Rare stories, page 28
Each of these comedians was dressed in a stylized and extravagant version of some costume prominent in his own national contingent. All were clearly meant to represent the undisciplined individuality of the common man. In their behaviour they combined something of that almost legendary film-star, Chaplin, with characters of the privileged mediaeval jester. Sometimes they merely blundered along enthusiastically and inefficiently beside the column, vainly trying to conform to the regimented conduct of their fellows; sometimes they would seem to be torn between the spell of the group and personal impulse, breaking suddenly into an abortive caper and then shamefacedly falling into step again to bear themselves with an exaggerated air of rapture in the common rhythm. Sometimes they would stop to joke with individual spectators, and then scuttle anxiously and penitently back to their places. Occasionally one of them would attach himself to a leader of the column, mimicking his pompous bearing and military gait. Evidently, these clowns had been very carefully chosen, and were highly skilled artists; for they contrived to single out any slightly mechanical, officious or arrogant mannerisms of the leaders, and caricature them in a style that was at once devastating and kindly. Theirs was in part the flattering but sometimes shattering imitation with which children often pay tribute to their elders, and in part the friendly ridicule with which adults may temper the crude enthusiasm of the young. And such was their artistry that, in spite of their criticism of individual leaders and of the common enthusiasm, there was no doubt at all about their acceptance of the spirit of the whole occasion.
The startling climax of this daring innovation was reached in the final ceremony, which took place in the Great Square itself. As was customary, the last of the national columns saluted the dignitaries of the world and passed on to their allotted place in the Square. The flags of all the peoples were duly brought forward by their bearers into the open space before the dais, and together bowed to the ground before the great Standard of Mankind; then raised to be held erect for the rest of the ceremony. One by one the heads of the nations mounted the dais, bowed deeply to the President of the World, and handed him a book in which was inscribed a record of the particular nation's achievement during the preceding year. There followed the usual broadcast speeches by high officials, culminating in an oration by the President of the World, reviewing the whole contemporary state of the human species.
Events on the dais were of course televised, as was the procession. But this final ceremony was televised largely in "close-ups," so that all the world could appreciate its detail. There on the dais the leading personalities of the whole planet were assembled with the eyes of mankind upon them. And there, also, visible throughout the world, was the most daring novelty of all. At large among the great ones was a sort of court fool, a prince of jesters, clothed to symbolize Everyman. This individual was made up very differently from his humbler colleagues in the procession; and in spite of its humour his whole performance had about it something sad, compassionate and trance-like. For the most part he stood quietly watching the salutations of the national representatives, or listening to the speeches; but now and then he ranged freely about the dais, making play with a fool's sceptre, to which was attached a bladder, roughly mapped with the outlines of the continents. And sometimes, while listening to a speech, he would silently and in a rapt, absentminded way, imitate the gestures of the orator, or move aside to caricature some applauding dignitary Thus with his delicate and fleeting mimicry he would expose the foibles of the political stars among whom he was stationed. Mostly they endured the ordeal without flinching, entering amiably into the joke against themselves. But one or two failed to conceal their mortification at some shrewd hit; and then the Fool, perceiving this, immediately dropped his foolery and with raised eyebrows turned away.
Clearly this most surprising innovation released pent-up forces in the crowd, most of whom, through their pocket television sets, must have seen the detail of these little dramas as clearly as the old man himself had done from his privileged position among the Fathers of the Revolution. He too had responded to the Fool's artistry but with a sense of guilt, as though he were enjoying something secret and obscene. Such indulgence of individual genius, delightful as it was, must surely weaken the authority of the persons who were exposed to it, must also tend to a general loosening of the social fibre. No doubt it might be said that only a strong government could have permitted itself to be thus criticized. Only an intelligent government, and one which could count on the loyalty of an intelligent and contented population could have recognized in the device a source of strength rather than of weakness. Moreover, only a government that had sensed the changing mood of the peoples of the world, and wished to register its approval, would have troubled to submit itself to this fantastic aesthetic commentary. The old man had to admit intellectually the force of these arguments, but the innovation violated the emotional habit of one whose mind had been formed in a more primitive age.
The supreme incident was still to come. It was one which showed by its obvious power over the assembled multitude the extraordinary change that had come over mankind within a few decades. No earlier populace could have understood, still less have been so profoundly moved by, a symbol of such austere significance. The President of the World was at the height of his speech. He had been dilating upon the incredible improvement in the fortunes of the common man in all lands, and glorifying the achievement and the promise of the human species under its new regime. He was, of course, frequently interrupted by applause. After the most vociferous of these outbursts, at the very moment when silence had been restored and the President was about to continue, the Fool stepped up to him, laid a hand on his shoulder and gently ousted the surprised orator from the microphone. Most startling fact of all, the President, with an awkward smile, acquiesced. And no one interfered.
Then the Fool, confronting the microphone, spoke to the world. "Happy, happy beings!" he said, and his quiet voice was now for the first time heard. "Happy, happy beings! But death dogs you. Conquerors of a world, but of a sand-grain among the stars! We are mere sparks that flash and die. Even as a species we are upstart, sprung so lately from beasts and fishes; soon to vanish. After us our planet will spin for aeons, and nothing will remember us. Then why, why, why are we here?"
