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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Beyond Lies the Wub, by Philip Kindred Dick
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Beyond Lies the Wub
+
+Author: Philip Kindred Dick
+
+Illustrator: Herman Vestal
+
+Release Date: April 11, 2009 [EBook #28554]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEYOND LIES THE WUB ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: _"The wub, sir," Peterson said. "It spoke!"_]
+
+
+ BEYOND LIES THE WUB
+
+ By PHILIP K. DICK
+
+
+ _The slovenly wub might well have said: Many men
+ talk like philosophers and live like fools._
+
+
+They had almost finished with the loading. Outside stood the Optus, his
+arms folded, his face sunk in gloom. Captain Franco walked leisurely
+down the gangplank, grinning.
+
+"What's the matter?" he said. "You're getting paid for all this."
+
+The Optus said nothing. He turned away, collecting his robes. The
+Captain put his boot on the hem of the robe.
+
+"Just a minute. Don't go off. I'm not finished."
+
+"Oh?" The Optus turned with dignity. "I am going back to the village."
+He looked toward the animals and birds being driven up the gangplank
+into the spaceship. "I must organize new hunts."
+
+Franco lit a cigarette. "Why not? You people can go out into the veldt
+and track it all down again. But when we run out halfway between Mars
+and Earth--"
+
+The Optus went off, wordless. Franco joined the first mate at the bottom
+of the gangplank.
+
+"How's it coming?" he said. He looked at his watch. "We got a good
+bargain here."
+
+The mate glanced at him sourly. "How do you explain that?"
+
+"What's the matter with you? We need it more than they do."
+
+"I'll see you later, Captain." The mate threaded his way up the plank,
+between the long-legged Martian go-birds, into the ship. Franco watched
+him disappear. He was just starting up after him, up the plank toward
+the port, when he saw _it_.
+
+"My God!" He stood staring, his hands on his hips. Peterson was walking
+along the path, his face red, leading _it_ by a string.
+
+"I'm sorry, Captain," he said, tugging at the string. Franco walked
+toward him.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+The wub stood sagging, its great body settling slowly. It was sitting
+down, its eyes half shut. A few flies buzzed about its flank, and it
+switched its tail.
+
+_It_ sat. There was silence.
+
+"It's a wub," Peterson said. "I got it from a native for fifty cents. He
+said it was a very unusual animal. Very respected."
+
+"This?" Franco poked the great sloping side of the wub. "It's a pig! A
+huge dirty pig!"
+
+"Yes sir, it's a pig. The natives call it a wub."
+
+"A huge pig. It must weigh four hundred pounds." Franco grabbed a tuft
+of the rough hair. The wub gasped. Its eyes opened, small and moist.
+Then its great mouth twitched.
+
+A tear rolled down the wub's cheek and splashed on the floor.
+
+"Maybe it's good to eat," Peterson said nervously.
+
+"We'll soon find out," Franco said.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The wub survived the take-off, sound asleep in the hold of the ship.
+When they were out in space and everything was running smoothly, Captain
+Franco bade his men fetch the wub upstairs so that he might perceive
+what manner of beast it was.
+
+The wub grunted and wheezed, squeezing up the passageway.
+
+"Come on," Jones grated, pulling at the rope. The wub twisted, rubbing
+its skin off on the smooth chrome walls. It burst into the ante-room,
+tumbling down in a heap. The men leaped up.
+
+"Good Lord," French said. "What is it?"
+
+"Peterson says it's a wub," Jones said. "It belongs to him." He kicked
+at the wub. The wub stood up unsteadily, panting.
+
+"What's the matter with it?" French came over. "Is it going to be sick?"
+
+They watched. The wub rolled its eyes mournfully. It gazed around at the
+men.
+
+"I think it's thirsty," Peterson said. He went to get some water. French
+shook his head.
+
+"No wonder we had so much trouble taking off. I had to reset all my
+ballast calculations."
