Fresh Surprises
While I was questioning Professor Tan Trum and his family in regard to the underworld, they were equally eager in making inquiries as to my own land.
Naturally, they were anxious to know where I had come from, and how I had arrived; but, unfortunately, they already had their own theories on the subject, and nothing that I could say was able to change their views. Since they had decided that I had escaped from some cavern far below them, my story that I had come from the so-called "Overworld" met with incredulous smiles. Their attitude was about what our own would be if some stranger should assert that he came from the depths of the sea. "No use trying to deceive us!" they cried reprovingly. "The Overworld is not capable of supporting life!"
And then curiously they asked, "Are the people where you come from all colored like you?"
"Colored?" I flung back, a little irritated. "I haven't a speck of colored blood in my veins! I'm American white, every inch of me!"
"White?" they jeered, pointing to my face, with its rosy complexion. "What! you call that white? Why, you're pink!"
And loud was the laughter that convulsed the family group.
"If you're white, then what are we?" demanded Loa, insolently indicating her own snowy features.
I had nothing to say in reply. I could see that, by comparison with the chalk-faces, I was indeed the member of a colored race.
"My dear young man," consoled Professor Tan Trum, with the most unbearable superciliousness, "do not let the matter of your origin grieve you. We know that birth is not a matter of choice, and if nature has made you a member of an inferior race, at least it speaks well for you that you could rise to join us."
"But I didn't rise to join you!" I insisted. "I descended! I fell into your world by accident, through a fissure caused by the shocks of your warfare."
This explanation, however, was ignored, while the members of the family exchanged significant glances, as if to say that I was the most incorrigible liar they had ever met.
It was Tan Tal, the charming wife of Tan Trum, who put the next question.
"Where you come from, is there only one country?—or is there more than one, so as to give you someone to fight with?"
"Oh, there are many countries!" I declared. "We have simply no end of lands to fight with!"
At this announcement, the three young daughters of the family tittered uncontrollably, with the most amused expressions on their milky, wrinkled countenances.
"Why, how funny!" laughed Loa.
"How confusing!" giggled Moa.
"How absurd!" roared Noa. "Then how do you know which one to fight first?"
Professor Tan Trum, unlike his daughters, had been listening with an unsmiling solemnity of manner. I could see that he did not consider my statement comical; his massive brow was furrowed with profound thought as he replied.
"That is an excellent idea, young man—to divide yourselves into many countries. It is plain that even the barbarians have ideas. Up here, you see, we have only two nations, Wu and Zu. Hence we are much handicapped, from the military point of view. If we want to go to war, we have only one possible enemy, and that at times grows monotonous. Again, it becomes difficult sometimes to find excuses for hostilities. They say that only this year our Secretary of National Defense—poor fellow!—was driven out of his mind to find a plausible reason for declaring war on Zu. However, if we had had some other country to oppose, there would have been no problem at all."
"Yes, that is so, father," agreed Loa, who by this time had ceased laughing. "Why not recommend to Dictator Thuno Flâtum that we split up into several countries?"
"Excellent!" concurred Tan Tal. "Then we could go to war to defend the rights of small nations!"
"But I don't quite understand," I put in, finding the conversation getting wholly away from me. "You're talking as if war is a good thing! Up in our world, we call it a curse!"
"A curse?" echoed all the members of Tan Trum's family. "A curse? Why, what nonsense!" And loud was the laughter of the ladies.
"Don't let anyone here catch you saying that!" warned the Professor, scowling severely. "If one of the Government Police overheard you, you'd be court-martialed!"
Appalled at the enormity of my offense, I gaped at the Professor in awe-stricken silence.
"There's no use talking," mused Tan Tal, shaking her head sadly, "the savagery of the colored races is unquenchable. To think they're actually opposed to warfare!"
"It's so unenlightened of them!" condemned Loa.
"So disgusting!" jeered Moa.
"So barbarous!" groaned Noa. "Really they must still be in the Stone Age!"
"You see, my dear young man," explained the Professor, turning to me not unkindly, as he observed my bewilderment, "we live in an age of unreason. Unreason and science—these are the two features of our life. And both of these tell us that man is a fighting animal. Biology assures us that he was created with the instinct of aggression, which is necessary for the sake of self-preservation; and psychology declares that all the instincts planted in him by nature must be satisfied. Accordingly, men must satisfy their instinct of self-preservation by destroying one another. That fact was demonstrated long ago by the philosophers—to question it would be heresy. So you see, my good young friend, why it is necessary to fight?"
There was a vague suspicion in my mind that this argument, reasonable as it seemed, might not be altogether sound; but before I had had time to formulate any objections, Tan Tal once more lifted her voice.
"Besides, there is another reason. If we didn't fight, think of the loss to industry! Think of all the millions invested in Mulflar Works, and in land-battleship factories! Why, if we didn't have any war, all this capital would be wasted."
"Yes, and my stocks in Mulflar Products, Amalgamated, would go down to nothing!" groaned the Professor, who seemed to regard this as the culminating argument.
Taking advantage of a gap in the conversation, I was now able to ask the question that had long been puzzling me.
