Mack Reynolds - Dawnman Planet

For the last half hour the Baron had been throwing curves faster than Ronny Bronston found himself capable of catching. Now he blurted, “What in the world is the other culture like?”

“Fantastically advanced. Among other items, it would seem they have matter conversion units that can make anything out of anything else. It would seem they have fusion reactors, and, hence, unlimited power. Oh yes, an unbelievably advanced technology.”

“What do they look like?”

The Baron paused. “Just a moment.” He played with his screen dials again, said something into an order box. The screen clouded, went clear once more.

On it was an incredibly handsome man. He was dressed in nothing more than brief shorts and sandals. He had a golden-brown coloration, was of bodily perfection seldom seen, and then only among physical culture perfectionists who spend a lifetime achieving it. There was no indication that he was aware of being photographed.

“Who’s that?” Ronny said blankly.

“That’s one of your aliens.”

“Alien! That’s a man .”

“Ummm,” the Baron said. “There’s just one thing in which he differs from man as we know him.”

He paused for effect. “These aliens don’t seem to be intelligent.”

If Bakon Wyler had suddenly metamorphosed into a gigantic butterfly, he could hardly have surprised Ronny Bronston more.

“Not intelligent ?” he protested. “A moment ago you said they had an unbelievably advanced technology. Fusion reactors and matter conversion units aren’t exactly the products of unintelligent minds.”

The Baron looked at him strangely. “Can we be so sure? Have you ever considered some of the things insects accomplish? However, neither as individuals nor as units—such as beehives or anthills—do we think of insects as intelligent. But the analogy isn’t too good. A moment, please.”

He got up, walked over to a wall screen and said something into it, then returned.

“You noted, of course, how humanoid our Dawnman was?”

“Humanoid?” Ronny blurted. “That was a man .”

“Perhaps.” There was still a strange element in the Baron’s voice.

The screen on one of the room’s doors said, “Academecian Count Felix Fitz-james, on orders to see the Supreme Commandant.”

“Enter,” the Baron said.

He made off-hand introductions, then said to Ronny Bronston, “The Count has been specializing in this particular aspect of the matter. Undoubtedly, he will be pleased to enlighten you.” He turned to the Count. “The matter of the nature of the Dawnmen.”

“Dawnmen?” Ronny said.

The Academecian, who was an elderly scholar and somewhat nervous in the presence of his ultimate superior, said, “Undoubtedly a misnomer, but one that has come into common usage among we who are working on the project. One hypothesis is that these aliens are the original Homo sapiens , that Earth was seeded from one of their planets.”

Baron Wyler said affably, “Sit down, my dear Count.”

The Count nervously sat, remaining on the edge of his chair.

Ronny said, “That’s ridiculous. Earth is the origin of man.”

The other nodded, apologetically. “Most likely, Your Excellency; however, there are those among us who think otherwise. You are undoubtedly aware of the theory that would evolve upon various planets. The fact that he stands erect, that his eyes are so placed, that he has a voicebox, so many of the other factors that go to make up the entity, man—all have good reason for having evolved, and given similar situations would evolve on similar worlds as on Earth.”

“I’ve heard the theory,” Ronny begrudged. “I haven’t thought too much about it.”

“Most authorities don’t,” the other bobbed his head agreeably. “However, there are certain factors that give credence to Homo sapiens’ evolution elsewhere. For instance, we know that the earliest man-like creatures, Zinjanthropus and Homo habilis were in existence some two million years ago, and, utilizing very primitive tools and weapons. For two million years little progress was made. And then, almost overnight, in terms of history, modern man was on the scene. Some twenty or twenty-five thousand years ago, Cro-Magnon man burst upon us with his advanced tools, his weapons, his religion, his advanced art.”

“Advanced art?” Ronny protested.

“The cave drawings and paintings of the Magdalenian period in the Upper Paleolithic—especially in such places as Altamira in Spain and Lascaux in France—are not primitive art, as so many seem to think. It is a highly developed art, and, without doubt, connected with their religion. Consider a moment, and you will realize that the very concept of religion is indicative of a sophisticated mind.”

Ronny said impatiently, “I don’t seem to get the point.”

“The point,” the older man said reasonably, “is that possibly Cro-Magnon man was not native to Earth, but was either seeded there, or was the result of an ages-ago spaceship crash.”

Ronny looked at him. “But there is no proof?”

“Not as yet. Perhaps one day it will be found on the Dawnworld planets.”

“Dawnworld?” Ronny said. Then, “Never mind.” He looked at Baron Wyler who had been leaning back in his chair, quiet but beaming encouragement. “What’s this got to do with this preposterous idea that the, uh, Dawnmen aren’t intelligent?”

The Baron said, “Count… ?”

The elderly scholar ran a hand back through thinning hair, as though unhappy. “Your Excellency, are you at all acquainted with the caste system of early India?”

“No.” Ronny hesitated. “That is, not much. I understand that it was one of the reasons India never got very far.”

The academician looked at him unhappily. “Well, that is debatable. From your name and your facial characteristics, Your Excellency, I assume you are of European extraction. Europeans seem to have arrived at the opinion that their efforts have predominated in man’s development. In actuality, few, if any, of man’s really great breakthroughs originated in Europe. Indeed, the Europeans came late on the scene and were largely brought into the march of civilization despite themselves. This particularly applies to the Northern Europeans who are even more prone than others to think of themselves as the undisputed leaders.”

The Baron’s chuckle encouraged the old man.

He went on. “When my own Nordic and Tutonic ancestors were wearing animal skins and tearing their food from bones before campfires, the Indians were developing such advanced concepts as the zero, in mathematics. I mention in passing that the Mayans of Yucatan used the zero even before India. While my ancestors lived in skin-tents or inadequate shacks of wood and bark, large cities were being erected at Mohenjo-Daro and Harappa in the Indus River valley. Elsewhere in Asia and Africa, the wheel, the domestication of animals, agriculture, mathematics, astronomy—I could go on—were being developed. And my ancestors, and yours, Your Excellency…”

“And mine,” the Baron laughed encouragingly.

“… were still in their animal skins. Why, the art of writing has developed, in different form, in various places about the world: in China, in America, in Mesopotamia, in Egypt. The alphabet we use today had its origins in Asia Minor. But to my knowledge, the Europeans had to import writing, never striking upon it on their own.”

The old boy was evidently capable of dwelling upon non-essentials indefinitely , Ronny decided. “All right, all right,” he said. “So the Indians made great strides, in spite of the caste system.”