Lem, Stanislaw (36 page)

—Great Gauss!—I cried.

—This must be the place!

But though I circled around again and

again, until I was quite dizzy, there was not a living soul to be

seen anywhere on the planet's sandy surface. Only when I dropped to

an altitude of six miles was I able to make out a group of dots,

which proved to be, upon higher magnification, the inhabitants

of this most unusual heavenly body. There were a hundred or so of

them lying about in the sand, and so motionless, I thought for a

moment they might all be dead. But then I saw one or two scratch

themselves, and this clear sign of life encouraged me to land. In my

excitement I didn't wait for the rocket to cool after its descent

through the planet's atmosphere, but jumped out at once and shouted:

—-Excuse me, is this by any

chance the Highest Possible Level of Development?!

No answer. In fact, they paid no

attention to me at all. Somewhat taken aback by this show of utter

indifference, I looked around. The plain shimmered beneath the square

sun. Here and there, things stuck out of the sand, things like broken

wheels, sticks, bits of paper and other rubbish, and the inhabitants

lay any which way among them, one on his back, another on his

stomach, and farther on was one with his legs up in the air. I walked

around the nearest and examined him. He wasn't a robot, but on the

other hand neither was he a man, nor any sapient proteinoid of the

glutinous-albuminous variety. The head was round and plump, with red

cheeks, but for eyes it had two penny whistles, and for ears it had

thuribles, which gave off a thick cloud of incense. He was dressed in

orchid pantaloons, a dark blue stripe down either side and appliqued

with dirty scraps of closely written paper, and he wore high heels.

In one hand he held a mandolin made entirely of frosted gingerbread,

a few bites already missing from the neck. He was snoring peacefully.

I leaned over to read the appliques on his trousers, but could make

out only a few since my eyes watered copiously from the incense.

The inscriptions were most curious—for example,
NO.

SLURGING, FULL-GROWN
, and many more, which I simply don't

remember now. As I touched one of these paper scraps in trying to

read it, a depression quickly formed in the sand beneath this

native's knee and a tiny voice piped:

—Shall I come out now?

—Who's that?—I cried.

—It's me, the Gollochondrill…

Are you ready? Is it time?

—No, not yet!—I was quick

to reply, and backed off. The next native had a head in the shape of

a bell, three horns, several arms of varying length (two massaging

its belly), ears that were long and feathery, a cap with a pretty

purple balcony on which someone was having an argument with someone

else—quite heated too, judging from the little plates that came

flying this way and that, shattering on the brim—and he also

had a kind of throw pillow, all jewel-spangled, tucked under his

shoulders. While I stood before this individual, he pulled one of the

horns off his head, sniffed it and tossed it away with a look of

disgust, then poured a handful of dirty sand in the opening. Nearby

lay something I first took for a pair of twins, and then for a couple

of lovers locked in an embrace. I was about to turn away discreetly,

when I realized that it wasn't two people at all, or one, but exactly

one and a half. The head was quite ordinary, except for the ears:

every now and then they would detach themselves and flit about like

butterflies. The lids were closed, but numerous moles on the chin and

cheeks were equipped with tiny eyes; these regarded me with

undisguised hostility. This remarkable being had a bioad and

muscular chest, which however was riddled with holes, as if someone

had been careless with a drill, and the holes were haphazardly

plugged with raspberry jam. There was only one leg, but it was

unusually thick and shod in a handsome morocco leather slipper, its

curled toe tipped with a little felt bell. Near the elbow was a

sizable pile of apple cores, or perhaps they were pear. My

astonishment grew as I walked along and came upon a robot with a

human head, a miniature self-winding samovar whistling cheerfully in

its left nostril, and then someone reclining on a bed of candied

yams, and someone else with a trapdoor in his abdomen, open so I

could look in and see the crystal works. Some mechanical elves

were putting on a play in there, but it turned out to be so terribly

obscene, that I left in a hurry, blushing like mad. In my confusion I

tripped and fell, and when I got up I saw yet another inhabitant of

this strange planet: stark naked, he was scratching his behind with a

solid gold backscratcher, apparently enjoying himself thoroughly,

even though he was quite headless. The head lay farther on, neck

stuck in the sand; it was touching its teeth with the tip of its

tongue. The chin was checkered chintz, the right ear a boiled

cauliflower, while the left was an ear all right, but stopped up with

a carrot that carried a tag saying
PULL
.

Without thinking I pulled, and out with the carrot came a length of

string and then another tag that read
YOU'RE

GETTING WARM
! I kept pulling and pulling, until the string

finally ended in a medicine bottle that bore the label
NOSY,

AREN'T WE
?

All these impressions left me feeling

so dizzy I hardly knew where I was. But at last I pulled myself

together and began to look around for the kind of person who might be

communicative enough to answer a question or two. A possible

candidate, it seemed, was one fairly pudgy type squatting with

his back to me and occupied with something he held on his knees—at

least he had only one head, two ears, two arms, and so on. I went up

to him and began:

—Pardon me, but if I'm not

mistaken, you gentlemen have been fortunate enough to achieve the

Highest Possible—

The words died on my lips. He didn't

seem to hear me at all, for he was wholly taken up with what lay on

his knees, which happened to be his very own face, removed somehow

from the rest of the head and sighing softly as he picked its nose.