He was silent. Throughout the Great Square there was a sound like a drift of air passing over a ripe cornfield. The whole populace had drawn in its breath. For a long moment the silence and the stillness continued, broken only by the quiet movement of the flags, and the sound of wings as a couple of pigeons settled in the Square.
Then at last the Fool spoke again. "The stars give no answer. But within ourselves, and in one another, and in our unity together, the answer lies; for in consciousness of our humanity we see deeper than through telescopes and microscopes. And from the depth of each one of us, and from our community together, a will arises; whence, we know not, but inexorable. 'Live, oh fully live!' it bids us. 'To be aware, to love, to make-this is the music that I command of all my instruments. Let your sand-grain resound with a living flood of music; harmonious in itself, and harmonized with the song of all the spheres, which I alone can hear.' Thus commands the will in us. And we, little human instruments, though death will surely hunt us down, and though our species is ephemeral, we shall obey. Weak we are, and blind, but the Unseen makes music with us."
Silence once more occupied the Great Square, and persisted. The ranked columns and the surrounding populace stood motionless, held by the Unseen. Then at last the Fool, with bowed head, withdrew from sight. And then the President, after a moment's hesitation, returned to the microphone and said, "Our celebration has found an unexpected but a fitting climax. I will say no more but that your leaders, who are also your comrades, will go forward with you to make the living music that is man." As the President retired, a murmur rose from the populace and soon swelled into an oceanic thunder of applause. When at last the noise had died down, the massed bands struck up the familiar strains of the world anthem, the "Song of Man," while the whole great company stood at attention to sing. Then the columns, one by one, moved and wheeled, and flowed out of the Square, and the huge crowd of onlookers dispersed.
In deep abstraction and perplexity the old man threaded his way along the congested streets, brooding on the strange scene that he had witnessed. To his shame he found that tears had spilled from his eyes. Oh yes, it was a great feat of stage-craft. One could not but be moved. But it was dangerous, and subtly false to the spirit of the Revolution. The President of the World, who was surely too young a man for such a responsible post, must have known beforehand of the intended interruption. It was all a cunning bid for popularity. Worse, it was a reversion to religion, a dose of that ancient opium, shrewdly administered by the new rulers. Where would this thing end? But tears were in his eyes.
* * *
The Story of John
The earliest version of Stapledon's fantasy of a race of "supermen" appears as a rejected eleven-page chapter in the manuscript of Last Men in London. In that book the narrator from Neptune had observed the presence among the 'first men" of the modern era certain physically odd but mentally advanced beings, many of whom were confined to mental institutions. Among these forerunners of "homo superior" the narrator sketches the life-history of one in particular - the character whom Stapledon would make the center of his 1935 novel Odd John. Although many details were added in the course of transforming a chapter into an entire novel, "The Story of John" enacts the essential premise of the longer work: that a fantasy about biological mutation might serve as a satiric parable about politics and morality.
IN ENGLAND a few years before the war a baby was born in whose nature there was combined very superior brain capacity, a remarkable improvement of visual discrimination and manual dexterity, together with a superb physique. He was also blessed with intelligent parents, who had moreover already had the experience of bringing up two older children.
The career of this infant, whom I will call John, deserves to be told in detail, but here I can only touch on its main features. He soon revealed to his astonished parents very remarkable powers, for in his case slow development of bodily appearance was combined with a startling mental precocity. In observing his infancy I found that this precocity was as a matter of fact due not to speed of development, but to the immensely high calibre of his slowly maturing brain. Before he could walk he was crawling about the lawn, studying at first hand the biology of daisies, worms and beetles. Still a toddler, he was asking philosophical questions and laughing at the inept answers of those who tried to help him. At eight, when he looked rather like a large-headed child of five, he had the brightness, hilarity and impishness of a vigorous schoolboy of thirteen, strongly combined with the dawn of interests which would have marked out a youth of twenty as definitely beyond his years. His parents educated him at home, for no school could place him. Or rather he educated himself, for he very soon displayed an inflexible determination to follow his own bent, using his parents only as living handbooks and bibliographies. They themselves were well versed in the best thought and the best feeling of their civilization, and had the sense to help their amazing third-born with humility and affection. They wisely kept his powers from public notice, and used all the tact at their command to prevent him from coming into conflict with authority or public opinion. As the years advanced, however, there began to be serious conflicts between John and his parents, for as he gained knowledge and self-confidence he began to proclaim abroad ideas that were altogether intolerable to the normal species and to indulge in adventures of a most daring and reprehensible nature.
