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Shikasta
Shikasta
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Shikasta

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Again a general, if slight, movement of unease, the shifting of limbs, small sighs.

Against this resistance I gave them a short history of the Puttiora Empire, and its colony Shammat.

It wasn’t that they were not listening, rather they seemed unable to listen.

I repeated and insisted. Shammat, I said, had had agents on this planet for some time. Had there been no reports of aliens? Of suspicious activity?

Jarsum’s eyes wandered. Met mine. Slid away.

‘Jarsum,’ I said, ‘is there no memory among you that your ancestors – your fathers even – believed there might be hostile elements here?’

‘The southern territories have been cooperative for a long time.’

‘No, not the Sirian territories.’

Again, sighs and movements.

I tried to keep it as brief as I could.

I said that this planet, under the changed influences of the relevant stars, would suddenly find itself short of – as it were – fuel. Yes, yes, I knew I had told them this. But Shammat had found out about this, and was already tapping the currents and forces.

Rohanda, now Shikasta, the broken, the hurt one, was like a rich garden, planned to be dependent on a water supply that was inexhaustible. But it turned out that it was not inexhaustible. This garden could not be maintained as it had been. But a slight, very poor supply of Canopean power would still seep through to feed Shikasta; it would not entirely starve. But even this slight flow of power was being depleted. By Shammat. No, we did not know how, and we wanted urgently to find out.

We believed that a minimum of maintenance would be possible, the ‘garden’ would not entirely vanish. But in order to plan and to do, then we must know everything there was to be known about the nature of our enemy.

No response. Not of the kind I needed.

‘For one thing,’ I insisted, ‘the more the Natives degenerate, the more they weaken and lose substance, the better that will be for Shammat. Do you see? The worse the quality of the Canopus/Shikasta flow, the better for Shammat! Like to like! Shammat cannot feed on the high, the pure, the fine. It is poison to them. The level of the Lock in the past has been far above the grasp of Shammat. They are lying in wait, for the precise moment when their nature, the Shammat nature, can fasten with all its nasty force onto the substance of the Lock! They are already withdrawing strength, they are feeding themselves and getting fat and noisy on it, but this is nothing as to what will happen unless we can somehow prevent them. Do you see?’

But they did not. They could not.

They had become unable to take in the idea of theft and parasitism. It was no longer in their genetic structure, perhaps – though how such a change had come about is hard to tell. At any rate, I saw that there was nothing I could say that would get through to them. Not on this subject. I would have to make efforts myself.

My first was to spend time with Jarsum, when the transmitting sessions were over, and to try and make an impact on him. From him I got every kind of help and information on any subject but one.

The transmitting sessions went on. They are always the same. A theme would be brought forward, held in the minds of those present, a little discussion might take place, or there might be continuous silence. The theme, as translated into ideas and facets in the individual minds of the Giants, would be enriched and developed: and this complexity would go out and reach the Giants of the other cities.

I kept urging that messengers should be sent out, to confirm and add to what was being transmitted. How did we know if the strength of the currents was still as it had been? I wanted the fastest possible individuals to be sent to run all the way, if necessary! But I came up against a curious block or barrier in the Giants. They had never had to do things this way! they said.

‘Yes, but things are different now.’

No, they would wait.

And I could not make them listen.

Then came the news from Canopus that the spacecraft for taking off the Giants would be arriving – with the precise dates and places – near the main cities.

‘Jarsum, we must hurry. We can’t wait any longer …’

But he had become obstinate, even suspicious.

I saw then that it had begun. The Giants were affected. Already they were not as they had been.

And if they, then very likely I was affected, too … I did have moments of dizziness. Yes, and sometimes I would come to myself after an interval when it was as if my mind had been full of clouds.

I had not expected to have to do this so soon, but I took out the Signature from where it was hidden, and concealed it under my tunic, tied on to my upper arm. My mind cleared then, and I understood that in fact I had been changed without knowing it. I could see that soon I would be the only individual on Shikasta with the power of judgment, of reasoned action.

And yet the Giants did not know of their state and were in control of everything.

