Andromeda (A Space-Age Tale)

CHAPTER ELEVEN THE ISLAND OF OBLIVION

The hydroplane was crossing Palk Strait against a strong head wind, leaping over the flat-topped rollers. Two thousand years before there had been a ridge of coral reefs and shallows there known as Adam’s Bridge. Recent geological processes had created a deep gulf in place of the ridge and deep waters now divided the lovers of repose from a mankind that was surging ever forward.

Mven Mass stood against the rail, his feet placed wide apart, peering at the Island of Oblivion as it gradually grew in size on the horizon. This huge island, washed by warm currents, was a natural paradise. In man’s primitive religious conceptions paradise had been a happy refuge after death where there were no cares or labour. The Island of Oblivion was also a happy asylum for those who were not attracted by the feverish activity of the Great World and who did not want to work on the same level as other people.

Here in the lap of mother nature, they lived out their years in the peace and calm known to the ancient cultivator of the soil, fisherman or herdsman.

Although mankind had given their weaker brothers a large area of wonderfully fruitful land, the primitive economy of the island could not fully guarantee the population against famine especially in periods of drought or other calamities that were so common where the productive forces were poorly developed. The Great World, therefore, was constantly allotting part of its reserve supplies to the Island of Oblivion.

Foodstuffs, preserved to last for many years, medicines, means of biological protection and other necessities were shipped to the island through three ports on the north-western, southern and eastern coasts. The three chief local governors also lived in the north, east and south and were known as the Directors of Animal Husbandry, Agriculture and Fisheries respectively. These people, elected by the islanders themselves, were always noted for their strong character. Some of them might have become pitiless tyrants if it had not been for the constant watch kept by the Economic and Health Councils and by the Control of Honour and Justice.

Not only on the island, but also in the Great World it occasionally happened that men of the hated category of “bulls” tried to enter into conspiracies and organize rebellions but the detachments of the Destroyer Battalions were as ruthless in dealing with wilful murderers as they were with sharks, bacteria and poisonous reptiles.

As he gazed at his future asylum Mven Mass began to wonder whether he, too, was a ‘‘bull”, but he put the thought aside in disgust. A “bull” was a strong and energetic man but one completely unaffected by the sufferings of others, a man who thought only of his own, usually unworthy, pleasures. People who, in the past obtained such characters from an unfortunate combination of inherited qualities had to keep themselves in hand and in training throughout their lives in order to be worthy members of the new society. The sufferings, quarrels and misfortunes of mankind in the distant past had always been aggravated by such people who, in various guises, proclaimed themselves the sole holders of the truth, the rulers who claimed the right to suppress all those whose opinions did not agree with theirs, the right to eradicate all other ways of thought or of life. Since then mankind has avoided the slightest sign of the absolute in opinions, desires and tastes and had become more wary of the “bulls” than of anything else. They, the “bulls,” ignoring the inviolable laws of economics, with no thought for the future, lived only for the present. The wars and disorganized economy of the Era of Disunity had led to the plundering of the planet. In those days forests were felled, supplies of coal and oil that had accumulated in the course of millions of years were burned up, the atmosphere was polluted by carbon monoxide and other filth that belched out of improperly constructed factories, beautiful and harmless animals were annihilated, and this went on until the world at last arrived at the communist structure of society, the only system that could ensure man’s continued existence. Great difficulties were left for the descendants. In the Era of Unity the most complicated reorganization of the world had to be undertaken in countries whose trees had degenerated into bushes and their cattle into dwarfs. The earth had been littered with rubbish of all sorts — broken glass, paper, rusty iron — and the rivers and sea-coasts had been polluted by waste oil and chemicals. Only when the water, air and earth had been properly cleansed did man see his planet in its present form where he could go anywhere barefoot without fear of hurting his feet.

But had not he, Mven Mass, who had been less than two years in an important post, destroyed an artificial satellite built by thousands of people employing miracles of the engineer’s art? Four competent scientists, any of whom might have become a Renn Bose, had been killed and Renn Bose himself had been saved with the greatest difficulty. Again the figure of Beth Lohn, hiding somewhere in the mountains and valleys of the Island of Oblivion, arose before his eyes, this time arousing great sympathy in him. Before he had left, Mven Mass had seen photographs of the mathematician, and had remembered his energetic face with its massive jaw and sharp eyes, deep-sunk and close to each other — he remembered his whole athletic frame….

The hydroplane engineer came over to Mven Mass. “There’s heavy surf. We shan’t be able to put in to the coast, the waves are beating over the mole. We’ll have to make for the southern port.”

“There’s no need to. You have life rafts. I can put my clothes on one and swim ashore.”

The engineer and helmsman looked at Mven Mass with respect. Surf-capped white waves piled up on the shallows and poured down in heavy, thundering cascades. Closer to the shore a disorderly swirl of waves whipped the sand and foam together and raced far up the low beach. The warm, fine rain that fell from the low-hanging clouds was swept at a slant by the wind and mixed with the wisps of foam.