+
+Peterson came back with the water. The wub began to lap gratefully,
+splashing the men.
+
+Captain Franco appeared at the door.
+
+"Let's have a look at it." He advanced, squinting critically. "You got
+this for fifty cents?"
+
+"Yes, sir," Peterson said. "It eats almost anything. I fed it on grain
+and it liked that. And then potatoes, and mash, and scraps from the
+table, and milk. It seems to enjoy eating. After it eats it lies down
+and goes to sleep."
+
+"I see," Captain Franco said. "Now, as to its taste. That's the real
+question. I doubt if there's much point in fattening it up any more. It
+seems fat enough to me already. Where's the cook? I want him here. I
+want to find out--"
+
+The wub stopped lapping and looked up at the Captain.
+
+"Really, Captain," the wub said. "I suggest we talk of other matters."
+
+The room was silent.
+
+"What was that?" Franco said. "Just now."
+
+"The wub, sir," Peterson said. "It spoke."
+
+They all looked at the wub.
+
+"What did it say? What did it say?"
+
+"It suggested we talk about other things."
+
+Franco walked toward the wub. He went all around it, examining it from
+every side. Then he came back over and stood with the men.
+
+"I wonder if there's a native inside it," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe
+we should open it up and have a look."
+
+"Oh, goodness!" the wub cried. "Is that all you people can think of,
+killing and cutting?"
+
+Franco clenched his fists. "Come out of there! Whoever you are, come
+out!"
+
+Nothing stirred. The men stood together, their faces blank, staring at
+the wub. The wub swished its tail. It belched suddenly.
+
+"I beg your pardon," the wub said.
+
+"I don't think there's anyone in there," Jones said in a low voice. They
+all looked at each other.
+
+The cook came in.
+
+"You wanted me, Captain?" he said. "What's this thing?"
+
+"This is a wub," Franco said. "It's to be eaten. Will you measure it and
+figure out--"
+
+"I think we should have a talk," the wub said. "I'd like to discuss this
+with you, Captain, if I might. I can see that you and I do not agree on
+some basic issues."
+
+The Captain took a long time to answer. The wub waited good-naturedly,
+licking the water from its jowls.
+
+"Come into my office," the Captain said at last. He turned and walked
+out of the room. The wub rose and padded after him. The men watched it
+go out. They heard it climbing the stairs.
+
+"I wonder what the outcome will be," the cook said. "Well, I'll be in
+the kitchen. Let me know as soon as you hear."
+
+"Sure," Jones said. "Sure."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The wub eased itself down in the corner with a sigh. "You must forgive
+me," it said. "I'm afraid I'm addicted to various forms of relaxation.
+When one is as large as I--"
+
+The Captain nodded impatiently. He sat down at his desk and folded his
+hands.
+
+"All right," he said. "Let's get started. You're a wub? Is that
+correct?"
+
+The wub shrugged. "I suppose so. That's what they call us, the natives,
+I mean. We have our own term."
+
+"And you speak English? You've been in contact with Earthmen before?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then how do you do it?"
+
+"Speak English? Am I speaking English? I'm not conscious of speaking
+anything in particular. I examined your mind--"
+
+"My mind?"
+
+"I studied the contents, especially the semantic warehouse, as I refer
+to it--"
+
+"I see," the Captain said. "Telepathy. Of course."
+
+"We are a very old race," the wub said. "Very old and very ponderous. It
+is difficult for us to move around. You can appreciate that anything so
+slow and heavy would be at the mercy of more agile forms of life. There
+was no use in our relying on physical defenses. How could we win? Too
+heavy to run, too soft to fight, too good-natured to hunt for game--"
+
+"How do you live?"
+
+"Plants. Vegetables. We can eat almost anything. We're very catholic.
+Tolerant, eclectic, catholic. We live and let live. That's how we've
+gotten along."
+
+The wub eyed the Captain.