For a moment I was stupefied, but only for a moment —my

curiosity returned in full force, and I simply had to find out, once

and for all, just what was going on. I ran from one native to the

next, spoke to them, questioned them, raised my voice, insisted,

pleaded, reasoned, even threatened, all to no avail. In my

exasperation I grabbed the nose picker's arm, and was horrified to

find that it came off in my hand, though that didn't bother him in

the least, he only poked about in the sand and pulled out another

exactly like the first—except for the orange plaid

fingernails—blew on it a little, then affixed it to the

shoulder stump. Curious, I bent over to examine the first arm, but

dropped it hastily when it snapped its fingers in my face. By now the

sun was setting, already two corners below the horizon, the air grew

cool, and the inhabitants of H. P. L. D. began to settle down for the

night, scratching, yawning, gargling, one shaking out an emerald

quilt, another methodically taking off his nose, ears and legs and

carefully putting them in a row at his side. I stumbled around in the

dark for a while, then gave it up with a sigh and lay down to sleep

too. Making myself as comfortable as possible in the sand, I looked

up at the starry sky and tried to think what to do next.

—Indeed-—I said to

myself—by all indications this is the very planet both

Cadaverius Malignus and Chlorian Theoreticus the Proph spoke of, home

of the Most Advanced Civilization in the Entire Universe, a

civilization of a few hundred individuals who, being neither people

nor robots, lie around on jeweled cushions all day in a dirty,

littered desert and do nothing but scratch themselves and pick their

noses. No, there has to be some terrible secret behind all of this,

and I shall not rest till I've uncovered it!!

Then I thought:

—A terrible secret it must be

indeed, to account for not only a square sun and planet, but

lecherous elves inside bodies and insulting messages in ears! I

always thought that if I, a simple robot, could spend my time in

study and the pursuit of knowledge, think of the kind of intellectual

ferment that went on among those more highly developed—

no, the
most
highly developed! Yet these, whatever they do,

they certainly don't spend their time in edifying conversation;

they don't even care to answer a few questions. I'll have to force

them—but how? Perhaps, if I pester them enough, get under their

skin, so to speak, make such a nuisance of myself that they'll

agree to anything, just to get rid of me! Of course, there is some

risk involved: they might get angry, and, without a doubt, they could

destroy me as easily as swatting a fly. … But no, I cannot

believe they'd resort to such brutal measures—and anyway, I

simply must find out! Well, here goes!!

And I jumped up in the darkness and

started to scream at the top of my lungs, did somersaults and

cartwheels, hopped around and kicked sand in their eyes, danced and

sang until I was hoarse, did a few sit-ups and deep knee bends, then

hurled myself among them like a mad dog. They turned their backs to

me and held up their cushions and quilts for protection, and then, in

the middle of my hundredth cartwheel, a voice said inside my

head:

—And what would your good friend

Trurl think if he could see you now, see how you pass your time on

the planet that has achieved the Highest Possible Level of

Development, home of the Most Advanced Civilization in the

Entire Universe?!—But I ignored the hint and continued to

stomp and howl, encouraged by what they were whispering to one

another:

—Psst!

—What do you want?

—You hear that?

—How can I help but hear it?

—He practically kicked my head

in.

—You can get another.

—But I can't sleep.

—What?

—I said, I can't sleep.

—He's curious—whispered a

third.

—He's awfully curious!

—This is really too much. We'll

have to do something.

—Like what?

—I don't know… Change his

personality?

—No, that's unethical…

—Just listen to him howl!

—Wait, I have an idea…

They whispered something while I kept

jumping around, raising an unholy racket, concentrating my efforts

especially in the area where I heard them talking. Then, just as I

was doing a headstand on someone's abdomen, everything went black,

and the next thing I knew, I was back on my ship and out in space. My

limbs ached from all that exercise, but I could hardly move them

anyway, for I was sitting in a pile of trombones, jars of green

marmalade, teddy bears, platinum glockenspiels, ducats and

doubloons, golden earmuffs, bracelets and brooches glittering so

bright they hurt my eyes. When finally I crawled out from under all

these valuables and dragged myself to a window, I saw that the

constellations were entirely different—not a trace of

anything remotely resembling a square sun! A few quick

calculations revealed that I would have to travel six thousand years

at top velocity to get back to the H. P. L. D.'s. They had disposed

of me, indeed. And going back would achieve nothing, that was

clear: they would merely send me packing again with that

instantaneous hyperspatial telekinesis of theirs, or whatever it was.

And so, my good Bonhomius, I decided to tackle the problem in an

altogether different way. …" And with these words, most

kind and noble sir, did the distinguished constructor Klapaucius

finish his tale…

+ +

"Surely that's not all he said?!"

cried Trurl.

"Nay, he said a great deal more,

O benefactor of mine! And therein lies my misfortune!" replied

the robot with considerable perturbation. "When I asked him what

he had then decided to do, he leaned over and said…

+ +

"The problem did seem insoluble

at first, but I've found a way. You say you lived as a hermetic

hermit and are but a simple, unschooled robot, so I'll not trouble

you with explanations that touch the arcane art of cybernetic

generation. To put it simply, then, all we have to do is

construct a digital device, a computer capable of producing an

informational model of absolutely anything in existence.

Properly programmed, it will provide us with an exact simulation

of the Highest Possible Level of Development, which we can then