The Totems of Abydos (50 page)

The git looked up at him, with his small, round, shiny eyes.

Brenner regarded the Pons.

“You!” said Brenner. “Come here.”

He addressed himself to the git keeper, who had rejoined the group. The Pon approached him cautiously, holding its pointed stick.

Brenner put out his hand for the stick.

Reluctantly the Pon surrendered it.

“You will not need this,” Brenner said. He then broke the stick, into four pieces, and flung them away.

“Watch,” said Brenner.

“Be careful,” said Rodriguez. “It’s wild.”

Brenner had opened the tiny cage.

“This is only a git,” he said. “It is only a small animal, nothing more, only that.”

“Ahhh,” breathed a Pon.

Brenner had put his hand gently into the cage. With one finger he caressed the glistening, oily back of the small, fat creature.

“Be careful,” said Rodriguez.

“I won’t startle it,” said Brenner. “It’s tame.”

“Interesting,” said Rodriguez.

“See?” said Brenner to the Pons. “It is only a git. It is only a little animal.”

Brenner removed his hand from the cage.

“Do you want to touch it?” Brenner asked the git keeper.

The Pon shook his head negatively.

“Are you afraid of it?” asked Brenner.

The Pon looked up at him.

“Do not be afraid of it,” said Brenner. “Just do not startle it.”

The Pon looked about himself, at the others.

“Do not be afraid,” said Brenner.

The Pon looked at him again.

“It is the totem, is it not?” asked Brenner. “The totem does not harm its children.”

“You are treading on dangerous ground,” said Rodriguez.

The Pon then, slowly, carefully, put its arm into the cage.

“Be careful,” said Rodriguez.

“Eee!” screamed the Pon, jerking his hand back wildly, tipping the cage, causing it to fall, with the git, to the floor of the shelter. His finger was bright with blood. He thrust it wildly, in pain, in his mouth.

“You see!” cried Brenner. “It is not the totem! The totem does not harm its children! It is an animal, only an animal!”

The git keeper ran howling from the vicinity of the shelter.

“There are no totems!” said Brenner. “You may touch! You may love! You may do as you please! You are free! I have liberated you from superstition!”

The Pons regarded him.

“They do not understand,” said Rodriguez.

“They will later,” said Brenner.

“Perhaps it would be better if they did not,” said Rodriguez.

“I do not understand,” said Brenner.

“You cannot just go about taking people’s beliefs away,” said Rodriguez.

“I have done so,” said Brenner. “The beliefs are false. They must go.”

“And what will you put in their place?” asked Rodriguez.

“That is not my concern,” said Brenner.

“I thought you might have some developed ideology in mind,” said Rodriguez, “something that might be useful in the exploitation of colonials, or something.”

“No,” smiled Brenner.

“It might be better, if you had,” said Rodriguez.

“Be serious,” said Brenner.

“Do not expect gratitude,” said Rodriguez.

“There are no totems,” said Brenner to the Pons. “That is all over now. I am going to free the git.”

Brenner righted the cage, where it lay on the ground, and carefully put his hand into it. The git was crouched down, quivering, in one corner.

“Do not corner it,” said Rodriguez.

“I won’t,” said Brenner. Then he held his hand, open, near the git. In a moment or two it moved out of the corner. A little later it climbed onto Brenner’s hand. “It’s a heavy one,” said Brenner.

“Be careful,” said Rodriguez.

Then, very carefully, not closing his hand, Brenner lifted the git up and out of the cage, and held it, nestled, against his shirt. “I won’t hurt you,” he said to it. Then he said to the Pons. “See? It is not a totem. It is only a little animal. We are going to free it now, and as I free it, so, too, you are freed, from misery, from backwardness and superstition. In your world this is a great step. You will begin your climb now toward civilization.”

Brenner then slowly walked toward the gate of the palisade. When he reached that point he put the git down, at a point between two of the palings of the gate. It stayed there for a moment, and then, suddenly, rushed out the opening, hurrying away.

“It is gone now,” said Brenner, straightening up. “It is all over. Go back to your huts now.”

The Pons looked at him.

“Do you grasp what has occurred here?” asked Brenner.

“Three?” asked one of the Pons. That was the one which Rodriguez had derisively christened ‘Archimedes’.

“No,” laughed Brenner, touching its head. “Billions, and billions.”

The Pon looked at him, puzzled.

“There are no totems,” said Brenner. “You are free now, to love and grow.”

“We go back huts,” said Archimedes.

“It seems you have an ally,” said Rodriguez.

“We good Pons,” said Archimedes.

Brenner pointed to the injured Pon in Rodriguez’ arms, and to the tiny female who clung close to Rodriguez. “Good Pons, too,” he said.

“Good Pons?” asked Archimedes.

“Yes,” said Brenner. “All Pons good.”

“Yes,” said Archimedes. “All Pons good.”

“Go to your huts now,” said Brenner.

“Yes,” said Archimedes. “We go huts now.”

“They are still maintaining the distances,” said Rodriguez, as he watched the Pons withdraw.

“It will take time,” said Brenner, “for them to understand how far-reaching are the effects of today.”

“And what are the effects of today?” asked Rodriguez.

“Billions, and billions,” said Brenner. “The opening of a whole new world.”

