

It is doubtful if the Gurrow Groupings had ever before seen a community venture of such breadth as now took place. East Harbor Grouping, as has been remarked, was a shipping center, and certainly a trans-Atlantic vessel was not beyond the capacity of a Grouping that traded along the full lengths of both coasts of the Americas. What was unusual was the vastness of the co-operation of Gurrows from many Groupings, Gurrows of many interests.

Not that they were all happy.

Raph, for instance, on the particular morning that now concerns us, six months from the date of his first arrival in East Harbor, was searching anxiously for Lernin.

Lernin, for his part, was searching for nothing but greater speed.

They met on the docks, where Lernin, biting the end off a cigar and leading the way to a region where smoking was permitted. said: “And you, my friend, seem concerned. Not. certainly, about the progress of our ocean liner?”

“I am concerned,” said Raph, gravely, “about the reports I have received of the expedition testing the age of the rocks.”

“Oh-And you are unhappy about it?”

“Unhappy!” exploded Raph. “Have you seen them?”

“I have received a copy. I have looked at it. I have even read parts of it. But I have had little time and most of it bounced off. Will you please enlighten me?”

“Certainly. In the last several months, three of the regions I have indicated as being fossiliferous have been tested. The first region was in the area of East Harbor Grouping itself. Another was in the Pacific Bay Grouping, and a third in the Central Lakes Grouping. I purposely asked that those be done first because they are the richest areas and because they are widely separated. Do you know, for instance, what age they tell me the rocks upon which we stand are?”

“Two billion years, I think, is the oldest figure I noticed.”

“And that’s the figure for the oldest rocks-the basic igneous stratum of basalt. The upper strata, however-the recent sedimentary layers containing dozens of fossils of Primate Primeval-how old do you think these are supposed to be? Five-hundred-trillion-years! How is that? Do you understand?”

“Trillion?” Lernin squinted upwards and shook his head. “That’s strange.”

“I’ll add to it. The Pacific Coast Grouping is one hundred trillion years old-so I am told-and Central Lakes almost eighty trillion years old.”

Lernin said: “And the other measurements? The ones that did not involve your strata?”

“That is the most peculiar thing of all. Most of the chosen investigations were carried on in strata that were not particularly fossiliferous. They had their own criteria of choice based on geological reasoning-and they got consistent results-one million to two billion years depending upon the depth and geological history of the particular region tested. Only my areas give these strange and impossible vagaries.”

And Lernin said, “But what do the geologists say about all this? Call there be some error?”

“Undoubtedly. But they have fifty decent, reasonable measurements. For themselves, they have proved the method and are happy. There are three anomalies, to be sure, but they view them with equanimity as involving some unknown factors. I don’t see it that way. These three measurements mean everything.” Raph interrupted himself fiercely: “How sure are you that radioactivity is an absolute constant?”

“Sure? Can one ever be sure? Nothing we know of so far affects it, and such is likewise the definite testimony of our Eekahs. Besides, my friend, if you are implying that radioactivity was more extensive in the past than in the present, why only in your fossil regions? Why not everywhere?”

“Why, indeed? It’s another aspect of a problem which is growing more important daily. Consider. We have regions which show a past of abnormal radioactivity. We have regions which show abnormal fossil frequencies. Why should these regions coincide, Lernin?”

“One obvious answer suggests itself, my friend. If your Primate Primeval existed at a time when certain regions were highly radioactive, certain individuals would wander into them and die. Radioactive radiation is deadly in excess, of course. Radioactivity and fossils, there you are…

“Why not other creatures,” demanded Raph. “Only Primate Primeval occurs in excess, and he was intelligent. He would not be trapped by dangerous radiation.”

“Perhaps he was not intelligent. That is, after all, only your theory and not a proven fact.”

“Certainly, then, he was more intelligent than his small-brained contemporaries…

“Perhaps not even that. You romanticize too much.”

“Perhaps I do.” Raph spoke in half a whisper. “It seems to me that I can conjure up visions of a great civilization of a million years back-or more. A great power; a great intelligence-that has vanished completely, except for the tiny whispers of ossified bones which retain that huge cavity in which a brain once existed, and a bony five-fingered hand curving into slender signs of manipulative skill-with an opposing thumb. They must have been intelligent.”

“Then, what killed them?” Lernin shrugged: “Several million species of living things have survived. “

Raph looked up, half in anger: “I cannot accompany your group, Lernin, on a Voluntary basis. To go to the other world would be useful, yes, if I could engage in my own studies. For your purposes, it can be only a Community Job to me. I cannot give my heart to it.”

But Lernin’s jaw was set: “That arrangement would not be fair. There are many of us, my friend, who are sacrificing our own interests. If we all placed them first and investigated the other world in terms of our own particular provincialisms only, our great purpose would be destroyed. My friend, there is not one of our men that we can spare. We must all work as if our lives depended on our instant solution of the Eekah problem, which, believe me, it does.”

