Episode 6, Stelzer’s Travels

Within a week I found myself enrolled along with a dozen or so other newcomers in a two-month orientation program.  It was designed, we were told, to introduce us to our surroundings by first presenting the “big picture” and only then-through a series of ever-narrowing apertures, as it were-gradually focusing on our immediate surroundings and the role expected of us in them.

Our instructors began by summarizing the knowledge gained by generations of Luxan explorers on the life cycle of planets that now contained, or once had contained, intelligent life forms.  Sadly, it turned out, there were far more of the latter.  It seemed that wherever one looked in the galaxy, nature had little tolerance for intelligence.  On planet after planet, higher orders blossomed temporarily only to die out shortly thereafter or to retrogress to such an extent that they could no longer be considered functional.

There being no apparent means to alter the course that nature herself had set, the entrepreneurial Luxanders steeled themselves to these harsh realities and set about making the best of what they found.  And what they found was profit.  Whereas the planets on which intelligence had taken permanent root were a small minority of the total, there were enough of them to provide a ready marketplace for Luxenben’s superior goods and services.  In time, then, a number of Luxan trading companies were formed to exploit this business opportunity and, in the early days of space travel, these firms were, on the whole, successful.

But as in all commercial ventures, there were difficulties along the way.  Whereas there was no problem in exporting their own merchandise overseas, as it were, the Luxan companies had difficulty in extracting comparable worth in exchange.  At first, the imported native handicrafts and homespun products proved merchantable, but, once the novelty of these primitive items wore off, their sales fell and a trade balance could no longer be maintained.  Looking ahead, the trading companies could foresee the prospect of returning to their home ports with near-empty bottoms and nothing more to show for their efforts than mounting paper credits of questionable worth.

Casting about for alternatives, the trading companies discovered that their overseas customers had one asset that was capable of producing a steady stream of income back home.  The Luxan populace, it seemed, was fascinated by biological exotica from foreign planets and was more than willing to pay for the privilege of viewing it.  To satisfy this demand, returning spacecraft took on a Noah’s Ark character-their holds bulging with every life form imaginable and, indeed, a few that weren’t.  And thus were born a number of commercial zoological gardens built and operated by the various trading companies.

Having provided this general background, our orientation instructors narrowed their focus to the particular zoo we inhabited and its immediate surrounds.  Alone among the trading companies, Space Ventures, Inc., had the ambition and the wherewithal to develop a general recreational venue called Ventureland, of which our zoo was only a part.  The vast complex, some seven square miles in extent, sprawled over several thou­sand acres of rolling countryside and contained interpretive centers, playgrounds, viewing stands, gift shops, exhibit halls, amusement areas, restaurants of every description, miniature train rides, and the like.  In addition to these expected attractions, Ventureland boasted museums of natural history, art, and science; a planetarium; an extensive library; and a performance hall-cultural facilities one would not normally associate with a privately owned enterprise.  Yet despite all this development the Ventureland site was large enough to allow much of the land to be left in a wild state.  For hikers and picnickers there were large stretches of woodland interspersed with well-tended clearings interconnected by footpaths through the trees.  And for kayakers there was a network of lagoons and small lakes that snaked through the complex and contributed much to its scenic splendor.

However varied were Ventureland’s offerings, the zoo remained its chief attraction, so it hardly need be added that SVI (the acronym for Space Ventures, Inc.) spirited away every animal it could get its hands on from all the planets that its spaceships visited.  An ancillary benefit of this effort was that Ventureland’s zoo grew into such a rich depository of fauna that it became a valuable resource for Luxenben’s scientific community.  Responding to this interest, SVI created its own well-funded Research Institute as a semi-autonomous affiliate and provided it with an enclosed campus on Ventureland grounds.  And it was this facility that sponsored the exploratory mission to Earth that brought Neuman and me here.

