Wyst: Alastor 1716

Alastor Cluster, a node of thirty thousand live stars,
uncounted dead hulks and vast quantities of interstellar detritus,
clung to the inner rim of the galaxy with the Unfortunate Waste before, the
Nonestic Gulf beyond and the Gaean Reach a sparkling haze to the side. For the
space traveler, no matter which his angle of approach, a remarkable spectacle
was presented: constellations blazing white, blue and red; curtains of luminous
stuff, broken here, obscured there by black storms of dust; star streams
wandering in and out; whorls and spatters of phosphorescent gas.

Should Alastor Cluster be considered a segment of the Gaean
Reach? The folk of the Cluster seldom reflected upon the matter, and indeed considered
themselves neither Gaean nor Alastrid. The typical inhabitant, when asked about
his origin, might perhaps cite his native world or, more usually, his local
district, as if this place were so extraordinary, so special and widely famed
that its reputation hung on every tongue of the galaxy.

Parochialism dissolved before the glory of the Connatic who
ruled Alastor Cluster from his palace Lusz on the world Numenes: a structure
famed across the human universe. Five pylons veered up from five islets to a
groined arch a thousand feet above the ocean, supporting first a series of
promenade decks; then a bank of administrative offices, ceremonial halls and
the core of the Alastrid Communications System; then the Ring of Worlds; then
further offices and residential suites for distinguished visitors; and finally,
ten thousand feet above the ocean, the Connatic’s private quarters. The highest
pinnacle penetrated the clouds, sometimes piercing through to the upper sky.
When sunlight glistened on its iridescent surfaces Lusz was a wonderful sight,
and often considered the most inspiring artifact yet created by the human race.

Aloft in his eyrie, the Connatic lived without formality.
For public appearances he arrayed himself in a severe black uniform and a black
casque, in order to project an image of austerity, vigilance and inflexible
authority: so he was known to his subjects. On more casual occasions—alone in
his eyrie, as a high official on the Connatic’s service, as an anonymous wanderer
in the odd corners of the Cluster—he seemed a far easier man, of rather
ordinary appearance, notable only for his manner of unobtrusive competence.

At Lusz, his workroom occupied the highest tip of the eyrie:
a cupola with an outlook in all directions. The furnishings were constructed
of massive dark wood: a pair of cushioned chairs, a work table, a sideboard supporting
a clutter of souvenirs, photographs, curios and oddments, including a globe
of Old Earth. To one side of the work table a panel displayed a conventionalized
chart, of the Cluster with three thousand glittering lights of various colors
[1]
to represent the inhabited worlds.

The work room served the Connatic as his most
familiar and comfortable retreat. The time was now evening; plum-blue twilight
suffused the room. The Connatic stood before the western window, watching the
passing of the afterglow and the coming of the stars.

The quiet was broken by a brief clear sound: rink! Like a
drop of water into a basin.

The Connatic spoke without turning: “Esclavade?”

A voice replied: “A deputation of four persons has arrived
from Arrabus on Wyst. They announce themselves as ‘The Whispers’ and request a
conference at your convenience.”

The Connatic, still gazing out across the afterglow, reflected
a moment, then said: “I will meet them in an hour. Take them to the Black
Chamber, and provide suitable refreshment.”

“As you say, sir.”

Turning from the window, the Connatic went to his work
table. He spoke a number: “1716.” Three cards fell into a hopper. The first,
dated two weeks previously at Waunisse, a city of Arrabus, read:

Sir:

My previous reports upon the subject at hand are identified by the
codes appended below. In gist: Arrabus shortly celebrates a Centenary Festival,
to mark a hundred years under the aegis of the so-called “Egalistic Manifold.”
If I may presume to refresh your memory, this document enjoins all men, and
specifically all Arrabins, to a society based upon human equality in a condition
of freedom from toil, want and coercion.

The realization of these ideals has not been without dislocation.
I refer you to my previous reports.