Raph’s jaws twisted in distaste. “On your side, you have a vague apprehension of these weak, stupid little creatures. On my side I have a definite problem of great intellectual attraction to myself. And between the two I can see no connection-no possible connection at all.”

“Nor can I. But listen to me a moment. A small group of our most trusted men returned last week from a visit to the other world. It was not official, as ours will be. It made no contacts. It was a frank piece of espionage, which I am telling you about now. I ask your discretion on the matter.”

“Naturally.”

“Our men possessed themselves of Eekah event-sheets.”

“Pardon me?”

“It is a created name to describe the objects. Printed records are issued daily in the various centers of Eekah population of events and occurrences of the day, and what passes for literary efforts as well.”

Raph was momentarily interested: “It strikes me as an excellent idea.”

“Yes, in its essence. The Eekah notion of interesting events, however, appears to consist entirely of antisocial events. However, leave that be. My point is that the existence of the Americas is well-known there these days-and it is universally spoken of as a ‘new land of opportunity.’ The various divisions of Eekahs eye it with a universal desire. The Eekahs are many, they are crowded, their economy is irrational. They want new land, and that is what this is to them-new and empty land.”

“Not empty,” pointed out Raph, mildly.

“Empty to them,” insisted Lernin terribly. “That is the vast danger. Lands occupied by Gurrows are to them empty and they mean to take it, all the more so since they have often enough striven to take the lands of one another.”

Raph shrugged: “Even so, they-”

“Yes. They are weak and stupid. You said that, and so they are. But only singly. They will unite for a purpose. To be sure, they will fall apart when the purpose is done-but momentarily they will join and become strong, which we perhaps cannot do, witness yourself. And their weapons of war have been keened in the fire of conflict. Their flying machines, for instance, are superb war weapons.”

“But we have duplicated it-”

“In quantity? We have also duplicated their chemical explosives, but only in the laboratory, and their firing tubes and armored vehicles, but only in experimental plants. And yet there is more-something developed within the last five years, for our own Eekahs know nothing about it.”

“And what is that?”

“We don’t know. Their event-sheets speak of it-the names applied to it mean nothing to us-but the context implies the terror of it, even on the part of these kill-mad Eekahs. There seems no evidence that it has been used, or that all the Eekah groups have it-but it is used as a supreme threat. It will perhaps be clearer to you when all the evidence is presented once our voyage is under way.”

“But what is it? You talk of it as if it were a bogey.”

“Why, they talk of it as if it were a bogey. And what could be a bogey to an Eekah? That is the most frightening aspect of it. So far, we know only that it involves the bombardment of an element they call plutonium-of which we have never heard and of which our own Eekahs have never heard either-by objects called neutrons, which our Eekahs say are subatomic particles without charge, which seems to us completely ridiculous.”

“And that is all?”

“All. Will you suspend judgment till we show you the sheets?”

Raph nodded reluctantly: “Very well.”

Raph’s leaden thoughts revolved in their worn groove as he stood there alone.

Eekahs and Primate Primeval. A living creature of erratic habits and a dead creature that must have aspired to heights. A sordid present of explosives and neutron bombardments and a glorious, mysterious past

No connection! No connection!

By June 1947 I had already been working on my Ph.D. research with near-total concentration (I was no longer working in the candy store; my younger brother, Stanley, had taken over) for nearly a year. I was in the homestretch and beginning to think forward to writing my Ph.D. dissertation. I rather dreaded that, since the obligatory style of dissertations is turgid in the extreme, and I had by now spent nine years trying to write well and was afraid I simply might not be able to write badly enough to qualify for my degree.

The experiments I was doing at the time required me, periodically, to dissolve a compound called catechol in water. The catechol existed in fine, feathery, fluffy needles that dissolved very readily in water. In fact, when I sprinkled catechol into the beaker of water, the individual needles dissolved as soon as they snuck the water surface. Idly, it occurred to me that if the catechol were any more soluble than it was, it would dissolve before it snuck the water surface.

Naturally, I thought at once that this notion might be the basis for an amusing story. It occurred to me, however, that instead of writing an actual story based on the idea, I might write up a fake research paper on the subject and get a little practice in turgid writing.

I did the job on June 8, 1947, even giving it the kind of long-winded title that research papers so often have-”The Endochronic Properties of Resublimated Thiotimoline”-and added tables, graphs, and fake references to non-existent journals.

I was not at all sure that “Thiotimoline” (no use trying to quote the entire name every time) was publishable. Astounding, however, ran serious articles on scientific subjects of particular interest to science fiction readers and I thought it just possible Campbell might be interested in a gag article that would be on the borders of science fiction.

I brought it in to him on the tenth, and he took it almost at once.