Stanisław Lem - Solaris

“Or nothing.”

“Or nothing, and to be honest I’d rather it was nothing, not even because I’m afraid (though I guess that plays a part, I’m not sure), but because it won’t do any good. That’s the one thing I’m certain of.”

“It won’t do any good? Why not? Is it about the… the ocean?”

She shuddered.

“That’s right. It’s about contact. In my view, the whole thing is in essence extremely simple. Contact means an exchange of experiences, concepts, or at least results, conditions. But what if there’s nothing to exchange? If an elephant isn’t a very large bacterium, then an ocean can’t be a very large brain. Of course, various actions can be performed by both sides. As a result of one of them I’m looking at you right now and trying to explain to you that you’re more precious to me than the twelve years of my life I devoted to Solaris, and that I want to go on being with you. Perhaps your appearance was meant to be torture, perhaps a reward, or perhaps just a test under a microscope. An expression of friendship, a treacherous blow, perhaps a taunt? Perhaps everything at once or — as seems most likely to me — something entirely different. But what can you and I really care about the intentions of our parents, however different they were from one another? You can say that our future depends on those intentions, and I’d agree with you. I can’t predict what’s to come. Nor can you. I can’t even assure you I’ll always love you. If so much has already happened, then anything can happen. Maybe tomorrow I’ll turn into a green jellyfish? It doesn’t depend on me. But in what does depend on us, we’ll be together. Is that not something?”

“Listen,” she said, “there’s one other thing. Am I… really like… her?”

“You were,” I said, “but now I don’t know any more.”

“What do you mean…?”

She got to her feet and looked at me with eyes wide open.

“You’ve already taken her place.”

“And you’re sure it’s not her but me that you… Me?”

“Yes. You. I don’t know. I’m afraid that if you were really her, I’d not be able to love you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I did something terrible.”

“To her?”

“Yes. When we were—”

“Don’t say.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to know that I’m not her.”

The next day, when I came back from lunch I found a note from Snaut on the table by the window. He reported that for the moment Sartorius was holding off with work on the annihilator so as to make one last attempt at irradiating the ocean with a bundle of hard rays.

“Darling,” I said, “I have to go see Snaut.”

The red dawn was blazing in the window panes and dividing the room in two. We were in the pale blue shadow. Beyond its border everything looked like it was made of copper; you might have thought each book would clang if it fell from the shelf.

“It’s about the experiment. But I’m not sure how to go about it. You understand, I’d rather…”

“There’s no need to explain yourself, Kris. I so wish I could… Maybe if it didn’t last long?”

“It’ll have to take a little while,” I said. “Listen, how about you go with me and wait in the corridor?”

“All right. But if it’s too much for me?”

“What’s it actually like?” I said, adding quickly: “I’m not asking out of curiosity, you understand; but maybe if you figured it out you could overcome it yourself.”

“It’s fear,” she said. She turned a little pale. “I can’t even say what it is I’m afraid of, because really I’m not afraid, I just lose myself. At the last moment I also feel this, this shame, I can’t explain. Then nothing more. That’s why I thought it was some kind of illness…” she finished more quietly, and shuddered.

“Perhaps it’s only that way on this damn Station,” I said. “As for me, I’m going to do everything I can for us to leave here as soon as we can.”

“Do you think that’s possible?” she said, opening her eyes wide.

“Why not? I mean, I’m not shackled to the place… Though it’ll also depend on what I decide with Snaut. What do you think? Will you be able to be alone for long?”

“It depends…,” she said slowly. She lowered her head. “So long as I can hear your voice I should be fine.”

“I’d rather you didn’t hear what we’re saying. Not that I have anything to hide from you, but I don’t know, I can’t know, what Snaut will say.”

“Say no more. I understand. All right. I’ll put myself somewhere where I can only hear the sound of your voice. That’ll do.”

“Then I’ll call him right away from the lab. I’ll leave the door open.” She nodded. I walked through the wall of red rays and out into the corridor which, from the contrast, seemed almost pitch black despite the artificial lighting. The door of the small laboratory was wide open. The reflective shards of the Dewar flask lying on the floor by the row of large liquid oxygen cylinders were the last signs of the nighttime events. The small screen lit up when I took the receiver and called the radio station. The blueish membrane of light that seemed to coat the lusterless glass from within suddenly broke, and Snaut was leaning over the arm of a tall chair and looking straight into my eyes.

“Hello there,” he said.

“I read your note. I’d like to talk. Can I come over?”

“Sure. Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Will you… have company?”

“No.”

His gaunt, sunburned face with thick wrinkles on the forehead, tilting in the convex glass screen like some bizarre fish peering from its aquarium, assumed an ambiguous expression.

“Well, well,” he said. “I’ll be expecting you.”

“We can go, darling,” I began with a not entirely natural animation as I entered the cabin through swathes of red light beyond which I could only make out Harey’s looming silhouette. My voice failed me; she was sitting clinging to the chair, her elbows locked under the armrests. Whether she hadn’t heard my footsteps in time, or hadn’t been able to release her terrified grip quickly enough to take on a normal pose — whatever the reason, suffice it to say that I saw her for a moment grappling with the incomprehensible power that lay concealed within her, and my heart was overcome with a blind fury mingled with pity. We walked in silence down the long corridor, passing its various sections that were painted in different-colored enamel, something the architects had intended to lend variety to life inside the armored shell. From far off I saw the open door of the radio station. It let out a long band of red light into the corridor, since the sun reached there as well. I glanced at Harey, who didn’t even try to smile; I could see how the whole way there she was intently preparing for the struggle with herself. The approaching effort has already changed her face, which was pale and seemed to have grown smaller. Ten or fifteen steps from the door she came to a halt. I turned towards her; with her fingertips she gave me a gentle push to tell me to keep walking. All at once my plans, Snaut, the experiment, the whole Station, it all seemed nothing to me compared to the torment she was now facing. I felt like a torturer, and I was about to turn back when a human shadow appeared in the broad strip of sunlight bending against the wall. I quickened my pace and entered the cabin. Snaut was just across the threshold, as if he’d been coming to meet me. The red sun was directly behind him and a crimson glare seemed to radiate from his gray hair. We looked at each other for a good while without saying anything. He seemed to be studying my face. I was blinded by the light from the window and couldn’t see his expression. I walked past him and stood by the high console bristling with the curving stems of microphones. He turned slowly around on the spot, following me calmly with that slight twist of the mouth of his that, almost without changing at all, became now a smile, now a grimace of exhaustion. Without taking his eyes off me, he went up to the metal cabinet that occupied the entire wall, in front of which on either side were heaps of spare radio parts, thermic batteries and tools that seemed to have been piled there hurriedly and chaotically. He pulled up a chair and sat down, leaning his head against the enameled door of the cabinet.