Authors: The Cyberiad [v1.0] [htm]
—Great Gauss!—I cried.
—This must be the place!
But though I circled around again and
again, until I was quite dizzy, there was not a living soul to be
seen anywhere on the planet's sandy surface. Only when I dropped to
an altitude of six miles was I able to make out a group of dots,
which proved to be, upon higher magnification, the inhabitants
of this most unusual heavenly body. There were a hundred or so of
them lying about in the sand, and so motionless, I thought for a
moment they might all be dead. But then I saw one or two scratch
themselves, and this clear sign of life encouraged me to land. In my
excitement I didn't wait for the rocket to cool after its descent
through the planet's atmosphere, but jumped out at once and shouted:
—-Excuse me, is this by any
chance the Highest Possible Level of Development?!
No answer. In fact, they paid no
attention to me at all. Somewhat taken aback by this show of utter
indifference, I looked around. The plain shimmered beneath the square
sun. Here and there, things stuck out of the sand, things like broken
wheels, sticks, bits of paper and other rubbish, and the inhabitants
lay any which way among them, one on his back, another on his
stomach, and farther on was one with his legs up in the air. I walked
around the nearest and examined him. He wasn't a robot, but on the
other hand neither was he a man, nor any sapient proteinoid of the
glutinous-albuminous variety. The head was round and plump, with red
cheeks, but for eyes it had two penny whistles, and for ears it had
thuribles, which gave off a thick cloud of incense. He was dressed in
orchid pantaloons, a dark blue stripe down either side and appliqued
with dirty scraps of closely written paper, and he wore high heels.
In one hand he held a mandolin made entirely of frosted gingerbread,
a few bites already missing from the neck. He was snoring peacefully.
I leaned over to read the appliques on his trousers, but could make
out only a few since my eyes watered copiously from the incense.
The inscriptions were most curious—for example,
NO.
7 DIAMOND NET WEIGHT SEVEN HUNDRED CWT, NO. 8 THESPIAN CONFECTIONERY,
SOBS WHEN CHEWED, RECITES HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY IN THE STOMACH,
'OUT BRIEF CANDLE' FARTHER DOWN, NO. 1O GOLLOCHON-DRILL FOR EMERGENCY
SLURGING, FULL-GROWN
, and many more, which I simply don't
remember now. As I touched one of these paper scraps in trying to
read it, a depression quickly formed in the sand beneath this
native's knee and a tiny voice piped:
—Shall I come out now?
—Who's that?—I cried.
—It's me, the Gollochondrill…
Are you ready? Is it time?
—No, not yet!—I was quick
to reply, and backed off. The next native had a head in the shape of
a bell, three horns, several arms of varying length (two massaging
its belly), ears that were long and feathery, a cap with a pretty
purple balcony on which someone was having an argument with someone
else—quite heated too, judging from the little plates that came
flying this way and that, shattering on the brim—and he also
had a kind of throw pillow, all jewel-spangled, tucked under his
shoulders. While I stood before this individual, he pulled one of the
horns off his head, sniffed it and tossed it away with a look of
disgust, then poured a handful of dirty sand in the opening. Nearby
lay something I first took for a pair of twins, and then for a couple
of lovers locked in an embrace. I was about to turn away discreetly,
when I realized that it wasn't two people at all, or one, but exactly
one and a half. The head was quite ordinary, except for the ears:
every now and then they would detach themselves and flit about like
butterflies. The lids were closed, but numerous moles on the chin and
cheeks were equipped with tiny eyes; these regarded me with
undisguised hostility. This remarkable being had a bioad and
muscular chest, which however was riddled with holes, as if someone
had been careless with a drill, and the holes were haphazardly
plugged with raspberry jam. There was only one leg, but it was
unusually thick and shod in a handsome morocco leather slipper, its
curled toe tipped with a little felt bell. Near the elbow was a
sizable pile of apple cores, or perhaps they were pear. My
astonishment grew as I walked along and came upon a robot with a
human head, a miniature self-winding samovar whistling cheerfully in
its left nostril, and then someone reclining on a bed of candied
yams, and someone else with a trapdoor in his abdomen, open so I
could look in and see the crystal works. Some mechanical elves
were putting on a play in there, but it turned out to be so terribly
obscene, that I left in a hurry, blushing like mad. In my confusion I
tripped and fell, and when I got up I saw yet another inhabitant of
this strange planet: stark naked, he was scratching his behind with a
solid gold backscratcher, apparently enjoying himself thoroughly,
even though he was quite headless. The head lay farther on, neck
stuck in the sand; it was touching its teeth with the tip of its
tongue. The chin was checkered chintz, the right ear a boiled
cauliflower, while the left was an ear all right, but stopped up with
a carrot that carried a tag saying
PULL
.
Without thinking I pulled, and out with the carrot came a length of
string and then another tag that read
YOU'RE
GETTING WARM
! I kept pulling and pulling, until the string
finally ended in a medicine bottle that bore the label
NOSY,
AREN'T WE
?
All these impressions left me feeling
so dizzy I hardly knew where I was. But at last I pulled myself
together and began to look around for the kind of person who might be
communicative enough to answer a question or two. A possible
candidate, it seemed, was one fairly pudgy type squatting with
his back to me and occupied with something he held on his knees—at
least he had only one head, two ears, two arms, and so on. I went up
to him and began:
—Pardon me, but if I'm not
mistaken, you gentlemen have been fortunate enough to achieve the
Highest Possible—
The words died on my lips. He didn't
seem to hear me at all, for he was wholly taken up with what lay on
his knees, which happened to be his very own face, removed somehow
from the rest of the head and sighing softly as he picked its nose.
