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convey some impression of his own experience in the Sphere of Creation.
When he had finished, Russell was exhausted. When he had finished, John and Marion were
dumbfounded. When he had finished, Anna was weeping.
Presently, John said: "So we, too, are ghosts?"
"Living ghosts," retorted Russell. "Doppel-gangers with the ability to procreate. We can breed
reality. The Vruvyir cannot. They can duplicate but they cannot breed. Their energies are spent."
"And you say the original Vruvyir created life on Earth, and that they then seeded other planets ?"
"So we were led to believe." Russell shrugged. "I'm not asking you to believe us, John. I'm merely
reporting in my own garbled fashion what passed between us and the Vruvyir, and what I, at least,
experienced in the Sphere of Creation."
"My experience was pretty much the same as Russell's," said Anna. "It was totally subjective. It
might just be an hallucination. But for me it was real."
John Howard sighed. "Much as it goes against my scientific training, I believe you both. I believe
what you say, and I even believe what the Vruvyir said or revealed to you. I believe it because it is
fantastic." He laughed grimly. "If you had given me a tolerably rational explanation of our circumstances, I
probably would not have accepted a word of it."
"What do they want of us?" said Marion suddenly. "What do these terrible creatures want of us ?"
"There is a phrase that seems to be etched in my mind," said Russell quietly. "Let the children of
your children's children live to demonstrate that the Vruvyir, leaping from their parent star, did not leap in
vain."
"On Earth," said Anna suddenly, "on Earth there are enough nuclear weapons to annihilate mankind
about seventeen times. Perhaps the Vruvyir can predict the end of such a build-up. Perhaps they want to
salvage some-thing if it is worth salvaging ... Perhaps they want us to grow."
John wrinkled his forehead and ran a hand through the grey hair. "So we and Sept Marur and the
Stone Age People are of one blood?"
"We always were," said Russell enigmatically, "in case you hadn't noticed."
"What of the future?"
"It belongs to us not to the Vruvyir ... It seems we are here to stay to live or die. Some day,
there will be no more Vruvyir. Some day, I believe, there will be no mist barrier, no groceries delivered by
obliging metal spiders. We shall be on our own. We are the inheritors."
"So what do we do? Build a new society? Integrate? Utopia on Erewhon?" He laughed bitterly.
"And the classic question: would you want your daughter to marry a Stone Age savage?"
Russell was tired. "There is the classic answer. I would only want my daughter to marry a man ...
Let's make the best of it, John. We can do no more."
"They are going to rest now," said Marion with determina-tion. "They have been pushed to the limit,
and they are going to rest. We have all the time in the world to talk about these things. Now, they need a bit
of peace."
Even while she was speaking, Anna had closed her eyes. Russell put his hand on her breast, then
closed his eyes also. They slept through most of the day.
That evening, just before sunset, Absu mes Marur rode to the Erewhon Hilton. He was surprised to
find Anna and Russell apparently in their right minds.
"Farn zem Marur, pathfinder and warrior of some talent, also has returned to his sept," said Absu.
Then he added inscrutably: "Therefore, I rejoice to find my friends as they are."
"How is Farn?" asked Russell. "Is he well and rested?"
Absu met the question with another question. "Lord Russell," said Absu formally, "I require to know
how my pathfinder bore himself. Did he bring dishonour to his sept?"
Russell was shaken. "Farn zem Marur, your servant and our friend and companion, is a brave man.
He endured much and with great courage."
"Then there is no debt to pay ?"
Russell was puzzled. "What kind of debt?"
Absu appeared tremendously relieved. "No matter, Russell.
It was my duty to ask. I am glad the pathfinder carried him-self as a man. That is enough."
"How is he?"
"Dead."
"Dead!"
"He returned," said Absu, "tormented by visions. He spoke of a green sun, and of voices and of
dragons. He spoke much that I could neither understand nor wish to understand. Finally, realizing his own
affliction in a moment of lucidity, he ran upon a lance. Perhaps it was best. I did not care to look upon him
in such distress."
"Absu," said Russell, "Farn zem Marur was not mad. He was a valiant comrade, and I do not doubt
that he spoke truly of what he had seen and heard. It is hard for me to find the words to tell you, but I will
try to explain all that happened to us."
When he had finished speaking, Absu remained silent. He was silent for a long time. He, Russell
and Anna were sitting by themselves on the steps outside the hotel, watching the stars turn bleakly and
remotely in a still strange and alien sky.
"Clearly," said Absu at length, "the Vruvyir are great magicians." He smiled. "But you, also, are a
sept of magicians. Therefore the odds are not too great."
Russell shook his head. "There is no war, Absu. It is not a question of lances or of magic."
"I know that, my friend. We have a task. It is our task to demonstrate that we are men."
"It is our task," said Anna, "to show that we are one race."
"Above all," said Russell simply, "we have to grow. We really have to grow."
But it was Absu mes Marur, duplicate of Absu mes Marur, lord of sept Marur, gonfalonier of the
western keeps, and charioteer of the red spice caravans, who summed it ail up "It is written," he said softly,
"that if the seed be fertile, and if the weather be passing fair, the harvest will be bountiful. It is written in the
earth. It is written in the sky."
EPILOGUE
in the year 741 a.v. at Port Grahame, the first orbital rocket sat on its launching pad. The skin was
of pyro-titanium; and upon it, painted in deep crimson, there was the emblem of a sea-horse with wings.
Two kilometres away in a blockhouse that had been built on the site of an hotel demolished long
ago, a man and a woman watched the count-down.
Jansel Guptiregson had long golden hair and a deceptively beautiful face that concealed the mind of
a brilliant mathe-matician. Varn Graymark was bald and small and intensely masculine. He was the
telecommunications expert. They loved each other. But then they loved many people.
"Ninety seconds," said Varn. "All systems operate. What can stop us now? That damned old
sea-horse is going to lift."
"There is no such creature as a sea-horse, Varn. I don't know why you insisted on the symbol.
Why not a winged pulpul ? Why not a flying lance ?"
"You've read the Book of Howard ?"
"Sixty seconds. Of course I've read the Book of Howard. It is still required in Middle School.
Though why they can't give a bit more time to comparative religion, I'll never know."
"In the Book of Howard," said Varn, "there is the story of Creation. You will recall, no doubt, the
Lord Russell's encounter with the winged sea-horse in the Globe of Life."
"So?"
"So I like the notion. It's absurd, beautiful. I like it ... Forty-five seconds."
"But why a myth? Why not something real? Something practical?"
Varn Graymark laughed. "You, a mathematician, deriding myths! What will I hear next ?"
"Thirty seconds," said Jansel. "Myth or not, it is a beautiful creature. I suppose it is the kind of
nonsense that appeals."
Varn laughed. "My mother still believes that Lord Russell was the first man to break out of the
Garden of Erewhon. She prays to his ghost every night."
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
"Twenty seconds. No, I believe in people. But one should always be able to afford some spiritual
extravagance." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]