Some grey figures were dimly visible on the beach through the veil of haze.

The engineer and the helmsman exchanged glances as Mven Mass stripped and packed up his clothes. Those who went to the Island of Oblivion were no longer under the guardianship of society where everybody protected everybody else and helped him. Mven Mass’ personality aroused the involuntary respect of the helmsman and he decided to warn him of the great danger he was running. The African waved his hand carelessly. The engineer brought him a small hermetically sealed case.

“Here is a month’s supply of concentrated foods, take it with you.”

Mven Mass thought for a second then put the case and his clothes in the waterproof chamber, buckled the flap tightly and with the little raft under his arm put his leg over the rail.

“Swing her round!” he commanded. The hydroplane leaned over in a sharp turn. Mven Mass, thrown far away from the tiny vessel, began his furious fight with the waves. Those on the boat saw him rise on the crest of a wave, disappear into a trough and reappear on another crest.

“With his strength he’ll manage it all right,” said the engineer, with a sigh of relief. “We’re drifting, we must get away from here.”

The screw raced and the little vessel jumped forward and lifted up on a wave that ran counter to it. Mven Mass’ dark figure appeared at full height on the beach and merged with the haze of rain.

Across the sandy beach, beaten hard by the waves, a group of people wearing nothing but loin-cloths came to meet him. They were dragging a huge, madly writhing fish in triumph. When they noticed Mven Mass they stopped and greeted him in friendly manner.

“A new one from that world,” said one of the fishermen with a smile. “He swims well. Come and live with us!”

Mven Mass gave the fishermen a frank, friendly look and shook his head.

“It would be hard for me to live here on the sea-coast and always be looking at the expanse of water and thinking of my beautiful lost world. I’m going into the interior, on to the plateau where the herdsmen live.”

One of the fishermen with a lot of grey in his thick beard that apparently was here considered an adornment to a man, laid his hand on the newcomer’s wet shoulder.

‘‘Could you have been compelled to come here?”

Mven Mass gave a bitter smile and tried to explain what had brought him there.

The fisherman looked at the newcomer sadly and with sympathy.

‘“We do not understand each other. Go your way,” he said, pointing to the south-east, where the blue terraces of distant mountains could be seen through a break in the clouds. “It is a long way and there is no other means of transport here than…” and the islander slapped the powerful muscles of his legs.

Mven Mass was glad to get away as quickly as possible and with long, swinging steps went up the winding path that led to some low hills.

The way to the centre of the island was a little more than two hundred kilometres and Mven Mass was in no hurry. Why should he be? Wearisome days, not filled by any sort of useful labour, dragged on slowly. At first, when he had not fully recovered from the catastrophe, his tired body demanded repose, the tranquillity of nature. If he had not been conscious of the tremendous loss he had suffered he would have enjoyed the silence of the deserted, wind-swept plateaux and the blackness and primordial silence of hot, tropical nights.

But as day followed day, the African, wandering about the island in search of some work to interest him, began to yearn for the Great World. The peaceful valleys with their groves of hand-cultivated fruit-trees no longer gave him pleasure nor was he lulled by the almost hypnotic gurgle of the pure mountain streams on whose banks he could now sit for countless hours in the heat of the afternoon or on a moonlit night.

Countless hours… why should he count that which was of no use to him there, time? He bad as much as he wanted, an ocean of time but he felt that his own, individual time was so insignificant. One brief and soon-forgotten moment! That was what happened to the lives of our stone age ancestors, lives full of courage and real heroism.

Only then did Mven Mass feel how well the island had been named — the Island of Oblivion! The stupid namelessness of the ancient ways of life, the doings and feelings of man! Deeds were forgotten by descendants because they were performed for the satisfaction of individual needs and did not make the life of the community easier and better, did not brighten life with creative art.

Mven was accepted into a company of herdsmen in the centre of the island and for two months pastured herds of buffalo at the foot of a huge mountain bearing the clumsily long name it had been given by the people who inhabited the island in ancient days.

For a long time he boiled his black porridge in a sooty pot and a month before he had had to seek fruits and nuts in the forest in competition with the greedy monkeys who threw their shells and peelings at him. That had happened when he had given the food he brought from the hydroplane to an old couple in a distant valley in accordance with the rule of the Great Circle World and its greatest joy: first give pleasure to others. Then he had discovered what it meant to have to seek food in unpopulated desert places. What a senseless waste of time.

Mven Mass got up from the stone on which he had been sitting and glanced round. The sun was setting behind the edge of the plateau and the wooded, rounded top of a hill rose up before him.

Below in the twilight murmured a swift rivulet flowing between growths of tall, feathered bamboos. Half a day’s journey on foot or on the back of a buffalo at an even slower pace, stood the almost six-thousand-year-old ruins of the ancient capital of the island. Other bigger and better preserved cities had also been abandoned. Mven Mass took no interest in them so far.