A yet narrower view of our circumstances led our instructors to a discussion of Semiland, the area within the zoological garden where specimens possessed of self awareness were domiciled.  (The name “Semiland” derived obviously from the expression “Semi-intelligents”-or, more often, simply “Semis”-applied to its residents by our hosts for reasons I’ll elaborate on later.  And, understandably enough, we Semis responded by nicknaming our Luxan captors, “Fulls.”)  Disbursed throughout Semiland were several island-like compounds each devoted to a par­ticu­lar group of species in ac­cordance with the zoo’s classification system that factored in both a species’ absolute brain size and its relation to body weight.  As I have mentioned, the Upsem Dorm, to which I was assigned after evaluation, sequestered specimens of the highest order.  Mind you, I take no personal credit for this ranking.  Whatever credit is due belongs to the human species generally in which the reader is entitled to take as much pride as myself.

Of course, much more was covered in our two-month orientation course than what I’ve outlined above.  Once they had furnished this background material, our instructors moved on to provide us with the practical knowledge we would need to fit in with the zoo community.  They explained the organization of the zoo’s administration, the layout of Ventureland’s grounds, its transportation and communication systems, the resources available to us to further our education, the rules of conduct expected of us, and so on.  At the end of the course, a series of field trips gave us a chance to relate our classroom studies to the world outside.

   *    *    *

Graduation from orientation conferred upon the top rank of students the status of “trusty,” and I was happy to be among this small number, for the designation conferred the right of free movement within Ventureland’s perimeter.  Why this privilege could not be granted automatically to every Semi-intelligent should be clear from the fact that one of Semiland’s compounds contained the Carnivore House.  Nor was savagery the only reason for disqualification; questionable levels of intelligence and/or morality were not uncommon among the disparate Semi population.  Most newcomers had to repeat the orientation program a second or third time before making the grade and many, I am afraid, never made it at all.

Naturally I took satisfaction in my achievement, but the fact is I could not have done it without help.  To begin with, credit must go to Matilda.  The good start with which our acquaintanceship had begun blossomed over the succeeding weeks into genuine friendship.  Her­self a Semi-intelligent and longtime resident of our compound, she went beyond her nominal house-mother duties by tutoring me in a number of areas in which the testing authorities demanded proficiency.  As the reader might imagine, these included social skills, personal hygiene, and obedience training.

Indeed Matty provided more than a strictly educational boost during those early days.  By taking me under her wing, as it were, she did much to assuage my confusion when so much was new and bewildering.  Her sensitivity to my feelings was all the more surprising in that she had never been exposed to such trauma herself, having lived her entire life within Luxenben’s shel­tering ambiance.  The only explanation, of course, was that she was a particularly caring creature at­tuned to any sort of difficulty experienced by the often bewildered “greenhorns” who sought her solicitude.  (Once, out of misplaced chauvin­ism, I pitied her for having known neither real parents nor homeland.  Her plucky response was that she considered herself lucky rather than deprived.  It turned out that shortly after her egg’s op­portune deliverance by Luxan explorers, her native planet had been totally obliterated by in­ternecine warfare. “Better over here than over easy,” she concluded with inarguable logic.)

Enjoying a very large measure of personal freedom themselves, our orientation instructors were pleased to extend it to those of their Semi charges they deemed deserving.  Practical as well as compas­sionate motives encouraged this attitude; simple good husbandry required that the specimens exer­cise, and it was obviously easier for the keepers when their wards took it upon themselves.  Not to mention the concurrent contribution to a Semi’s mental health when he was free to move about on his own.  Furthermore, the very presence of diverse species of trusties wandering about the park grounds was a sure crowd pleaser for the throngs of Luxan sightseers who, out of common courtesy, would gently restrain the pointing fingers of their excited offspring as we walked by.

On the grounds of full disclosure, I cannot omit my own contribution toward attaining trusty status.  Even had I not mentioned it, the reader would have assumed that various aptitude tests were involved and I can only admit hav­ing fully sat­is­fied my hosts in this re­gard-in fact scoring top percentile ratings in the categories of adaptability and assimi­lation.  I had always considered these traits to be my strong suits on Earth and had only to apply them to my new surroundings.

