The Early Asimov. Volume 1 Page 11

  I mailed “The Weapon Too Dreadful to Use” to Amazing on February 6, 1939, and on February 20 received notice of acceptance. Amazing may have bought it because it needed a story in a hurry, for it appeared in the May issue, which reached the newsstands only three weeks after the sale. That made it my second published story, for it appeared two months before “Trends.”

  The Weapon Too Dreadful to Use

  Karl Frantor found the prospect a terribly dismal one. From low-hanging clouds, fell eternal misty rain; squat, rubbery vegetation with its dull, reddish-brown colour stretched away in all directions. Now and then a Hop-scotch Bird fluttered wildly above them, emitting plaintive squawks as it went.

  Karl turned his head to gaze at the tiny dome of Aphrodopolis , largest city on Venus.

  “God,” he muttered, “even the dome is better than this awful world out here.” He pulled the rubberized fabric of his coat closer about him. “I’ll be glad to get back to Earth again.”

  He turned to the slight figure of Antil, the Venusian, “When are we coming to the ruins, Antil?”

  There was no answer and Karl noticed the tear that rolled down the Venusian’s green, puckered cheeks. Another glistened in the large, lemur-like eyes; soft, incredibly beautiful eyes.

  The Earthman’s voice softened. “Sorry, Antil, I didn’t mean to say anything against Venus.”

  Antil turned his green face toward Karl, “It was not that, my friend. Naturally, you would not find much to admire in an alien world. I, however, love Venus, and I weep because I am overcome with its beauty.” The words came fluently but with the inevitable distortion caused by vocal cords unfitted for harsh-languages.

  “I know its seems incomprehensible to you,” Antil continued, “but to me Venus is a paradise, a golden land-I cannot express my feelings for it properly.”

  “Yet there are some that say only Earthmen can love.” Karl’s sympathy was strong and sincere.

  The Venusian shook his head sadly. “There is much besides the capacity to feel emotion that your people deny us.”

  Karl changed the subject hurriedly. ‘Tell me, Antil, doesn’t Venus present a dull aspect even to you? You’ve been to Earth and should know. How can this eternity of brown and grey compare t© the living, warm colours of Earth?”

  “It is far more beautiful to me. You forget that my colour sense is so enormously different from yours. [The Venusian eye can distinguish between two tints, the wavelengths of which differ by as little as five Angstrom units. They see thousands of colours to which Earthmen are blind.-Author.] How can I explain the beauties, the wealth of colour in which this landscape abounds?” He fell silent, lost in the wonders he spoke of, while to the Terrestrial the deadly, melancholy grey remained unchanged.

  “Someday,” Antil’s voice came as from a person in a dream, “Venus will once more belong to the Venusians. The Earthlings shall no longer rule us, and the glory of our ancestors shall return to us.”

  Karl laughed. “Come, now, Antil, you speak like a member of the Green Bands, that are giving the government so much trouble. I thought you didn’t believe in violence.”

  “I don’t, Karl,” Antil’s eyes were grave and rather frightened, “but the extremists are gaining power, and I fear the worst. And if-if open rebellion against Earth breaks out, I must join them.”

  “But you disagree with them.”

  “Yes, of course,” he shrugged his shoulders, a gesture he had learned from Earthmen, “we can gain nothing by violence. There are five billion of you and scarcely a hundred million of us. You have resources and weapons while we have none. It would be a fool’s venture, and even should we win, we might leave such a heritage of hatred that there could never be peace among our two planets.”

  “Then why join them?”

  “Because I am a Venusian.”

  The Earthman burst into laughter again. “Patriotism, it seems, is as irrational On Venus as on Earth. But come, let us proceed to the ruins of your ancient city. Are we nearly there?”

  “Yes,” answered Antil, “it’s a matter of little more than an Earth mile now. Remember, however, that you are to disturb nothing. The ruins of Ash-taz.-zor are sacred to us, as the sole existing remnant of the time when we, too, were a great race, rather than the degenerate remains of one.”