I found that the Giants were not influenced equally – some were still sharp-minded and responsible. Alas, Jarsum was not one. He had succumbed almost at once. I did not know what to make of that, nor did I attempt to. I was concerned with practicalities, and kept urging those who would to come into the transmitting chamber where they seemed clearer-minded than they were outside.

It was at a transmitting session that I realized there had been a real and drastic change. The form of the session was the same, but there was more restlessness, and moments, too, when it seemed as if everyone there had lost themselves: their eyes would glaze and wander, and they spoke at random. Then, one morning, a Giant suddenly said in a hectoring voice that he, at least, would elect to stay on the planet and not go with the others. He was making a case, as in a debate, and this was so foreign to them all that they were startled back into understanding. My friend Jarsum, for instance, was shocked into himself, and I saw that he was there again, behind those magnificent eyes of his. He did not speak, but sat concentrating all his powers. Another Giant spoke, arguing against the first, but not in favour of going as much as to make a point. The first one shouted that ‘it was obvious’ it would be stupid to leave. Jarsum was fighting, wrestling inwardly, trying to bring that assembly back to what it had been. Another voice was in argument. I could see from the stresses on Jarsum’s face, the strain in his eyes, that it was too much … and suddenly he snapped and his voice was added to the others in a shouting babble of disagreement.

And in that way, literally ‘from one moment to another’, things fell apart on Shikasta. Outside could be heard shouting arguing voices, could be heard children quarrelling, the sounds of dissent, debate. Inside was all excitement and agitation. They leaned forward, trying to catch each other’s eyes, gesticulated, interrupted. There were two factions, a group who still tried to hold fast to their inner strength, their faces bewildered, and the ones who had been swept away, led by Jarsum, who was shouting that ‘they could send all the spacecraft they liked and he wouldn’t budge, not he!’ – like a child. And then the group that had held out, succumbed.

I intervened. To do this I closed my hand over the Signature, and used it. I said to them that those who decided to stay would be committing Disobedience. For the first time in their history they would not be in conformity with Canopean Law.

They broke in with the arguments, the logics, of the debased modes.

They said, among other things, that their staying could only make things better for the Natives because they, the Giants, ‘knew local conditions’, whereas outsiders did not. They said that if the Natives were going to be betrayed by Canopus, then they, the Giants, would have no part in it.

I said that if the Giants stayed, even some of them, then the modified Canopean plan would be at risk. That the Giants would not be fitted ‘to lead and guide’ the Natives, as they kept insisting they were, because their powers, too, would be depleted – were already depleted – could they not see their behaviour now was proof of a falling away? But no, they had already forgotten what they had been, dissension and enmity were already natural to them.

I said that disobedience to the Master Plan was always, everywhere, the first sign of the Degenerative Disease … and looked to find noble faces, and comprehending eyes that were so no longer, for onto the faces had come peevishness and self-assertion, and into the eyes, vagueness.

The next few days were all faction-fighting, argument, and raised voices.

I was everywhere I could be, with my hidden Signature. By putting forth every power I had, I managed to beam to the Canopean spacecraft that they must not expect to descend and find the Giants waiting to be taken off: things had gone beyond that. They must expect to have to go into every city and argue and persuade and if necessary to capture by force. By then the resistance to my transmissions spacewards was so great I feared nothing clear would get through. But later I learned they had understood the essentials. And in most of the cities, particularly those in the central area, it had been understood at least that there was a crisis and that spacecraft were approaching. The lift-off was nothing like the smooth planned thing that had been envisaged. In every city was argument and refusal to leave, before a bewildered submission – this at best; and in some, Canopean troops had to use force.

I did not know immediately what had happened: I had to piece information together later.

Meanwhile, in the Round City, Jarsum headed a group who refused to go at all. He showed the noblest self-sacrifice in staying. He knew that his fellows, and himself, the disobedient Giants, risked their very beings, their souls – yet he would stay. The tall white Giant with her bizarre and disturbing beauty stayed, and with her others who were her progeny, all of them sports and showing the strangest combinations of physical characteristics. She said that she was a genetic freak, and could have no place on the planet where the Giants were being taken.

How did she know this? I asked, pointing out that the galaxy included varieties of creatures she had never dreamed of. But ‘she knew it.’ Bad enough that she had to live out her life among people different from herself, always an alien, without having to start all over again.