The herd lay like black boulders in the dark grass. Night fell quickly. The stars came out in their thousands to twinkle in the black sky. This was the darkness to which the astronomer was accustomed… the well-known outlines of the constellations… the bright lights of the bigger stars. From there he could see the fatal Tucana — but how weak human eyes are! Never again would he see the magnificent spectacle of the Cosmos, the spirals of the gigantic galaxies, the mysterious planets and blue suns. All these were now only points of light immeasurably distant. Did it matter any more whether they were stars or lanterns hanging on a crystal sphere, as the ancients used to think. To the unaided eye it was all the same!

The African scraped together the brushwood he had made ready. There was another article that had become necessary, a small lighter. Perhaps soon he would follow the example of some of the local inhabitants and inhale narcotic smoke to make the endlessly lengthy days seem shorter.

Tongues of flame played amongst the sticks, driving away the darkness and extinguishing the stars. The big animals were snuffling peacefully near by. Mven Mass stared pensively into the fire.

Had this bright planet of ours become a gloomy home for him?

No, his proud renunciation was nothing more than the self-confidence of ignorance. Ignorance of his own self, an underestimation of the loftiness of the full creative life he had lived, a misunderstanding of his love for Chara. It would be better to sacrifice his life for one hour of some worth-while deed for the Great World than to live here a whole century.

On the Island of Oblivion there were about two hundred medical centres where doctor volunteers from the Great World provided the local inhabitants with everything modern medicine could offer. The youth of the Great World also served in the Destroyer Battalions that prevented the island from becoming a breeding ground for the ancient diseases and for harmful animal life. Mven Mass deliberately avoided meeting these people so that he should not feel himself an outcast from the world of beauty and knowledge.

At dawn Mven Mass was relieved by another herdsman. He was free for two days and decided to go to a small town to get a cloak as the nights in the mountains were chilly.

It was a calm, hot day when Mven Mass left the plateau and descended to the wide plain, a veritable sea of pale lilac and golden-yellow flowers over which countless brightly coloured insects were hovering. Puffs of a light breeze made the tops of the plants wave and the flowers gently brushed their heads against Mven Mass’ bare knees as he walked through them. When he reached the middle of the huge field he stood still for a moment to enjoy the simple and joyful beauty of that aroma-filled natural garden. Bending down, the African passed the palms of his hands pensively over the wind-rocked flowers, and felt he was reliving a childhood dream.

A faint, rhythmical tinkle reached his ears. Mven Mass raised his head and saw a girl walking along swiftly, up to her waist in flowers. She turned to one side and Mven Mass looked admiringly at her graceful figure in the midst of that sea of flowers. A feeling of deep regret seized him: that could have been Chara if… if things had turned out differently.

His scientist’s sharp powers of observation told him at once that the girl was worried. She kept looking back and increased her pace without reason as though she were afraid she were being followed. Mven Mass changed his direction and quickly caught up with the girl.

The girl stopped. A brightly-coloured shawl was wrapped tightly round her body with the ends crossed and the hem of her red skirt was wet with dew. The thin bracelets on her bare arms tinkled more loudly as she threw back from her face a lock of hair that the wind had tousled. Her sorrowful eyes were looking out in concentration from under short curls that fell carelessly on her cheeks and forehead. The girl was breathing heavily, apparently from her long walk. A few beads of perspiration showed on her pretty, tanned face. She made a few uncertain steps towards Mven Mass.

“Who are you and where are you hurrying to?” he asked. “Perhaps you are in need of help?”

The girl stared intently at him and then answered, hurriedly and jerkily:

“I’m Onar from the 5th Settlement. But I don’t need help.”

“I think you do! You’re tired and something is bothering you. What can be threatening you? Why do you refuse my help?”

The girl looked at him and her eyes beamed, pure and profound, like those of a woman of the Great World.

“I know who you are! You are the big man from there,” and she waved her hand in the direction of Africa and the sea. “You are kind and credulous.”

“You be the same! Is somebody after you?”

“Yes!” gasped the girl in despair, “he’s chasing after me!”

“Who is he that dares to make you fear him and to chase after you?”

The girl blushed and hesitated.

“There’s one man who wants me to be his….”

“But surely you can choose for yourself whether to respond or not, can’t you? How can he compel you to love him? Let him come here and I’ll tell him….”

“Oh, no! He also came from the Great World, but a long time ago, and he’s strong, only he’s not like you, he’s terrible!”

Mven Mass laughed a carefree laugh.

“Where are you going?”

“To the 5th Settlement. I’ve been to the town and I met….”

Mven Mass nodded his head and took the girl by the hand. She allowed her fingers to remain in his big hand and together they went along a side path leading to the settlement.

