The Star Diaries (16 page)

“Many professions,” replied my smiling interlocutor, “I do not perform well. Consider however that one’s practice of a profession lasts but a single day. And besides, in any society of the old type the overwhelming majority of people carry out their professional duties indifferently at best, yet the social mechanism does not thereby cease to function. A second-rate gardener will ruin your garden, a second-rate ruler will bring disaster upon an entire nation, since both have time enough to do this, but here they do not. Moreover in an ordinary society, in addition to occupational incompetence, one can sense the negative if not destructive influence of the private ambitions of individuals. Envy, pride, egoism, vanity, the thirst for power—these have a corrosive effect on the life of the community. Here that evil influence does not exist. Indeed, here the ambition to have a career does not exist, nor is anyone motivated by personal gain, for here there is no such thing as personal gain. I cannot take some step in my role of today in the hopes that it will profit me tomorrow, for by tomorrow I shall be someone else, and who I shall be tomorrow I do not know today.

“The exchange of roles takes place at midnight on the basis of a general lottery, over which none of us has any control. Now do you begin to understand the great wisdom of our system?”

“And feelings?” I asked. “Can one really love a different person every day? And what happens to fatherhood and motherhood?”

“One problem we did have, formerly,” he replied, “was the circumstance in which a person in the role of a father gave birth to a child, for it is possible that the role of father be occupied by a woman on the very day of her delivery. However that difficulty disappeared the moment it was written into law that a father could give birth. As far as feelings are concerned, we have satisfied two needs, needs that would appear to be mutually exclusive, yet they dwell within the breast of every intelligent creature: the need for permanence and the need for change. Affection, respect, love were at one time gnawed by constant anxiety, by the fear of losing the person held dear. This dread we have conquered. For in point of fact whatever upheavals, diseases or calamities may be visited upon us, we shall always have a father, a mother, a spouse, and children. But this is not all. That which does not change will soon begin to pall, regardless of whether it brings us happiness or sorrow. Yet we also crave stability, we wish deliverance from vicissitudes and tragedy. We wish to live, but not to be fleeting, to change, yet remain, to experience all—and risk nothing. These contradictions, unreconcilable it would seem, are with
us
a reality. We have even erased the antagonism between the upper and lower strata of society, for each of us—each day—can be a king, as there is no walk of life, no sphere of activity closed to any man.

“And now I can reveal to you the full significance and magnitude of the punishment that hangs above your head. It signifies the greatest misfortune that ever can befall a Pantan: expulsion from the general lottery and abandonment to the solitary fate of an individual. Identification—this is the act of crushing a person by setting upon him the cruel and merciless burden of perpetual selfhood. You must hurry if you have any further questions to put to me, for midnight approaches; I will have to leave you shortly.”

“What do you do about death?” I asked.

With his wrinkled brow and smiling face my defender looked at me closely, as if attempting to understand that word. Finally he said:

“Death? It is an obsolete idea. There can be no death where there are no individuals. We do not die.”

“But that’s absurd, you don’t believe in it yourself!” I exclaimed. “All living things must die, and so must you!”

“I, and who is that?” he interrupted with a smile.

There was a moment of silence.

“You, you yourself!”

“And who am I, I myself, beyond this present role? A name? I have no name. A face? Thanks to the biological measures carried out among us centuries ago my face is the same as everyone else’s. A role? But that changes at midnight. What then is left? Nothing. Consider for a moment, what means death? A loss, tragic since irrevocable. The one who dies, whom does he lose? Himself? No, for once dead, he has ceased to exist, and one who exists not, there is nothing he can lose. Death is the province of the living—it is the loss of someone near.

“But we never lose those who are near to us. I have already explained that, I think. Every family here is eternal. Death for us—this would be the constriction of a role. The law forbids that. But I must go now. Farewell, O uninvited alien!”

“Wait!” I cried, seeing my defender rise. “Surely there exist—there must exist differences among you, even assuming you all are alike as twins. You must have old people, who…”

“No. We do not keep track of the number of roles which one has held. Neither do we keep a record of the astronomical years. None of us knows how long he lives. The roles are ageless. My time is up.”

