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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c1d3bc --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69148 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69148) diff --git a/old/69148-0.txt b/old/69148-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2b9a14d..0000000 --- a/old/69148-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1114 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The eternal quest, by Joseph Gilbert - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The eternal quest - -Author: Joseph Gilbert - -Release Date: October 13, 2022 [eBook #69148] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ETERNAL QUEST *** - - - - - - - THE ETERNAL QUEST - - A Novelette by Joseph Gilbert - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Astonishing Stories, October 1942. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -"I have come," said the little man, "a new Moses, to lead my people to -the Promised Land." He said it slowly, with dramatic restraint. "Fate -has led me to a star, and I have returned to show mankind the way to a -thing it has not known for over a hundred years--hope!" - -He was not quite five feet tall, with a chubby face and a beet-red -nose, straw-colored hair, and mild gray eyes. He was nondescript. -And it seemed very strange, somehow, that this ridiculous little man -could stand there on that platform, with the gleaming majesty of that -five-hundred-foot spaceship in the background dwarfing him--and facing -that battery of telecasters, talk to two billion people and awaken in -them a thing that had been dormant for a century or more. - -He said, "We have died spiritually, and the eternal quest of man for -contentment has almost ceased--for he knows, in his barren, bitter -heart that there is no contentment to find." He paused, and the -tremendous crowd that filled the rocket-ground were weirdly silent, -waiting. "No longer shall only the Space Patrol know the thrills of -adventure and discovery. We, too...." - - * * * * * - -Robert Lawrence smiled whimsically and cut off the televisor. It was -almost impossible to hear the speaker, anyway, for no matter how well -sound-proofed a Space Patrol ship is, the noise is still deafening to -one not long accustomed to it. You can't stop the vibrations of an -atomic engine. - -Besides, the reference of the little man to the adventure and discovery -of the Space Patrol was rather amusing to one who held that job, and -was tired of it. - -You took up a tight orbit around Mars and were bored to death for some -four weeks, and then there was an order to intercept a gang of wild -youngsters who had run past the Interplanetary Way Station without -signaling, for the thrill of it. - -Occasionally you sent out a call for a battle cruiser when you spotted -a private ship that wouldn't answer your demand for call letters, and -if part of the crew tried to run for it in the life rocket, you would -chase them out as far as Venus before you got a magnetic grapple on -them. - -Then you risked your life, but it still wasn't much fun, because the -crew was probably made up of a bunch of scatter-brained kids, with -a hysterical finger on the trigger of their blasters, ready to kill -instantly when you got them in the corner. - -The rest of the time you dropped in on settlers who were sick and tried -to bring them around; answered any call for help on the planet or in -your sector of space; acted as a sort of watchdog; and wondered what -the hell to do with yourself. - -Still, it was the only life left for a strong, active man, and he had -been following it for four years now and would certainly continue -it until the little man's plans were carried out. And carried out -they would be--of that he was confident. Proud, too. Proud that his -quiet faith in the future of mankind had proven itself in spite of -the contempt and cynical ridicule of some of the best minds in the -decadent, dying Science Hall, where he had received his training for -this job. - -Not, he thought wryly, that they didn't have excellent reason for -their cynicism. Few people had quite as much opportunity as he to see -what was happening to the world, how effeminate its inhabitants were -becoming. The patrol had been recently cut in half, not for any lack -of material resources, but due rather to the fact that there weren't -enough men to fill the ranks. - -A man with sufficient stamina to be in the Patrol, plus the necessary -mental and emotional stability, was practically unobtainable. Perhaps, -he mused, that was why men in the Patrol married so well; they were the -very cream of mankind, the finest group of its kind on earth. But the -thought of women and marriage brought the old hurt and the old memory, -and he turned his attention to checking his unquestionably accurate -course in an equally old and equally futile attempt to forget the past. - -Finding it correct, as he had known it would be, he leaned back in his -chair against the centrifugal push of the ship as it banked slightly -and headed in for Mars. Then a buzzer made frantic bees' noise, and he -released the automatic pilot, taking the controls himself. The buzzer -had been a warning that atmosphere was close, and it takes a human hand -to handle a rocket in an atmosphere. - -It was possible, of course, that this trip of his was purely a waste of -energy, but it wasn't his job to guess; he was the type who made sure -first--if he had not been, the Patrol would never have accepted him. - -With one hand he reached over and flicked on the televisor. - -He wouldn't be able to hear much, and already knew the general trend of -the little man's plan, but to have that belief around which his entire -philosophy of life had been built borne out by the man who was himself -to restore mankind to the glory that was its heritage, to the ultimate -fulfilment of its age-old quest--that, indeed, was worth the hearing. - -The image of the little man snapped on the screen with an abruptness -that was startling after the long minutes required for the televisor to -warm up. - -The colors were blurred from the distortion of millions of miles -of travel in space, but the ruddy nose of the little man was still -prominent. - -Above the crashing pound of the rockets, Lawrence heard faintly, -"... the psychologists have long known the reason for this soul-decay -in man...." - - * * * * * - -The small room was so Grecian in its simplicity, with its shining -marblelike walls, the bench of the same sea-foam white in the corner, -and the three tunic-clad men, that the televisor screen set in the wall -appeared incongruous and out of place. - -"Hear him talk about 'the psychologists'," said Herbert Vaine, with a -wave of his slender, beautiful hand toward the little unimpressive man -on the screen, "when he knows more about applied psychology than any of -us in this room. More than you or I, Stanton, or even Parker there." - -He smiled cynically, and his eyebrows climbed an astonishing distance -up his dome of a forehead. - -Stanton grunted. He was a sour, disillusioned little monkey of a man, -and prone, at times, to communicate largely by grunts. But now he -spoke. "Be grateful. If it wasn't for that little runt we'd be fighting -off a howling mob of neurotics and incipient schizophrenics right now. -And not only is he giving us a holiday, he's practically saving the -entire race. - -"After that speech of his, there's going to be a wave of hysteria that -will make the panic over that comet-striking-the-earth hoax way back -in 2037, ninety-six years ago, look as innocuous as a Sunday school -picnic. And it'll be healthy, it'll be the best that could possibly -happen to this jaded civilization of ours, a safety valve for the -pent-up emotions of over a hundred years! Lord, I hope he can go -through with it--if they're disappointed after this renewal of hope, I -dread to think of the reaction." - -He paused, took a deep breath. "Listen." - -"--were wise, those ancient ancestors of ours," came the voice of the -little man, "but they did not have the background of experience that -would have enabled them to predict what has happened. They realized -that if machines became so perfect that they could do the work of man, -without the guidance of man, then the hedonistic existence this would -leave as man's only alternative, would quickly lead him back to the -jungles. - -"So they arranged a social pattern that would give every man something -to do; you know what that pattern was as well as I. You might have an -interest in constructing televisors, and you would strive to make your -televisors so excellent that there would be a worldwide demand for -them; others who had different hobbies would exchange the product of -their hobbies for that of yours, or give them to you if the difference -in value was too great. - -"The world became one giant hobby field, a paradise apparently. - -"They were wise; it was a good plan. But it didn't work. - -"The machines were to blame. They could do things better, infinitely -better, than human hands. You built televisors and put them together -carefully with the proud hands of a creator. With your care and skill -you were able to turn out, say, some ten televisors a month, but they -were the best of their kind, and you were happy in that knowledge. Then -you discovered that the machines could produce those televisors of -yours at the