  They walked on in silence, slogging through the soft earth beneath, dodging the writhing roots of the Snaketree, and giving the occasional Tumbling Vines they passed a wide berth.

  It was Antil who resumed the conversation.

  “Poor Venus.” His quiet, wistful voice was sad. “Fifty years ago the Earthman came with promises of peace and plenty-and we believed. We showed them the emerald mines and the juju weed and their eyes glittered with desire. More and more came, and their arrogance grew. And now-”

  “It’s too bad, Antil,” Karl said, “but you really feel too strongly about it.”

  “Too strongly! Are we allowed to vote? Have we any representation at all in the Venusian Provincial Congress? Aren’t there laws against Venusians riding in the same stratocars as Earthlings, or eating in the same hotel, or living in the same house? Are not all colleges closed to us? Aren’t the best and most fertile parts of the planet pre-empted by Earthlings? Are there any rights at all that Terrestrials allow us upon our own planet?”

  “What you say is perfectly true, and I deplore it. But similar conditions once existed on Earth with regard to certain so-called ‘inferior races,’ and in time, all those disabilities were removed until today total equality reigns. Remember, too, that the intelligent people of Earth are on your side. Have I, for instance, ever displayed any prejudice against a Venusian?”

  “No, Karl, you know you haven’t. But how many intelligent men are there? On Earth, it took long and weary millennia, filled with war and suffering, before equality was established. What if Venus refuses to wait those millennia?”

  Karl frowned, “You’re right, of course, but you must wait What else can you do?”

  “I don’t know-I don’t know,” Antil’s voice trailed into silence.

  Suddenly, Karl wished he hadn’t started on this trip to the ruins of mysterious Ash-taz-zor . The maddeningly monotonous terrain, the just grievances of Antil had served to depress him greatly. He was about to call the whole thing on when the Venusian raised his webbed fingers to point out a mound of earth ahead.

  “That’s the entrance,” he said; “ Ash-taz-zor has been buried under the soil for uncounted thousands of years, and only Venusians know of it. You’re the first Earthman ever to see it.”

  “I shall keep it absolutely secret, Antil. I have promised.”

  “Come, then.”

  Antil brushed aside the lush vegetation to reveal a narrow entrance between two boulders and beckoned to Karl to follow. Into a narrow, damp corridor they crept. Antil drew from his pouch a small Atomite lamp, which cast its pearly white glow upon walls of dripping stone.

  ”These corridors and burrows,” he said, “were dug three centuries ago by our ancestors who considered the city a holy place. Of late, however, we have neglected it. I was the first to visit it in a long, long time. Perhaps that is another sign of our degeneracy.”

  For over a hundred yards they walked on straight ahead; then the corridors flared out into a lofty dome. Karl gasped at the view before him. There were the remains of buildings, architectural marvels unrivalled on Earth since the days of Periclean Athens. But all lay in shattered ruins, so that only a hint of the city’s magnificence remained.

  Antil led the way across the open space and plunged into another burrow that twisted its way for half a mile through soil and rock. Here and there, side-corridors branched off, and once or twice Karl caught glimpses of ruined structures. He would have investigated had not Antil kept him on the path.

  Again they emerged, this time before a low, sprawling building constructed of a smooth, green stone. Its right wing was utterly smashed, but the rest seemed scarcely touched.

  The Venusian’s
eyes shone; his slight form straightened with pride. “This is what corresponds to a modern museum of arts and sciences. In this you shall see the past greatness and culture of Venus.”

  With high excitement, Karl entered-the first Earthman ever to see these ancient achievements. The interior, he found, was divided into a series of deep alcoves, branching out from the long central colonnade. The ceiling was one great painting that showed dimly in the light of the Atomite lamp.

  Lost in wonder, the Earthman wandered through the alcoves. There was an extraordinary sense of strangeness to the sculptures and paintings about him, an unearthliness that doubled their beauty.