With these words he departed. I was alone. A moment later the door opened and my defender reappeared. He had on the same sky-blue uniform with the golden thunderbolts of an Angelican 2nd Class, and the very same smile.

“I am at your service, O alien defendant from another star,” he said, and it seemed to me that this was a new voice, one I had not heard before.

“Ah, then you do have something constant here: the role of defendant!” I cried.

“You are mistaken. That is only for foreigners. We cannot allow someone to hide himself behind a role and attempt to sabotage our system from within.”

“Are you familiar with the law?” I asked.

“The lawbooks are. Besides, your trial will not be held until the day after tomorrow. The role of defender will defend you…”

“I waive defense.”

“You wish to defend yourself?”

“No. I wish to be found guilty.”

“You are rash,” said the lawyer with a smile. “Keep in mind that you will be not an individual among individuals, but in a waste more desolate than the interplanetary void…”

“Have you ever heard of Master Oh?” I asked, not knowing myself how the question popped into my head.

“Yes. It was he who created our state. In so doing, he produced his masterpiece—the Simulation of Eternity.”

Thus ended our conversation. Three days later, brought before the court, I was found guilty and condemned to life identification. Driven back to the airport, I promptly blasted off, setting my course for Earth. I doubt that I’ll ever again get the urge to meet this Benefactor of the Universe.

19. VIII.
Having my rocket repaired. I got too close to the sun last time; all the finish peeled off. The shop manager suggests green. Perhaps, I don’t know. Spent the morning straightening up my collection. The prettiest gargoon pelt was full of moths. Sprinkled it with naphthalene. My afternoon—at Tarantoga’s. We sang Martian songs. I borrowed from him Brizard’s
Two Years among the Squamp and Octopockles.
Read it till dawn—simply fascinating.

20. VIII.
I agreed to green. The manager is trying to talk me into buying an electrical brain. He has an extra one, in good condition, hardly used, high-powered. He says that no one goes anywhere today without a brain, except maybe to the moon. Haven’t decided yet, it’s a big expense. Read Brizard all afternoon—can’t put it down. And to think that I’ve never even seen a squamp.

21. VIII.
At the shipyard bright and early. The manager showed me his brain. Truly handsome, and the joke battery lasts five years. This is supposed to solve the problem of cosmic ennui, “You’ll laugh the whole voyage,” said the manager. When the battery runs out, simply put in another. I ordered the rudders painted red. But as for the brain—I’ll have to think about it. Stayed up until midnight reading Brizard. Why not go hunting myself?

22. VIII.
I finally bought that brain. Had it built into the wall. The manager added on some optionals, a heating pad and pillow. Taking me for all I’m worth! But he says I’ll save a lot of money. The point is that when you land on a planet you usually have to go through customs. With a brain, however, you can leave the rocket in space, let it circle the planet like an artificial moon, and then, without paying a single cent on duty, you proceed the rest of the way on foot. The brain computes the astronomical elements of its flight and relays the coordinates when you have to find the rocket later. I finished Brizard. Pretty well made up my mind, I’m going to Enteropia.

23. VIII.
Got the rocket from the repair shop. It looks beautiful, except that the rudders clash. I repainted them myself, yellow. Worlds better. Borrowed volume E of the Cosmic Encyclopedia from Tarantoga and copied down the entry on Enteropia. Here it is;

E
NTEROPIA
, 6th planet of a double (red and blue) star in the Calf constellation. 8 continents, 2 oceans, 167 active volcanoes, 1 torg (see T
ORG
). A 20-hr. day, warm climate, conditions for life favorable except during the whackers (see W
HACKER
).