rate of some five hundred a month, and could make a better -one than you could, with all your patient toil and trouble. You were a -rocket builder, a constructor of homes, a monocar designer? It was the -same. - -"Or perhaps you were an inventor? Why? That, too, was what the -inventors wondered--and ceased to invent. There had been too many -wonders, the world was satiated with wonderful things, and those who -create more, found for them merely a bored acceptance. The acceptance -was of the machine, not himself, for the majority of the population -did not even know who had built the marvels that made their life so -monotonously comfortable. - -"The incentive to do good in this world died--there was no good to -do. There were no physicians, because the machines could diagnose an -ailment better than they; there were no diseases to eliminate because -they had long been eliminated; there were no surgeons to operate, -because the machines did it quicker, safer, better. There were no -abuses to correct, no social conditions to improve, because there were -no abuses, and the social conditions were Utopian. - -"There was no longer any desire to achieve in writing, in art, in -music--for achievement was no longer recognized. If your writing was -packed with significance, with powerful, thought-provoking originality, -then it probably would not even see publication. Those who wrote and -were recognized were those who could thrill with screaming action, with -the forgotten danger of the old, primitive days back in the twentieth -century; cheap stuff produced by men who were more mechanical than the -machines. The only art that any man recognized was illustrating posters -and those stories. Beauty had become too tame. The swing, the jazz, of -an earlier age had evolved into a nerve-racking bedlam of discordant -sounds not even needing a composer--mechanically timed, mechanically -produced, mechanically precise. - -"Mankind lost its most precious possession--the sense of achievement, -of being valuable, and with it lost its initiative. They suffered from -a mass inferiority complex that was only too well justified by the -superiority of the metal monstrosities they, the Frankensteins, had -made. - -"Something died inside the mind of man--his self-confidence, his -superiority. And with it died achievement and progress. Mankind no -longer lived. It existed." - - * * * * * - -His rather ridiculously high-pitched voice died quietly away as he -paused and gazed into, it seemed, the room, as he had gazed into the -empty temple of man's intellect but a moment before. And in that -instant, standing there with his stubby hands on the railing of the -platform, he had the surpassing dignity of one who sees conquest near -and rejoices in the knowledge that his achievement has been something -more than worthy. - -"The result," he continued, "was inevitable. The hobby system, as -it has been flippantly termed, dissolved in a chaotic attack on the -machines. Fortunately, the mobs were too disorganized to destroy much -before they felt the effects of their attacks. For men, subject to a -cold they had never known before--due to their damaging the weather -towers--died from exposure, untended by smashed machines that could -have saved them. Everywhere hundreds of people, deprived of the comfort -of machines they had come to regard as essential, died swiftly from -unaccustomed hardships to which their delicate constitutions had been -too long unconditioned. - -"That, as you know, was the first and only attack on the machines. It -had become apparent that they had not only degenerated man, but so -degenerated him that he could not live without them. - -"And so the present system of credits for the amount of work done by -each person in his own line has come into being. It has not changed the -situation. Man still has no excuse for living, only for existing. - -"The frenzied, maddened search for some purpose, some reason for -being, that has taken place since--I need not go into. It is a rather -horrible thing to think about. And in the last twenty-five years it has -resulted in a revolt against convention and the accepted decencies in -life. That has led, in turn, to orgies, to abandoned pleasure-seeking -that has no parallel in our written history. The frustrated creative -genius of our time has found outlet shocking to more ordinary -people--if any person can be called ordinary in this time and age. I do -not believe there is such a person. I believe that we have all gone mad -in our despair and in our lack of any intelligent goal." - - * * * * * - -The voice of Parker cut across the spell in the room like the explosion -of a shell in a country graveyard. - -"He's just made the world's biggest understatement. By the God of the -ancients, he should see some of the human wrecks that come to us, that -pack our offices, and practically hang from the fluorescent. Day after -day, hundreds and hundreds of them. And we can only tell them what is -wrong with them--not what to do about it. A noble profession ours, -gentlemen. Hah! It's hollow. Hollow and futile. Like the mobs that -visit us here at Science Hall and go away uncomforted, to wait until -they go completely mad and are taken away to a mechanical madhouse -presided over by the same magnificently futile psychologists. A noble -profession indeed." - -"We can't claim immunity from it, either, you know," said Vaine. -"We're all too old to join the orgies, but we try to compensate for -our helplessness, our uselessness, in other ways. You, Parker," he -smiled at the chubby psychologist, "are a faddist who follows every -single mad-eyed craze that crops up. You have no idea how strange you -look right now without any hair at all on your face; no eyebrows, no -eyelashes, a bald dome. You're a remarkable sight." - -Parker colored. This turned him oddly red from his smooth chin to his -bald pate, so that he rather resembled a beet carved into the form of a -face. - -"It's not a fad. It's a hygienic movement that I highly approve of." - -Vaine's laugh left little echoes repeating themselves in the corners of -that acoustically perfect room. - -"What term would you use to explain away the time that you brought to -your office some quack's mystic device which would supposedly soothe -the patient by a mysterious mixture of vibrations and music made by the -movement of the operator's hands in an eddy field? Remember how the -frightful noises you hauled up sent three patients into hysteria, and -so accentuated another's delusion of persecution that he focused his -attentions on you as the cause of his troubles? Then he chased you all -around the office with a metal chair, earnestly imploring you to stand -still long enough to get your head bashed in. - -"And how about the time you claimed it was the duty of every citizen to -learn the intricacy of a certain machine--and blew out the side of the -wall with the 'harmless' little projector you rigged up? Eh?" - -He chuckled and a smile flickered for an instant on the face of the -sour Stanton. - -"You aren't too normal yourself," retorted Parker. "Spending all your -time dashing around with other people's wives." - -"Granted," said Vaine. "I'm an old fool and I know it." - -He smiled somberly. - -"Queer. We psychologists know exactly what makes us tick mentally, but -we can't do anything more about our twisted emotions and impulses than -we can do for those poor people who come to us for assistance we can't -give them. Stanton collects old books. Never psychology, religion, -or anything serious. What our ancestors called blood and thunder. -Bang-bang adventure stuff. He calls it a hobby. It isn't. It's wish -fulfilment." - -He went on: "Look at that laughable little idiot on the televisor -screen. He's the least imposing person I know of--and the happiest man -on earth. He may be the greatest man who ever lived, for all I know. -Listen to him." - -"--man was useless. I knew that man must again find a motive for -progress if he was to exist. The number of births had diminished almost -to nothing. Both sexes felt that it was useless to bring children -into such a world. So they did not, and the population has dropped -frighteningly. - -"After some time and thought I came to the conclusion that what -was needed was another civilization with which our own could fuse -its intellectual achievements and progress. For, it would be a new -inspiration to find a race with a culture radically different from our -own, and to adapt ourselves to that culture, to build shelters and -new cities without the machines, and to bring back the old striving, -ever-searching spirit of bygone days. And--I found it." - -He stood there flushed with triumph. And the light in his face lit a -similar light in the eyes and hearts of two billion people. Thus this -modern Prometheus brought to earth a far more precious flame than did -his predecessor of old. - -"For the last fifty years," he said, "there have been no human trips -made in a rocket--other than were absolutely necessary. As for -exploring trips, there have been none beyond Pluto, and those by robots -telecasting their impressions to earth; for we have lost the spirit of -exploration, the spirit of discovery above all personal discomfort. - -"At my request, the Central Consul built a spaceship suitable for a -voyage to Alpha Centauri, which the electronic telescope revealed as -the only star within its range having a civilization