On the way the girl, from time to time looking back apprehensively, told him that the man who was persecuting her was always accompanied by two other strong and evil men who were in every way obedient to him.

Her fear to speak frankly made Mven Mass indignant. He had been trained from childhood by history lessons, through books, films and music to hate all those who oppressed people, all the secret organizations that had existed in the past, everything that was hidden from the conscience and judgement of the people, everything that meant bloodshed and unhappiness. He could not tolerate the existence of oppression, even if it were only occasional, on their well-ordered earth!

“Why don’t your people do something?” exclaimed Mven Mass, “and why doesn’t the Control of Honour and Justice know about it? Don’t your schools teach you history and don’t you know what even tiny centres of brute force may lead to?”

“We’re taught… we know…” answered Onar, mechanically, looking straight in front of her. The flowery plain had come to an end and the path disappeared among the bushes in a sharp bend. Two men jumped out at the bend, barring the road to them. The girl snatched her hand away frantically, whispering, “I’m afraid for you, go away, man from the Great World!”

“Seize her!” came an imperative voice from behind the bushes. In the Great Circle Era nobody spoke so roughly. Mven Mass instinctively thrust the girl behind him and began to try his persuasion on these incomprehensibly wild people, but he stopped talking when he realized that his words did not reach them.

The broad-shouldered young men ran up to him and tried to push him away from the girl but Mven Mass stood as firm as a rock.

Then one of them gave him a lightning-like blow in the face with his fist. Mven Mass staggered. Never in his life had he seen deliberate, spiteful blows struck for the purpose of causing hurt, to stun and insult a man.

The other man punched him in the kidneys and through the ringing in his ears Mven Mass heard Onar’s pitiful cry. Fury overcame him and he threw himself on his enemies, trying to crush them. Two deadly blows in the stomach and the jaw brought the African to the ground. Onar dropped to her knees, covering him with her body but her enemies seized her with a howl of triumph. They pulled her elbows bads behind her and she straightened up in pain, her head thrown back. Hands filthy from earth and Mven Mass’ blood squeezed her helplessly writhing body and the girl sobbed, her face purple with anger.

“Bring her here!” came the loud voice again. An elderly man of tremendous height came out of the bushes. He was naked to the waist and athletic muscles rippled under the grey hair that covered his torso.

Mven Mass, however, had already recovered. He had had more serious tussles during his youth when he was performing his Labours of Hercules and had fought against sharks and octopuses, beings not bound by human laws. He tried to remember all he had been taught about hand-to-hand fighting with the monsters.

Mven Mass remained on the ground for a few second? to get his breath and then with one powerful leap reached the men who were dragging Onar away. One of them turned to meet the attack and Mven punched him exactly on a nerve centre. He fell to the ground with a bestial howl and a moment later was followed by his companion, brought down by a well-placed kick. The girl was free. Mven stood face to face with the third man, the leader of the gang, who was lifting his hand to strike. He cast one glance at his fury-distorted face to note the spot where he would deliver him one crushing blow — and staggered back. He recognized that powerful face that had so long tormented him in his dreams when he was wondering about his right to carry out the Tibetan experiment.

“Beth Lohn!”

Lohn stood still, staring at the unknown dark-skinned man who had now lost all his customary good nature.

The two confederates jumped up, still writhing with pain and wanted to attack again but the mathematician waved them back imperiously.

“Beth Lohn, I have thought a lot about the possibility of meeting you, believing you to be my companion in misfortune” exclaimed Mven Mass, “but I never expected the meeting would be like this!”

“Like what?” asked Beth Lohn insolently, hiding the wrath that burned in his eyes.

Mven Mass waved the question aside. “What is the use of empty words? In that world you did not use them and acted, even if criminally, for the sake of a great idea. For the sake of what are you acting here?”

“For my own sake, for myself alone!” said Beth Lohn contemptuously, spitting the words through his teeth. “I have considered others and the common good long enough. Now I realize that it is all of no use to a man. Some of the wise men in ancient times knew it, too.”

“You never did think of others, Beth Lohn,” Mven Mass said, interrupting him. “Giving way to your own desires in everything you have become what you are now — rapist, deceiver, an animal, almost!”

The mathematician made as if to attack Mven Mass but restrained himself.

“Is it proper for a man of the Great World to lie? I have never been a deceiver.”

“What about them?” Mven Mass pointed to the two young men who were listening to the conversation in bewilderment. “Where are you taking them? What are you leading them to — the narcotic bullets of the Destroyer Battalion? You know very well that brute force, apparent power over other people, is the way to repudiation and death.”

“I did not deceive them in any way. They came of their own free will….”

“You, with your powerful intellect and will-power made use of the weakness of the human spirit, of their willingness to submit, a factor that was responsible for many of the calamities of the ancient world. In the old days men could avoid responsibility by laying the blame on the stronger, by submitting blindly and obediently and then laying the blame for their own ignorance, laziness and weak will on to God, an idea, a military or political leader. Was that the same thing as reasonable obedience to a teacher of our world? What you want is to train people who are loyal to you in the same way as oppressors of the past did, you want human robots.”