“You were clever with the git keeper,” said Rodriguez. “He would either handle it or not. If he refused to handle it, it would seem he feared the totem might injure one of its children, thus betraying a lack of faith in his own dogmas. If he handled it, either it would injure him or not. If it did not injure him, he would, at the least, in his handling of it, have suggested, and perhaps even demonstrated, its simple animal nature, that it was no more than any other animal. And if it did injure him, as perhaps fortunately for you, and not so fortunately for him, it did, that, of course, as the totem animal is not supposed to injure its children, would make clear the fallacy of totemism.”

“Precisely,” said Brenner.

“It was very nicely done,” said Rodriguez.

“Thank you,” said Brenner.

“You have ruined the study, of course,” said Rodriguez.

“Yes,” said Brenner.

“We can always fake the report,” said Rodriguez. “It would have to be faked anyway, if it were not politically congenial.”

“True,” said Brenner.

“What are we going to do with these Pons?” asked Rodriguez.

“We will keep them in our hut until we are sure they are safe,” said Brenner.

“This one is asleep,” said Rodriguez, of the Pon in his arms.

“He has lost a great deal of blood,” said Brenner.

“He is your little friend, is he not?” asked Rodriguez.

“Yes,” smiled Brenner. “He is.”

“I thought so,” said Rodriguez.

“The female,” said Brenner, “is the one we saw with him, several days ago, behind the huts, closer to one another than the prescribed distances.”

“I thought she might be,” said Rodriguez.

“Let us return to the hut,” said Brenner.

“There is one thing here which I find hard to understand,” said Rodriguez.

“What is that?” asked Brenner.

“It seems surprising to me that the Pons bore the loss of their totem with such grace.”

“They were ripe to outgrow it,” said Brenner.

“There is still a matter to consider,” said Rodriguez.

“What?” said Brenner.

“A taboo has been violated,” said Rodriguez, “and its violation has not been punished.”

“So?” asked Brenner.

“Did you not see the fear in them, when they returned to their huts?” asked Rodriguez.

“They were uneasy, some of them,” said Brenner.

“There will be terror for days, perhaps for weeks, in the village,” said Rodriguez.

“I have disproven their totemism,” said Brenner.

“Things are in a state of subtle balance,” said Rodriguez.

Chapter 22

“How is he?” asked Brenner.

“Stronger,” said Rodriguez.

Rodriguez looked across the hut, to where the Pon lay, the small female near it.

“He has hardly looked at you,” said Rodriguez.

“Pons tend to avoid eye contact,” said Brenner.

“He has been awake for better than an hour,” said Rodriguez.

“He hates me,” said Brenner.

Brenner went to the door of the hut. It was bright outside, the middle of the morning.

“He must understand that you saved his life yesterday,” said Rodriguez.

“‘We’,” said Brenner.

“As you wish,” said Rodriguez. “What is it like outside?”

“Things are much as normal,” said Brenner.

“Or seem so,” said Rodriguez.

“What do you mean?” asked Brenner.

“Do not be deceived,” said Rodriguez.

“I do not understand,” said Brenner.

“Things cannot be the same—underneath,” said Rodriguez.

“It is interesting the influence we have had upon them,” mused Brenner. “How they listened, and watched! How dutifully they attended our lessons, despite their radical contrariety to their previous convictions. In what shining authority must we have seemed invested.”

“Perhaps,” said Rodriguez.

“We must seem like gods descended amongst them.”

“That is unlikely,” said Rodriguez. “They are familiar with representatives of our species at Company Station.”

“Then,” said Brenner, “that is better yet. It has nothing to do with us, really. Rather, it is the light of reason which has triumphed.”

“You think they are changed?” asked Rodriguez.

“Certainly,” said Brenner. “Do you not?”

“I do not know,” said Rodriguez.

“We must allow, of course, for a season of accommodation, a period of adjustment.”

“The males have gone to the fields?” asked Rodriguez.

“Yes,” said Brenner.

“Good,” said Rodriguez.

“You seem apprehensive,” said Brenner.

“Possibly,” said Rodriguez.

“Why?”

“A taboo was violated,” said Rodriguez, “and its violation has not yet been punished, or expiated.”

“Taboo is superstition,” said Brenner.

“Of course,” said Rodriguez.

“So dismiss it,” said Brenner.

“Things may not be so simple,” said Rodriguez.

Brenner looked at him, puzzled.

“Are you aware of the ancient belief,” asked Rodriguez, “that a journey on which one stumbles at its beginning is ill-fated?”

“Yes,” said Brenner.

“Does that seem to you a superstition?”

“Certainly,” said Brenner.

“But in such a case,” said Rodriguez, “it may be truth which hides itself behind the mask of superstition.”

“How so?” said Brenner.

“On some level the traveler understands, or believes, that the journey is not in his best interest, that it is a mistake, that it should not be made, and thus, unwilling to make the journey, not wanting to undertake it, he tries to keep himself from it, without even understanding what he is doing, by stumbling. The stumbling, then, is taken as a sign of ill luck, and that the journey should not be made. He turns back. It is not his fault. His conscience is clear. He could not help it. No one can blame him. He has been given a sign, from the gods, or whatever.”

“I understand,” said Brenner.

“Truth can wear the mask of superstition,” said Rodriguez.

“You surely are not suggesting that anything of that sort is involved here.”

“I do not know,” said Rodriguez.

“Do you think they are aware of such things?”

“No,” said Rodriguez.

“Do you think such things are involved here?”

“I would not think so,” said Rodriguez.

“Then do not be afraid,” said Brenner.