stationed on one -of its planets. We used a device in the ship invented nearly forty -years previous and completely ignored, which enabled us to make very -nearly the speed of light." - -Stanton interrupted the voice of the little man there. "Wonder how he -managed to get permission to build the ship from that gang of ghouls. -There was nothing they could get out of it, and it took a lot of -credits." - -Vaine said: "We're underestimating that little genius, I think. He grew -up with an inferiority complex not brought on by the machines, but -merely accentuated by it. He was one of those people virtually born -that way; without any special ability except for bungling things in -general. - -"He's a type that every psychologist knows, the born failure. Only he -had something in him that none of the others had. Something almost -forgotten nowadays, and exceedingly rare in a person of his personality -makeup: guts. There's a rumor that he spent years accumulating enough -blackmail on the members of the Consul, after they refused him the -first time, to force them to build that ship. I believe it. - -"If he's right he'll go down in history, if he isn't right--then there -won't be any history." - -"Throttle down and listen," suggested Parker. - - * * * * * - -"Alpha Centauri has four planets," said the little man, "and the second -innermost was our destination. We found that it had every conceivable -advantage. The people were advanced scientifically, and evolved -from a protoplasm basis that was, not unnaturally considering the -similar conditions, along our own lines. They were rather ludicrously -like certain twentieth century writers' conception of Martians and -other extra-terrestrial creatures, particularly considering that no -intelligent life has been found on Mars or the other planets in our -system. - -"They were small, with strangely faceted eyes, and two long slim -cords for arms, these terminating in three thin fingers." He paused -and repeated that, to emphasize such a familiar human characteristic. -"Three fingers." - -He continued: "They had no facial features outside of their eyes. They -apparently perceived sounds by vibrations through their glossy black -'skin', if I may use such an inappropriate phrase, and their body was a -cylinder and nothing more. They transported themselves in swift little -cars, and how they got around before they progressed so far, I don't -know. Probably they had some other method of physical motivation that -has disappeared in long centuries of disuse. It does not matter. What -does is the fact that they are an intelligent, sensitive people, and -they have a great civilization, being able to communicate by means of -telepathy, as many of our own people are able to do quite well. - -"We hastened back before we had an opportunity to learn much about -them, but were assured that we were welcome to their planet by their -governing group. - -"And the best news of all, is that it will not be necessary to build -expensive ships to make the long trip! They have long had teleportation -devices that enable them to transport the disassembled atoms of an -individual or material to any distant place on which it is focused, -no matter how far, there to be reassembled. The process is an -extremely complicated and cumbersome one, requiring much mathematical -calculation, but it can be done with absolutely no danger to the person -using it. We have the plans for those machines." - -The sound of cheering from the televisor became so ear-splitting that -Vaine cut the volume, and then stood there, numbly cracking the fingers -on his beautiful hands. - -The picture on the screen whirled dizzily as the frantic operator -panned too swiftly to pick up the image of the crowd, which was going -mad with an enthusiasm that hurt them inside until they had to get it -out, release it, let off their emotional energy. Women fainted, men -wept, and the platform swayed dangerously as the amok crowd climbed -over it to shake the hands of a new Messiah. - -"I'll be damned," whispered Vaine, trying to comprehend hope, "I'll be -completely damned." He cracked his long fingers slowly. - -Stanton looked at his sandals as if he had never seen them before, and -scowled. Parker ran his hand through his hair absently, forgetting that -he no longer had any. - -There was a buzzing in the next room. - -Parker cursed all visaphones and vanished into the other room. They -heard a bellowed, "Pleasure to you, too, and what the hell do you -want?" Pause. "Oh." Another pause. Then: "Glad to hear it, Martin. Yes, -it's a great thing all right. Huh? ... sure; thanks. Same to you. Glad -you changed your mind. Pleasure, Martin." - -Parker came back into the room. He tugged absently at his ear lobe. -There was a strange look on his face. He noticed the stares of his -fellow psychologists, and answered the question in their eyes. - -"Remember that old duck, Martin Winter, the one with the registry full -of credits he don't know what to do with--who came in here last week?" - -He went on without waiting for an acknowledgement of acquaintance from -the other two. "The old fool positively refused when he was here last -time to have a transference to a robot body because he said he didn't -have anything worth living for. But now he's determined to have the -transference made, and to get transported to this other system. Wished -me a happy trip over." - -"Oh," said Vaine softly. - -The voice of the little man came again into the room. - -"Adventure," he said. "Adventure for all of us, and hope, and -happiness." His voice trembled a little with the immensity of his -own vision. "A new heaven and a new Earth, and a new dream for all -mankind--everlasting, eternal, enduring for all time!" - -His voice was drowned by a crowd roar that filled the room, then died -away. - - * * * * * - -The jets under the ship came to life with an ear-splitting _whoo-o-om!_ -and the ship leveled off and hurtled west. - -Electrical impulses touched the desert outside and rebounded to -register on a dial the information that his distance from the ground -was two thousand feet. He consulted another dial and found that the -rocket was traveling a little more than eighteen hundred feet a second. -Too fast. He cut it down to a thousand feet. Instruments were checked. - -The energy waves he had received in space had come from the most -desolate part of Mars. Lawrence was unable to understand why anyone -chose this part of the planet to live on. - -It was barren of the Martian planets collected by the settlers for -their medicinal and museum value on earth, and it was far from the -closely-clustered settler's towns. Which was strange. The settlers, he -thought with a smile, made a lot of their being pioneers and all that -sort of thing, but they loved their mechanical comforts and the warm, -close companionship of their fellows. - -He reached over and flicked the switch of the visor set in the nose -of the ship for observation purposes. The scene revealed was as -disappointingly prosaic to him now, as it had been when he had first -seen it. It looked just as the mid-western deserts used to look before -the Consul had turned them into fertile agricultural grounds, with one -exception: the ground was as red as blood, even in the feeble light of -the Martian moons. - -There was a wind blowing, carrying the sand and the half-vegetable, -half-animal "tumblies" along with it. But the wind always blew on Mars -at this time of year, despite the thin air, when one was this near to -the pole. - -The shack he had been watching for, loomed dark and dismal in the black -of the Martian night. Lawrence cut his rear jets and throttled down, -aiding the ineffectual gliding surfaces of the rocket with occasional -blasts from the hull. He landed with a very slight jar and cut the -engines. - -The racket of the engines in a rocket is so violent that it is always -something of a shock to a rocket man when he cuts them off. The effect -is as though something very vital had died. - -Lawrence stood there trying to accustom his ears to the silence that -claimed the ship, saving only the weep of the wind outside. And the -wind became, in that moment, as all-pervading, as much a part of things -as the rockets had been. The difference was that the rocket noise -existed for only a brief while, and the wind had moaned out on those -somber plains for--how many millions of years had it been? - -He shook off the mood, drew on a light, electrically-heated suit with -an oxygen container on the back. It completely covered every part of -his body, and was especially designed for Mars, having two metaglass -openings for his eyes and a voice amplifier just below it. - -After that, he stepped out into the air-lock, the sound detectors -catching the _whoosh_ of exhausted air, and the faint crunch of his -weighted boots in the Martian sand. - -The shack was of metal, neat and compact. One side of it bulged like -a tin can in which a firecracker has exploded. He stumbled over -something in the sand--but he did not look down. The ground was covered -in spots with strange relics of a Martian civilization here in this -desert. - -In the early twenty-first century, during the rush of excitement over -interplanetary travel, there had been many expeditions to this part -of the planet. In fact, the shack in front of him was probably one -of the Smithsonian's archaeological stations. It had been supposedly -long-deserted, though he had evidence that it wasn't now. - -The expeditions had accumulated enough evidence from the desert to -prove conclusively that the Martians had been a highly civilized and -advanced people; more advanced, probably, than Earth. There were ruins -of great cities in the south of the planet that must have been there -for over two million years. The Martians had built well. As to what had -happened to them--that was a mystery that remained unsolved. There had -been no evidence of warfare of any sort, and a few rare translations -of even rarer books, indicated that the Martians had eliminated -diseases and had, in their time, colonized the entire solar system with -their people. But now there was only the weeping wind and the barren -sand--nothing more. - -He reached the door, twisted the handle on it. Having suspected that -someone was inside, Lawrence was not surprised when it came open easily -with a sharp creaking sound. It had been recently used, of course, -since otherwise the years would have rusted it to the extent that -the first man to open it again would have had to exert a great deal -of strength. It was monometal, but everything except lead and a few -beryllium alloys rusted in the Martian air. - -He took a torch from his utility bag, and the soft but brilliant green -of the portable Howard-Brazier fluorescent stabbed into the darkness -and tore away the shadows. There was nothing in the path of the beam -that he could see. Only the red dust on the wings of the restless wind. - -He went in. - -The door creaked shut behind him. A tiny air purifier made sighings -somewhere like a big dog with asthma. There was a bare metal table. And -that was all. A door led into another room. He walked into it. Silence, -save for the moan of the deathless wind, crying outside. - -It was dark in the room, with only the light of Deimos and Phobos -shining into the glassite windows. He could just make out the -darkness-shrouded bulks of shattered machinery in the corner. He -pressed the button on his torch and the darkness fled in panic from the -brightness of the light. - -The whisper in his brain came then. "_Don't_...." - - * * * * * - -His flashlight clattered to the metal floor, and his hand was on his -blaster. Then he cursed himself for a fool and retrieved his torch. He -did not, however, turn it on again. - -To be startled like that by mental telepathy was childish. It was -something that every member of the Space Patrol had to master, and -was an ability fairly common among intelligent people--many of whom -practiced the art as something of a hobby. The only element of surprise -was the fact that it was a strain on any ordinary man to project his -thoughts that way, and speech was preferable when practicable. Still, -there was no reason why anyone should not use telepathy if he wished. - -"Who--" he began aloud, then shrugged and concentrated on thinking: -"Who are you?" - -"Speak aloud," came the thought. "It is easier for you, and makes your -mental impulses clearer." - -There is an individuality in thoughts, as well as in voices and faces. -It occurred to Lawrence that the thought waves of this person were the -clearest, the gentlest and the saddest of any he had ever encountered. - -There was a clarity about them that was superhuman, that is associated -with genius. And they were filled with a sorrow that transcended all -human understanding. The sorrow of a dying race, of the shattered -dreams of a billion years, the sorrow of the Wandering Jew alone on -another planet and watching his own dissolve into cosmic dust--a sorrow -beyond expression. - -He found it dominating his soul, drowning him in a bitterness such as -he had never dreamed possible. - -Lawrence explained, "My instruments detected a steady stream of free -gamma rays out in space, such as could only come from a ruptured atomic -power source of some sort, and I flew down to ascertain if there had -been an accident." He raised his voice a trifle over the wail of the -desert wind. "Who are you?" - -The brooding thought crept slowly into his mind, infinitely sad, -infinitely weary. - -"I am one who saw too far. It is no good for any being to go ahead of -his fellows; to dream a greater dream and to find no reality in it. -I had a machine, and it should have carried me outside, should have -taken me above our lost visions to finer things. It did not. I thought -I would climb to heaven. I descended to hell. How they have reversed -our ancestors' prophecies, these metal masters of ours." His thoughts -washed away in a tide of ultimate despair. - -Lawrence's eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness, and he could -make out the hammock in the corner of the room with the small form upon -it. "You're hurt!" - -He came forward, his bewilderment becoming concern. "Here, I'm one of -the few men who still know something of medicine. Space Patrol men have -to know in case the machines break down. Which," he grimaced, "happens -about once in every four hundred years." - -"_No!_" - -The thought stopped Lawrence on the verge of tearing the threadbare -cover off the figure on the cot and turning on his flash to examine it. - -"Please," it came again, more gently, "I am dying. Believe me, there is -nothing you or any other man or machine could do. And I do not care to -live any more now; there is nothing to live for--now or for the rest of -time." - -Pieces of what seemed to be a pattern exploded in Lawrence's brain, and -he turned white. Had this man used the disassembler, obtaining it by -bribing some minor member of the little man's crew, and had he visited -that far-off star and found that which doomed mankind's new hopes? -The thought stunned him beyond thinking. That couldn't be true; it -couldn't. This was man's last hope, his last stand, it was unthinkable -that-- - -He felt within his brain, currents that were at first puzzled and then -cleared. - -"No--" and there was a smile in Lawrence's mind, a heartbroken, -whimsical thing. "No, I have not been to that system you are thinking -of; my journey has been elsewhere. And what I have seen has led me -to destroy both my machine and myself." He was silent a moment, -overwhelmed by disappointment. - -Then, "Let me explain, please. - -"In our world we know not happiness, have not known it for such a long, -long time. The machines have taken over and there is no longer anything -left--only the bare drabness of day after futile, empty day for all -our lives. Some feel these things more than others, and the idealist, -the dreamer, have suffered in this age more than any other person can -conceive. We feel so much, so very, very much, and we long so hard for -the little, insignificant things that make up beauty--for beauty is our -life." - - * * * * * - -The wind outside sang a song of other days, of laughter and beauty, -and the glorious fortress of mental and physical perfection that had -been here. It spoke of the shining towers, and glistening ships that -thundered above them. - -Then it remembered and died slowly away, taking with it the red dust -that drifted across the barren plains. - -"Yes," said Lawrence, very softly. "Yes, I understand." - -"Not quite," came the whisper in his brain. "You do not, cannot, quite -understand. There are things you do not know." - -Silence then. Except for the eternal wind and its companion, the dust. - -"I disassembled my atoms," the explanation echoed unexpectedly in -Lawrence's mind, "and selected a lonely place on another world where -they were reassembled. I watched from afar, and there, too, it was -the same. The machines. The uncertain, hurt look in people's eyes, -and--their lack of purpose. - -"I destroyed my machine and myself with it. That was best. There was -nothing left for me, you see." - -Lawrence stood up by the dusty televisor against the wall. There was -infinite compassion and understanding in his voice. He said, "If -only you had waited! If only you had known that another planet in -another system had a place for us, instead of going elsewhere as you -did--without thought or direction." - -"There was thought and direction," said the mental voice. "It availed -me nothing. Bury me, please, out there on the desert with the wind and -sand. I would be with seekers like myself, knowing that their search -is impotent, as was mine. Thank you for your good intentions and your -kindness. Good-by, my friend." - -The sense of rapport faded from Lawrence's brain, and he knew he was in -the presence of death. The requiem of the wind sang for another lost -thing now, and that was queerly fitting, somehow. - -Then he knew! Knew that the being had indeed traveled to other than -the little man's star system, and his heart cried out within him -unbearably, though he stood still and numb. Knew it when he had -picked up the other's hand to place it beneath the covering and had -felt--three slender fingers. - -The quest was ended. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ETERNAL QUEST *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The eternal quest</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Joseph Gilbert</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 13, 2022 [eBook #69148]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ETERNAL QUEST ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>THE ETERNAL QUEST</h1> - -<h2>A Novelette by Joseph Gilbert</h2> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Astonishing Stories, October 1942.