This while we were waiting for the spacecraft’s arrival.

Meanwhile, discussions went on about what to tell the Natives.

The Giants were showing a yearning, passionate, protecting concern for their erstwhile charges which contrasted absolutely with their former strength of confidence. At every moment I was confronted with Jarsum, or another Giant, all great accusing eyes, and tragic faces. How can you treat the poor things like this! was what I was meant to feel. And every practical discussion was interrupted by heavy sighs, looks of reproach, murmurs about cruelty and callousness. But in spite of this, I was able to arrange that some songs and tales should be made, and taken by suitable individuals among the Natives from city to city, which would transmit and inform at least the basics of the new situation.

And these emissaries were informed that in each city they must seek out a few representative Natives and tell them that they must prepare for crisis, for a period of hardship and deprivation, that they must wait for other messengers to come and instruct.

The Giants arranged this. They had to. The Natives knew the Giants as their mentors and could not suddenly see them otherwise.

But the Giants were leaving – went the songs.

Winging their way to the heavens,

They are gone, the Great Ones,

Our friends, our helpers.

To distant places they have flown,

We are left, their children,

And there is nothing for us but to mourn.

And so on. These were not exactly the words I would have chosen, but they adequately expressed the indignation of the Giants on their own behalf, displaced to the Natives.

Meanwhile, I was making contacts among the Natives, carefully, slowly, testing one individual and then another. An interesting fact was that at the beginning the Giants were worse and more quickly affected than the Natives, who continued comparatively normal for longer. The higher, more finely tuned organisms had to submit first. This gave me time to communicate what I could. But the innate difficulty or contradiction of this task is obvious: I had to tell these unfortunates that due to circumstances entirely beyond their control and for which they bore no responsibility at all, they would become less than shadows of their former selves. How could they possibly take this in! They had not been programmed for failure, disaster! They were less equipped even than the Giants for bad news. And the more detailed and factual the information, the more I could count on its being distorted. The essence of the situation was that these were minds which very shortly would have to deform what I said, begin to invent, reprocess.

It was as if I had been given the task of telling someone in perfect health that he would shortly become a moron, but that he must do his best to remember some useful facts, which were a … b … c …

One morning, a good third of the Giants had disappeared. No one knew where to. The ones that remained waited submissively by the landing place where the spacecraft would descend – which happened, shortly afterwards. Three of our largest craft came down, and several thousand Giants left. Suddenly, no Giants, none, not one.

The Natives saw the descent of the spacecraft, watched the Giants crowd in, watched the great shining machines lift off, and dart away into the clouds.

Winging their way into the heavens,

They have left, our Great Ones …

went the songs, and for days the Natives crowded around the landing spaces, looking up into the skies, singing. Of course they believed that their Giants would return. These rumours were soon everywhere and bred the appropriate songs.

When they return, our Great Ones,

We will not have failed them …

I could not find out where the disobedient Giants were.

The Natives now entered all the tall buildings which had previously been the Giants’ homes and functional buildings, and made them their own. This was not good for the exact dispositions of the Round City. I told them this. They had accepted me as one with a certain amount of authority, though of course nothing on the same level as their Giants, but by now most were not capable of accepting information. Already, sense and straightforwardness were being met with a vague wandering stare, or restless belligerent looks that were the first sign of the Degeneration.

A storyteller and song-maker, David, had become a friend, or at least seemed to recognize me. He was still to an extent in possession of himself, and I asked him to watch what went on around him, and report to me when I returned from a journey to the nearest city. This stood on a great river near an inland sea where the tides’ movements were minimal – the Crescent City. Again a river made an arm around it, but only on one side. The open side had streets and gardens laid out crossways to it, like the strings of a lyre. The music of this city was like the harmonies of lyre music, but before I reached it I could hear the discords, a grating shrillness that told me what I would find when I got there.

It was very beautiful, built of white and yellow stone, with intricate patterns everywhere on pavements, walls, roofs. The predominant colours of the clothes of the people were rust and grey, and these shone out against the green foliage, a brilliant sky. The Natives here were similar in build to those of the Round City, but they were yellow of skin, and their hair was always jet black. I never saw these as they really were, for by the time I reached them, the process of falling away was well developed. Again I sought out one who seemed more aware of what was happening than the others. The songs and tales had reached here, and these Natives, too, had watched the Giants leave in the enormous crystalline spacecraft which were already beginning to seem like dreams … I asked my friend to assemble others, to persuade them to be patient, not to take hasty decisions, not to panic and be fearful. I said these things with every sense of their absurdity.