Finally, my promotion to trustyship was aided by fortunate timing.  Founder’s Day-the most important event on the Luxan calendar-was in the offing.  The holiday celebrated the Herculean efforts of its protagonist in forging together the planet’s hitherto competing nations into the present day, globe-encircling Planet/State of Luxenben.  Understandably, then, Luxanders regarded it as the equivalent of the Fourth of July, Memorial Day, and New Year’s rolled into one.  And, as might be imagined, they expressed their patriotism enthusiastically with the performance of pageants, festivities of all kinds, and extravagant displays of fireworks.

As their contribution to the holiday spirit, our instructors made every al­lowance to advance those of us nearing qualification so that we might participate in the festivities as free agents rather than as anonymous inmates granted a supervised outing for the occasion.  Apparently our conscientious instructors felt that, as newly-freed trusties, we would much better appreciate the freeing of the Luxan populace from the yoke of xenophobia.  Thus, in a manner reminiscent of early parole granted Earthly prisoners at Christmas time, those of us students who were qualified were assembled only two days before the holiday and awarded our promotions.

*    *    *

Immediately after the award ceremony, I sought out Matilda and sug­gested that we observe the coming holiday by enjoying a picnic in the park and attending the Founder’s Day Pageant together on the day following.  She readily agreed, saying that she knew a fine spot for our outing well within walking distance of the Upsem Dorm and promised to take care of procuring a picnic lunch from the commis­sary.  And as far as the pageant was concerned, the patriotic creature wouldn’t dream of missing it despite having seen it many times before.

The very next morning, I awoke to the sound of knocking on the door to my dor­mitory suite and re­luc­tantly quit the comfort of my bed to answer it.

There, in particularly fine feather, stood Matilda.

“Room ser­vice,” she announced before adding signifi­cantly, “Don’t worry about paying.  They put it on my bill.”  So saying, she extended a picnic lunch bag heavy and aromatic with life-sustaining delicatessen.

The dear old girl’s features were so rigidly assembled that, at any given moment, one could, with equal confidence, imagine her smiling or frowning-a char­acteristic that obvi­ously imposed on her listeners an entirely subjective inter­preta­tion of her more enig­matic remarks.  In this case, how­ever, there was no question of her good humor; indeed, it was clear that she had gone out of her way to cajole the commissary proprietor into opening his counter earlier than usual in order to secure, not just any lunch, but one she knew to be my favorite.  It touched me to see that the bag contained a couple of toothsome deviled eggs which, when one considered the implications, must have involved no lit­tle squeamishness on her part.

“You have found a way to my heart,” I gratefully ac­know­ledged.

“Such talk from a married man,” she twittered and promptly set about tidying my room as I readied myself for the day’s outing.

Under Matilda’s direction, we set forth on foot along a trail paralleling the eastern edge of the zoo before branching off to the right into a wooded area.

During our walk, I related to her a humiliating in­ci­dent that had happened to me the previous afternoon shortly after the award ceremony.  On my first unaccompanied outing I hesitated to go beyond Semiland’s familiar limits and so chose to visit the Grunt House-an exhibition of creatures who were nominally Semis but of the lowest order of intelligence within that classification.  In part, I wanted to satisfy my curiosity about the specimens themselves and, in part, to investigate the troubling rumors surrounding their compound as a so-called “dumping ground” for Research’s failed experimental specimens.

On my brief tour of the place-at least of those areas open to visitors-I saw no creature that gave me reason to feel it was being interned there unreasonably.  Indeed, I was so taken aback by the appearance of some of nature’s practical jokes, as it were, that I felt compelled to sit down on a leather-covered settee to collect myself.   As luck would have it, no sooner than I had done so, I was rudely helped to my feet by a churlish park po­liceman.  Apparently, what I had mistaken for a settee was, in fact, a live ex­hibit.

“You could just tell he was a specist, damn it,” I com­plained to Matty.  “I’d bet anything that if a Full accidentally made a mistake like that, the same cop would have just po­litely moved him along.  Anyway, it’s stu­pid to let a piece of furniture plod around on its own.  They ought to either cage it or slipcover it-one or the other.”