"What is the present war all about, Professor Tan Trum? What is the issue, the principle behind it?"
"Issue? Principle behind it?" shouted Tan Trum, while the ladies struggled to hold back a fresh outburst of laughter. "What makes you think there is any issue, any principle behind it? We are fighting for the national honor—and, certainly, there is no principle behind that!"
The Professor paused, energetically stroking his two-pointed beard, glaring at me as though I had been guilty of some offense against decency.
"There has to be an official reason for the war, of course," he resumed, more mildly. "In this case, we were driven to our wits' end, and couldn't think of anything better than the old Nullnull dispute."
"Nullnull dispute? What's that?"
The five chalk-faces all stared at me a little blankly, as if surprised that there was anyone who had not heard of the Nullnull dispute.
However, the Professor condescendingly undertook to explain.
"On the borderline between Wu and Zu is the province of Nullnull. This is composed of a series of desert caverns, a dozen miles long and about half as wide. They say that once it was valuable land, containing lakes and streams and rich ore deposits; but it has been so shot to pieces that no one lives there now, and it is worthless for everything except as a place to fly the national flag. It is therefore highly coveted by both Wu and Zu. In the course of the last thousand years, it has changed hands one hundred nineteen times, belonging first to one country, and then to the other, and every time it has been recaptured there has been an excuse for another war, for of course the citizens of the defeated land would not be content to have Nullnull wrenched away from them. Thus the military ardor of the citizens of both countries has been kept at fever pitch, and we have had no trouble in advancing our Military Birth Extension Program."
"Military Birth Extension Program?" I cried. "What under heaven is that?"
"What do you think it is?" demanded Tan Trum, a flare of irritation in his salmon eyes. "Exactly what the name implies! In order to keep a war going, what do we need most of all, besides money and ammunition? Naturally, man-power! But present-day warfare is so efficient that man-power does not last long. It is estimated that the military turnover is seventy-five per cent a year."
"Military turnover? And what is that?"
"Just what the term implies! The percentage of men turned over to the ranks of the immortals."
"You mean, the percentage killed?"
Tan Trum and the four ladies all glared at me as though I had committed an impiety. The Professor stroked his beard in indignation; the mouths of Loa, Moa, and Noa all gaped wide with horror.
"Killed? Killed, young man?" thundered Tan Trum. "Never use that word in connection with war! It is not permitted! It is illegal, unpatriotic! No one is ever killed in war! Millions are sent to the Blessed Caverns, or converted into deathless heroes, or become the Unknown Warriors! But no one is ever killed! That is forbidden by law!"
"Young man," remonstrated Tan Tal, "remarks like yours are enough to ruin military morale!"
"If we didn't know you spoke in ignorance, sir, we would have you examined by the Intelligence Department, which would most likely have you executed for free speech!" threatened the Professor.
After a moment, however, he seemed softened by my contrite expression; and, regaining his good humor, continued.
"But I was going to explain about our Military Birth Extension Program. The principle is very simple. We have introduced Birth Uncontrol, and made it compulsory by law. The idea is that all families should have as many children as possible—sons, so that they may go out to fight for their country, and daughters, so that they may bear more sons to fight for their country. All couples married for ten years or over are required to pay a tax for every child which they have less than seven; while, for every child after the seventh, they receive a bonus. This system works so well that we are able to keep our population stationary."
"Stationary?" I cried. "At that rate, it ought to double every generation!"
"It would—except for the military turnover. As it happens, our boys are all enlisted in the reserve corps of the army at the age of six, and from that time forth are trained for the next war. So rigorous is the discipline that fifty per cent never reach sixteen. This is, in fact, one of the great merits of the system, as it ensures the survival of the fittest. At sixteen the youths are enrolled in the active army, and are sent to the front to face the boys of Zu. They then are offered the hope of being permitted to retire from military life at eighteen, if they should reach that age. But fifteen out of sixteen, in the course of these two years, enjoy the fate of heroes and go over to the Blessed Caverns."
I was about to comment, but refrained, for fear of breaking some penal law.
"Besides being profitable, it is a great honor to have many children," continued the Professor, with zest. "Mothers are given an honorary gold crescent for every son born to them; and fathers receive an honorary crescent of silver. Immediately upon the death—" here Tan Trum paused, and coughed in great embarrassment—"I mean to say, immediately upon the turnover of a son, the mother and father each receive another honorary crescent. It is this that makes Birth Uncontrol such a success."
"Well, Professor, you yourself don't seem to have starred in that line," I remarked, with a side glance at Loa, Moa, and Noa, who surprised me by averting their eyes and sighing. "With only three daughters to your credit—"
"Three daughters?" bellowed Tan Trum, his long black-gloved hand shaking in uncontrollable ire. "And what, pray, of my five sons?"
"Yes, what of our five sons?" echoed Tan Tal, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
"Well, what of them?" I demanded.
"They have all gone to the Blessed Caverns!" sighed the Professor.
"I have five extra crescents for the dear boys!" confided Tan Tal, wiping a second tear from her eye. "Poor darlings! The oldest was just seventeen when he—when he was turned over. I shall always be proud of their record!"