“Enough, you talk too much.”

“I see that you’ve lost too much and I want….”

“And I don’t want! Get out of my way!”

Mven Mass did not budge. With his head bent, he stood confidently and threateningly in front of Beth Lohn and could feel the girl’s trembling shoulder against his back. That shiver enraged him far more than the blows he had received.

The former mathematician stood stock still, staring straight at the African, straight into black eyes that were burning with rage.

“Go!” he said with a loud gasp, stepping back from the path and ordering his companions to do the same. Mven Mass again took Onar by the hand and led her through the bushes; he could feel Beth Lohn’s stare of hatred following him.

At a bend in the path Mven Mass stopped so suddenly that Onar bumped into him.

“Beth Lohn, let’s go back to the Great World together!”

The mathematician burst out laughing with his former abandon but Mven’s sharp ear caught a note of bitterness behind his bravado.

“Who are you to suggest such a thing? Do you know?…”

“Yes, I know. I have also carried out a forbidden experiment and killed people I should have protected…. My path in science was close to yours and we, you and I and others, are already on the eve of victory! People need you, but not such as you are today.”

The mathematician stepped up to Mven Mass and lowered his eyes, then suddenly turned away and contemptuously spat out coarse words of refusal over his shoulder. Mven Mass continued his way along the path without a word.

The 5th Settlement was about six miles away. The African learned that the girl lived quite alone and advised her to go to the east coast, to a seaside village where she would not meet the brutal Beth Lohn again.

Formerly a famous scientist, he had become a tyrant to the quiet little settlements of the mountain district that lived such a secluded life. In order to avoid any evil consequences Mven Mass decided to go into the settlement at once and ask for the three men to be kept under observation.

Mven Mass said good-bye to Onar on the outskirts of the settlement. The girl told him that there were rumours that tigers had appeared in the forests that covered the round-topped mountain; they had either escaped from the reservation or were still living in the dense jungles that surrounded the island’s highest mountain. She grasped his hand and implored him to take care of himself and not go through the mountains at night. Mven Mass made his way back quickly and as he thought over everything that had happened he could see the girl’s last look, a look that was filled at once with both anxiety and loyalty such as were rarely met with in the Great World. For the first time in his life Mven Mass thought of the true heroes of the distant past, people who had remained good in face of humiliation, wrath and physical suffering, something that required indomitable courage and fortitude. For the first time in his life he realized that the people of ancient times whose life seemed so hard to his contemporaries had also known the meaning of happiness, hope and creative activity, at times, perhaps, even to a greater extent than was the case in the Great Circle Era.

It was almost with anger that Mven Mass recalled the theoreticians of those days who based their prophecy that mankind would not improve in a million years on a false understanding of the slowness of the mutation of species in nature.

If they had loved people more and had understood the dialectics of development such ridiculous ideas would never have entered their heads.

The sunset turned red the clouds that lay on the rounded spur of a gigantic mountain. Mven Mass jumped into a stream to wash off the dirt and blood of battle.

Refreshed and calm at last he sat down on a flat stone to dry himself and rest. He would not be able to get to the town before nightfall but he expected to be able to cross the mountain when the moon came up. As he sat contemplating the water gurgling over the stones he suddenly felt that somebody’s eyes were fixed on him but could not see anybody. The same feeling that unseen eyes were watching him was still with him when he crossed the stream and began to climb the slope.

Mven Mass walked quickly along the cart road leading to a plateau about 1,800 metres high, passing from terrace to terrace in order to cross a wooded spur which was the shortest way to the town. The thin crescent of the new moon would light the way for no more than an hour and a half and it would be very difficult to ascend a steep mountain path in the dark.

Mven Mass, therefore, had to hurry. Occasional low trees cast shadows that made black lines on the dry moonlit earth. Mven Mass kept a sharp look-out in order not to stumble over the countless roots that lay in his way but all the time he was thinking deeply.

From somewhere far away to the right, where the slope was gentler and lay in deep shadow, came a menacing growl that made the earth tremble as it carried over the ground. It was answered by a low roar from amongst the patches and strips of moonlight in the forest. These sounds had a strength in them that penetrated deep into a man’s soul, arousing a long forgotten feeling of fear and doom in the victim selected by an invincible beast of prey. To counteract the ancient fear, in the African’s heart there burned the no less ancient fury of battle, inherited from countless generations of nameless heroes that had defended the rights of the human race to live amongst mammoths, lions, giant bears, savage bulls and ruthless wolf-packs in exhausting days spent in hunting and nights spent in fear-filled defence.

Mven Mass stood still, looking round and holding his breath. Nothing moved in the silence of the night but when he walked on a few steps along the path, he was certain that he was being followed. Tigers! — was it possible that Onar’s information was really correct?

