Memoirs of a Space Traveler Read Online Free PDF Page B

portal of the Rainbow Palace—but not, I promise you, for long. I have exhausted the designs prepared for the Universalization of Absolute Order, and must think awhile, so that I may create new ones. Then you will be able to continue acting of your own volition.’”
    With these words the Phool looked at me wide-eyed and finished more quietly:
    “That was two days ago… Gathered here, we wait…”
    “O worthy Phool!” I cried, smoothing down my hair, which had stood on end. “Yours is a terrible and incredible story. But, pray, tell me, why you did not rise up against the mechanical monster that annihilated you, why did you let yourselves be forced…”
    The Phool jumped up. His whole figure expressed great rage.
    “Insult us not, traveler!” he exclaimed. “You speak hastily, so I forgive you… Ponder what I have told you, and you must reach the conclusion that the Machine is abiding by the principle of Civic Initiative, and, though this may seem a little strange, it has done the Phoolian people a valuable service, for there can be no injustice where the law upholds liberty. And what man would prefer the diminution of his freedom to…”
    He did not finish, for there was an ear-piercing screech and the jasper portal opened majestically. At this sight all the Phools sprang to their feet and ran up the stairs.
    “O Phool, Phool!” I cried, but my companion merely waved his hand at me, said, “I have no time,” and bounded up behind the others to disappear inside the palace.
    I stood for a long while, and then I saw a column of black robots; they marched to the palace wall, opened a hatch, and rolled out a long row of disks that gleamed beautifully in the sun. They rolled the disks to an open field and there completed an unfinished design in some pattern. The palace portal was still wide open; I took a few steps to look inside, but a shiver went down my spine.
    The Machine parted its metal lips and invited me in.
    “What do you take me for, a Phool?” I replied.
    I turned sharply and headed for the rocket, and in a minute was behind the controls, taking off at top speed.

Further Reminiscences of Ijon Tichy
     
I
    You want me to tell you another story? Yes, I see that Tarantoga has already taken out his note pad… Professor, wait. I really haven’t anything to tell. What? No, truthfully. And besides, can’t I remain silent for once at our evening get-together? Why? My friends, I’ve never mentioned it, but the Universe is inhabited principally by beings like us. I don’t mean humanoids, I mean beings as like us as two peas in a pod. Half the inhabited planets resemble Earth; some are a little larger, some a little smaller, some have a cooler or a warmer climate, but what kind of differences are those? And their inhabitants … the people—they are people, after all—resemble us so much that the differences only emphasize the similarities. I haven’t told you about them? Does that seem strange? Think about it. When I gaze at the stars, I recall various events; various scenes pass before me. But mainly I think back on those that are out of the ordinary. They might be terrifying, or weird, or macabre, or even funny, by virtue of being harmless. But to gaze at the stars, my friends, and to know that those small, bluish-white sparks are—when you set foot on them—kingdoms of squalor, ignorance, and all manner of ruin; that the dark-blue sky up there is also full of old shacks, dirty yards, gutters, garbage dumps, overgrown cemeteries… Should the stories of one who has toured the Galaxy sound like the complaint of a peddler who knocks about provincial towns? Who would want to listen? And who would believe it? Such thoughts come to you when you’re depressed or feel an unhealthy urge to tell the truth. So, then—in order not to sadden or mortify you—nothing about the stars today. I’ll tell you a story—otherwise you’d feel cheated—but it won’t be a journey. After all, I’ve had a few