Damon Knight - Orbit 16

The President was walking his dog on the White House grounds, and the dog attacked something in a clump of shrubbery. The something was a Valenian, still groggy, sore from having crawled upward through a mile or so of clay, and hungry. The thing ate the dog, the President and a bodyguard who rushed across the yard when he heard their cries.

Most of the Valenians surfaced on the North American continent. They always would as long as the queen-egg was secreted in Old Faithful. The heat didn’t bother it, and it had sunk too deeply into the mud bottom to be belched out.

Ten thousand years ago, the world’s medicine men were called upon to get rid of the Valenians with magic. This time, in the twentieth century, scientists were handed the task. They did as well or as poorly as their counterparts of old.

Many people provided meals for the furry giants, but so did a large number of cows, horses, sheep, et cetera. In the meantime, the armies of the world plotted. How could they kill an enemy who was in every city?

The egg in which the nest resided finally hatched in Rockefeller Center, and the world thought victory was at last in sight. They believed the Valenians were like bees and that the nest was necessary for the bugs’ survival.

While the governments planned their strategy for dropping an atom bomb on the nest, Queen Valene was making love to Mattu and growing more pregnant hourly.

Man was too slow in making up his mind. Time ran out. Valene prepared to lay her eggs. The first was carefully dropped into Old Faithful, and it was the largest of all. In ten millennia it would produce the new Valene.

From the geyser, Valene flew to a heavily populated area, which happened to be New York City. Her eggs flowed from her in a deluge. No more would the Valenians eat human flesh. Only the eggs would grow fat on such nourishment. From now on, the Valenians would be strict vegetarians.

Dalia was the second-born of the old Valene, a sweet-natured specimen who never let me out of her sight, except when I was sleeping. She had a deep concavity in her skull where it connected with her backbone, and every day after Blacky and I went through our acrobatic act for the queen’s entertainment, I climbed up Dalia’s side and seated myself in the depression in her head.

She crawled from the nest, spread her wings and flew over the countryside of NYC. I beat her with my fists whenever I wanted her to do something.

We were on the hunt for survivors, and this time we intended to go a far distance. Dalia was always hungry, like me, so whenever she spied an orchard or a garden, she grounded and we had a snack.

It took us twenty hours to get to Africa, and we made two stops to eat. At last we parked on a mountain ridge above a campsite of jungle bunnies and slept until morning.

The natives were restless at sunup. For a thousand years Whitey had been after them to join civilization. They weren’t supposed to hunt with spears or live like savages. Of course, what happened as a result of this was that the niggers didn’t really live at all but were spectators to Whitey’s life. In the meantime, they lost their spears and ate what Whitey tossed them.

At any rate, this morning, civilization was gone. Valene and her slaves had demolished the status quo. This bunch of niggers that Dalia and I watched were restless because their stomachs hurt.

They had the oldest member of the tribe for breakfast, after which they griped because he had made tough chewing. These were educated niggers, spoke English and had up-to-date catalogs in their outhouses. During the gab session, some old buck suggested that a virgin be on the menu from then on. He put up a good argument, concluded by pointing out that a virgin was like a tasty dessert, you could have it and eat it too. This served as a reminder to all that they hadn’t had any dessert after breakfast, so every girl in the group started running. The last Dalia and I saw of the tribe, they were hauling down on some young critter.

My people were doing the same thing in NYC. On top of buildings, in alleys, in offices. With no fire, more times than not. They ate a lot of black meat. I saw them eating rats, too, but they didn’t care what color they were.

I saw a crippled man walking down the street. So did a fellow on top of a building. He slid down a rope and, knife in hand, approached the crippled man. From the buildings poured a horde of hungries. They took the fellow’s knife from him and used it to parcel him out.

I saw a child walking down the street. It was the same story. This time three men tried to jump her. The meal was three times more substantial.

Didn’t anybody eat vegetables? Well, where in NYC were any? A human didn’t dare go in a food store, for there was likely to be a Valenian dining in it.

I saw a horse running down the street, a pack of human savages chasing it with a net. I gave Dalia a whack on the head to gain her attention, squeezed her neck with my legs and guided her to a spot over the savages.

“Let ‘em have it,” I told her, and she did.

Her belly sent an avalanche of spears to the ground. By and by the horse came back and ate half of somebody. Pretty soon he got sick and died. I had Dalia let go with a circle of spears around his body. No one bothered that horse, not that day or any other.

I was no longer afraid of the Valenians or the nest or anything else. Blacky and I didn’t sleep in the shack; now we slept in a hole in the nest. The Council Chamber held no terror for us. It was simply a room in the nest, a big hollow area where Valene and her Council rested most of the time.

Mattu was a gorgeous creature. An orator by nature, he could spout for hours, and after I learned the language, I argued with him.

“Our life span is so short and we have killed so many.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “You aren’t abstract enough.”

“Should I try to pretend that it hasn’t happened?” he said, a bitter light in his eyes.

“That isn’t a bad idea.”

The rulers in the Chamber stirred, stood on their short legs.

“Come before me,” said Valene.

I hopped onto my hands and she had fun licking me all over.

“Mama, don’t do too much. Leave some of her for me.” This was Dalia speaking.

“You love her?” said Foster-mama Valene.

“Very much.”

“You would take my pleasure?” said Monarch Valene.

“Never.”

“Very well, you can have a lick.”

While this went on, Blacky crouched in a corner and whimpered.

“Get the hell over here,” I said. “You think I can take this much goosing all the time?”

“Don’t kid me,” she sniveled, “you love it.”

“What’s wrong with being a hedonist? There’s no God. If there’s no best, there’s no worst.”

“You been getting Dalia to kill people. How many do you think are left?”

“What does it matter?”

“Nothing, except that you’re human.”

“Pooh-pooh. I’m here, they’re there. Where’s the resemblance?”

“You lousy atheist.”

I laughed. “With those words you explained reality. I can’t see why there was ever a fuss made about it. No good, no bad, no great, no small, nothing, no nothing other than what I do, do, do, do, do—”

“Shut up!”

“Mattu, why do you want to die?” I said.

“It isn’t a matter of desire. From the beginning, it was the pattern.”

“Do you think you have a circle built into your brain?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, you haven’t. Your brain is like mine. It is a thing. It doesn’t travel the same course as your father’s. He didn’t see or want what you do. In other words, you were a tabula rasa at birth.”