Star Maker - Olaf Stapledon (the top 100 crime novels of all time .TXT) 📗
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masonry. In time would appear traps, weapons, tools, submarine
agriculture, the blossoming of primitive art, the ritual of primitive
religion. Then would follow the typical fluctuating advance of the
spirit from barbarism to civilization.
One of these submarine worlds was exceptionally interesting. Early in
the life of our galaxy, when few of the stars had yet condensed from the
“giant” to the solar type, when very few planetary births had yet
occurred, a double star and a single star in a congested cluster did
actually approach one another, reach fiery filaments toward one another,
and spawn a planet brood. Of these worlds, one, an immense and very
aqueous sphere, produced in time a dominant race which was not a single
species but an intimate symbiotic partnership of two very alien
creatures. The one came of a fish-like stock. The other was in
appearance something like a crustacean. In form it was a sort of
paddle-footed crab or marine spider. Unlike our crustaceans, it was
covered not with a brittle carapace but with a tough pachydermatous
hide. In maturity this serviceable jerkin was more or less rigid, save
at the joints; but in youth it was very pliant to the still-expanding
brain. This creature lived on the coasts and in the coastal waters of
the many islands of the planet. Both species were mentally of human
rank, though each had specific temperament and ability. In primitive
times each had attained by its own route and in its own hemisphere of
the great aqueous planet to what might be called the last stage of the
subhuman mentality. The two species had then come into contact, and had
grappled desperately. Their battle-ground was the shallow coastal water.
The “crustaceans,” though crudely amphibian, could not spend long under
the sea; the “fish” could not emerge from it. The two races did not
seriously compete with one another in economic life, for the “fish” were
mainly vegetarian, the “crustaceans” mainly carnivorous; yet neither
could tolerate the presence of the other. Both were sufficiently human
to be aware of one another as rival aristocrats in a subhuman world, but
neither was human enough to realize that for each race the way of life
lay in cooperation with the other. The fish-like creatures, which I
shall call “ichthyoids,” had speed and range of travel. They had also
the security of bulk. The crab-like or spider-like “crustaceans,” which
I shall call “arachnoids,” had greater manual dexterity, and had also
access to the dry land. Cooperation would have been very beneficial to
both species, for one of the staple foods of the arachnoids was
parasitic to the ichthyoids.
In spite of the possibility of mutual aid, the two races strove to
exterminate one another, and almost succeeded. After an age of blind
mutual slaughter, certain of the less pugnacious and more flexible
varieties of the two species gradually discovered profit in
fraternization with the enemy.
This was the beginning of a very remarkable partnership. Soon the
arachnoids took to riding on the backs of the swift ichthyoids, and thus
gained access to more remote hunting grounds.
As the epochs passed, the two species molded one another to form a
well-integrated union. The little arachnoid, no bigger than a
chimpanzee, rode in a snug hollow behind the great “fish’s” skull, his
back being stream-lined with the contours of the larger creature. The
tentacles of the ichthyoid were specialized for large-scale
manipulation, those of the arachnoid for minute work. A biochemical
interdependence also evolved. Through a membrane in the ichthyoid’s
pouch an exchange of endocrine products took place. The mechanism
enabled the arachnoid to become fully aquatic. So long as it had
frequent contact with its host, it could stay under water for any length
of time and descend to any depth. A striking mental adaptation also
occurred in the two species. The ichthyoids became on the whole more
introvert, the arachnoids more extrovert.
Up to puberty the young of both species were free-living individuals;
but, as their symbiotic organization developed, each sought out a
partner of the opposite species. The union which followed was life-long,
and was interrupted only by brief sexual matings. The symbiosis itself
constituted a kind of contrapuntal sexuality; but a sexuality that was
purely mental, since, of course, for copulation and reproduction each
individual had to seek out a partner belonging to his or her own
species. We found, however, that even the symbiotic partnership
consisted invariably of a male of one species and a female of the other;
and the male, whichever his species, behaved with parental devotion to
the young of his symbiotic partner.
I have not space to describe the extraordinary mental reciprocity of
these strange couples. I can only say that, though in sensory equipment
and in temperament the two species were very different, and though in
abnormal cases tragic conflicts did occur, the ordinary partnership was
at once more intimate than human marriage and far more enlarging to the
individual than any friendship between members of distinct human races.
At certain stages of the growth of civilization malicious minds had
attempted to arouse widespread interspecific conflict, and had met with
temporary success; but the trouble seldom went as deep even as our “sex
war,” so necessary was each species to the other. Both had contributed
equally to the culture of their world, though not equally at all times.
In creative work of every kind one of the partners provided most of the
originality, the other most of the criticism and restraint. Work in
which one partner was entirely passive was rare. Books, or rather
scrolls, which were made from pulped seaweed, were nearly always signed
by couples. On the whole the arachnoid partners dominated in manual
skill, experimental science, the plastic arts, and practical social
organization. The ichthyoid partners excelled in theoretical work, in
literary arts, in the surprisingly developed music of that submarine
world, and in the more mystical kind of religion. This generalization,
however, should not be interpreted very strictly.