The Whispers, an executive committee of four, have come to take a
very serious view of the situation. Their projections convince them that
certain fundamental changes are necessary. At the Centenary they will announce
a program to revitalize the Arrabin economy, which may not be popular: the
Arrabin folk, like any others, hope for and expect augmentation rather than
constriction of their lives. The present work week comprises thirteen hours of
more or less uncomplicated routine, which the Arrabins nevertheless hope to
reduce.

To dramatize the need for change, the Whispers will be coming to
Lusz. They intend to consult with you on a realistic basis, and they hope that
you will appear at the Centenary Festival, to identify yourself with the new
program and perhaps provide economic assistance. I have been in consultation
with the Whispers at Waunisse. Tomorrow they return to Uncibal, and will immediately
depart for Numenes.

In my opinion they have made a realistic assessment of conditions,
and I recommend that you listen to them with sympathetic attention.

Bonamico,
Connatic’s Cursar at Uncibal, Arrabus.

The Connatic read the card with care, then turned to the
second card, which had been dated at Waunisse on the day after the first
message.

To the Connatic at Lusz:

Greetings from the Whispers of Arrabus.

We will presently arrive at Lusz, where we hope to confer with you
upon matters of great scope and urgency. We will also convey to you an
invitation to our Centenary Festival, which signalizes a hundred years of
egalism. There is much to be said on this subject, and at our conference we
will disclose our thoughts regarding the next hundred years, and the
adjustments which must inevitably be made. At this time we will solicit your advice
and constructive assistance.

In all respect, we are,

the Whispers of Arrabus.

The Connatic had studied the two messages previously and was
familiar with their contents. The third message, arriving subsequent to the
first two, was new to him
.

The Connatic at Lusz:
From the Alastor Centrality at Uncibal, Arrabus.

It becomes my duty to report upon an odd and disturbing situation.
A certain Jantiff Ravensroke has presented himself to the Centrality, with
information which he declares to be of the most absolute urgency. Cursar
Bonamico is unaccountably absent and I can think only to request that you
immediately send an investigative officer, that he may learn the truth of what
may be a serious matter.

Clode Morre, Clerk,
The Alastor Centrality,
Uncibal.

Even as the Connatic brooded upon this third message, a fourth
dropped into the hopper.

To the Connatic at Lutz:

Events are flying in all directions here, to my great distress and
consternation. Specifically, I fear for poor Jantiff Ravensroke, who is in
terrible danger; unless someone puts a stop, they’ll have his blood or worse.
He is accused of a vile crime but he is surely as innocent as a child. Clerk
Morre has been murdered and Cursar Bonamico cannot be located; therefore I have
ordered Jantiff south into the Weirdlands, despite the rigors of the way.

I send this off in agitation, and with the hope that help is on
the way.

Aleida Gluster, Clerk,
The Alastor Centrality,

The Connatic stood motionless, frowning down at the card.
After a moment he turned away and by a twisting wooden staircase descended to
the level below. A door slid aside; he entered a car, dropped to the Ring of
Worlds, and, by one of the radial slideways reserved to his private use, rode
to Chamber 1716.

In the vestibule a placard provided basic data regarding
Wyst—the single planet of the white star Doran, was small, cool, dense, and
populated by over three billion persons. He continued into the main chamber. At
the center floated—a seven-foot globe: a replica in miniature of Wyst, although
physiographic relief had been exaggerated by a factor of ten in the interests
of clarity. The Connatic touched the surface and the globe rotated under his
hand. The opposed continents Trembal and Tremors appeared; the Connatic stopped
the rotation. The continents together extended four thousand miles around the
flank of Wyst, from the Northern Gulf to the Moaning Ocean in the south, to
resemble a rather thick-waisted hourglass. At the equator, or the narrowest
section of the hourglass, the continents were split apart by the Salaman Sea, a
drowned rift averaging a hundred miles in width. That strip of littoral, never
more than twenty miles wide, between sea and the flanking scarps to north and
south, comprised the land of Arrabus. To the south were the cities Uncibal and
Serce, to the north Propunce and Waunisse, each pair merging indistinguishably:
in effect Arrabus was a single metropolitan area. Beyond the north and south extended
the so-called “Weirdlands,” one-time civilized domains, now a pair of wildernesses
shrouded under dark forest.