He began to run, trying to decide what to do when the animals, there were clearly two of them, attacked him.

It was senseless to try to escape up a tall tree that a tiger could climb better than a man. What was there to fight with? There was nothing at hand but stones, lie could not even break a decent club off the branches of trees as hard as iron. When the growls came from behind him and close at hand he realized that he was lost. The dusty branches of the trees that now overshadowed the path stifled him, he wanted to gain courage for the last few moments from the eternal depths of the starry sky, to the study of which all his past life had been devoted. Mven Mass ran on with long strides. Fate favoured him for he came to a place in the forest where there was a big, open glade. In the centre of the glade he noticed a heap of big boulders, ran to it, seized a thirty-kilogram sharp-cornered block of stone and turned towards the forest. He could now see vaguely moving, phantom-like figures. They were striped and were easily lost amongst the shadows of the scanty trees. The moon was already so low that its edge touched the tree-tops. The lengthened shadows lay across the glade like paths and the huge cats were crawling along them towards Mven Mass. He felt approaching death in the same way as he had done in the underground chamber at the Tibetan Observatory. This time it was not coming from inside him but from outside, it gleamed in the green flame of the animals’ phosphorescent eyes. Mven Mass breathed in a puff of wind that came through the heated air, glanced up at the shining glory of the Cosmos, straightened his back and raised the big stone above his head.

“I’m with you!” A tall shadow spread across the glade from the darkness of the slope threateningly brandishing a knotted branch. For a moment the astounded Mven Mass forgot all about the tigers — he recognized the mathematician. Beth Lohn, out of breath from his headlong race stood beside Mven Mass, gasping spasmodically. The giant cats had at first drawn back but now they began steadily approaching the men. The tiger on his left was no more than thirty paces away and had drawn up its hind legs to spring.

“Quicker!” a loud shout resounded across the glade. As the pale flashes of grenade-throwers came from three points behind Mven’s back he dropped his stone in his surprise at the suddenness of it. The nearer tiger reared up on its hind legs to full height, the paralyzing grenades burst like the beating of drums and the animal lay stretched out on its bade. The other leaped towards the forest but from there three figures on horseback appeared. A glass bomb with a powerful electric charge struck the tiger on the forehead and he stretched out with his heavy head in the dry grass.

One of the horsemen rode forward. Never before had the working dress worn by people of the Great World seemed so elegant to Mven Mass — wide shorts and shirt of strong, artificial blue linen open at the neck and with breast pockets.

‘“Mven Mass, I felt that you were in danger!”

Could he fail to recognize that high-pitched voice that was still full of alarm! Chara Nandi! The African forgot to answer her and stood rooted to the spot until the girl sprang from her horse and ran to him. She was followed by her five companions whom Mven Mass could not get a glimpse of because the moon had hidden behind the trees; the wind died down and stifling darkness enveloped the glade and the forest. Chara’s hand found Mven’s elbow. He took her thin wrist and laid her hand on his chest where his heart was beating wildly. Chara’s fingertips stroked a bulging muscle and that gentle caress gave Mven Mass a sense of tranquillity such as he had never known before.

“Chara, this is Beth Lohn, my new friend.” He turned round and found that the mathematician had disappeared.

“Beth Lohn, don’t go away!” he shouted with all his might into the darkness.

“I’ll come back!” a powerful voice answered from a distance and this time there was no bitter insolence in it.

One of Chara’s companions, a youth of medium height, apparently the leader of the group, took a lantern that was hanging behind his saddle. A faint light together with an unseen radio ray rose into the air and Mven Mass guessed that they were expecting an aircraft of some sort. All five were little more than boys, members of a Destroyer Battalion who had chosen, as one of their Labours of Hercules, the security service that fought against dangerous animals on the Island of Oblivion. Chara Nandi had joined them in her search for Mven Mass.

“You’re mistaken if you think we’re so astute,” said the leader when they were sitting in a circle round the lantern and Mven Mass began asking the inevitable questions, “a girl with an ancient Greek name helped us.” “Onar!” exclaimed Mven Mass. “Yes, Onar. Our detachment was approaching the 5th Settlement from the south when the girl came running up to us on the verge of collapse. She confirmed the rumour about the tigers that had brought us here and persuaded us to ride after you immediately as there was a danger that they might attack you when you were crossing the mountain. As you see we were only just in time. A cargo helicopter will come soon and we’ll send your temporarily paralysed enemies to a reservation. If they really turn out to be man-eaters they’ll be killed. But such a rare animal must not be destroyed until it has been tested.”

“What sort of test?” The boy raised his brows.