“Oh, you mustn’t tweed the animals,” said Matilda ab­sent­mindedly while arching her neck and pretending to con­centrate on some distant point.  Then return­ing her atten­tion to my wounded feelings, she admitted that she, herself, had been insulted from time to time by unthinking Luxanders.

“You’d think that being as smart as they are, they’d be just as advanced emotionally, but they’re not,” she said.  “So you might as well get used to it.  Once in a while you’re going to run into prejudice and the only thing you can do about it is do what I do.  Let it run like water off your back.”

“I’m not equipped for it as well as you are,” I muttered.

“You don’t have to be,” she admonished.  “There aren’t many hardcore anti-Semis around.  A few bad apples, yeah, but for the most part, Fulls are surprisingly tolerant.”

“Tolerant, or do they just take pity on the handicapped?”

“Probably some of both, I guess.  Doesn’t make any difference to me.”

I grudgingly agreed and assured the old girl I would not let my memories of the Grunt House incident spoil my day.

*    *    *

Matty’s lakeside destination with its grassy banks and cypressed shore­line made for as picturesque a picnic area as one could wish.  We oc­cupied our morning pleasantly with a relaxed game of Frisbee during which Matty could not help extemporizing countless variations.  After this unaccus­tomed ac­tivity, I dropped lazily on the grass to regain my breath while Matilda, with wind to spare, hopped down to the lake and began wading purposefully along its shore.  From my van­tage I could not help but admire her long legs as she splashed about with her back to me.

In one of our first conversations, Matty told me that, although she had never seen her native planet, it had been described to her as being composed of nothing but wetlands-a disclosure, I must say, that came as no surprise, for one glance at her allowed no other deduction.  Seemingly un­conscious of my attention, she appeared not the least embarrassed when she swung around to show me her first catch-a flapping bluegill about four inches long-and found my eyes already on her.

“Beginner’s luck,” I shouted as she swallowed the fish whole and returned to her sport.

In that Matilda had seen fit to begin her meal, I saw no reason to further delay mine, so, taking a chopped liver sandwich in hand, I contentedly surveyed the landscape as I ate. Then with luncheon accomplished, the opportunity for a bit of a rest on cool grass under a couple of gently warming suns proved irresistible.

Thanks to the intensity of orientation course I had just completed, this was the first chance I had since my arrival to truly relax.  There was so much to learn about Luxenben’s history and customs that, if we weren’t being lectured to, we had our noses in our books cramming for the next exam.  This seemed an opportune moment to take stock.

The reader would no doubt look upon any confession of happiness on my part with skepticism.  Did I not take umbrage at being a zoological specimen entirely beholden to the whims of my keepers?  Was it not demeaning to be exposed to public scrutiny the minute I stepped outside?  Didn’t I find it confining to be restricted to Ventureland’s boundaries unless accompanied by a Full?  The answer to these questions was obviously yes, yes, and yes.  And yet the answer to the question “was I happy?” was likewise a resounding yes.

One way of putting it, I suppose, was that I had sold my soul and was well satisfied with what I got in return: scenic surroundings, uniformly clement weather, unpolluted air, quality foods expertly prepared, fine lodging, unlimited leisure, medical care, a modest allowance for personal items, access to a well-supplied library, and, best of all, although I was but on its fringes, life within a rational society.  All told, this was a good deal more than I would have thought my soul to be worth here and certainly more than I would have gotten for it on Earth.

But, the reader might ask, what about the loss of companionship with your fellow man?  A reasonable question from someone who knew mankind as the only kid on the block; an unreasonable one from someone who has had the pleasure of associating with Semis-albeit a small minority of the Semi population as a whole-who were more convivial, more interesting, more kindly, and far more enlightened than the people I had left behind on Earth.  Please take no offense, but the truth is that I would have no difficulty resigning myself to the prospect of never seeing another human being other than Neuman for the rest of my life.

And there was another benefit I had gained from the transaction.  Not only had I got a good price for the asset I had sold, I had sloughed off my liabilities in the process.  No more of Earth’s bank accounts, charge accounts, tax accounts, brokerage accounts, financial reports, government forms, and the like.  And gone were the harassing swarm of CPAs, au­di­tors, creditors, debtors, clients, associates, and competi­tors who had done their best to make my life uncomfortable.  It was no longer my worry if, back home, the lawyers cleaned me out.  They were welcome to every penny.  It wouldn’t hurt my wife to work for a change.