At the age of fourteen John decided that he was destined for a momentous career, but exactly what, he did not yet know. His first task, at any rate, was to make himself independent, in fact to make money. By innate constitution he was entirely without self-bias, but having decided that he was a unique being, and one of supreme importance, he pursued self-interest with a relentlessness that would have shocked the most cynical profiteer. It would take too long to recount the series of incredible undertakings by which this seeming child of eight acquired a fortune. This side of his life he kept hidden from his parents, who imagined that on his frequent absences from home he was innocently camping and tramping in the neighbouring hills. In spite of all the brilliance and insight which distinguished him from his fellows he was at this time still at heart a child with all the schoolboy's lust of adventure. Consequently this early phase of his career was something like a modernised and grossly exaggerated version of the story of Robin Hood. By a number of ingenious burglaries, he secured jewelry and plate from the houses of the rich. With the aid of a motor bicycle he brought off several daring highway robberies. On one of his burglaries his plans were upset by a midnight telephone call for the owner of the house. When the good citizen encountered John in the hall with his swag, the terrible child remarked that as he was engaged on supremely important work, and his identity must not be revealed, he must kill the intruder, though with regret. He accordingly shot the astounded man, and fled.
When he had already committed several sensational robberies, he decided that this kind of thing was too risky. He therefore turned his attention to trade. He was of course wonderfully dextrous with his hands, and extremely inventive. After studying his mother's household arrangements, he devised a number of amazingly simple and useful household implements. Specimens of these he made by hand out of wood, metal, wicker, cardboard, as was required. He then applied for patents, and got in touch with manufacturers and hardware merchants, by post, lest his childish appearance should cause undue interest. Some of these patents he sold, others he kept to work on his own account. He worked, of course, by hand, but very rapidly. He was greatly entertained when his mother bought some of his handiwork at a local shop, without knowing its origin.
Presently he gave up handicraft for profit, but continued to make an increasing income by royalties on his inventions. As a pastime he wrote and published a number of highly original detective stories, under a pseudonym different from his trading pseudonym. These works turned out to be best sellers. His fortune was made. He increased it by publishing as a farcical novel a slightly doctored account of his own career and his unique nature. This he did partly in the hope that if there were any others of his kind, they might get in touch with him. The book was translated into several languages, and did in due season bring him into relations with several other supernormal individuals.
When he was sixteen, and looked much younger, John underwent a spiritual crisis, which was accompanied by much solitary meditation, and much study. From this phase he emerged in six months with the conviction that he had a great part to play in the life not merely of one planet but of the universe. He determined to found a new and more sane, more noble human species. Henceforth all his actions were rigorously guided by this purpose. His first aim was to discover if there were any others at all like him in the world. As he was thoroughly convinced that the normal species, though often amiable so long as all went according to custom, was capable of unimaginative persecution of beings that offended against its code, he was extremely anxious to avoid attracting attention. He therefore dared not get into personal relations with the scientists who might have helped him. Through the post, however, he made inquiries of various anthropological institutions, but vainly. He therefore took to casual wanderings in the towns and villages of England, looking for odd creatures like himself. In this way, and through his autobiography, he made contact with several of the abortive supermen described in the previous section. But they were all too old or too crippled to serve with him. Presently he found a boy of ten and three girls ranging from six to twelve. They were healthy and unspoiled; and though they lacked John's diabolic resolution, they were obviously products of a superior mutation. With them and one whom the autobiography had revealed, he discussed momentous plans.
He now persuaded his parents to take him on the Continent, since with his juvenile appearance he could not go alone. Touring in almost every country in Europe, he discovered twenty-seven suitable individuals of both sexes, between the ages of six and seventeen. With these he kept in touch during the next two years, gradually thrashing out with them the common policy. The aim was to found a minute colony in some remote part of the world, where there would be a chance of escaping the notice of the normal species. For it was by now terribly clear to the young adventurers not only that the normal race was past help, but that it would never permit a sane community to live in its world. The purpose of the colony was to be threefold. The most urgent aim was of course to devise a self-sufficing and harmonious society, founded on a careful study of the nature of the strange beings who were to compose it. It was also proposed to create by careful study a deeply novel culture, which, incorporating the best cultures of the First Men, should also be suitable to the superior mentality of a new species. Finally, in due season, and after careful investigation into the biological nature of the various members, the colony must breed a new generation.
Much would have to be done before the adventure was undertaken. All the chosen must prepare themselves for the new life. Each must become expert in some occupation which would be needed by the colony; and each must become well versed in the best culture of his or her native land. Thus some were to become skilled in the principies of agriculture, some were to become metal workers, some architects, some navigators. Some were to acquire all possible knowledge of medicine and biology. All were to study contemporary thought and vitalise it with intelligence of superior beings. In this connection the adventurers were much exercised about the thought of the East. Very conscious of the errors of the West, they surmised that the East, with all its failings, must have traces of an insight which Western man wholly lacked. Certain members, therefore, were deputed to go to India and China to seek acquaintance with those very dissimilar cultures; and at the same time to search for any superior individuals in Eastern lands. John himself was to share in this very important work. By this time he had taken his parents into his confidence, except about the murder, and had revealed to them that he had a bank account and many thousands of pounds invested. Bewildered, horrified, and secretly very proud of their offspring, they finally agreed to play a humble but useful part in the founding of the colony Their first task was to "take" John for a tour in the East. After a year's absence John returned, greatly impressed with the wisdom and the folly of India, but without having discovered any prodigies like himself. This was but what he expected, owing to the immense difficulties of the search.