“That’s outside our competency. To begin with they’ll probably be given a tranquillizer…. Now and again people who have too much misapplied energy and strength have to be dealt with in that way, too.” “How is it done?” asked Mven Mass. “I know of a case of an unbelievably brutal athlete here who forgot his social duties and obligations. He was given an injection to lower vital activity and bring his physical strength down to the level of his weak will and intellect thus balancing the two sides of his being. In the last three years he has learnt a lot — your enemies will be taught in the same way.”

A loud rumble interrupted the youth. A huge, dark mass came slowly down to them. A blinding light flooded the whole glade. The striped cats were enclosed in soft containers such as were used for fragile goods. The big airship, poorly visible in the darkness, disappeared, leaving the glade to the calm light of the stars. One of the five lads had gone off with the tigers and Mven Mass had been given his horse.

Mven’s horse and Chara’s walked along side by side. The path led down to the valley of the River Galle at whose mouth, on the sea-coast, the medical station and Destroyer Battalion base were situated.

“This is the first time I’ve been to the sea since I came to the island,” said Mven Mass, breaking the silence. “Until now it has seemed to me that the sea is a wall that I’m forbidden to cross and which marks off my world.”

“The island has been a new school for you,” said Chara joyfully but half-questioningly.

“Yes, in a short time here I’ve experienced a lot and have done some new thinking. All these ideas I’ve had on my mind for a long time….”

Mven Mass told her about his fears that man, by repeating the mistakes of the past, even if in a much less ugly form, is developing in a too rational, too technical manner. It seemed to Mven that on the planet of Epsilon Tucanae there was a mankind very much like ours and very beautiful in body that had paid greater attention to the perfection of the emotional side of the psyche.

“I’ve suffered a great deal from this sense of imperfect harmony with life,” answered the girl after a pause. “I’ve always wanted more of the old and much less of what is around me. I dreamed of the epoch that had not expended the strength and feelings accumulated in the primitive period, the Age of Eros in Mediterranean Antiquity. It would be a good thing for the Great World to set up a reservation for the Life of Antiquity where we could rest and acquire emotional strength. I have always tried to arouse a real strength of feeling in my audiences but, I’m afraid, only Evda Nahl has fully understood me!”

“And Mven Mass!” added the African, seriously, telling her how she had appeared to him as the copper-coloured daughter of Tucana. The girl raised her face and in the timid light of early dawn Mven Mass saw eyes so big and profound that he felt a slight dizziness, moved away from her and laughed.

“There was a time when our ancestors in their novels about the future imagined us as weakly, rickety beings with overgrown skulls. Despite the millions of animals that were tormented and slaughtered in the name of science they did not come any nearer to an understanding of the brain mechanism of man and simply because they used a knife where the most delicate measuring instruments in the molecule and atom range were needed. We now know that strong intellectual activity requires a powerful body, full of vital energy and that that body will produce strong emotions that we have so far learned only to suppress and, by suppressing them, make ourselves the poorer!”

“We are still chained to the intellect,” agreed Chara. “A lot has been done but the intellectual side continues to advance while the emotional lags behind and that is what must be looked after — so that emotion should not demand an intellectual chain but that reason should at times need emotion’s chains. I have come to regard this as so important that I intend to write a book about it.”

“Oh, of course,” exclaimed Chara enthusiastically, but grew timid and continued, “very few great scientists have devoted themselves to research into the laws of the beautiful and the fullness of emotions — I’m not talking about psychology.”

“I can understand you,” answered the African, admiring the girl who, in her confusion, had raised her proud head higher to the rays of the rising sun that again gave her skin the colour of burnished copper. Chara sat easily and lightly on the big black horse that walked in step with Mven Mass’ roan.

“We are lagging behind!” exclaimed the girl slackening her reins and urging her horse forward. The African overtook her and they cantered together along the smooth old road. They soon caught up with the others, reined in their horses and again Chara turned to Mven Mass.

“What about that girl, Onar?”

“She must go to the Great World. You said yourself that she had remained on the island quite by chance because she was attached to her mother who came here and died recently. It would be good for Onar to work with Veda, women’s gentle and sensitive hands are needed at the excavations…. And there are thousands of other jobs for which they are needed… and Beth Lohn, the new Beth Lohn who will come back with us, he’ll find her in a new way.”

Chara frowned and the bird that flew over her eyes spread its wings still more widely.

“And you won’t leave your stars?”

“Whatever the decision of the Council may be I shall continue my study of the Cosmos. But first I have to write….”

“About the stars of the human soul?”

“Quite right, Chara! So great is their variety that it takes my breath away.” Noticing that the girl was smiling gently at him, Mven Mass stopped, “Don’t you agree?”

“Of course I do. I was thinking about your experiment. You did it out of your passionately impatient desire to give people the fullness of the world. In that you were an artist and not a scientist.”

“And Renn Bose?”

“He’s different. For him the experiment was another step forward in his research but one that science required.”

“You don’t blame me, Chara?”

“No! Nor do many other people, the majority, I’m sure!”

