James Blish - Thing In the Attic

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BOOK TWO

THE THING

IN THE ATTIC

. . . And it is written that after the Giants came to

Tellura from the far stars, they abode a while, and

looked upon the surface of the land, and found it

-wanting, arid of evil omen. Therefore did they make

man to live always in the air and in the sunlight, and

in the light of the stars, that he would be reminded of

them. And the Giants abode yet a -while, and taught men

to speak, and to write, and to -weave, and to do many

things which are needful to do, of -which the writings

speak. And thereafter they departed to the far stars,

saying. Take this world as your own, and though we shall

return, fear not, for it is yours.

THE BOOK OF LAWS

Honath the Purse-Maker was haled from the nets an hour

before the rest of the prisoners, as befitted his role as the arch-

doubter of them all. It was not yet dawn, but his captors led

him in great bounds through the endless, musky-perfumed

orchid gardens, small dark shapes with crooked legs, hunched

shoulders, slim hairless tails, carried, like his, in concentric

spirals wound clockwise. Behind than sprang Honath on the

end of a long tether, timing his leaps by theirs, since any slip

would hang him summarily.

He would of course be on his way to the surface/some 250

feet below the orchid gardens, shortly after dawn in any event.

But not even the arch-doubter of them all wanted to begin

the tripnot even at the merciful snap-spine end of a tether

a moment before the law said. Go.

The looping, interwoven network of vines beneath them,

each cable as thick through as a man's body, bellied out and

down sharply as the leapers reached the edge of the fern-tree

forest which surrounded the copse of horsetails. The whole

party stopped before beginning the descent and looked east-

ward, across the dim bowl. The stars were paling more and

more rapidly; only the bright constellation of the Parrot could

still be picked out without doubt.

"A fine day," one of the guards said, convefgationally.

"Better to go below on a sunny day than in the rain, Purse-

Maker."

Honath shuddered and said nothing. Of course, it was al-

ways raining down below in Hell, that much could be seen by

a child. Even on sunny days, the endless pinpoint rain of

transpiration, from the hundred million leaves of the eternal

trees, hazed the forest air and soaked the black bog forever.

He looked around in the brightening, misty morning. The

eastern horizon was black against the limb of the great red

sun, which had already risen about a third of its diameter; it

was almost time for the small, blue-white, furiously hot con-

sort to follow. All the way to that brink, as to every other

horizon, the woven ocean of the tree tops flowed gently in

long, unbreaking waves, featureless as some smooth oil. Only

nearby could the eye break that ocean into its details, into the

world as it was: a great, many-tiered network, thickly over-

grown with small ferns, with air-drinking orchids, with a

thousand varieties of fungi sprouting wherever vine crossed

vine and collected a little humus for them, with the vivid par-

asites sucking sap from the vines, the trees, and even each

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other. In the ponds of rainwater collected by the closely

fitting leaves of the bromelaids, tree-toads and peepers stopped

down their hoarse songs dubiously as the light grew. and fell

silent one by one. In the trees below the world, the tentative

morning screeches of the lizard-birdsthe souls of the

damned, or the devils who hunted them, no one was quite

sure whichtook up the concert.

A small gust of wind whipped out of the hollow above the

glade of horsetails, making the network under the party shift

slightly, as if in a loom. Honath gave with it easily, automat-

ically, but one of the smaller vines toward which he had

moved one furless hand hissed at him and went pouring away

into the darkness beneatha chlorophyll-green snake, come

up out of the dripping aerial pathways in which it hunted in

ancestral gloom, to greet the suns and dry its scales in the

quiet morning. Farther below, an astonished monkey, routed

out of its bed by the disgusted serpent, sprang into another

tree, reeling off ten mortal insults, one after the other, while

still in mid-leap. The snake, of course, paid no attention, since

it did not speak the language of men; but the party on the

edge of the glade of horsetails snickered appreciatively.

"Bad language they favor, below," another of the guards

said. "A fit place for you and your blasphemers, Purs&-

Maker. Come now."

The tether at Honath's neck twitched, and then his captors

were soaring in zig-zag bounds down into the hollow toward

the Judgment Seat. He followed, since he had no choice, the

tether threatening constantly to foul his arms, legs, or tail,

andworse, far worsemaking his every movement mor-

tally ungraceful. Above, the Parrot's starry plumes flickered

and faded into the general blue.

Toward the center of the saucer above the grove, the

stitched leaf-and-leather houses clustered thickly, bound to

the vines themselves, or hanging from an occasional branch

too high or too slender to bear the vines. Many of these

purses Honath kn6w well, not only as visitor but as artisan.