+
+"And that's why I so violently objected to this business about having me
+boiled. I could see the image in your mind--most of me in the frozen
+food locker, some of me in the kettle, a bit for your pet cat--"
+
+"So you read minds?" the Captain said. "How interesting. Anything else?
+I mean, what else can you do along those lines?"
+
+"A few odds and ends," the wub said absently, staring around the room.
+"A nice apartment you have here, Captain. You keep it quite neat. I
+respect life-forms that are tidy. Some Martian birds are quite tidy.
+They throw things out of their nests and sweep them--"
+
+"Indeed." The Captain nodded. "But to get back to the problem--"
+
+"Quite so. You spoke of dining on me. The taste, I am told, is good. A
+little fatty, but tender. But how can any lasting contact be established
+between your people and mine if you resort to such barbaric attitudes?
+Eat me? Rather you should discuss questions with me, philosophy, the
+arts--"
+
+The Captain stood up. "Philosophy. It might interest you to know that we
+will be hard put to find something to eat for the next month. An
+unfortunate spoilage--"
+
+"I know." The wub nodded. "But wouldn't it be more in accord with your
+principles of democracy if we all drew straws, or something along that
+line? After all, democracy is to protect the minority from just such
+infringements. Now, if each of us casts one vote--"
+
+The Captain walked to the door.
+
+"Nuts to you," he said. He opened the door. He opened his mouth.
+
+He stood frozen, his mouth wide, his eyes staring, his fingers still on
+the knob.
+
+The wub watched him. Presently it padded out of the room, edging past
+the Captain. It went down the hall, deep in meditation.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The room was quiet.
+
+"So you see," the wub said, "we have a common myth. Your mind contains
+many familiar myth symbols. Ishtar, Odysseus--"
+
+Peterson sat silently, staring at the floor. He shifted in his chair.
+
+"Go on," he said. "Please go on."
+
+"I find in your Odysseus a figure common to the mythology of most
+self-conscious races. As I interpret it, Odysseus wanders as an
+individual, aware of himself as such. This is the idea of separation, of
+separation from family and country. The process of individuation."
+
+"But Odysseus returns to his home." Peterson looked out the port window,
+at the stars, endless stars, burning intently in the empty universe.
+"Finally he goes home."
+
+"As must all creatures. The moment of separation is a temporary period,
+a brief journey of the soul. It begins, it ends. The wanderer returns to
+land and race...."
+
+The door opened. The wub stopped, turning its great head.
+
+Captain Franco came into the room, the men behind him. They hesitated at
+the door.
+
+"Are you all right?" French said.
+
+"Do you mean me?" Peterson said, surprised. "Why me?"
+
+Franco lowered his gun. "Come over here," he said to Peterson. "Get up
+and come here."
+
+There was silence.
+
+"Go ahead," the wub said. "It doesn't matter."
+
+Peterson stood up. "What for?"
+
+"It's an order."
+
+Peterson walked to the door. French caught his arm.
+
+"What's going on?" Peterson wrenched loose. "What's the matter with
+you?"
+
+Captain Franco moved toward the wub. The wub looked up from where it lay
+in the corner, pressed against the wall.
+
+"It is interesting," the wub said, "that you are obsessed with the idea
+of eating me. I wonder why."
+
+"Get up," Franco said.
+
+"If you wish." The wub rose, grunting. "Be patient. It is difficult for
+me." It stood, gasping, its tongue lolling foolishly.
+
+"Shoot it now," French said.
+
+"For God's sake!" Peterson exclaimed. Jones turned to him quickly, his
+eyes gray with fear.
+
+"You didn't see him--like a statue, standing there, his mouth open. If
+we hadn't come down, he'd still be there."
+
+"Who? The Captain?" Peterson stared around. "But he's all right now."
+
+They looked at the wub, standing in the middle of the room, its great
+chest rising and falling.
+
+"Come on," Franco said. "Out of the way."
+
+The men pulled aside toward the door.
