Hal Clement - Cycle of Fire

“But the sun Arren shines on the Ramparts, most of the time.”

“Just now, yes; the region I mentioned is a quarter of the way around the planet from the point you speak of.”

“I begin to get the situation,” Kruger said. “I had already realized that Abyormen was traveling in a pretty eccentric orbit around Theer; if what you say is correct Theer itself is doing much the same around Arren.”

“So we have deduced, though the precise size and shape of the path is not known for certain. We have been unable to devise measuring devices which would give us the needed values. We are sure, however, that both suns are much larger than Abyormen and very distant from it, so it seems reasonable to suppose that Abyormen rather than the suns is moving.”

“I can see the sort of thing that must happen to this place; I suppose my last question was wasted — if the temperature changes as you say, it must affect all the life on the planet. I’ve wondered why most of the trees and animals of a particular species seemed to be about the same size, now it’s quite reasonable. Most of them must have started growing at about the same time.”

“I take it that this is not the case on your world.” The words were half a question. Kruger spent some time describing the seasonal changes of Earth and the way in which various forms of life adapted to them.

“It seems, then,” was the Teacher’s comment to this information, “that most of your creatures either continue through the full year at more or less normal activity, or else become dormant for the unsuitable season. On this world the first is not possible, at least not for us, and I find it hard to imagine a creature able to stand the full extremes of Abyormen’s climate. The second seems to me to be extremely wasteful; if one type of life cannot stand the situation for part of the year why should not another take its place during that period?”

“It seems sensible,” admitted Kruger.

“Then what objection do you have to my race’s sharing Abyormen with Dar Lang Ahn’s?”

“None whatever. What bothers me is your treatment of them, forbidding me to tell them enough of the physical sciences to let them get out from under your control. You certainly don’t seem to mind my giving you all the information I can.”

“To me personally, no. To my people, I would have the same objection that I do for Dar Lang Ahn’s.”

“You mean you don’t want your own people to be able to build space ships, supposing I were able to tell them how?”

“I mean just that.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. What objection could you have to some of your people’s wanting to go off and leave Dar’s folk alone?”

“I said long ago that we need Dar’s race, though you chose to interpret my words differently. What is more, his people need ours just as badly, even though Dar Lang Ahn doesn’t know it — his Teachers do, at least.”

“Then why don’t you treat them as friends instead of inferiors?”

“They are friends. I feel a particularly strong attachment for Dar Lang Ahn; that is one reason you were so well treated while you were in this place before, and why I sent my villagers away rather than risk violence when you came this time.”

“If you are so fond of Dar — whom you have never seen before in your life, as nearly as I can see — why did you keep his books? That has bothered him more than anything else that has happened since I have known him.”

“That was for experimental reasons, I am afraid. I wanted to learn more about you. I am sorry that Dar Lang Ahn suffered, but I am glad to have learned something of your capacity for sympathy and friendship. His books will be on the trap at the place where we used to talk as soon as I can get them there after ending this conversation.”

“How about my fire-lighter?”

“Do you really want it? I took it apart, I’m afraid, and am not sure that I could get it back together again. The condenser (he had to stop to explain this word) was, of course, quite familiar to us, but the part that turns the sun’s heat into electricity was not. If you can spare it my scientists would be interested — when we have some.”

“I thought you didn’t want your people to learn too much.”

“I don’t, but I seriously doubt that this particular device will get any of them off the planet. I judge that it is less practical for our purposes than the generators we already use, which tap the volcanic heat of Abyormen.”

“Then you are living underground, near volcanoes where it is hot enough to suit you? I should think from what I saw of this continent that a good many of you must live through the cold time.”

“I am underground, as you say, but there are not many of us. Only four live in this area; similar numbers are in each of our other cities.”

“But you must have a lot more room to live in during your bad season than the others do. They’re cramped under that ice cap…”

“Which is many hundreds of miles across at its smallest. It would be possible to dig caverns and, probably, store food enough for most if not all of the race.”

“And there are volcanoes for I don’t know how many hundreds of miles down the length of that peninsula I followed from the place I was left. In short, there doesn’t seem to be any reason why both races can’t live at full strength all the time. What’s wrong with the idea?”

“I have been giving you hints as to what is wrong with it all through this conversation. I told you each race was necessary to the other; you seem to believe that is due to our laziness. I mentioned that other planets would be unsuitable because they would not kill us at the right time; you appear to have put that down to superstition. I tell you that I have a strong personal interest in Dar Lang Ahn’s welfare, and apparently you simply don’t believe it. You remark on your own that there is no technical impossibility, or even great difficulty, in our remaining alive throughout the year if we choose. Instead of putting all those items together, you treat them as a group of separate impossibilities. I confess I have been trying ever since this conversation started to get some sort of idea of human intelligence, and you are certainly not giving me a high one. Can you honestly not think of an explanation that will embrace all those facts?”

Kruger frowned, and no one spoke for a minute or so; then Dar Lang Ahn made a remark.

“If you are testing intelligence, Teacher, you’d better compare his with mine. I’ve lived on Abyormen all my life and don’t see what you’re driving at.”

“Your training would prevent it.”

“Then I’d like to think that mine does the same thing,” snapped Kruger, somewhat annoyed. “Why should I be able to win your guessing game if he can’t?”

“Very well, I do not wish to cause you anger. The explanation will, I think, be easiest if you give me some words in your language. I understand that individuals of your race are directly concerned with the production of other individuals. What is the newly produced being called?”

“A child — son or daughter, according to…”

“The general term will be enough. Is there a word describing the relationship of two childs produced by the same individual?”

“Brother or sister, according…”

“All right, I will assume either word is usable. I have no child, since I am still alive, but Dar Lang Ahn is a child of my brother.”

The silence was much longer this time, while Nils Kruger fitted piece after piece of the jigsaw puzzle into place, and his attitude grew from one of sheer disbelief, through gradual recognition of the possibilities, to acceptance. “You win — Uncle!” he said weakly, at last. “But I still don’t see…”