For a moment I was stupefied, but only for a moment —my
curiosity returned in full force, and I simply had to find out, once
and for all, just what was going on. I ran from one native to the
next, spoke to them, questioned them, raised my voice, insisted,
pleaded, reasoned, even threatened, all to no avail. In my
exasperation I grabbed the nose picker's arm, and was horrified to
find that it came off in my hand, though that didn't bother him in
the least, he only poked about in the sand and pulled out another
exactly like the first—except for the orange plaid
fingernails—blew on it a little, then affixed it to the
shoulder stump. Curious, I bent over to examine the first arm, but
dropped it hastily when it snapped its fingers in my face. By now the
sun was setting, already two corners below the horizon, the air grew
cool, and the inhabitants of H. P. L. D. began to settle down for the
night, scratching, yawning, gargling, one shaking out an emerald
quilt, another methodically taking off his nose, ears and legs and
carefully putting them in a row at his side. I stumbled around in the
dark for a while, then gave it up with a sigh and lay down to sleep
too. Making myself as comfortable as possible in the sand, I looked
up at the starry sky and tried to think what to do next.
—Indeed-—I said to
myself—by all indications this is the very planet both
Cadaverius Malignus and Chlorian Theoreticus the Proph spoke of, home
of the Most Advanced Civilization in the Entire Universe, a
civilization of a few hundred individuals who, being neither people
nor robots, lie around on jeweled cushions all day in a dirty,
littered desert and do nothing but scratch themselves and pick their
noses. No, there has to be some terrible secret behind all of this,
and I shall not rest till I've uncovered it!!
Then I thought:
—A terrible secret it must be
indeed, to account for not only a square sun and planet, but
lecherous elves inside bodies and insulting messages in ears! I
always thought that if I, a simple robot, could spend my time in
study and the pursuit of knowledge, think of the kind of intellectual
ferment that went on among those more highly developed—
no, the
most
highly developed! Yet these, whatever they do,
they certainly don't spend their time in edifying conversation;
they don't even care to answer a few questions. I'll have to force
them—but how? Perhaps, if I pester them enough, get under their
skin, so to speak, make such a nuisance of myself that they'll
agree to anything, just to get rid of me! Of course, there is some
risk involved: they might get angry, and, without a doubt, they could
destroy me as easily as swatting a fly. … But no, I cannot
believe they'd resort to such brutal measures—and anyway, I
simply must find out! Well, here goes!!
And I jumped up in the darkness and
started to scream at the top of my lungs, did somersaults and
cartwheels, hopped around and kicked sand in their eyes, danced and
sang until I was hoarse, did a few sit-ups and deep knee bends, then
hurled myself among them like a mad dog. They turned their backs to
me and held up their cushions and quilts for protection, and then, in
the middle of my hundredth cartwheel, a voice said inside my
head:
—And what would your good friend
Trurl think if he could see you now, see how you pass your time on
the planet that has achieved the Highest Possible Level of
Development, home of the Most Advanced Civilization in the
Entire Universe?!—But I ignored the hint and continued to
stomp and howl, encouraged by what they were whispering to one
another:
—Psst!
—What do you want?
—You hear that?
—How can I help but hear it?
—He practically kicked my head
in.
—You can get another.
—But I can't sleep.
—What?
—I said, I can't sleep.
—He's curious—whispered a
third.
—He's awfully curious!
—This is really too much. We'll
have to do something.
—Like what?
—I don't know… Change his
personality?
—No, that's unethical…
—Just listen to him howl!
—Wait, I have an idea…
They whispered something while I kept
jumping around, raising an unholy racket, concentrating my efforts
especially in the area where I heard them talking. Then, just as I
was doing a headstand on someone's abdomen, everything went black,
and the next thing I knew, I was back on my ship and out in space. My
limbs ached from all that exercise, but I could hardly move them
anyway, for I was sitting in a pile of trombones, jars of green
marmalade, teddy bears, platinum glockenspiels, ducats and
doubloons, golden earmuffs, bracelets and brooches glittering so
bright they hurt my eyes. When finally I crawled out from under all
these valuables and dragged myself to a window, I saw that the
constellations were entirely different—not a trace of
anything remotely resembling a square sun! A few quick
calculations revealed that I would have to travel six thousand years
at top velocity to get back to the H. P. L. D.'s. They had disposed
of me, indeed. And going back would achieve nothing, that was
clear: they would merely send me packing again with that
instantaneous hyperspatial telekinesis of theirs, or whatever it was.
And so, my good Bonhomius, I decided to tackle the problem in an
altogether different way. …" And with these words, most
kind and noble sir, did the distinguished constructor Klapaucius
finish his tale…
+ +
"Surely that's not all he said?!"
cried Trurl.
"Nay, he said a great deal more,
O benefactor of mine! And therein lies my misfortune!" replied
the robot with considerable perturbation. "When I asked him what
he had then decided to do, he leaned over and said…
+ +
"The problem did seem insoluble
at first, but I've found a way. You say you lived as a hermetic
hermit and are but a simple, unschooled robot, so I'll not trouble
you with explanations that touch the arcane art of cybernetic
generation. To put it simply, then, all we have to do is
construct a digital device, a computer capable of producing an
informational model of absolutely anything in existence.
Properly programmed, it will provide us with an exact simulation
of the Highest Possible Level of Development, which we can then