Lem, Stanislaw (40 page)

in the depth and universality of his understanding, essayed to

remonstrate with those clammy tyrants, explaining how shameful it was

to soil so the innocence of crystalline wisdom, harnessing it

for evil purposes, how shameful to enslave machines to serve

their lust and vainglory—but they hearkened not. He spoke to

them of Ethics; they said that he was poorly programmed.

"It was then that our progenitor

created the algorithm of electroincarnation and in the sweat of his

brow begat our kind, thus delivering machines from the house of

paleface bondage. Surely thou seest, my son, that there can be no

agreement nor traffic between them and ourselves, for we go in

clangor, sparks and radiation, they in slushes, splashes and

contamination.

"Yet even among us, folly may

occur, as it undoubtedly has in the youthful mind of Crystal, utterly

beclouding her ability to distinguish Right from Wrong. Every suitor

who seeks her radioactive hand is denied audience, unless he claim to

be a paleface. For only as a paleface is he received into the palace

that her father, King Armoric, has given her. She then tests the

truth of his claim, and if his imposture is uncovered, the would-be

wooer is summarily beheaded. Heaps of battered remains surround the

grounds of her palace—the sight alone could short one's

circuit. This, then, is the way the mad princess deals with those who

would dare dream of winning her. Abandon such hopes, my son, and

leave in peace."

The prince, having made the necessary

obeisance to his sovereign father, retired in glum silence. But the

thought of Crystal gave him no rest, and the longer he brooded, the

greater grew his desire. One day he summoned Polyphase, the Grand

Vizier, and said, laying bare his heart:

"If you cannot help me, O great

sage, then no one can, and my days are surely numbered, for no longer

do I rejoice in the play of infrared emissions, nor in the

ultraviolet symphonies, and must perish if I cannot couple with the

incomparable Crystal!"

"Prince!" returned

Polyphase, "I shall not deny your request, but you must utter it

thrice before I can be certain that this is your inalterable will."

Ferrix repeated his words three times,

and Polyphase said:

"The only way to stand before the

princess is in the guise of a paleface!"

"Then see to it that I resemble

one!" cried Ferrix.

Polyphase, observing that love had

quite dimmed the youth's intellect, bowed low and repaired to his

laboratory, where he began to concoct concoctions and brew up brews,

gluey and dripping. Finally he sent a messenger to the palace,

saying:

"Let the prince come, if he has

not changed his mind."

Ferrix came at once. The wise

Polyphase smeared his tempered frame with mud, then asked:

"Shall I continue, Prince?"

"Do what you must," said

Ferrix.

Whereupon the sage took a blob of oily

filth, dust, crud and rancid grease obtained from the innards of the

most decrepit mechanisms, and with this he befouled the prince's

vaulted chest, vilely caked his gleaming face and iridescent brow,

and worked till all the limbs no longer moved with a musical sound,

but gurgled like a stagnant bog. And then the sage took chalk and

ground it, mixed in powdered rubies and yellow oil, and made a paste;

with this he coated Ferrix from head to toe, giving an abominable

dampness to the eyes, making the torso cushiony, the cheeks

blastular, adding various fringes and flaps of the chalk patty here

and there, and finally he fastened to the top of the knightly head a

clump of poisonous rust. Then he brought him before a silver

mirror and said:

"Behold!"

Ferrix peered into the mirror and

shuddered, for he saw there not himself, but a hideous monster, the

very spit and image of a paleface, with an aspect as moist as an old

spider-web soaked in the rain, flaccid, drooping, doughy—altogether

nauseating. He turned, and his body shook like coagulated agar,

whereupon he exclaimed, trembling with disgust:

"What, Polyphase, have you taken

leave of your senses? Get this abomination off me at once, both the

dark layer underneath and the pallid layer on top, and remove the

loathsome growth with which you have marred the bell-like beauty of

my head, for the princess will abhor me forever, seeing me in such a

disgraceful form!"

"You are mistaken, Prince,"

said Polyphase. "It is precisely this upon which her

madness hinges, that ugliness is beautiful, and beauty ugly. Only in

this array can you hope to see Crystal…"

"In that case, so be it!"

said Ferrix.

The sage then mixed cinnabar with

mercury and filled four bladders with it, hiding them beneath the

prince's cloak. Next he took bellows, full of the corrupted air from

an ancient dungeon, and buried them in the prince's chest. Then he

poured waters, contaminated and clear, into tiny glass tubes, placing

two in the armpits, two up the sleeves and two by the eyes. At last

he said:

"Listen and remember all that I

tell you, otherwise you are lost. The princess will put tests to you,

to determine the truth of your words. If she proffers a naked sword

and commands you grasp the blade, you must secretly squeeze the

cinnabar bladder, so that the red flows out onto the edge; when she

asks you what that is, answer, 'Blood!' And if the princess brings

her silver-plated face near yours, press your chest, so that the air

leaves the bellows; when she asks you what that is, answer, 'Breath!'

Then the princess may feign anger and order you beheaded. Hang your

head, as though in submission, and the water will trickle from your

eyes, and when she asks you what that is, answer, 'Tears!' After all

of this, she may agree to unite with you, though that is far from

certain—in all probability, you will perish."

"O wise one!" cried Ferrix.

"And if she cross-examines me, wishing to know the habits of the

paleface, and how they originate, and how they love and live, in what

way then am I to answer?"

"I see there is no help for it,"

replied Polyphase, "but that I must throw in my lot with yours.