Mven Mass took the reins in his left hand and held out his right to Chara. They entered the tiny group of houses around the station.

The waves of the Indian Ocean beat rhythmically at the foot of the cliff. In the sounds they made Mven Mass could hear the rhythmic beat of the basses in Zieg Zohr’s symphony depicting life reaching out into the Cosmos. There was one powerful note, a strong F, the basic note in terrestrial nature, that sang over the sea and compelled man to respond with his entire soul, merging with the nature that gave him birth.

The sea was transparent, shining, cleansed of the relics of the past, of predatory sharks, poisonous fish, molluscs and medusae in the same way as the life of present-day man has been cleansed of the evil and fear of past centuries. But somewhere in the distant corners of the boundless ocean the seeds of harmful life have survived and we have the Destroyer Battalions to thank for keeping our ocean waters safe and clean.

And is it not true that in the same way there suddenly arises savage stubbornness, the self-confidence of the cretin, the egoism of the beast in the transparent soul of youth? If man today does not submit to the authority of society that is directed towards wisdom and goodness but, instead, is guided by his own accidental ambition and individual passions, courage is turned into bestiality, creative activity into cruel cunning while loyalty and self-abnegation become the bulwark of tyranny, cruel exploitation and abasement. The surface layer of discipline and social culture is easily torn off, only one or two generations of poor living are needed. Mven Mass had glanced into the face of the beast there, on the Island of Oblivion. If he is not restrained, if he has his way, a monstrous despotism will come into being that will crush everything underfoot and bring back that ruthless arbitrariness that held mankind enslaved for so many centuries.

The most astounding thing in world history is the emergence of that undying hatred for knowledge and beauty that is typical of all vicious ignoramuses. This mistrust, fear and hatred are to be found in all human communities, beginning with fear of the primitive witches and witch-doctors and continuing up to the beating o(those thinkers who were ahead of their time in the Era of Disunity. The same thing occurred on other planets with highly-developed civilizations that had not succeeded in protecting their social systems from the arbitrary action of small groups of people, oligarchies, that emerged suddenly and cunningly in the most diverse forms. Mven Mass recalled that the same thing had been reported over the Great Circle about other inhabited worlds where the highest achievements of science were used to intimidate, for torture and punishment, for thought-reading and turning the masses into obedient semi-idiots ever ready to fulfil the most monstrous orders. A cry for help from such a planet had reached the Circle and flown on into space many hundreds of years after the people who sent it and their cruel rulers had perished.

Our planet is now at a stage of development when such horrors are inconceivable. But man’s spiritual development is still insufficient and people like Evda Nahl are working on the problem.

“How can you get so deep in thought?” came Chara’s voice from behind. “The artist Cart Sann said that wisdom is the combination of knowledge and feelings,” as she walked along the girl threw off her bathrobe, “and so we’ll be wise!”

Chara ran past the African and dived from the height into the noisy swirl below. Mven Mass saw her Jump forward, turn a somersault, spread her arms and disappear into the waves. The lads from the Destroyer Battalion, bathing down below, were suddenly silent. A cold shiver of admiration verging on fright ran down Mven’s back. The African had never dived from such a crazy height but he now stood without a tremor on the edge of the cliff and took off his clothes. He later remembered that in hazy momentary thoughts Chara seemed like an ancient goddess to him, a goddess that could do anything. If she could, then so could he!

A faint cry of warning from the girl arose out of the waves but Mven Mass did not hear it as he dived down. The flight was blissfully long. Mven Mass, a skilled diver, entered the water perfectly and his dive carried him a long way down. The water was so amazingly transparent that the sea bed seemed dangerously close. He twisted his body upwards and the impact of unspent inertia was so terrific that for a moment everything ceased to exist for him. With the velocity of a rocket Mven Mass flew to the surface, rolled over on to his back and lay rocked by the waves. When he opened his eyes he saw Chara swimming towards him, the paleness of fright dulling the bronze of her sunburn. There was both reproach and admiration in her eyes.

“Why did you do that?” she whispered, hardly breathing.

“Because you did. I’ll follow you anywhere to build my Epsilon Tucanae on our Earth!”

“Will you come back to the Great World with me?”

“Yes!”

Mven Mass turned over to swim farther and gave a shout of amazement. The astounding transparency of the ‘ water that had played such a nasty trick on him seemed even greater out there, farther from the beach. He and Chara seemed to be floating at a dizzy height over the sea bed every detail of which showed as clearly through the pure water as it would through the air. Mven Mass was brimming over with courage and triumph such as people experience when they get outside the bounds of terrestrial gravitation. Journeys across the ocean in a storm, leaps into the black gulf of the Cosmos from artificial satellites aroused similar feelings of boundless daring and success. Mven Mass in a single spurt swam up to Chara, whispered her name and read a fervent response in her clear and courageous eyes. Their hands and lips joined over the crystal gulf.