The finest of them, the inverted flowers which opened auto-

matically as the morning dew bathed them, yet which could be

closed tightly and safely around their occupants at dusk by a

single draw-string, were his own design as well as his own

handiwork. They had been widely admired and imitated.

The reputation that they had given him, too, had helped to

bring him to the end of the snap-spine tether. They had given

weight to his words among othersweight enough to make

him, at last, the arch-doubter, the man who leads the young

into blasphemy, the man who questions the Book of Laws.

And they had probably helped to win him his passage on

the Elevator to Hell.

The purses were already opening as the party swung among

them. Here and there, sleepy faces biinked out from amid the

exfoliating sections, criss-crossed by relaxing lengths of dew-

soaked rawhide. Some of the awakening householders rec-

ognized Honath, of that he was sure, but none came out to

follow the partythough the villagers should be beginning

to drop from the hearts of their stitched flowers like ripe seed-

pods by this hour of any normal day.

A Judgment was at hand, and they knew itand even

those who had slept the night in one of Honath's finest houses

would not speak for him now. Everyone knew, after all, that

Honath did not believe in the Giants.

Honath could see the Judgment Seat itself now, a slung

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chair of woven cane crowned along the back with a row of

gigantic mottled orchids. These had supposedly been trans-

planted there when the chair was made, but no one could

remember how old they were; since there were no seasons,

there was no particular reason why they should not have

been there forever. The Seat itself was at the back of the

arena and high above it, but in the gathering light Honath

could make out the white-furred face of the Tribal Spokes-

man, like a lone silver-and-black pansy among the huge vivid

blooms.

At the center of the arena proper was the Elevator itself.

Honath had seen it often enough, and had himself witnessed

Judgments where it was called into use, but he could still

hardly believe that he was almost surely to be its next pas-

senger. It consisted of nothing more than a large basket, deep

enough so that one would have to leap out of it, and rimmed

with thorns to prevent one from leaping back in. Three

hempen ropes were tied to its rim, and were then cunningly

interwound on a single-drum windlass of wood, which

could be turned by two men even when the basket was loaded.

The procedure was equally simple. The condemned man

was forced into the basket, and the basket lowered out of

sight, until the slackening of the ropes indicated that it had

touched the surface. The victim climbed outand if he did

not, the basket remained below until he starved or until Hell

otherwise took care of its ownand the windlass was re-

wound.

The sentences were for varying periods of time according to

the severity of the crime, but in practical terms this formality

was empty. Although the basket was dutifully lowered when

the sentence had expired, no one had ever been known to get

back into it. Of course, in a world without seasons or moons,

and hence without any but an arbitrary year, long periods of

time are not easy to count accurately. The basket may often

have arrived thirty or forty days to one side or the other of

the proper date. This was only a technicality, however, for if

keeping time was difficult in the attic world, it was probably

impossible in Hell.

Hoifcth's guards tied the free end of his tether to a branch

and settled down around him. One abstractedly passed a

pine cone to him, and he tried to occupy his mind with the

business of picking the ]uicy seeds from it, but somehow they

had no flavor.

More captives were being brought in now, while the Spokes-

man watched with glittering black eyes from his high perch.

There was Mathild the Forager, shivering as if with ague,

the fur down her left side glistening and spiky, as though she

had inadvertently overturned a tank plant on herself. After

her was .brought Alaskon the Navigator, a middle-aged man

only a few years younger than Honath himself; he was tied

up next to Honath, where he settled down at once, chewing

at a joint of cane with apparent indifference.

Thus far, the gathering had proceeded without more than

a few words being spoken, but that ended when the guards

tried to bring Seth the Needlesmith from the nets. He could

be heard at onoe, over the entire distance to the glade, al-

ternately chattering and shrieking in a mixture of tones that

might mean fear or fury. Everyone in the glade but Alaskon

turned to look, and heads emerged from purses like new but-

terflies from cocoons.

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A moment later, Seth's guards .came over the lip of the

glade in a tangled group, now shouting themselves. Some-

where in the middle of the knot Seth's voice became still

louder; obviously he was clinging with all five members to

any vine or frond he could grasp, 'and was no sooner pried

loose from one than he would leap by main force, backwards

if possible, to another. Nevertheless, he was being brought

inexorably down into the arena, two feet forward, one foot

back, three feet forward . . .

Honath's guards resumed picking their pine cones. During

the disturbance, Honath realized, Charl the Reader had been

brought in quietly from the same side of the glade. He now

sat opposite Alaskon, looking apathetically down at the vine-

web, his shoulders hunched forward. He exuded despair; even

to look at him made Honath feel a renewed shudder.