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"I have come," said the little man, "a new Moses, to lead my people to -the Promised Land." He said it slowly, with dramatic restraint. "Fate -has led me to a star, and I have returned to show mankind the way to a -thing it has not known for over a hundred years—hope!"</p> - -<p>He was not quite five feet tall, with a chubby face and a beet-red -nose, straw-colored hair, and mild gray eyes. He was nondescript. -And it seemed very strange, somehow, that this ridiculous little man -could stand there on that platform, with the gleaming majesty of that -five-hundred-foot spaceship in the background dwarfing him—and facing -that battery of telecasters, talk to two billion people and awaken in -them a thing that had been dormant for a century or more.</p> - -<p>He said, "We have died spiritually, and the eternal quest of man for -contentment has almost ceased—for he knows, in his barren, bitter -heart that there is no contentment to find." He paused, and the -tremendous crowd that filled the rocket-ground were weirdly silent, -waiting. "No longer shall only the Space Patrol know the thrills of -adventure and discovery. We, too...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Robert Lawrence smiled whimsically and cut off the televisor. It was -almost impossible to hear the speaker, anyway, for no matter how well -sound-proofed a Space Patrol ship is, the noise is still deafening to -one not long accustomed to it. You can't stop the vibrations of an -atomic engine.</p> - -<p>Besides, the reference of the little man to the adventure and discovery -of the Space Patrol was rather amusing to one who held that job, and -was tired of it.</p> - -<p>You took up a tight orbit around Mars and were bored to death for some -four weeks, and then there was an order to intercept a gang of wild -youngsters who had run past the Interplanetary Way Station without -signaling, for the thrill of it.</p> - -<p>Occasionally you sent out a call for a battle cruiser when you spotted -a private ship that wouldn't answer your demand for call letters, and -if part of the crew tried to run for it in the life rocket, you would -chase them out as far as Venus before you got a magnetic grapple on -them.</p> - -<p>Then you risked your life, but it still wasn't much fun, because the -crew was probably made up of a bunch of scatter-brained kids, with -a hysterical finger on the trigger of their blasters, ready to kill -instantly when you got them in the corner.</p> - -<p>The rest of the time you dropped in on settlers who were sick and tried -to bring them around; answered any call for help on the planet or in -your sector of space; acted as a sort of watchdog; and wondered what -the hell to do with yourself.</p> - -<p>Still, it was the only life left for a strong, active man, and he had -been following it for four years now and would certainly continue -it until the little man's plans were carried out. And carried out -they would be—of that he was confident. Proud, too. Proud that his -quiet faith in the future of mankind had proven itself in spite of -the contempt and cynical ridicule of some of the best minds in the -decadent, dying Science Hall, where he had received his training for -this job.</p> - -<p>Not, he thought wryly, that they didn't have excellent reason for -their cynicism. Few people had quite as much opportunity as he to see -what was happening to the world, how effeminate its inhabitants were -becoming. The patrol had been recently cut in half, not for any lack -of material resources, but due rather to the fact that there weren't -enough men to fill the ranks.</p> - -<p>A man with sufficient stamina to be in the Patrol, plus the necessary -mental and emotional stability, was practically unobtainable. Perhaps, -he mused, that was why men in the Patrol married so well; they were the -very cream of mankind, the finest group of its kind on earth. But the -thought of women and marriage brought the old hurt and the old memory, -and he turned his attention to checking his unquestionably accurate -course in an equally old and equally futile attempt to forget the past.</p> - -<p>Finding it correct, as he had known it would be, he leaned back in his -chair against the centrifugal push of the ship as it banked slightly -and headed in for Mars. Then a buzzer made frantic bees' noise, and he -released the automatic pilot, taking the controls himself. The buzzer -had been a warning that atmosphere was close, and it takes a human hand -to handle a rocket in an atmosphere.</p> - -<p>It was possible, of course, that this trip of his was purely a waste of -energy, but it wasn't his job to guess; he was the type who made sure -first—if he had not been, the Patrol would never have accepted him.</p> - -<p>With one hand he reached over and flicked on the televisor.</p> - -<p>He wouldn't be able to hear much, and already knew the general trend of -the little man's plan, but to have that belief around which his entire -philosophy of life had been built borne out by the man who was himself -to restore mankind to the glory that was its heritage, to the ultimate -fulfilment of its age-old quest—that, indeed, was worth the hearing.</p> - -<p>The image of the little man snapped on the screen with an abruptness -that was startling after the long minutes required for the televisor to -warm up.</p> - -<p>The colors were blurred from the distortion of millions of miles -of travel in space, but the ruddy nose of the little man was still -prominent.</p> - -<p>Above the crashing pound of the rockets, Lawrence heard faintly, -"... the psychologists have long known the reason for this soul-decay -in man...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The small room was so Grecian in its simplicity, with its shining -marblelike walls, the bench of the same sea-foam white in the corner, -and the three tunic-clad men, that the televisor screen set in the wall -appeared incongruous and out of place.</p> - -<p>"Hear him talk about 'the psychologists'," said Herbert Vaine, with a -wave of his slender, beautiful hand toward the little unimpressive man -on the screen, "when he knows more about applied psychology than any of -us in this room. More than you or I, Stanton, or even Parker there."</p> - -<p>He smiled cynically, and his eyebrows climbed an astonishing distance -up his dome of a forehead.</p> - -<p>Stanton grunted. He was a sour, disillusioned little monkey of a man, -and prone, at times, to communicate largely by grunts. But now he -spoke. "Be grateful. If it wasn't for that little runt we'd be fighting -off a howling mob of neurotics and incipient schizophrenics right now. -And not only is he giving us a holiday, he's practically saving the -entire race.</p> - -<p>"After that speech of his, there's going to be a wave of hysteria that -will make the panic over that comet-striking-the-earth hoax way back -in 2037, ninety-six years ago, look as innocuous as a Sunday school -picnic. And it'll be healthy, it'll be the best that could possibly -happen to this jaded civilization of ours, a safety valve for the -pent-up emotions of over a hundred years! Lord, I hope he can go -through with it—if they're disappointed after this renewal of hope, I -dread to think of the reaction."</p> - -<p>He paused, took a deep breath. "Listen."</p> - -<p>"—were wise, those ancient ancestors of ours," came the voice of the -little man, "but they did not have the background of experience that -would have enabled them to predict what has happened. They realized -that if machines became so perfect that they could do the work of man, -without the guidance of man, then the hedonistic existence this would -leave as man's only alternative, would quickly lead him back to the -jungles.</p> - -<p>"So they arranged a social pattern that would give every man something -to do; you know what that pattern was as well as I. You might have an -interest in constructing televisors, and you would strive to make your -televisors so excellent that there would be a worldwide demand for -them; others who had different hobbies would exchange the product of -their hobbies for that of yours, or give them to you if the difference -in value was too great.</p> - -<p>"The world became one giant hobby field, a paradise apparently.</p> - -<p>"They were wise; it was a good plan. But it didn't work.</p> - -<p>"The machines were to blame. They could do things better, infinitely -better, than human hands. You built televisors and put them together -carefully with the proud hands of a creator. With your care and skill -you were able to turn out, say, some ten televisors a month, but they -were the best of their kind, and you were happy in that knowledge. Then -you discovered that the machines could produce those televisors of -yours at the rate of some five hundred a month, and could make a better -one than you could, with all your patient toil and trouble. You were a -rocket builder, a constructor of homes, a monocar designer? It was the -same.</p> - -<p>"Or perhaps you were an inventor? Why? That, too, was what the -inventors wondered—and ceased to invent. There had been too many -wonders, the world was satiated with wonderful things, and those who -create more, found for them merely a bored acceptance. The acceptance -was of the machine, not himself, for the majority of the population -did not even know who had built the marvels that made their life so -monotonously comfortable.