Short Fiction Stanley G. Weinbaum (read 50 shades of grey TXT) 📖

have their chiefs! Even a pack of wolves has its leader!”

“Well,” retorted Jarvis defiantly, “that only proves that government is a primitive device, doesn’t it? With a perfect race you wouldn’t need it at all; government is a confession of weakness, isn’t it? It’s a confession that part of the people won’t cooperate with the rest and that you need laws to restrain those individuals which a psychologist calls antisocial. If there were no antisocial persons⁠—criminals and such⁠—you wouldn’t need laws or police, would you?”

“But government! You’d need government! How about public works⁠—wars⁠—taxes?”

“No wars on Mars, in spite of being named after the War God. No point in wars here; the population is too thin and too scattered, and besides, it takes the help of every single community to keep the canal system functioning. No taxes because, apparently, all individuals cooperate in building public works. No competition to cause trouble, because anybody can help himself to anything. As I said, with a perfect race government is entirely unnecessary.”

“And do you consider the Martians a perfect race?” asked the captain grimly.

“Not at all! But they’ve existed so much longer than man that they’re evolved, socially at least, to the point where they don’t need government. They work together, that’s all.” Jarvis paused. “Queer, isn’t it⁠—as if Mother Nature were carrying on two experiments, one at home and one on Mars. On earth it’s trial of an emotional, highly competitive race in a world of plenty; here it’s the trial of a quiet, friendly race on a desert, unproductive, and inhospitable world. Everything here makes for cooperation. Why, there isn’t even the factor that causes so much trouble at home⁠—sex!”

“Huh?”

“Yeah: Tweel’s people reproduce just like the barrels in the mud cities; two individuals grow a third one between them. Another proof of Leroy’s theory that Martian life is neither animal nor vegetable. Besides, Tweel was a good enough host to let him poke down his beak and twiddle his feathers, and the examination convinced Leroy.”

“Oui,” confirmed the biologist. “It is true.”

“But anarchy!” grumbled Harrison disgustedly. “It would show up on a dizzy, half-dead pill like Mars!”

“It’ll be a good many centuries before you’ll have to worry about it on earth,” grinned Jarvis. He resumed his narrative.

“Well, we wandered through that sepulchral city, taking pictures of everything. And then⁠—” Jarvis paused and shuddered⁠—“then I took a notion to have a look at that valley we’d spotted from the rocket. I don’t know why. But when we tried to steer Tweel in that direction, he set up such a squawking and screeching that I thought he’d gone batty.”

“If possible!” jeered Harrison.

“So we started over there without him; he kept wailing and screaming, ‘No⁠—no⁠—no! Tick!’ but that made us the more curious. He sailed over our heads and stuck on his beak, and went through a dozen other antics, but we ploughed on, and finally he gave up and trudged disconsolately along with us.

“The valley wasn’t more than a mile southeast of the city. Tweel could have covered the distance in twenty jumps, but he lagged and loitered and kept pointing back at the city and wailing ‘No⁠—no⁠—no!’ Then he’d sail up into the air and zip down on his beak directly in front of us, and we’d have to walk around him. I’d seen him do lots of crazy things before, of course; I was used to them, but it was as plain as print that he didn’t want us to see that valley.”

“Why?” queried Harrison.

“You asked why we came back like tramps,” said Jarvis with a faint shudder. “You’ll learn. We plugged along up a low rocky hill that bounded it, and as we neared the top, Tweel said, ‘No breet’, Tick! No breet’!’ Well, those were the words he used to describe the silicon monster; they were also the words he had used to tell me that the image of Fancy Long, the one that had almost lured me to the dream-beast, wasn’t real. I remembered that, but it meant nothing to me⁠—then!

“Right after that, Tweel said, ‘You one-one-two, he one-one-two,’ and then I began to see. That was the phrase he had used to explain the dream-beast to tell me that what I thought, the creature thought⁠—to tell me how the thing lured its victims by their own desires. So I warned Leroy; it seemed to me that even the dream-beast couldn’t be dangerous if we were warned and expecting it. Well, I was wrong!

“As we reached the crest, Tweel spun his head completely around, so his feet were forward but his eyes looked backward, as if he feared to gaze into the valley. Leroy and I stared out over it, just a gray waste like this around us, with the gleam of the south polar cap far beyond its southern rim. That’s what it was one second; the next it was⁠—Paradise!”

“What?” exclaimed the captain.

Jarvis turned to Leroy. “Can you describe it?” he asked.

The biologist waved helpless hands. “C’est impossible!” he whispered. “Il me rend muet!”

“It strikes me dumb, too,” muttered Jarvis. “I don’t know how to tell it; I’m a chemist, not a poet. Paradise is as good a word as I can think of, and that’s not at all right. It was Paradise and Hell in one!”

“Will you talk sense?” growled Harrison.

“As much of it as makes sense. I tell you, one moment we were looking at a grey valley covered with blobby plants, and the next⁠—Lord! You can’t imagine that next moment! How would you like to see all your dreams made real? Every desire you’d ever had gratified? Everything you’d ever wanted there for the taking?”

“I’d like it fine!” said the captain.

“You’re welcome, then!⁠—not only your noble desires, remember! Every good impulse, yes⁠—but also every nasty little wish, every vicious thought, everything you’d ever desired, good or bad! The dream-beasts are marvelous salesmen, but they lack the moral sense!”

“The dream-beasts?”

“Yes. It was a valley of them. Hundreds, I suppose, maybe thousands.