I decided to return to the Round City. If the songs and tales had reached the Crescent City, they must have spread to all the others, and that was a beginning. Meanwhile, I felt more and more a sense of urgency, of danger – I had to get back to the Round City, and quickly. I knew this, but not why until I got near it.

I walked towards it from the other side to that where I had come at first. Again it was through light open forest. As I got near where the Stones would begin, there were walnuts and almonds, apricots, pomegranates. The animals were thick here, but all seemed apprehensive, and stood looking in towards the city. They shook their heads, as if to dismiss unwelcome sound: they were already hearing what I could not, but soon did, as I reached the space where the Stones began. There was now a harshness in the harmonies that lapped out from the city, and my ears hurt. I had the beginnings of a headache, and as I entered the Stones I felt sick. The air was ominous, threatening. Whether the disposition of the Stones had ceased to fit the needs of Canopus because of the starry discordance, or whether the harmonies of the Round City had been disrupted by the Giants’ leaving, and their abodes being taken over by those who had no place there, I did not know. But whatever the reasons, by the time I reached the inner side, the pain of the sounds seemed worse than when I entered, and as I looked up, I saw birds flying in towards the Stones swerve aside to get away from what rose at that place up into the sky whose deep blue seemed marred, hostile.

Everywhere in the Round City the Natives were hustling and jostling about in groups which continually formed and re-formed. They were always in movement, looking for something, someone; they moved from street to street, from one garden to another, from the outskirts in towards the centre, and when they had reached it and had run everywhere over that place, they looked around wildly, uneasily, and their eyes, which now all had the lost restless look that seemed the strongest thing in them, were never still, always searching, always dissatisfied. These groups took little notice of each other, but pushed and elbowed, as if they had all become strangers, or even enemies. I saw fights and scuffles, children squabbling and trying to hurt each other, heard voices raised in anger. Already the golden-brown walls were defaced with scribblings and dirt. Children in ones and twos and groups stood by the walls, smearing them with mud from the flowerbeds, in the most earnest, violent attempts – at what? Interrupted, they at once turned back to their – task, for that is what it obviously seemed to them. But they, too, were searching, searching, and that was the point of all their activity. If enough people rushed around, hurrying, from place to place, if children, and some adults, daubed mud over the subtle patternings of the still glowing walls, if enough of them met each other, ran around each other, pushed each other, and then gazed hungrily into each other’s faces – if enough of these activities were accomplished – then what was lost would be found! That was how it seemed to me, the outsider, clutching on to the Signature for my very life.

But these poor creatures already did not know what had been lost.

The leak, the depletion, was very great by now: must be so, for look at the results!

Were there none left unaffected? Not even enough to be prepared to listen?

I looked into faces for a gleam of sense, I began conversations, but always those brown haunted eyes that so recently had been open and friendly, turned from me, as if they had not seen me, could not hear me. I looked for the storytellers and singers who had been entrusted with as much of the information as they could bear. I found one, and then another, who looked at me doubtfully, and when I asked if people liked their songs, hesitated and seemed struck as if they nearly remembered. Then I saw David sitting on the ledge of a fountain that had rubbish in it, and he was half singing, half talking: ‘Here me now, hear this tale of the far off times, when the Great Ones were among us, and taught us all we knew. Hear me tell of the wisdom of the great days.’ But he was talking of no more than thirty days before.

As he spoke, groups of people did pause in their hurrying and searching, and listened a moment, as if something in them was being touched, reached – and I went forward to stand beside him, and using him as a focal point, called out, ‘Friends, friends, I have something to tell you … do you remember me? I am Johor, Emissary from Canopus …’ They stared. They turned away. It was not that they were hostile: they were not able to take in what I said.

I sat beside David the storyteller, who had become silent, and was sitting with his strong brown arms around his knees, musing, thoughtful.