</p> - -<p>"The incentive to do good in this world died—there was no good to -do. There were no physicians, because the machines could diagnose an -ailment better than they; there were no diseases to eliminate because -they had long been eliminated; there were no surgeons to operate, -because the machines did it quicker, safer, better. There were no -abuses to correct, no social conditions to improve, because there were -no abuses, and the social conditions were Utopian.</p> - -<p>"There was no longer any desire to achieve in writing, in art, in -music—for achievement was no longer recognized. If your writing was -packed with significance, with powerful, thought-provoking originality, -then it probably would not even see publication. Those who wrote and -were recognized were those who could thrill with screaming action, with -the forgotten danger of the old, primitive days back in the twentieth -century; cheap stuff produced by men who were more mechanical than the -machines. The only art that any man recognized was illustrating posters -and those stories. Beauty had become too tame. The swing, the jazz, of -an earlier age had evolved into a nerve-racking bedlam of discordant -sounds not even needing a composer—mechanically timed, mechanically -produced, mechanically precise.</p> - -<p>"Mankind lost its most precious possession—the sense of achievement, -of being valuable, and with it lost its initiative. They suffered from -a mass inferiority complex that was only too well justified by the -superiority of the metal monstrosities they, the Frankensteins, had -made.</p> - -<p>"Something died inside the mind of man—his self-confidence, his -superiority. And with it died achievement and progress. Mankind no -longer lived. It existed."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>His rather ridiculously high-pitched voice died quietly away as he -paused and gazed into, it seemed, the room, as he had gazed into the -empty temple of man's intellect but a moment before. And in that -instant, standing there with his stubby hands on the railing of the -platform, he had the surpassing dignity of one who sees conquest near -and rejoices in the knowledge that his achievement has been something -more than worthy.</p> - -<p>"The result," he continued, "was inevitable. The hobby system, as -it has been flippantly termed, dissolved in a chaotic attack on the -machines. Fortunately, the mobs were too disorganized to destroy much -before they felt the effects of their attacks. For men, subject to a -cold they had never known before—due to their damaging the weather -towers—died from exposure, untended by smashed machines that could -have saved them. Everywhere hundreds of people, deprived of the comfort -of machines they had come to regard as essential, died swiftly from -unaccustomed hardships to which their delicate constitutions had been -too long unconditioned.</p> - -<p>"That, as you know, was the first and only attack on the machines. It -had become apparent that they had not only degenerated man, but so -degenerated him that he could not live without them.</p> - -<p>"And so the present system of credits for the amount of work done by -each person in his own line has come into being. It has not changed the -situation. Man still has no excuse for living, only for existing.</p> - -<p>"The frenzied, maddened search for some purpose, some reason for -being, that has taken place since—I need not go into. It is a rather -horrible thing to think about. And in the last twenty-five years it has -resulted in a revolt against convention and the accepted decencies in -life. That has led, in turn, to orgies, to abandoned pleasure-seeking -that has no parallel in our written history. The frustrated creative -genius of our time has found outlet shocking to more ordinary -people—if any person can be called ordinary in this time and age. I do -not believe there is such a person. I believe that we have all gone mad -in our despair and in our lack of any intelligent goal."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The voice of Parker cut across the spell in the room like the explosion -of a shell in a country graveyard.</p> - -<p>"He's just made the world's biggest understatement. By the God of the -ancients, he should see some of the human wrecks that come to us, that -pack our offices, and practically hang from the fluorescent. Day after -day, hundreds and hundreds of them. And we can only tell them what is -wrong with them—not what to do about it. A noble profession ours, -gentlemen. Hah! It's hollow. Hollow and futile. Like the mobs that -visit us here at Science Hall and go away uncomforted, to wait until -they go completely mad and are taken away to a mechanical madhouse -presided over by the same magnificently futile psychologists. A noble -profession indeed."</p> - -<p>"We can't claim immunity from it, either, you know," said Vaine. -"We're all too old to join the orgies, but we try to compensate for -our helplessness, our uselessness, in other ways. You, Parker," he -smiled at the chubby psychologist, "are a faddist who follows every -single mad-eyed craze that crops up. You have no idea how strange you -look right now without any hair at all on your face; no eyebrows, no -eyelashes, a bald dome. You're a remarkable sight."</p> - -<p>Parker colored. This turned him oddly red from his smooth chin to his -bald pate, so that he rather resembled a beet carved into the form of a -face.</p> - -<p>"It's not a fad. It's a hygienic movement that I highly approve of."</p> - -<p>Vaine's laugh left little echoes repeating themselves in the corners of -that acoustically perfect room.</p> - -<p>"What term would you use to explain away the time that you brought to -your office some quack's mystic device which would supposedly soothe -the patient by a mysterious mixture of vibrations and music made by the -movement of the operator's hands in an eddy field? Remember how the -frightful noises you hauled up sent three patients into hysteria, and -so accentuated another's delusion of persecution that he focused his -attentions on you as the cause of his troubles? Then he chased you all -around the office with a metal chair, earnestly imploring you to stand -still long enough to get your head bashed in.</p> - -<p>"And how about the time you claimed it was the duty of every citizen to -learn the intricacy of a certain machine—and blew out the side of the -wall with the 'harmless' little projector you rigged up? Eh?"</p> - -<p>He chuckled and a smile flickered for an instant on the face of the -sour Stanton.</p> - -<p>"You aren't too normal yourself," retorted Parker. "Spending all your -time dashing around with other people's wives."</p> - -<p>"Granted," said Vaine. "I'm an old fool and I know it."</p> - -<p>He smiled somberly.</p> - -<p>"Queer. We psychologists know exactly what makes us tick mentally, but -we can't do anything more about our twisted emotions and impulses than -we can do for those poor people who come to us for assistance we can't -give them. Stanton collects old books. Never psychology, religion, -or anything serious. What our ancestors called blood and thunder. -Bang-bang adventure stuff. He calls it a hobby. It isn't. It's wish -fulfilment."</p> - -<p>He went on: "Look at that laughable little idiot on the televisor -screen. He's the least imposing person I know of—and the happiest man -on earth. He may be the greatest man who ever lived, for all I know. -Listen to him."</p> - -<p>"—man was useless. I knew that man must again find a motive for -progress if he was to exist. The number of births had diminished almost -to nothing. Both sexes felt that it was useless to bring children -into such a world. So they did not, and the population has dropped -frighteningly.</p> - -<p>"After some time and thought I came to the conclusion that what -was needed was another civilization with which our own could fuse -its intellectual achievements and progress. For, it would be a new -inspiration to find a race with a culture radically different from our -own, and to adapt ourselves to that culture, to build shelters and -new cities without the machines, and to bring back the old striving, -ever-searching spirit of bygone days. And—I found it."</p> - -<p>He stood there flushed with triumph. And the light in his face lit a -similar light in the eyes and hearts of two billion people. Thus this -modern Prometheus brought to earth a far more precious flame than did -his predecessor of old.</p> - -<p>"For the last fifty years," he said, "there have been no human trips -made in a rocket—other than were absolutely necessary. As for -exploring trips, there have been none beyond Pluto, and those by robots -telecasting their impressions to earth; for we have lost the spirit of -exploration, the spirit of discovery above all personal discomfort.</p> - -<p>"At my request, the Central Consul built a spaceship suitable for a -voyage to Alpha Centauri, which the electronic telescope revealed as -the only star within its range having a civilization stationed on one -of its planets. We used a device in the ship invented nearly forty -years previous and completely ignored, which enabled us to make very -nearly the speed of light."</p> - -<p>Stanton interrupted the voice of the little man there. "Wonder how he -managed to get permission to build the ship from that gang of ghouls. -There was nothing they could get out of it, and it took a lot of -credits."