"I too!" coincided Tan Trum. "It shall always be a source of melancholy gratification to look at my five extra silver crescents, which shall contribute to my honor forever."
"To your honor?" I cried. "Who was it, then, that died?"
"Something in me died forever when they—when they were turned over," he mourned, drawing up his gaunt face in a preternaturally long, solemn expression.
Tan Tal, meanwhile, with all the suppressed fury of outraged motherhood, was glaring at me as if to devour me whole. "Barbarian!" she challenged. "What makes you think they died? They shall live forever in our memory! They shall endure in the annals of their country! They shall live here—here, in the shrine of my breast!"
So speaking, she smote the designated part of her anatomy a blow severe enough to do herself physical injury.
"They shall live forever—here in the shrine of my breast!" thundered the Professor, hitting his bony thorax a resounding smack.
Concluding that these people, though normally sane, had gone mad on this one topic, I thought it best to change the subject. "Did you say all the boys of Wu are enlisted in the army?" I inquired. "Are there no exceptions?"
"I didn't say there were no exceptions," stated the Professor, assuming a milder manner. "Naturally, there are! All sons of Second and Third Class citizens must go to war. But sons of First Class Citizens are exempted."
"First Class Citizens? Who are they?"
"Why, haven't I told you of our three classes? The division is an ancient one, and is the basis of our social life. The Third Class, which is the most numerous, is sometimes also called the Hungry Class; its members are notable for doing most of the country's hard work, and for being so poor that they rarely have enough to eat. The people of this class are prohibited by law from thinking, lest thought lead them to revolt. Above them is the Second or Sedentary Class—to which I have the honor of belonging—its members usually have enough to eat, hence a mild amount of thought is permissible, so long as it doesn't give birth to free speech. But over us all is the First or Master Class, which makes up less than one per cent of the population and owns ninety-eight per cent of the country. This, of course, is the class that rules us."
"But I thought Dictator Thuno Flâtum ruled you."
"Thuno Flâtum is the head of the Master Class."
"Let's hope he isn't typical of them," I was on the point of declaring, remembering this puny individual, with his artificial eyes, ears, and breathing apparatus. But, fortunately, I held my tongue and did not make any such treasonous remark.
"Thuno Flâtum was chosen by the Master Class as their leader," continued Tan Trum, "since he was considered the strongest of them all. In other words, his senses, his legs, and his lungs were the most atrophied."
Since this was just a bit confusing, I began to wonder if Tan Trum, after all, were not out of his head.
"You see," he explained, "for ages the Master Class has prided itself on its pure blood. None of its members, under pain of death, has ever been permitted to intermarry with a Second or Third Class citizen. The result of this long interbreeding has been a distinctive type, unlike us low-grade people. Thanks to their lives of luxury, and to their constant use of wheeled vehicles, the Masters have all but forgotten how to use their legs, which have become thin and shriveled; in the same way, since they have never filled their lungs by exercise or labor, their breathing apparatus has almost withered away; while, since they have rarely used their eyes or ears, these organs too have become worthless without artificial aid. All these qualities, consequently, are regarded as signs of superiority—or of 'green blood,' as aristocracy is called among us; and that Master whose lungs are the frailest, whose legs are the feeblest, and whose vision is the dimmest, is chosen to lead the country, since the purity of his lineage is the most unquestioned."
Being unable to understand this arrangement, which somehow did not strike me as altogether sensible, I was so undiplomatic as to let my doubts be known. "I don't see why the people stand for it," I blurted out. "I don't see why they let these frail little Masters rule them, own most of the property, and be excused from fighting, when they—"
But that was as far as I proceeded. The horrified faces of my hearers warned me to halt. Never, I am certain, had such impious words entered their ears before!
It was a full minute before any of them was able to find speech. "Well, I never!" gasped Loa at length, her features more wrinkled than ever as she made a grimace of disgust. "I didn't know we had a radical right in our own home!"
"A poisonous radical!" cried Moa. "Who would have believed it?"
"The next thing, he'll be demanding the single standard in justice, or some other crazy new-fashioned notion!" exclaimed Noa.
"He may even be asking honest politics!" contributed Tan Tal, glowering at me with a resurgence of her previous indignation.
"This is serious indeed!" conceded the Professor, his long head wagging with laconic severity. "Of course, allowances must be made for barbarians; you can't expect to civilize them in a minute. So I'll tell you what we'll do, folks. We'll take him down tomorrow to the Commissioner of Public Thought, and make him swallow the Oath of Fidelity. After that, if he makes any more disloyal statements, he will have to take the responsibility."
"Good! Very good!" cried the ladies in chorus. "We should have done that long ago!"
"But who's the Commissioner of Public Thought?" I inquired. "And what's the Oath of Fidelity?"
"You'll find out, young man, after you've swallowed it!" snapped the Professor. "And now you've had enough of my time for one day! I must get back to my researches on the history of the comma in ancient literature!"
So saying, the Professor glided from the room with long strides of his great, ungainly legs, while the four ladies regarded me more than a little coolly, like one who has betrayed a strange and criminal turn of mind.