‘Do you remember me, David?’ I asked. ‘I have talked with you many times, and as recently as a month ago. I asked you to watch what happened here, and tell me when I got back. I’ve been to the Crescent City.’

He spread his white teeth in a great smile, one every bit as warm and attractive as before, but his eyes held no recognition.

‘We are friends, you and I,’ I said, and sat with him for a time. But he got up and wandered off, forgetting I was there.

As for me, I stayed where I was, watching the turmoil, thinking. It was clear that things were worse than had been foreseen on Canopus. My own link with Canopus was quite lost, even with the aid of the Signature. I had to make decisions on my account, and with insufficient information. For instance, I did not know what was happening in the Sirian territories. Where had the rebellious Giants gone? I had no means of finding out. Was the degradation of the Natives complete, or was it partially reversible? What was the situation in all the other cities?

For some hours I took no action, but observed the general restlessness, which grew worse. I then moved among the poor brutes, and saw that the by now very strong vibrations of the city and its environing Stones were causing real physical damage. They clutched their heads as they ran, or let out short howls or screams of pain, but always with a look of incredulity and wonder, for pain had not often been their lot. In fact most never knew it at all. Occasionally one might break a limb; and then there was the rare epidemic; but these happened so seldom that they were talked of as distant contingencies. Headaches, toothaches, sickness, bone aches, joint aches, disorders of the eyes and ears – all the sad list of ailments of the physical body afflicted by the Degeneracy: these were unknown to them. Again and again I watched one stagger, and clutch his head, and groan; or put his hands to his stomach, or heart, and always with the look of: What’s this? What is happening to me?

I had to get them away. What I had to tell them would seem impossible, preposterous. They must leave this city, this beautiful home of theirs, with its perfect symmetries, and its synchronized gardens, its subtle patterns that mirrored the movements of the stars – they must all leave and at once, if they did not want to go mad. But they did not know what madness was! Yet some were already mad. One of them would shake and shake a pain-filled head, and put up both hands to it with that gesture: What is this? I don’t believe it! – and then let out howls of pain and start running, rushing everywhere, howling as if pain were something he could leave behind. Or they might find a spot, or a building where the pain was less, for the intensities of the disorder of the vibrations were not the same everywhere. And then these people would stay in the comparatively comfortable place they had found and would not leave.

As for me, I had not felt like this since I had been in a similarly afflicted place, our poor colony which it had been hoped this planet would replace.

I found David. He was lying face down, on a pavement, his hands over his ears. I forced him up and told him what must be done. Without much energy or purpose he did at last find friends, his wife, grown-up children with their children. It was a group of about fifty I addressed, and he turned my words into song as I talked. On each face were the grimaces of pain, nausea, and they felt dizzy, and then leaned against walls or lay down anywhere, and groaned. I begged them to leave the city, to leave at once, before its vibrations killed them. I said if they would leave the horrible emanations of this place and go into the surrounding savannahs and forests, these pains would leave them. But they must run quickly through the Stones. Before they went, they must tell as many of their friends as they could, for the safety and the future of them all.

All this was to the accompaniment of cries of disbelief, refusal, while people resisted, groaned, wept. By now thousands of Natives were staggering about, or rolling on the pavements.

Suddenly, the group I had first addressed ran out of the deadly place, through the neglected gardens, and into the Stones where the pain was so much intensified that some went back and jumped into the river and drowned, willingly, eagerly, because of what they were suffering. But some, hugging themselves, holding their heads, clutching their stomachs, ran on, crouching as if keeping low to the earth would help them, and there, outside the horrid circle of radiations, they flung themselves down among the first trees of the forests and wept in relief. For the pain had left them.

They called out to those left behind. Some heard and followed. I went around among the others, telling them that many of their fellows had left and were safe. And soon everyone went. They left behind them houses, homes, furniture, food, clothing, left their culture, their civilization, left everything they had accomplished. This small multitude, coming together among the trees and grasses, saw that they were surrounded by animals, who stood watching with their intelligent wondering eyes. They were stripped of everything, as helpless as if they were still what they had been millennia ago, poor beasts trying to raise themselves to their hind legs.