The reader might disagree with my sense of values, but he could not argue with one advantage my lifestyle had attained.  It possessed a pristine simplicity.  In concert with the innocent squirrel I saw scurrying across the park lawn, the sum total of my income and expenditures was embodied in one physical entity.  Who would have thought that, by merely transporting it from one place to another, this noticeably shopworn body could earn a good living by merely being on display?  In acknowledgment of its achievement, I strained my eyes downward to admire the sets of rolling contours that culmi­nated at my protruding feet and rewarded the highest of these with a grateful pat.

True, eventually I would probably want to find something to do to keep myself occupied besides keeping up my journal, but I felt no urgency in the mat­ter.  For the time being, there were big stretches of parkland to explore and much more to learn about Luxan society than the necessarily condensed information given us in orientation.  Once I had my fill of idleness I was sure I could find something suitable for a gentleman of independent means.  Indeed, Matilda had hinted that there were any number of volunteer positions I might be interested in.  Whereas there was no official SVI requirement that every competent Semi undertake a constructive task, the Semi community itself exercised subtle social pressure to encourage malingerers to do so.

One project I had in mind was delving into the issue raised by Joseph Brimley, the executive officer of the Starbound, on my very first night on board.  He had stated, in effect, that what differentiated Earth’s chaos from Luxenben’s harmony had nothing to do with their technological superiority and everything to do with their moral superiority.  His words had ingrained themselves in my memory.  “We know what to believe.”  Even more intriguingly, he contended that nothing prevented humankind from attaining the same enlightenment.  All it took, presumably, was our believing in whatever it was they believed in-our character faults notwithstanding.  “We’re not a bunch of saints, either” was another of his memorable phrases.  Well, the discourtesy I was subjected in the Grunt House had confirmed that much of his thesis.  But what of the rest?  I made it my business to find out.

With these thoughts in mind, I encouraged the enzymes embodied in delicatessen food to find their way to my brain and I dozed off to sleep.

*    *    *

A poke or two from Matty was enough to get me to my feet.  The afternoon was getting on and my date did not want me to miss a stroll down the gravel path that wove around the lake.  The splendid views and Matty’s ever-witty companionship ended a day that could not have been more pleasant.

As was my habit upon returning to the dorm, I inquired at the desk if a Mr. Neuman had been checked in.  As usual, I learned from the desk clerk that he had not and, as usual, I felt a fleeting twinge of disappointment.  Mind you, I had seen neither hide nor hair of the boy since we boarded the spaceship over two months ago.  That our paths had not yet crossed was puzzling but not wholly inexplicable.  On board the spaceship our captain kept us apart as requested by the company authorities who, quite naturally, did not want our separate interrogations to be compromised.  And, for the following two weeks, I assumed his failure to show up was on account of his being hustled off for his obligatory gig in the new acquisition arena which I had fortunately escaped.  But as far as the next seven weeks were concerned, I had no explanation for his absence other than the inconclusive inquiry I had made about the boy with the company’s immigration department.  In that telephone conversation I was told that his integration into Semiland’s society was more complicated than mine and that they could as yet give no definite date as to when he might be released.  When I asked “released from where?” my informant would not say.  Instead, she rather abruptly broke off our conversation after reassuring me that Neuman was in good health and that I would be automatically informed if there was any change in his situation.  Without saying so, the tone of her voice clearly implied that I was not to phone again.  This should have been worrisome, I suppose, but I recalled my conversation with the Starbound‘s captain, and this made me sanguine about the boy’s absence.  As incomprehensible as it seemed, out of the billions of Earthlings the Luxanders had to choose from, they targeted Neuman as one of two specimens to bring home.  So my guess was that he was being quartered at some location reserved for special newcomers.  For all that, I remained curious as to the boy’s situation.  Now that I was relieved of my orientation courses and had more time, I determined to make an effort to find him.  How, I had no idea.

*    *    *