From the high Seat, the Spokesman said: "Honath the

Purse-maker, Alaskon the Navigator, Charl the Reader, Seth

the Needlesmith, Mathild the Forager, you are called to an-

swer to justice."

"Justicel" Seth shouted, springing free of his captors with

,a tremendous bound, and bringing up with a jerk on the

end of his tether. "This is no justicel I have nothing to do

with"

The guards caTight up with him and clamped brown hands

firmly over his mouth. The Spokesman watched with amused

malice.

"The accusations are three," the Spokesman said. "The first,

the telling of lies to children. Second, the casting into doubt

of the divine order among men. Third, the denial of the Book

of Laws. Each of you. may speak in order of age. Honath the

Purse-Maker, your plea may be heard."

Honath stood up, trembling a little, but feeling a surpris-

ingly renewed surge of his old independence.

"Your charges," he said, "all rest upon the denial of the

Book of Laws. I have taught nothing else that is contrary to

what we all believe, and called nothing else into doubt. And I

deny the charge."

The Spokesman looked down at him with disbelief. "Many

men and women have said that you do not believe in the

Giants, Purse-Maker," he said. "You will not win mercy by

piling up more lies."

"I deny the charge," Honath insisted. "I believe in the Book

of Laws as a whole, and I believe in the Giants. I have taught

only that the Giants were not real in the sense that we are

real. I have taught that they were intended as symbols of

- some higher reality, and were not meant to be taken as literal

Persons."

"What higher reality is this?" the Spokesman demanded.

"Describe it."

"You ask me to do something the writers of the Book of

Laws themselves couldn't do," Honath said hotly. "If they had

to embody the reality in symbols rather than writing it down

directly, how could a mere pursemaker do better?"

"This doctrine is wind," the Spokesman said. "And it is

plainly intended to undercut authority and the order es-

tablished, by the Book. Tell me, Purse-Maker, if man need

not fear the Giants, why should they fear the law?"

"Because they are men, and it is to their interest to fear

the law. They aren't children, who need some physical Giant

sitting over them with a whip to make them behave. Further-

more, Spokesman, this archaic belief itself undermines us. As

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long as we believe that there are real Giants, and that some

day they'll return and resume teaching us, so long will we

fail to seek answers to our questions for ourselves. Half of

what we know was given to us in the Book, and the other

half is supposed to drop to us from the skies if we wait long

enough. In the meantime, we vegetate."

"If a part of the Book be untrue, there can be nothing to

prevent that it is all untrue," the Spokesman said heavily.

"And we will lose even what you call the half of our knowl-

edgewhich is actually the whole of it, to those who see with

clear eyes."

Suddenly, Honath lost his temper. "Lose it, then!" he

shouted. "Let us unlearn everything we know only by rote, go

back to the beginning, learn all over again, and continue to

learn, from our own experience. Spokesman, you are an old

man, but there are still some of us who haven't forgotten what

curiosity means!"

"Quiet!" the Spokesman said. "We have heard enough. We

call on Alaskon the Navigator."

"Much of the Book is clearly untrue," Alaskon said flatly,

rising. "As a handbook of small trades it has served us well.

As a guide to how the universe is made, it is nonsense, in my

opinion; Honath is too kind to it. I've made no secret of what

I think, and I still think it."

"And will pay for it," the Spokesman said, blinking slowly

down at Alaskon. "Chart the Reader."

"Nothing," Charl said, without standing, or even looking up.

"You do not deny the charges?"

"I've nothing to say," Charl said, but then, abruptly, his

head jerked up, and he glared with desperate eyes at the

Spokesman. "I can read. Spokesman. I have seen words of the

Book of Laws that contradict each other. I've pointed them

out. They're facts, they exist on the pages. I've taught noth-

ing, told no lies, preached no unbelief. I've pointed to the

facts. That's all."

"Seth the Needlesmith, you may speak now."

The guards took their hands gratefully off Seth's mouth;

they had been bitten several times in the process of keeping

him quiet up to now. Seth resumed shouting at once.

"I'm no part of this groupl I'm the victim of gossip, envious

neighbors, smiths jealous of my skill and my custom! No

man can say worse of me than that I sold needles to this

pursemakersold them in good faith! The charges against me

are lies. all of them!"

Honath jumped to his feet in fury, and then sat down again,

choking back the answering shoUt almost without tasting its

bitterness. What did it matter? Why should he bear witness

against the young man? It would not help the others, and if

Seth wanted to lie his way out of Hell, he might as well be

given the chance.