+
+"You are quite afraid, aren't you?" the wub said. "Have I done anything
+to you? I am against the idea of hurting. All I have done is try to
+protect myself. Can you expect me to rush eagerly to my death? I am a
+sensible being like yourselves. I was curious to see your ship, learn
+about you. I suggested to the native--"
+
+The gun jerked.
+
+"See," Franco said. "I thought so."
+
+The wub settled down, panting. It put its paw out, pulling its tail
+around it.
+
+"It is very warm," the wub said. "I understand that we are close to the
+jets. Atomic power. You have done many wonderful things with
+it--technically. Apparently, your scientific hierarchy is not equipped
+to solve moral, ethical--"
+
+Franco turned to the men, crowding behind him, wide-eyed, silent.
+
+"I'll do it. You can watch."
+
+French nodded. "Try to hit the brain. It's no good for eating. Don't hit
+the chest. If the rib cage shatters, we'll have to pick bones out."
+
+"Listen," Peterson said, licking his lips. "Has it done anything? What
+harm has it done? I'm asking you. And anyhow, it's still mine. You have
+no right to shoot it. It doesn't belong to you."
+
+Franco raised his gun.
+
+"I'm going out," Jones said, his face white and sick. "I don't want to
+see it."
+
+"Me, too," French said. The men straggled out, murmuring. Peterson
+lingered at the door.
+
+"It was talking to me about myths," he said. "It wouldn't hurt anyone."
+
+He went outside.
+
+Franco walked toward the wub. The wub looked up slowly. It swallowed.
+
+"A very foolish thing," it said. "I am sorry that you want to do it.
+There was a parable that your Saviour related--"
+
+It stopped, staring at the gun.
+
+"Can you look me in the eye and do it?" the wub said. "Can you do that?"
+
+The Captain gazed down. "I can look you in the eye," he said. "Back on
+the farm we had hogs, dirty razor-back hogs. I can do it."
+
+Staring down at the wub, into the gleaming, moist eyes, he pressed the
+trigger.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The taste was excellent.
+
+They sat glumly around the table, some of them hardly eating at all. The
+only one who seemed to be enjoying himself was Captain Franco.
+
+"More?" he said, looking around. "More? And some wine, perhaps."
+
+"Not me," French said. "I think I'll go back to the chart room."
+
+"Me, too." Jones stood up, pushing his chair back. "I'll see you later."
+
+The Captain watched them go. Some of the others excused themselves.
+
+"What do you suppose the matter is?" the Captain said. He turned to
+Peterson. Peterson sat staring down at his plate, at the potatoes, the
+green peas, and at the thick slab of tender, warm meat.
+
+He opened his mouth. No sound came.
+
+The Captain put his hand on Peterson's shoulder.
+
+"It is only organic matter, now," he said. "The life essence is gone."
+He ate, spooning up the gravy with some bread. "I, myself, love to eat.
+It is one of the greatest things that a living creature can enjoy.
+Eating, resting, meditation, discussing things."
+
+Peterson nodded. Two more men got up and went out. The Captain drank
+some water and sighed.
+
+"Well," he said. "I must say that this was a very enjoyable meal. All
+the reports I had heard were quite true--the taste of wub. Very fine.
+But I was prevented from enjoying this pleasure in times past."
+
+He dabbed at his lips with his napkin and leaned back in his chair.
+Peterson stared dejectedly at the table.
+
+The Captain watched him intently. He leaned over.
+
+"Come, come," he said. "Cheer up! Let's discuss things."
+
+He smiled.
+
+"As I was saying before I was interrupted, the role of Odysseus in the
+myths--"
+
+Peterson jerked up, staring.
+
+"To go on," the Captain said. "Odysseus, as I understand him--"
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+ This etext was produced from _Planet Stories_ July 1952. Extensive
+ research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on
+ this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical
+ errors have been corrected without note.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Beyond Lies the Wub, by Philip Kindred Dick
+
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