  Karl realized that he missed something vital in Venusian art simply because of the lack of common ground between his own culture and theirs, but he could appreciate the technical excellence of the work. Especially, did he admire the colour-work of the paintings which went far beyond anything he had ever seen on Earth. Cracked, faded, and scaling though they were, there was a blending and a harmony about them that was superb.

  “What wouldn’t Michelangelo have given,” he said to Antil, “to have the marvellous colour perception of the Venusian eye.”

  Antil inflated his chest with happiness. “Every race has its own attributes. I have often wished my ears could distinguish the slight tones and pitches of sound the way it is said Earthmen can. Perhaps I would then be able to understand what it is that is so pleasing about your Terrestrial music. As it is, its noise is dreadfully monotonous to me.”

  They passed on, and every minute Karl’s opinion of Venusian culture mounted higher. There were long, narrow strips of thin metal, bound together, covered with the lines and ovals of Venusian script-thousands upon thousands of them. In them, Karl knew, might lie such secrets as the scientists of Earth would give half their lives to know.

  Then, when Antil pointed out a tiny, six-inch-high affair, and said that, according to the inscription, it was some type of atomic converter with an efficiency several times any of the current Terrestrial models, Karl exploded.

  “Why don’t you reveal these secrets to Earth? If they only knew your accomplishments in ages past, Venusians would occupy a far higher place than they do now.”

  “They would make use of our knowledge of former days, yes,” Antil replied bitterly, “but they would never release their stranglehold on Venus and its people. I hope you are not forgetting your promise of absolute secrecy.”

  “No, I’ll keep quiet, but I think you’re making a mistake.”

  “I think not,” Antil turned to leave the alcove, but Karl called to him to wait.

  “Aren’t we going into this little room here?” he asked.

  Antil whirled, eyes staring, “Room? What room are you talking about? There’s no room here.”

  Karl’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he mutely pointed out the narrow crack that extended half way up the rear wall.

  The Venusian muttered something beneath his breath and fell to his knees, delicate fingers probing the crack.

  “Help me, Karl. This door was never meant to be opened, I think. At least there is no record of its being here, and I know the ruins of Ash-taz-zor perhaps better than any other of my people.”

  The two pushed against the section of the wall, which gave backward with groaning reluctance for a short distance, then yielded suddenly so as to catapult them into the tiny, almost empty cubicle beyond. They regained their feet and stared about.

  The Earthman pointed out broken, ragged rust-streaks on the floor, and along the line where door joined wall. “Your people seem to have sealed this room up pretty effectively. Only the rust of eons broke the bonds. You’d think they had some sort of secret stored here.”

  Antil shook his green head. “There was no evidence of a door last time I was here. However-” he raised the Atomite lamp up high and surveyed the room rapidly, “there doesn’t seem to be anything here, anyway.”

  He was right. Aside from a nondescript oblong chest that squatted on six stubby legs, the place contained only unbelievable quantities of dust and the musty, almost suffocating smell of long-shut-up tombs.

  Karl approached the chest, tried to move it from the corner where it stood. It didn’t budge, but the cover slipped under his pressing fingers.

  “The cover’s removable, Antil. Look!” He pointed to a shallow compartment within, which contained a square slab of some glassy substance and five six-inch-long cylinders resembling fountain-pens.

  Antil shrieked with delight when he saw these objects and for the first time since Karl knew him, lapsed into sibilant Venusian gibberish. He removed the glassy slab and inspected it closely. Karl, his curiosity aroused, did likewise. It was covered with closely-spaced, varicoloured dots, but there seemed no reason for Antil’s extreme glee.

  “What is it, Antil?”

  “It is a complete document in our ancient ceremonial language. Up to now we have never had more than disjointed fragments. This is a great find.”

  “Can you decipher it?” Karl regarded the object with more respect.

  “I think I can. It is a dead language and I know little more than a smattering. You see, it is a colour language. Each word is designated by a combination of two, and sometimes three, coloured dots. The colours are finely differentiated, though, and a Terrestrial, even if he had the key to the language, would have to use a spectroscope to read it.”

