Damon Knight: Orbit 17

It was noted that none of the tricephs seemed to use any one hand in preference to the other eight. Robert thought long about this. He himself had been taught to write with the hand to the right of his primary head. He was beginning to realize that the nature of intelligence was many-faceted and little understood. A seed of hope had been planted within him eight months before, in the ship’s lounge. And now it was taking root.

The tricephs were hermaphroditic and mated once a year (approximately fourteen and a third Earth months). Each paired with only one other individual, and the pairing lasted little longer than a day. Only about ten percent of the matings resulted in offspring. Pregnancy lasted five months, resulting in one egg, which the parent carried in its pouch until it hatched six months later. It took seven months for the young triceph to graduate from the pouch, after which all the elders cared for all the young indiscriminately. Fifteen years later, it reached physical maturity. The life-span was as yet unknown, but there was some indication that it might average around seventy of our years. For all its observations, the team was unable to find absolute proof that triceph sentience existed. If it was proven that the tricephs were sentient, the government would forbid colonization of the planet.

Almost fifteen years after the tricephs were discovered, three of their eggs appeared outside the main entrance to the base. Dr. Edward Simpson was the first to leave that morning, and it was he who discovered the eggs. They had been placed in a huddle directly in front of the entrance, and covered with grass. The eggs were warm, and could not have been there long. The land around the base was flat and had been cleared for half a mile. There was not a triceph in sight.

Robert entered the elevator at C, and Dr. Layton at D. Coincidence had placed them alone together for the first time in a year. The silence was loud. A mutual hatred permeated the air, almost stifling them in the small compartment. As they stepped out into the lounge, Layton admitted to an awareness of Robert’s presence.

“So how’s our three-headed blue anthropologist?”

“Doing quite well, thank you.”

“Is that a touch of pride I hear? Well, I guess you have some right to it. In only one year’s time, you’ve managed to destroy the lifework of at least thirty people.”

“I haven’t ruined your experiment, I’ve changed it.”

“Oh, really? I’d like to hear the new hypothesis.”

“Triceph intelligence is equal to, but different from human intelligence.”

“That’s two hypotheses.”

“All right.”

“And a good scientist phrases his hypotheses in the negative. It aids objectivity.”

“But you want me to be subjective.”

“A subjective triceph. Not a subjective human.”

Oddly, they were both taken aback by his remark, and they stared at each other in silence. Finally Layton spoke, and Robert was surprised to hear a note of pleading in his voice.

“Don’t you understand how important this is? Do you realize the time and the money that has gone into it? The government won’t wait indefinitely. If this experiment fails, the project will be abandoned, and the best we can hope is that they will leave the planet uncolonized. Look, Robert, after all this is over, there will be plenty of time for you to study whatever you want.”

“You don’t understand, Layton. There isn’t going to be any ‘after this is over’ for me. I’m going home.”

They were at a picnic and Robert thought the mood was unusually dismal. Then he realized why. The world was a deep blue-grey. It was dawn, and everyone was cold. Later, perhaps, when the sun came out, they would become warm and happy.

“Mom, I’m hungry.”

She gave the sandwich to Dr. Layton, and he held it up for Robert. “Speak, Robby, speak.”

Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. And they could hear children laughing.

Robert reached out a human hand and took the sandwich.

“Mom, I’m cold. Can’t we go home?”

“You go, Robby, we want to stay here.”

Robert stood, and Susie grinned up at him. “We can hardly see you against the sky.”

Robert woke up, shaking. As usual when he had had this dream, he lay awake for some time, listening to the sounds of the ship. Until, gradually, sleep overtook his fear.

Earth, Robert thought, and knew that he was wrong. He had seen the green vegetation and the blue sky in the videos, but he had never expected it to feel so familiar.

“What do you think of it?” Layton asked.

“Like home.” The words escaped him before he realized what he had said.

“Yes, well, it will seem even more that way, once you get used to it.” The scientist had completely misunderstood him.

Robert entered the forest on a practice run. Now, for the first time, he actually felt that he was on another planet. In motion, he could not forget the tug of the slightly stronger gravity. And on closer scrutiny, the vegetation had an alien shape. Even the veins of the leaves stretched in multiples of three. But leaves they were, green and functioning like the vegetation of Earth. A horizontal forest, Robert thought. Although it reached up for the sun, everything seemed interconnected aboveground. He rarely saw the earth, even in the fields; it was covered with a blanket of vegetation. And in the forest, he could travel on any one of several levels of limbs. He felt awkward at first, yet he found that he was leaving his human companions far behind. With a little practice he would move like a native.

“Are you ready, Robert?” Dr. Layton smiled, a poor attempt at good will.

“Yes.”

“We’ll fly you over.”

“No, I’ll walk.”

“It’s a long way.”

“For you, maybe. I was made for these woods.”

“Yes, you were. You’ll blend in fine.”

“Are you sure you won’t forget which triceph I am?”

“Don’t worry about that. And there’ll be a robosensor on you at all times.”

“I forgot.”

“That’s good. Forget as much as you can. Become one of them.”

“I might forget altogether, and fail to keep our appointment.”

“I’ll see you in six months.”

“Maybe.”

“Robert, have you ever heard of Jamison’s theory?”

“I know both Jamison and his theory very well.”

“That’s right, he worked with you for a while, didn’t he?”

“He tested me, if that’s what you mean. His theory has it that triceph intelligence has deteriorated, since the conditions on this planet no longer require it for survival. This accounts for their apparent lack of speech and curiosity. And their emotions have become shallow for the same reason. Aggressiveness, in particular, is pointless when all needs are met with little effort, and there are no enemies. Their unexplainable behavior represents half-remembered activities, perhaps, by now, instincts, passed on from generation to generation, and carried out without understanding or reason. Oh yes, and I’m explained as a sort of super-

Kathleen M. Sidney intelligent monkey, appearing brighter than I am, because I’ve been brought up among humans and have learned their habits. My existence suggests that we’re capable of learning, but the almost mindless existence of the tricephs suggests that we’re no longer capable of originating ideas.”

“You’re out to disprove that, aren’t you?” “Yes.”

“As a scientist?”

“As an anthropologist.”

“Yes, you are an anthropologist. Without a degree, but I think you’ve studied enough to warrant the title.” It occurred to Robert that Layton was a chess player. “What would you say is the most important thing an anthropologist must learn?”

The answer was unavoidable. “Objectivity.” “Exactly.”