The Spokesman was looking down at Seth with the identi-

cal expression of outraged disbelief which he had first bent

upon Honath. "Who was it cut the blasphemies into the hard-

wood trees, by the house of Hosi the Lawgiver?" he demand-

ed. "Sharp needles were at work there, and there are witnesses

to say that your hands held them."

"More lies!"

"Needles found in your house fit the furrows, Seth."

"They were not mineor they were stolen! I demand to be

freed!"

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"You will be freed," the Spokesman said coldly. .There was

no possible doubt as to what he meant. Seth began to weep

and to shout at the same time. Hands closed over his mouth

again. "Mathild the Forager, your plea may be heard."

The young woman stood up hesitantly. Her fur Was nearly

dry now, but she was still shivering.

"Spokesman," she said, "I saw the things which Charl the

Reader showed me. I doubted, but what Honath said restored

my belief. I see no harm in his teachings. They remove doubt,

instead of fostering it, as you say they do. I see no evil in

them, and I don't understand why this is a crime."

Honath looked over to her with new admiration. The

Spokesman sighed heavily.

"I am sorry for you," he said, "but as Spokesman we can-

not allow ignorance of the Law as a plea. We will be merci-

ful to you all, however. Renounce your heresy, affirm your

belief in the Book as it is written from bark to bark, and you

shall be no more than cast out of the tribe."

"I renounce it!" Seth said. "I never shared it! It's all blas-

phemy and every word is a lie! I believe in the Book, all of

it!"

"You, Needlesmith," the Spokesman said, "have lied before

this Judgment, and are probably lying now. You are not in-

cluded in the dispensation."

"Snake-spotted caterpillar! May yoururnmulph."

"Purse-Maker, what is your answer?"

"It is. No," Honath said stonily. "I've spoken the truth.

The truth can't be unsaid."

The Spokesman looked down at the rest of them. "As for

you three, consider your answers carefully. To share the

heresy means sharing the sentence. The penalty will not be

lightened only because you did not invent the heresy."

There was a long silence.

Honath swallowed hard. The courage and 'the faith in that

silence made him feel smaller and more helpless than ever.

He realized suddenly that the other three would have kept

that silence, even without Seth's defection to stiffen their

spines. He wondered if he could have done so.

"Then we pronounce the sentence," the Spokesman said.

"You are one and all condemned to one thousand days in

Hell.'"

There was a concerted gasp from around the edges of the

arena, where, without Honath's having noticed it before, a

silent crowd had gathered. He did not wonder at the sound.

The sentence was the longest in the history of the tribe.

Not that it really meant anything. No one had ever come

back from as little as one hundred days in Hell. No one had

ever come back from Hell at all.

"Unlash the Elevator. All shall go togetherand theil

heresy with them."

The basket swayed. The last of the attic world that Honath

saw was a circle of faces, not too close to the gap in the vine

web, peering down after them. Then the basket fell another

few yards to the next turn of the windlass and the faces van-

ished.

Seth was weeping in the bottom of the Elevator, curled up

into a tight ball, the end of his tail wrapped around his nose

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and eyes. No one else could make a sound, least of all Hon-

ath.

The gloom closed around them. It seemed extraordinarily

still. The occasional harsh scream of a lizard-bird somehow

emphasized the silence without breaking it. The light that

filtered down into the long aisles between the trees seemed to

be absorbed in a blue-green haze, through which the lianas

wove their long curved lines. The columns of tree-trunks, the

pillars of the world, stood all around them, too distant in the

dim light to allow them to gauge their speed of descent; only

- the irregular plunges of the basket proved that it was even

in motion any longer, though it swayed laterally in a com-

plex, overlapping series of figure-eights traced on the air in

response to the rotation of the planeta Foucault pendulum

ballasted with five lives.

Then the basket lurched downward once more, brought up

short, and tipped sidewise, tumbling them all against the hard

cane. Mathild cried out in a thin voice, and Seth uncurled al-

most instantly, clawing for a handhold. Another lurch, arid

the Elevator lay down on its side and was still.

They were in Hell.

Cautiously, Honath began to climb out, picking his way

over the long thorns on the basket's rim. After a moment,

Chart the Reader followed, and then Alaskon took Mathild

firmly by the hand and led her out onto the surface. The foot-

ing was wet and spongy, yet not at all resilient, and it felt

cold; Honath's toes curled involuntarily.

"Come on, Seth," Charl said in a hushed voice. "They

won't haul it back up until we're all out. You know that."