</p> - -<p>Vaine said: "We're underestimating that little genius, I think. He grew -up with an inferiority complex not brought on by the machines, but -merely accentuated by it. He was one of those people virtually born -that way; without any special ability except for bungling things in -general.</p> - -<p>"He's a type that every psychologist knows, the born failure. Only he -had something in him that none of the others had. Something almost -forgotten nowadays, and exceedingly rare in a person of his personality -makeup: guts. There's a rumor that he spent years accumulating enough -blackmail on the members of the Consul, after they refused him the -first time, to force them to build that ship. I believe it.</p> - -<p>"If he's right he'll go down in history, if he isn't right—then there -won't be any history."</p> - -<p>"Throttle down and listen," suggested Parker.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Alpha Centauri has four planets," said the little man, "and the second -innermost was our destination. We found that it had every conceivable -advantage. The people were advanced scientifically, and evolved -from a protoplasm basis that was, not unnaturally considering the -similar conditions, along our own lines. They were rather ludicrously -like certain twentieth century writers' conception of Martians and -other extra-terrestrial creatures, particularly considering that no -intelligent life has been found on Mars or the other planets in our -system.</p> - -<p>"They were small, with strangely faceted eyes, and two long slim -cords for arms, these terminating in three thin fingers." He paused -and repeated that, to emphasize such a familiar human characteristic. -"Three fingers."</p> - -<p>He continued: "They had no facial features outside of their eyes. They -apparently perceived sounds by vibrations through their glossy black -'skin', if I may use such an inappropriate phrase, and their body was a -cylinder and nothing more. They transported themselves in swift little -cars, and how they got around before they progressed so far, I don't -know. Probably they had some other method of physical motivation that -has disappeared in long centuries of disuse. It does not matter. What -does is the fact that they are an intelligent, sensitive people, and -they have a great civilization, being able to communicate by means of -telepathy, as many of our own people are able to do quite well.</p> - -<p>"We hastened back before we had an opportunity to learn much about -them, but were assured that we were welcome to their planet by their -governing group.</p> - -<p>"And the best news of all, is that it will not be necessary to build -expensive ships to make the long trip! They have long had teleportation -devices that enable them to transport the disassembled atoms of an -individual or material to any distant place on which it is focused, -no matter how far, there to be reassembled. The process is an -extremely complicated and cumbersome one, requiring much mathematical -calculation, but it can be done with absolutely no danger to the person -using it. We have the plans for those machines."</p> - -<p>The sound of cheering from the televisor became so ear-splitting that -Vaine cut the volume, and then stood there, numbly cracking the fingers -on his beautiful hands.</p> - -<p>The picture on the screen whirled dizzily as the frantic operator -panned too swiftly to pick up the image of the crowd, which was going -mad with an enthusiasm that hurt them inside until they had to get it -out, release it, let off their emotional energy. Women fainted, men -wept, and the platform swayed dangerously as the amok crowd climbed -over it to shake the hands of a new Messiah.</p> - -<p>"I'll be damned," whispered Vaine, trying to comprehend hope, "I'll be -completely damned." He cracked his long fingers slowly.</p> - -<p>Stanton looked at his sandals as if he had never seen them before, and -scowled. Parker ran his hand through his hair absently, forgetting that -he no longer had any.</p> - -<p>There was a buzzing in the next room.</p> - -<p>Parker cursed all visaphones and vanished into the other room. They -heard a bellowed, "Pleasure to you, too, and what the hell do you -want?" Pause. "Oh." Another pause. Then: "Glad to hear it, Martin. Yes, -it's a great thing all right. Huh? ... sure; thanks. Same to you. Glad -you changed your mind. Pleasure, Martin."</p> - -<p>Parker came back into the room. He tugged absently at his ear lobe. -There was a strange look on his face. He noticed the stares of his -fellow psychologists, and answered the question in their eyes.</p> - -<p>"Remember that old duck, Martin Winter, the one with the registry full -of credits he don't know what to do with—who came in here last week?"</p> - -<p>He went on without waiting for an acknowledgement of acquaintance from -the other two. "The old fool positively refused when he was here last -time to have a transference to a robot body because he said he didn't -have anything worth living for. But now he's determined to have the -transference made, and to get transported to this other system. Wished -me a happy trip over."</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Vaine softly.</p> - -<p>The voice of the little man came again into the room.</p> - -<p>"Adventure," he said. "Adventure for all of us, and hope, and -happiness." His voice trembled a little with the immensity of his -own vision. "A new heaven and a new Earth, and a new dream for all -mankind—everlasting, eternal, enduring for all time!"</p> - -<p>His voice was drowned by a crowd roar that filled the room, then died -away.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The jets under the ship came to life with an ear-splitting <i>whoo-o-om!</i> -and the ship leveled off and hurtled west.</p> - -<p>Electrical impulses touched the desert outside and rebounded to -register on a dial the information that his distance from the ground -was two thousand feet. He consulted another dial and found that the -rocket was traveling a little more than eighteen hundred feet a second. -Too fast. He cut it down to a thousand feet. Instruments were checked.</p> - -<p>The energy waves he had received in space had come from the most -desolate part of Mars. Lawrence was unable to understand why anyone -chose this part of the planet to live on.</p> - -<p>It was barren of the Martian planets collected by the settlers for -their medicinal and museum value on earth, and it was far from the -closely-clustered settler's towns. Which was strange. The settlers, he -thought with a smile, made a lot of their being pioneers and all that -sort of thing, but they loved their mechanical comforts and the warm, -close companionship of their fellows.</p> - -<p>He reached over and flicked the switch of the visor set in the nose -of the ship for observation purposes. The scene revealed was as -disappointingly prosaic to him now, as it had been when he had first -seen it. It looked just as the mid-western deserts used to look before -the Consul had turned them into fertile agricultural grounds, with one -exception: the ground was as red as blood, even in the feeble light of -the Martian moons.</p> - -<p>There was a wind blowing, carrying the sand and the half-vegetable, -half-animal "tumblies" along with it. But the wind always blew on Mars -at this time of year, despite the thin air, when one was this near to -the pole.</p> - -<p>The shack he had been watching for, loomed dark and dismal in the black -of the Martian night. Lawrence cut his rear jets and throttled down, -aiding the ineffectual gliding surfaces of the rocket with occasional -blasts from the hull. He landed with a very slight jar and cut the -engines.</p> - -<p>The racket of the engines in a rocket is so violent that it is always -something of a shock to a rocket man when he cuts them off. The effect -is as though something very vital had died.</p> - -<p>Lawrence stood there trying to accustom his ears to the silence that -claimed the ship, saving only the weep of the wind outside. And the -wind became, in that moment, as all-pervading, as much a part of things -as the rockets had been. The difference was that the rocket noise -existed for only a brief while, and the wind had moaned out on those -somber plains for—how many millions of years had it been?</p> - -<p>He shook off the mood, drew on a light, electrically-heated suit with -an oxygen container on the back. It completely covered every part of -his body, and was especially designed for Mars, having two metaglass -openings for his eyes and a voice amplifier just below it.</p> - -<p>After that, he stepped out into the air-lock, the sound detectors -catching the <i>whoosh</i> of exhausted air, and the faint crunch of his -weighted boots in the Martian sand.</p> - -<p>The shack was of metal, neat and compact. One side of it bulged like -a tin can in which a firecracker has exploded. He stumbled over -something in the sand—but he did not look down. The ground was covered -in spots with strange relics of a Martian civilization here in this -desert.</p> - -<p>In the early twenty-first century, during the rush of excitement over -interplanetary travel, there had been many expeditions to this part -of the planet. In fact, the shack in front of him was probably one -of the Smithsonian's archaeological stations. It had been supposedly -long-deserted, though he had evidence that it wasn't now.