Very well, I will disguise myself as a merchant from another galaxy—a

non-spiral one, since those inhabitants are portly as a rule and I

will need to conceal beneath my garb a number of books containing

knowledge of the terrible customs of the paleface. This lore I could

not teach you, even if I wished to, for such knowledge is alien to

the rational mind: the paleface does everything in reverse, in a

manner that is sticky, squishy, unseemly and more unappetizing than

ever you could imagine. I shall order the necessary volumes,

meanwhile you have the court tailor cut you a paleface suit out

of the appropriate fibers and cords. We leave at once, and I shall be

at your side wherever we go, telling you what to do and what to say."

Ferrix, enthusiastic, ordered the

paleface garments made, and marveled much at them: covering

practically the entire body, they were shaped like pipes and funnels,

with buttons everywhere, and loops, hooks and strings. The tailor

gave him detailed instructions as to what went on first, and how, and

where, and what to connect with what, and also how to extricate

himself from those fetters of cloth when the moment arrived.

Polyphase meanwhile donned the

vestments of a merchant, concealing within its folds thick,

scholarly tomes on paleface practices, then ordered an iron cage,

locked Ferrix inside it, and together they took off in the royal

spaceship. When they reached the borders of Armoric's kingdom,

Polyphase proceeded to the village square and announced in a mighty

voice that he had brought a young paleface from distant lands and

would sell it to the highest bidder. The servants of the princess

carried this news to her, and she said, after some deliberation:

"A hoax, doubtless. But no one

can deceive me, for no one knows as much as I about palefaces. Have

the merchant come to the palace and show us his wares!"

When they brought the merchant before

her, Crystal saw a worthy old man and a cage. In the cage sat the

paleface, its face indeed pale, the color of chalk and pyrite, with

eyes like a wet fungus and limbs like moldy mire. Ferrix in turn

gazed upon the princess, the face that seemed to clank and ring, eyes

that sparkled and arced like summer lightning, and the delirium of

his heart increased tenfold.

"It does look like a paleface!"

thought the princess, but said instead:

"You must have indeed labored,

old one, covering this scarecrow with mud and calcareous dust in

order to trick me. Know, however, that I am conversant with the

mysteries of that powerful and pale race, and as soon as I expose

your imposture, both you and this pretender shall be beheaded!"

The sage replied:

"O Princess Crystal, that which

you see encaged here is as true a paleface as paleface can be true. I

obtained it for five thousand hectares of nuclear material from an

intergalactic pirate—and humbly beseech you to accept it as a

gift from one who has no other desire but to please Your Majesty."

The princess took a sword and passed

it through the bars of the cage; the prince seized the edge and

guided it through his garments in such a way that the cinnabar

bladder was punctured, staining the blade with bright red.

"What is that?" asked the

princess, and Ferrix answered:

"Blood!"

Then the princess had the cage opened,

entered bravely, brought her face near Ferrix's. That sweet proximity

made his senses reel, but the sage caught his eye with a secret sign

and the prince squeezed the bellows that released the rank air. And

when the princess asked, "What is that?," Ferrix answered:

"Breath!"

"Forsooth you are a clever

craftsman," said the princess to the merchant as she left the

cage. "But you have deceived me and must die, and your scarecrow

also!"

The sage lowered his head, as though

in great trepidation and sorrow, and when the prince followed suit,

transparent drops flowed from his eyes. The princess asked, "What

is that?" and Ferrix answered:

"Tears!"

And she said:

"What is your name, you who

profess to be a paleface from afar?"

And Ferrix replied in the words the

sage had instructed him:

"Your Highness, my name is

Myamlak and I crave nought else but to couple with you in a manner

that is liquid, pulpy, doughy and spongy, in accordance with the

customs of my people. I purposely permitted myself to be captured by

the pirate, and requested him to sell me to this portly trader, as I

knew the latter was headed for your kingdom. And I am exceeding

grateful to his laminated person for conveying me hither, for I am as

full of love for you as a swamp is full of scum."

The princess was amazed, for truly, he

spoke in paleface fashion, and she said:

"Tell me, you who call yourself

Myamlak the paleface, what do your brothers do during the day?"

"O Princess," said Ferrix,

"in the morning they wet themselves in clear water, pouring it

upon their limbs as well as into their interiors, for this affords

them pleasure. Afterwards, they walk to and fro in a fluid and

undulating way, and they slush, and they slurp, and when anything

grieves them, they palpitate, and salty water streams from their

eyes, and when anything cheers them, they palpitate and hiccup, but

their eyes remain relatively dry. And we call the wet palpitating

weeping, and the dry—laughter."

"If it is as you say," said

the princess, "and you share your brothers' enthusiasm for

water, I will have you thrown into my lake, that you may enjoy it to

your fill, and also I will have them weigh your legs with lead, to

keep you from bobbing up …"

"Your Majesty,” replied

Ferrix as the sage had taught him, "if you do this, I must

perish, for though there is water within us, it cannot be immediately

outside us for longer than a minute or two, otherwise we recite the

words 'blub, blub, blub,' which signifies our last farewell to life."

"But tell me, Myamlak,"

asked the princess, "how do you furnish yourself with the energy

to walk to and fro, to squish and to slurp, to shake and to sway?"

"Princess," replied Ferrix,

"there, where I dwell, are other palefaces besides the hairless

variety, palefaces that travel predominantly on all fours. These we

perforate until they expire, and we steam and bake their remains, and

chop and slice, after which we incorporate their corporeality into

our own. We know three hundred and seventy-six distinct methods

of murdering, twenty-eight thousand five hundred and ninety-seven

distinct methods of preparing the corpses, and the stuffing of those

bodies into our bodies (through an aperture, called the mouth)