 

Inhabitants:

a) dominant race—the Ardrites, intelligent beings, polydiaphanohedral, nonbisymmetrical and pelissobrachial (3), belonging to the genus Siliconoidea, order Polytheria, class Luminifera. Like all Polytheria the Ardrites are subject to periodic discretional splitting. They form families of the spherical type. System of government: gradocracy II B, with the introduction, 340 yrs. ago, of Penitential Trasm (see T
RASM
), Industry highly developed, principally eating utensils. Chief items of export; phosphorescent manubria, heart pl.’s, and loppets in several doz. varieties, ribbed and tannable. Capital; Ubbidub, pop. 1,400,000. Industrial centers: Haupr, Drur, Arbagellar. Culture luminositous, showing tendency to mushroom, due to the pervasive influence of the relics of a civilization wiped out by the Ardrites, the Phytogosian (see M
USHROOM
M
EN
). In recent yrs. an increasingly imp. role has been played in the cultural life of the society by (see) scrupts. Beliefs: the prevailing religion—Monomungism. According to M., the world was created by the Multiple Munge in the person of the Original Urdle, from whom arose the suns and planets, with Enteropia at the head. The plated temples of the Ardrites are stationary and collapsible. Besides Monomungism several sects are active, the most significant—the Tentortonian. The (see) Tentortonians believe only in Emphosis (see E
MPHOSIS
), and some not even in that. Art: ballet (rotary), radio opera, scruption, antediluvian drama. Architecture: in con. with the whackers—pump-inflatable, tubulous, blobiform. Gum towers, highest are the 130-deckers. On art. moons edifices generally ovoid.

 

b)
Animals.
Fauna of the siliconoidal var., prin. species: slebs, autachial denderfnifts, gruncheons, squamp and whimpering octopockles. During the whackers the hunting of squamp and octopockles is prohibited by law. For man these animals are inedible, with the exception of squamp (and only in the zarf region, see Z
ARF
). Aquatic fauna: constitute the raw material of the food industry. Prin. species: infernalia (hellwinders), chungheads, frinkuses and opthropularies. Unique to Enteropia is the torg, with its bollical fauna and flora. In our Galaxy the only things analogous to it are the hii in the frothless sump bosks of Jupiter, All life on Enteropia evolved—as has been shown by the studies of the school of Prof, Tarantoga—within the confines of the torg, from the chalcycladine deposits. In con. with the massive devel. of land and sea one can expect the swift disappearance of the remnants of the torg. Falling under par. 6 of the stat. in re the preservation of planetary monuments (Codex Galacticus t. MDDDVII, vol. XXXII, pg. 4670), the torg has been declared a park; esp. forbidden is poaching (croaching) at night.

Most of the entry is clear to me, except for the references to scrupts, trasm and whackers. Unfortunately the last volume of the Encyclopedia published so far ends on “S
UCCOTASH
,” which means there’s nothing about trasm or whacker. However I did go over to Tarantoga’s to look up “S
CRUPTS
.” All I found was:

S
CRUPTS
—a feature of the civilization of the (see) Ardrites, of the planet (see) Enteropia, plays a significant role in their cultural life. See S
CRUPTURE
.

I followed this advice and read:

S
CRUPTURE
—the act of scrupturing, the state of being scruptured, the product of (see) scruption.

I looked under “Scruption,” which said:

S
CRUPTION
—an activity or condition of the (see) Ardrites, of the planet (see) Enteropia. See S
CRUPTS
.

The circle had closed, there was nowhere else to look. Well, I’d sooner die than admit to such ignorance in front of the Professor, and there’s no one but him I can turn to. Anyway, the die is cast—I’ve decided to go to Enteropia. I take off in three days.

28. VIII.
Started out at two, right after lunch. Didn’t bring along any books, since I have that new brain. It told anecdotes all the way to the moon. I laughed and laughed. Then supper, and off to bed.

29. VIII.
I must have caught a cold in the moon’s shadow, I keep sneezing. Took two aspirin. Three freighters from Pluto on our course; the engineer telegraphed me to get out of the way. I asked what his cargo was, thinking it might be God knows what, but nothing, just ordinary clabber. And then an express from Mars, terribly packed. I looked out the window, they were all lying one on top of the other, like herring. We waved our handkerchiefs, but they were already gone. Listened to jokes until supper. Hysterical, only I keep sneezing.

30. VIII.
Increased the speed. The brain working perfectly. My sides began to hurt some, so I turned it off for a couple of hours and plugged in the pad and pillow. Feels wonderful. It was after two when I picked up the radio signal Popov sent from Earth in the year 1896. I’m a good ways out now.