</p> - -<p>The expeditions had accumulated enough evidence from the desert to -prove conclusively that the Martians had been a highly civilized and -advanced people; more advanced, probably, than Earth. There were ruins -of great cities in the south of the planet that must have been there -for over two million years. The Martians had built well. As to what had -happened to them—that was a mystery that remained unsolved. There had -been no evidence of warfare of any sort, and a few rare translations -of even rarer books, indicated that the Martians had eliminated -diseases and had, in their time, colonized the entire solar system with -their people. But now there was only the weeping wind and the barren -sand—nothing more.</p> - -<p>He reached the door, twisted the handle on it. Having suspected that -someone was inside, Lawrence was not surprised when it came open easily -with a sharp creaking sound. It had been recently used, of course, -since otherwise the years would have rusted it to the extent that -the first man to open it again would have had to exert a great deal -of strength. It was monometal, but everything except lead and a few -beryllium alloys rusted in the Martian air.</p> - -<p>He took a torch from his utility bag, and the soft but brilliant green -of the portable Howard-Brazier fluorescent stabbed into the darkness -and tore away the shadows. There was nothing in the path of the beam -that he could see. Only the red dust on the wings of the restless wind.</p> - -<p>He went in.</p> - -<p>The door creaked shut behind him. A tiny air purifier made sighings -somewhere like a big dog with asthma. There was a bare metal table. And -that was all. A door led into another room. He walked into it. Silence, -save for the moan of the deathless wind, crying outside.</p> - -<p>It was dark in the room, with only the light of Deimos and Phobos -shining into the glassite windows. He could just make out the -darkness-shrouded bulks of shattered machinery in the corner. He -pressed the button on his torch and the darkness fled in panic from the -brightness of the light.</p> - -<p>The whisper in his brain came then. "<i>Don't</i>...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>His flashlight clattered to the metal floor, and his hand was on his -blaster. Then he cursed himself for a fool and retrieved his torch. He -did not, however, turn it on again.</p> - -<p>To be startled like that by mental telepathy was childish. It was -something that every member of the Space Patrol had to master, and -was an ability fairly common among intelligent people—many of whom -practiced the art as something of a hobby. The only element of surprise -was the fact that it was a strain on any ordinary man to project his -thoughts that way, and speech was preferable when practicable. Still, -there was no reason why anyone should not use telepathy if he wished.</p> - -<p>"Who—" he began aloud, then shrugged and concentrated on thinking: -"Who are you?"</p> - -<p>"Speak aloud," came the thought. "It is easier for you, and makes your -mental impulses clearer."</p> - -<p>There is an individuality in thoughts, as well as in voices and faces. -It occurred to Lawrence that the thought waves of this person were the -clearest, the gentlest and the saddest of any he had ever encountered.</p> - -<p>There was a clarity about them that was superhuman, that is associated -with genius. And they were filled with a sorrow that transcended all -human understanding. The sorrow of a dying race, of the shattered -dreams of a billion years, the sorrow of the Wandering Jew alone on -another planet and watching his own dissolve into cosmic dust—a sorrow -beyond expression.</p> - -<p>He found it dominating his soul, drowning him in a bitterness such as -he had never dreamed possible.</p> - -<p>Lawrence explained, "My instruments detected a steady stream of free -gamma rays out in space, such as could only come from a ruptured atomic -power source of some sort, and I flew down to ascertain if there had -been an accident." He raised his voice a trifle over the wail of the -desert wind. "Who are you?"</p> - -<p>The brooding thought crept slowly into his mind, infinitely sad, -infinitely weary.</p> - -<p>"I am one who saw too far. It is no good for any being to go ahead of -his fellows; to dream a greater dream and to find no reality in it. -I had a machine, and it should have carried me outside, should have -taken me above our lost visions to finer things. It did not. I thought -I would climb to heaven. I descended to hell. How they have reversed -our ancestors' prophecies, these metal masters of ours." His thoughts -washed away in a tide of ultimate despair.</p> - -<p>Lawrence's eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness, and he could -make out the hammock in the corner of the room with the small form upon -it. "You're hurt!"</p> - -<p>He came forward, his bewilderment becoming concern. "Here, I'm one of -the few men who still know something of medicine. Space Patrol men have -to know in case the machines break down. Which," he grimaced, "happens -about once in every four hundred years."</p> - -<p>"<i>No!</i>"</p> - -<p>The thought stopped Lawrence on the verge of tearing the threadbare -cover off the figure on the cot and turning on his flash to examine it.</p> - -<p>"Please," it came again, more gently, "I am dying. Believe me, there is -nothing you or any other man or machine could do. And I do not care to -live any more now; there is nothing to live for—now or for the rest of -time."</p> - -<p>Pieces of what seemed to be a pattern exploded in Lawrence's brain, and -he turned white. Had this man used the disassembler, obtaining it by -bribing some minor member of the little man's crew, and had he visited -that far-off star and found that which doomed mankind's new hopes? -The thought stunned him beyond thinking. That couldn't be true; it -couldn't. This was man's last hope, his last stand, it was unthinkable -that—</p> - -<p>He felt within his brain, currents that were at first puzzled and then -cleared.</p> - -<p>"No—" and there was a smile in Lawrence's mind, a heartbroken, -whimsical thing. "No, I have not been to that system you are thinking -of; my journey has been elsewhere. And what I have seen has led me -to destroy both my machine and myself." He was silent a moment, -overwhelmed by disappointment.</p> - -<p>Then, "Let me explain, please.</p> - -<p>"In our world we know not happiness, have not known it for such a long, -long time. The machines have taken over and there is no longer anything -left—only the bare drabness of day after futile, empty day for all -our lives. Some feel these things more than others, and the idealist, -the dreamer, have suffered in this age more than any other person can -conceive. We feel so much, so very, very much, and we long so hard for -the little, insignificant things that make up beauty—for beauty is our -life."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The wind outside sang a song of other days, of laughter and beauty, -and the glorious fortress of mental and physical perfection that had -been here. It spoke of the shining towers, and glistening ships that -thundered above them.</p> - -<p>Then it remembered and died slowly away, taking with it the red dust -that drifted across the barren plains.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Lawrence, very softly. "Yes, I understand."</p> - -<p>"Not quite," came the whisper in his brain. "You do not, cannot, quite -understand. There are things you do not know."</p> - -<p>Silence then. Except for the eternal wind and its companion, the dust.</p> - -<p>"I disassembled my atoms," the explanation echoed unexpectedly in -Lawrence's mind, "and selected a lonely place on another world where -they were reassembled. I watched from afar, and there, too, it was -the same. The machines. The uncertain, hurt look in people's eyes, -and—their lack of purpose.</p> - -<p>"I destroyed my machine and myself with it. That was best. There was -nothing left for me, you see."</p> - -<p>Lawrence stood up by the dusty televisor against the wall. There was -infinite compassion and understanding in his voice. He said, "If -only you had waited! If only you had known that another planet in -another system had a place for us, instead of going elsewhere as you -did—without thought or direction."</p> - -<p>"There was thought and direction," said the mental voice. "It availed -me nothing. Bury me, please, out there on the desert with the wind and -sand. I would be with seekers like myself, knowing that their search -is impotent, as was mine. Thank you for your good intentions and your -kindness. Good-by, my friend."</p> - -<p>The sense of rapport faded from Lawrence's brain, and he knew he was in -the presence of death. The requiem of the wind sang for another lost -thing now, and that was queerly fitting, somehow.</p> - -<p>Then he knew! Knew that the being had indeed traveled to other than -the little man's star system, and his heart cried out within him -unbearably, though he stood still and numb. Knew it when he had -picked up the other's hand to place it beneath the covering and had -felt—three slender fingers.</p> - -<p>The quest was ended.</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ETERNAL QUEST ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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