Some of them, when they had recovered from the deadliness of what they had fled from, ran back to the peripheral gardens through the Stones, and collected vegetables and fruit and seeds, working frantically, for as long as it was possible before the pains became unbearable. A few of the really hardy returned to the city itself, where, screaming and vomiting, they reeled in and out of the houses, dragging out warmth and shelter – bedding, clothes, utensils of all kinds. In this way enough was brought to feed them, keep them warm. But these excursions back into the city had their black side, too, as will be seen: even then it was noticeable that some of those who had subjected themselves to the Stones’ emanations seemed to want to feel them again.

Shelters were being made in the forest from boughs, sheaves of grass, even packed earth. Fire had been carried from the city in an earthenware pot, and was guarded day and night in the form of a great fire which was the focal point of this settlement of – savages. Ground had been marked out and was being dug for new gardens. Attempts were being made to duplicate the workshops and factories of the cities, but they could no longer remember their crafts, which in any case depended on the powers and technology of the Giants.

The animals had begun to move away. The first hunters were killing them by walking up to one and plunging in a knife: they had never learned fear, these mild intelligent creatures of the Time of the Giants – for this was the name of the time just passed, how everyone referred to what had been lost. But the animals, learning fear, were moving away, at first reluctantly, with the same wondering disbelieving look as the Natives had when they first felt the new pains. And then, being stalked and chased, troops and bands and herds of the beautiful beasts, infinitely more varied and adapted than Shikasta ever knew afterwards, began a rapid movement out and away. There would be the sounds of thundering herds, and we knew another part of the animal population had fled.

Meanwhile, I had to try to visit all the cities, where I hoped that instinct had taken the inhabitants out and to safety. Perhaps there was enough of the communal mind left to have allowed the other cities to sense what was happening at the Round City? I and David and some others went first of all to the Crescent City, where we found bands of people wandering about outside in the fertile fields of the great river delta. They told us that their city was ‘full of demons’ but that many of the population had not left, for ‘there had been no one to tell them to go, they were waiting for the Giants to come.’ Those who had escaped were making reed huts, and the ground had been cleared for spring planting. The animals had left. We had passed through flocks of every kind moving away from the deadly environs of the Crescent City, and from the creatures moving on two legs who had become their enemies.

To shorten this part of my account: We went from city to city, splitting ourselves into several bands; from the Square City to the City of the Triangle, from the Diamond City to the Octagon, from the City of the Oval to the Rectangular City – and on, and on. It took a full term of the Shikastan journey around its sun. The bands that set forth did not remain as they had been, for some decided to stay with settlements that attracted them, some sickened and died, some, finding a particularly beautiful forest or river, could not leave there: but about a hundred or so, with those who joined, wishing to be of use, or impelled by the new restlessness which was such a feature of this Shikasta, journeyed incessantly for a year, and found that everywhere was the same. The cities were all empty. Not one was anything but a death-trap or a madhouse. Where people had stayed, they had killed themselves or were idiots.

Around each were the new settlements of Natives living in every kind of roughly contrived hut, eating meat they had hunted, wearing skins, tending gardens and fields of grain. If there were any clothes left from their city past, these were being hoarded, were already part of ritual. The storytellers were singing of the Gods who had taught them all they knew, and – for this had been fed into the tales at the beginning – would ‘come again’.

When we got back to the Round City, meaning to walk outside the edge of the Stones, the vibrations had become so bad that we had to make a wide detour. For miles around, there was no life, no animals, no birds. And the vegetation was withering. The settlements we had left had been moved well out and away.

The biggest change was that more children were being born than before. The safeguards had been forgotten: gone was the knowledge of who should give birth, who should mate, what type of person was a proper parent. The knowledges and uses of sex had been forgotten. And whereas previously an individual who died before the natural term of a thousand years was unlucky, it was clear that life-span was about to fluctuate. Some had died already, very young, in middle age, and many of the new babies had died.

This was the situation all over Shikasta a year after the Lock had failed.

At least, there were enough people living well away from the old cities to continue the species. And I knew that although for a time the cities would become more and more dangerous, after three or four hundred years (inadequate information made it impossible to be more definite), when the weather and the vegetation had done their work on the buildings and in the Stones, the cities would all become heaps of ruins, with no potency left in them for good or for harm.

I come to the final phase of my mission.