The symbiotic relationship seems to have given the dual race a far
greater mental flexibility than ours, and a quicker aptitude for
community. It passed rapidly through the phase of intertribal strife,
during which the nomadic shoals of symbiotic couples harried one another
like hosts of submarine-cavalry; for the arachnoids, riding their
ichthyoid mates, attacked the enemy with bone spears and swords, while
their mounts wrestled with powerful tentacles. But the phase of tribal
warfare was remarkably brief. When a settled mode of life was attained,
along with submarine agriculture and coral-built cities, strife between
leagues of cities was the exception, not the rule. Aided no doubt by its
great mobility and ease of communication, the dual race soon built up a
worldwide and unarmed federation of cities. We learned also with wonder
that at the height of the pre-mechanical civilization of this planet,
when in our worlds the cleavage into masters and economic slaves would
already have become serious, the communal spirit of the city triumphed
over all individualistic enterprise. Very soon this world became a
tissue of interdependent but independent municipal communes.
At this time it seemed that social strife had vanished forever. But the
most serious crisis of the race was still to come.
The submarine environment offered the symbiotic race no great
possibilities of advancement. All sources of wealth had been tapped and
regularized. Population was maintained at an optimum size for the joyful
working of the world. The social order was satisfactory to all classes,
and seemed unlikely to change. Individual lives were full and varied.
Culture, founded on a great tradition, was now concerned entirely with
detailed exploration of the great fields of thought that had long ago
been pioneered by the revered ancestors, under direct inspiration, it
was said, of the symbiotic diety. Our friends in this submarine world,
our mental hosts, looked back on this age from their own more turbulent
epoch sometimes with yearning, but often with horror; for in retrospect
it seemed to them to display the first faint signs of racial decay. So
perfectly did the race fit its unchanging environment that intelligence
and acuity were already ceasing to be precious, and might soon begin to
fade. But presently it appeared that fate had decreed otherwise.
In a submarine world the possibility of obtaining mechanical power was
remote. But the arachnoids, it will be remembered, were able to live out
of the water. In the epochs before the symbiosis their ancestors had
periodically emerged upon the islands, for courtship, parenthood, and
the pursuit of prey. Since those days the air-breathing capacity had
declined, but it had never been entirely lost. Every arachnoid still
emerged for sexual mating, and also for certain ritual gymnastic
exercises. It was in this latter connection that the great discovery was
made which changed the course of history. At a certain tournament the
friction of stone weapons, clashing against one another, produced
sparks, and fire among the sun-scorched grasses.
In startlingly quick succession came smelting, the steam engine, the
electric current. Power was obtained first from the combustion of a sort
of peat formed on the coasts by congested marine vegetation, later from
the constant and violent winds, later still from photo-chemical light
traps which absorbed the sun’s lavish radiation. These inventions were
of course the work of arachnoids. The ichthyoids, though they still
played a great part in the systematization of knowledge, were debarred
from the great practical work of scientific experiment and mechanical
invention above the seas. Soon the arachnoids were running electric
cables from the island power-stations to the submarine cities. In this
work, at least, the ichthyoids could take part, but their part was
necessarily subordinate. Not only in experience of electrical
engineering but also in native practical ability they were eclipsed by
their arachnoid partners.
For a couple of centuries or more the two species continued to
cooperate, though with increasing strain. Artificial lighting,
mechanical transport of goods on the ocean floor, and large-scale
manufacture, produced an immense increase in the amenities of life in
the submarine cities. The islands were crowded with buildings devoted to
science and industry. Physics, chemistry, and biology made great
progress. Astronomers began to map the galaxy. They also discovered that
a neighboring planet offered wonderful opportunities for settlement by
arachnoids, who might without great difficulty, it was hoped, be
conditioned to the alien climate, and to divorce from their symbiotic
partners. The first attempts at rocket flight were leading to mingled
tragedy and success. The directorate of extra-marine activities demanded
a much increased arachnoid population.
Inevitably there arose a conflict between the two species, and in the
mind of every individual of either species. It was at the height of this
conflict, and in the spiritual crisis in virtue of which these beings
were accessible to us in our novitiate stage, that we first entered this
world. The ichthyoids had not yet succumbed biologically to their
inferior position, but psychologically they were already showing signs
of deep mental decay. A profound disheartenment and lassitude attacked
them, like that which so often undermines our primitive races when they
find themselves struggling in the flood of European civilization. But
since in the case of the symbiotics the relation between the two races
was extremely intimate, far more so than that between the most intimate
human beings, the plight of the ichthyoids deeply affected the
arachnoids. And in the minds of the ichthyoids the triumph of their
partners was for long a source of mingled distress and exultation. Every
individual of both species was torn between conflicting motives. While
every healthy arachnoid longed to take part in the adventurous new life,
he or she longed also, through sheer affection and symbiotic
entanglement, to assist his or her ichthyoid mate to have an equal share
in that life. Further, all arachnoids were
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