  “Can you work on it now?”

  “I think so, Karl. The Atomite lamp approximates normal daylight very closely, and I ought to have no trouble with it. However, it may take me quite a time; so perhaps you’d better continue your investigation. There’s no danger of your getting lost, provided you remain inside this building.”

  Karl left, taking a second Atomite lamp with him, left Antil, the Venusian, bent over the ancient manuscript, deciphering it slowly and painfully.

  Two hours passed before the Earthman returned; but when he did, Anti! had scarcely changed his position. Yet, now, there was a look of horror on the Venusian’s face that had not been there before. The “colour” message lay at his feet, disregarded. The noisy entrance of the Earthman made no impression’ upon him. As if ossified, he sat in unmoving, staring fright.

  Karl jumped to his side. “Antil, Antil, what’s wrong?”

  Antil’s head turned slowly, as though moving through viscous liquid, and his eyes gazed unseeingly at his friend. Karl grasped the other’s thin shoulders and shook him unmercifuily.

  The Venusian came to his senses. Writhing out of Karl’s grasp he sprang to his feet. From the desk in the corner he removed the five cylindrical objects, handling them with a queer sort of reluctance, placing them in his pouch. There, likewise, did he put the slab he had deciphered.

  Having done this, he replaced the cover on the chest and motioned Karl out of the room. “We must go now. Already we have stayed too long.” His voice had an odd, frightened tone about it that made the Earthman uncomfortable.

  Silently, they retraced their steps until once more they stood’ upon the soaked surface of Venus. It was still day, but twilight was near. Karl felt a growing hunger. They would need to hurry if they expected to reach Aphrodopolis before the coming of night. Karl turned up the collar of his slicker, pulled his rubberized cap low over his forehead and set out,

  Mile after mile passed by and the domed city once more rose upon the grey horizon. The Earthman chewed at damp ham sandwiches, wished fervently for the comfortable dryness of Aphrodopolis . Through it all, the normally friendly Venusian maintained a stony silence, vouchsafing not so much as a glance upon his companion.

  Karl accepted this philosophically. He had a far higher regard for Venusians than the great majority of Earthmen, but even he experienced a faint disdain for the ultra-emotional character of Antil and his kind. This brooding silence was but a manifestation of feelings that in Karl would perhaps have resulted in no more than a sigh or a frown. Realizing this, Antil’s mood scarcely affected him.

  Yet the memory of the
haunting fright in Antil’s eyes aroused a faint unease. It had come after the translation of that queer slab. What secret could have been revealed in that message by those scientific progenitors of the Venusians?

  It was with some diffidence that Karl finally persuaded himself to ask, “What did the slab say, Antil? It must be interesting, I judge, considering that you’ve taken it with you.”

  Antil’s reply was simply a sign to hurry, and the Venusian thereupon plunged into the gathering darkness with redoubled speed. Karl was puzzled and rather hurt. He made no further attempt at conversation for the duration of the trip.

  When they reached Aphrodopolis , however, the Venusian broke his silence. His puckered face, drawn and haggard, turned to Karl with the expression of one who has come to a painful decision.

  “Karl,” he said, “we have been friends, so I wish to give you a bit of friendly advice. You are going to leave for Earth next week. I know your father is high in the councils of the Planetary President. You yourself will probably be a personage of importance in the not-too-distant future. Since this is so, I beg you earnestly to use every atom of your influence to a moderation of Earth’s attitude toward Venus. I, in my turn, being a hereditary noble of the largest tribe on Venus, shall do my utmost to repress all attempts at violence.”

  The other frowned. “There seems to be something behind all this. I don’t get it at all. What are you trying to say?”

  “Just this. Unless conditions are bettered-and soon- Venus will rise in revolt. In that case, I will have no choice but to place my services at her feet, and then Venus will no longer be defenceless.”