The Connatic turned the globe a half-revolution and briefly
inspected Zumer and Pombal, island continents opposed across the equator: each
an uninviting terrain of mountain crags and half-frozen swamps, supporting a
minimal population.

Moving away from the globe, the Connatic studied an array of
effigies. Closest at hand stood a pair of Arrabins, dressed alike in gaily
patterned smocks, short trousers and sandals of synthetic fiber. They wore
their hair teased out into extravagant puffs and fringes, evidently to the
prompting of individual whim. Their expressions were cheerful if rather
distrait, like those of children contemplating a pleasant bit of mischief.
Their complexions were pale to medium in tone, and their ethnic type seemed to
be mixed. Nearby stood folk from Pombal and Zumer, men and women of a more
distinctive character: tall, large-boned, with long beaked noses, bony jaws and
chins. They wore padded garments studded with copper ornaments, boots and brimless
hats of crumpled leather. On the wall behind a photograph depicted a Zur shunk-rider
on his awesome mount
[2]
,
both caparisoned for the sport known as “shunkery.” Somewhat apart from the other
effigies crouched a middle-aged woman in a hooded gown striped vertically in yellow,
orange and black; her fingernails gleamed as if gilded.
Weirdland Witch
read
the identifying plaque.

Moving to the information register, the Connatic studied a
synopsis of Arrabin history
[3]
,
with which he was familiar only in outline. As he read he nodded slowly, as if
in validation of a private opinion. Turning from the register he went to examine
three large photographs on the wall. The first, an aerial view of Uncibal,
might have been a geometrical exercise in which rows of many-colored blocks
dwindled to a point at the horizon. The second photograph depicted the interior
of the 32nd District Stadium. Spectators encrusted the interior; a pair of
shunk confronted each other across the field. The third photograph presented a
view along one of the great Arrabin slideways: a moving strip something more
than a hundred feet wide, choked with, humanity, extending into the distance as
far as lens could see.

The Connatic studied the photographs with a trace of awe.
The idea of human beings in vast numbers was familiar to him as an abstraction;
in the photographs the abstraction was made real.

He glanced through a file of cursar’s
[4]
reports; one of these, ten years old, read:

Arrabus is the beating heart of Wyst. Despite rumor to the contrary,
Arrabus functions; Arrabus is real; Arrabus, in fact, is an amazing
experience. Whoever doubts can come to Wyst and learn for himself. Immigrants
are no longer welcome additions to the overcrowded social facilities; still,
anyone with a sufficiently thick skin can participate either temporarily or
permanently in a fantastic social experiment, where food and shelter, like
air, are considered the natural right of all men.

The newcomer will find himself suddenly relieved of anxieties. He
works two brief periods of “drudge” each week, with another two hours of “maintenance”
at the block where he resides. He will find himself immediately caught up in a
society dedicated to self-fulfillment, pleasure and frivolity. He will dance,
sing, gossip, engage in countless love affairs, endlessly ride the “man-rivers”
to no special destination, and waste hours in that obsessive occupation of the
Arrabins, people-watching. He will make his breakfast, lunch and dinner upon
wholesome “gruff” and nutritious “deedle,” with a dish of “wobbly,” as the
expression goes, “to fill up the cracks.” If he is wise he will learn to
tolerate, and even enjoy, the diet, since there is nothing else to eat.

“Bonter,” or natural food, is almost unknown on Arrabus. The
problems involved in growing, distributing and preparing “boater” for three
billion persons is quite beyond the capacity of those who have resolutely eliminated
toil from their lives. Occasionally “bonter” is a subject of wistful
speculation but no one seems seriously troubled by its lack. A certain
opprobrium attaches to the person who concerns himself overmuch with food. The
casual visitor will refrain from grumbling unless he wishes to become known as
a “guttrick.” So much for the high cuisine of Arrabus; it falls to exist. A
final note: intoxicants are not produced by any of the public agencies. Disselberg,
who drank no wine, beer or spirit, declared against them as “social waste.”
Nevertheless, every day on every level of every block someone will be brewing a
jug or two of “swill” from fragments of leftover gruff.