Kenneth Bulmer: Demons' World

“That is so,” Delia nodded solemnly. “For our Astroman is the true lineal descendant of the first Astroman in the Beginning. Through him Archon keeps alive the lights of the eternal truths.”

“When do I meet the Captain?”

“In a few days. But first you must learn a great deal more of life.”

“Teach me everything you can,” said Stead fervently. “I wish to know everything!”

The education of Stead went on smoothly. He learned that the Earth had been born from the condensation of tears from an immortal being weeping for the sins of mankind to come. The animals of the land had grown from a tiny scrap of immortal tissue falling among the thickening tears and slowly, as the Earth assumed its present shape of great buildings scattered over the face of the land, constructed in a single night of immortal compassion, they had diversified and adapted into their present innumerable forms.

“And man?” Stead had asked.

“Man was placed on the buildings of Earth by the immortal being in a spirit of contrition. He differs physiologically and mentally from all animals. In the beginning a Garden was brought to the Earth containing the Captain and his Crew. But the Captain’s children’s children quarreled and the light of the immortal being was withdrawn from them and a hideous night fell across the land. From that time the Empire of Archon has been trying to bring together the graceless children of the other nations, to bring them back into a state of grace, to unify with Archon because that is the only path by which the favor of the immortal being may once again be assured.”

“These things are very deep,” said Stead. He frowned. “But if only the Captain and his Crew came in the Garden to Earth, where have all the other people come from?”

Delia glanced at Simon and took a breath.

Simon said, “That you will learn in due course, Stead. The facts of Life and Death will be told you when… when you are ready for them.”

“But I want to know now!”

“When you are ready.”

“Life and Death, just what are they?”

“One thing I must impress upon you most firmly,” Simon said with a new gravity which impressed the stranger, “is that humanity, mankind, all human beings—even the benighted heretics of other nations—are superior beings. We did not evolve from any higher type of animal—simple comparative anatomy will show that—and we are as a consequence the highest form of life on Earth.”

“Cats,” prompted Delia simply. “Cats and dogs.”

“But they are a special case.” Simon rubbed his chin. “Even our most eminent philosophers do not entirely agree. As there is evolution so there must be atavism. Cats and dogs, like men, have four limbs. It could be that some unfortunate human beings degenerated into cats and dogs. I tend to doubt the idea that these animals, charming and friendly though they be, are men in the making.”

“The best we can say is that the immortal being created them alongside man to be his helpmates and companions,” Delia said with a sincerity that wanned Stead. This girl used her brains and Stead very much wanted to use his. He was thirsty for knowledge.

’The basic fact to remember,” Simon went on, reverting to his original theme, “is that mankind is unique. We are the guardians and controllers of the world, set down here on Earth by the immortal being—we scientists seldom use the word God these days—in order to fulfill our destiny.” He looked unhappy. “I, personally, deplore our schisms. No one any longer can say with utmost clarity what that mission is. The Captain professes to know and he is the custodian, but scientific thought, in which the Captain stands at the forefront, declines now to accept as absolute the values of the old teachings.”

“What it amounts to in your education,” Delia said, “is that mankind is in a Demonized mess. New ideas are beginning to challenge what we have accepted for decades. But through it all every man, woman, and child remains firmly convinced, knows, that their destiny on this planet is secure. We were sent here for a purpose, however mystical that may sound, and by striving that purpose will be found.”

Simon chuckled, and slapped Stead on the back. “Cheer up, lad. We’re in a muddle but we’ll fight our way through. Now, you’re going on a tour of the country and, so you won’t get into any mischief, young Lieutenant Cargill will go along.”

Lieutenant Cargill turned out to be nearly as tall as Stead, barrel-bodied, fresh and scrubbed and eager, with the lines of habitual command already forming around his eyes and mouth, a young dedicated soldier ready to lose his life for Archon.

Stead had no suspicion that Cargill was there for any other purpose than the one stated by Simon; Stead was in many things a baby. Stead accepted Cargill uncritically; more, he tended to admire, and revere him for the work he did.

Just before he and Cargill, together with Delia, set out from Simon’s laboratory, the old scientist called Cargill to one side. Standing uncomfortably close to Delia, Stead watched Cargill with all his attention, saw the soldier in earnest conversation with Simon. What they said he couldn’t hear, but Cargill shot a quick, surprised look at him, a look of baffled wonder and amusement, a pitying look. Simon clutched the young officer’s sleeve—he was not wearing armor—and spoke with a passionate sincerity.

Cargill’s reply was loud enough for Stead to hear.

“You mean he really doesn’t know about that? But, by the Demons, this is rich! Wait until Delia—” He lowered Ins voice.

And then Delia herself, richly imperious, spoke over the soldier’s careless words, in her turn catching Stead’s sleeve. “Come on, Stead. There’s a lot of country to cover. Lieutenant Cargill! Are you ready?”

“I shall be with you, immediately, Delia.” And Cargill, after a last throaty chuckle with Simon, joined the party for the country.

Very little time elapsed before Cargill showed that he regarded this task in the primary light of the freedom it gave him and the chance offered to better his acquaintance with the glorious Delia. Stead, walking along in front like a little boy out for a treat, couldn’t understand why Cargill was acting as he was—puffing out his chest as he talked, rolling his eyes, continually looking long at Delia—and all with an expression indicating he had eaten something that did not agree with him.

Stead said, “Don’t you feel well, Cargill?”

“I am perfectly all right, thank you.”

And Delia laughed and took Stead’s arm, to his intense discomfort, and walking on ahead, left the soldier to stare after them and fume, then sprint to catch up, sword jangling.

The country through which Stead was conducted that day differed considerably in detail from that he was to see later but in general the outlines were the same. The warrens, neatly subdivided into class sections where people lived, lay concentrated around a number of axial corridors. Once you left the control points with their blue lights, you stepped outside the normal world of electric lights and busy people, of commerce and factory production and all the civilized pursuits.

At first there was a long sloping ramp of concrete, broken away at the edges, surrounded on all sides by plaster walls.

At the side of the twenty-foot rampway, a number of excessively thick and clumsy wires ran in long rolling loops. “What are those?”

“Electric cables,” Delia said at once, before Cargill could open his mouth. “They are part of the construction made by the immortal being for the Outside. We tap them for our own power when necessary, but the Regulations expressly forbid too great a drawing-off of current.”

“Oh,” said Stead. He walked on in the light of their three headlamps. He’d heard a lot about these Regulations. But no one seemed ever to have read them; they merely were, handed on by word of mouth.