Alaskon looked around into the chilly mists. "Yes," he

said. "And we'll need a needlesmith down here. With good

tools, there's just a chance"

Seth's eyes had been darting back and forth from one to

the other. With a sudden chattering scream, he bounded out

of the bottom of the basket, soaring over their heads in a

long, flat leap, and struck the high knee at the base of the

nearest tree, an immense fan palm. As he hit, his legs doubled

under him, and almost in the same motion he seemed to rocket

straight up into the murky air.

Gaping, Honath looked up after him. The young needle-

smith had timed his course to the split second. He was already

darting up the rope from which the Elevator was suspended.

He did not even bother to look back.

After a moment, the basket tipped upright. The impact of

Seth's weight hitting the rope evidently had been taken by the

windlass team to mean that the condemned people were all

out on the surface; a twitch on the rope was the usual signal.

The basket began to rise, bobbing and dancing. Its speed of

ascent, added to Seth's, took his racing dwindling figure out

of sight quickly. After a while, the basket was gone, too.

"He'll never get to the top," Mathild whispered. "It's too

far, and he's going too fast. He'll lose strength and fall."

"I don't think so," Alaskon said heavily. "He's agile and

strong. If anyone could make it, he could."

"They'll km him if he does."

"Of course they will," Alaskon said, shrugging.

"I won't miss him," Honath said.

"No more will 1. But we could use some sharp needles down

here, Honath. Now, we'll have to plan to make our ownif

we can identify the different woods, down here where there

aren't any leaves to help us tell them apart."

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Honath looked at the Navigator curiously. Seth's bolt for

the sky had distracted him from the realization that the bas-

ket, too, was gone, but now that desolate fact hit home. "You

actually plan to stay alive in Hell, don't you, Alaskon?"

"Certainly," Alaskon said calmly. "This is no more Hell than

up thereis Heaven. It's the surface of the planet, no

more, no less. We can stay alive if we don't panic. Were you

just going to sit here until the furies came for you, Honath?"

"I hadn't thought much about it," Honath confessed. "But

if there is any chance that Seth will lose his grip on that rope

before he reaches the top and they knife himshouldn't

we wait and see if we can catch him? He can't weigh more

than 35 pounds. Maybe we could contrive some sort of a

net"

"He'd just break our bones along with his," Chart said. "I'm

for getting out of here as fast as possible."

"What for? Do you know a better place?"

"No, but whether this is Hell or not, there are demons down

here. We've all seen them from up above, the snake-headed

giants. They must know that the Elevator always lands here

and empties out free food. This must be a feeding-ground for

them"

He had not quite finished speaking when the branches

began to sigh and toss, far above. A gust of stinging droplets

poured along the blue air, and thunder rumbled. Mathild

whimpered.

"It's only a squall coming up," Honath said. But the words

came out in a series of short croaks. As the wind had moved

through the trees, Honath had automatically flexed his knees

and put his arms out for handholds, awaiting the long wave

of response to pass through the ground beneath him. But

nothing happened. The surface under his feet remained stol-

idly where it was, flexing not a fraction of an inch in any di-

rection. And there was nothing nearby for his hands to grasp.

He staggered, trying to compensate for the failure of the

ground to move, but at the same moment another gust of

wind blew through the aisles, a little stronger than the first,

and calling insistently for a new adjustment of his body to

the waves which passed along the treetops. Again the squashy

-surface beneath him refused to respond; the familiar give-

and-take of the vine-web to the winds, a part of his world

as accustomed as the winds themselves, was gone.

Honath was forced to sit down, feeling distinctly ill. "The

damp, cool earth under his furless buttocks was unpleasant,

but he could not have remained standing any longer without

losing his meager prisoner's breakfast. One grappling hand

caught hold of the ridged, gritty stems of a clump of horse-

tail, but the contact failed to allay the uneasiness.

The others seemed to be bearing it no better than Honath.

Mathild in particular was rocking dizzily, her lips compressed,

her hands clapped to her delicate ears.

Dizziness. It was unheard of up above, except among those

who had suffered grave head injuries or were otherwise very

ill. But on the motionless ground of Hell, it was evidently go-

ing to be with them constantly.

Charl squatted, swallowing convulsively. "I1 can't stand,"

he moaned. "It's magic, Alaskonthe snake-headed de-

mons"

"Nonsense," Alaskon said, though he had remained stand-

ing only by clinging to the huge, mud-colored bulb of a cy-

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James Blish - Thing In the Attic.pdf

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James Blish - Thing In the Attic

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