“Don’t be silly,” Ponder said. “He is in no need of capturing. He seems quite rational and, as he has been subjected to due process of law so far, he is, according to precedent, entitled to the full extent of that due process. Proceed with the case.”
“Against an ape, your honor?” the bailiff said.
“I have devoted my life to serving the principles of liberalism upon which our system of jurisprudence is founded,” Ponder said. “Am I to deny this creature, or any creature, the right to fair and equitable justice because he differs from us in race, creed or species? Would you have it said that I practiced discrimination?”
“Heaven forbid!” the bailiff said.
“In the eyes of the court, all defendants are equal,” Ponder said, “and this one may be more equal than most. Having a tiny gorilla brain, he no doubt needs help and advice rather than correction. How fortunate for him that I am a liberal judge. Proceed.”
The bailiff read the charge against J. G.
When he had finished, Ponder leaned forward and addressed J. G. in a sympathetic manner. “Primate, my boy,” he said, “you were arrested and placed in jail because you appropriated property belonging to someone else, to wit: bananas. There are laws against this.”
J. G. said he was sorry, but he had been very hungry.
“Motivation is considered by the court only if in so far as it assists in establishing guilt.”
J. G. rubbed his nose and respectfully asked if there were also laws against starving to death.
“Certainly not,” Ponder said, “unless the Party contemplating the action intends to perpetrate it in a public place, thereby blocking traffic. This constitutes a Nuisance. Ordinance 763, paragraph 4.”
J. G. said he would remember.
“You must understand,” Ponder continued, “that laws are made primarily for the protection of property rights. In your original aboriginal society, food grows plentifully for the picking and population is low. The reverse is true here. You have a built-on fur coat. We must wear clothing. We need many thing besides food and are forced to employ a complex system whereby a common medium of exchange is traded for goods and services. Some make overcoats, some build homes, others study medicine, tap telephones or repair stoves. All trade their specialized skills for food grown by the farmer, processed by the processor and distributed by the distributor. You must learn to fit yourself into this system. Utilize some specialized skill of your own and trade it for food.”
J. G. said he understood. He could trade his specialized skill as a banana stealer for food and shelter in the jail.
“Urn, that’s not exactly what I mean,” Ponder said. “You must learn to do something constructive, so that you can Get Ahead and Amount to Something.”
J. G. said he meant no disrespect but Why?
“Because,” said Ponder, “that’s the Way Things Are.”
J. G. had been afraid this was Why.
“The subject is too large for your small brain,” Ponder told him. “Remember I am older and therefore wiser than you. Take my word for it. First you must learn to Make Something of Yourself. Then it will be easy for you to Amount to Something. Cultivate good manners. Be punctual. Keep your hair combed. Don’t criticize. Honesty is the best policy. Avoid evil companions. Step out into the hall. You’re shedding on the floor.”
J. G. stepped into the hall and Ponder called to him through the open door. “As this is your first offense, you are placed on thirty days’ probation. You are free to go. Get yourself an honest job. Crime does not pay.”
CHIEF
by Henry Slesar
Henry Slesar, like several other new young writers, works at both mystery-suspense-psychological-thrillers and science-fantasy. In this vignette, he makes the jump from How Things Are to How They All Too Well May Be...
Mboyna, chieftain of the Aolori tribe, showed no fear as the longboat approached the island. But it was more than the obligation of his rank which kept his face impassive; he alone of his tribesmen had seen white men before, when he was a child of the village half a century ago.
As the boat landed, one of the whites, a scholarly man with a short silver beard, came toward him, his hand raised in a gesture of friendship. His speech was halting, but he spoke in the tongue of Mboyna’s fathers. “We come in peace,” he said. “We have come a great distance to find you. I am Morgan, and these are my companions, Hendricks and Carew; we are men of science.”
“Then speak!” Mboyna said in a hostile growl, wishing to show no weakness before his tribe.
“There has been a great war,” Morgan said, looking uneasily at the warriors who crowded about their chief. “The white men beyond the waters have hurled great lightning at each other. They have poisoned the air, the sea and the flesh of men with their weapons. But it was our belief that there were outposts in the world which war had not touched with its deadly fingers. Your island is one of these, great chief, and we come to abide with you. But first, there is one thing we must do, and we beg your patience.”
From the store of supplies in their longboat, the white men removed strange metal boxes with tiny windows. They advanced hesitatingly toward the chief and his tribesmen, pointing the curious devices in their direction. Some of them cowered, others raised their spears in warning. “Do not fear,” Morgan said. “It is only a plaything of our science. See how they make no sound as their eyes scan you? But watch.” The white men pointed the boxes at themselves, and the devices began clicking frantically.
“Great magic,” the tribesmen whispered, their faces awed. “Great magic,” Mboyna repeated reverently, bowing before the white gods and the proof of their godhood, the clicking boxes. With deference, they guided the white men to their village, and after the appropriate ceremony, they were beheaded, cleaned and served at the evening meal.
For three days and nights, they celebrated their cleverness with dancing and bright fires; for now, they too were gods. The little boxes had begun to click magically for them, also.
PSALM
by Lester del Rey
THE LARGE ANT
by Howard Fast
There is no need, at this late date, to introduce to anyone the author of “Citizen Tom Paine” and “Spartacus.” But for those of you who have not been aware that America’s foremost chronicler of historical rebellion has turned his hand to the literature of contemporary social and scientific revolution as well, I should note here that this and other Fast science-fantasies (mostly from F&SF) are now available in a Bantam Books collection, “Edge of Tomorrow.”
There have been all kinds of notions and guesses as to how it would end. One held that sooner or later there would be too many people; another that we would do each other in, and the atom bomb made that a very good likelihood. All sorts of notions, except the simple fact that we were what we were. We could find a way to feed any number of people and perhaps even a way to avoid wiping each other out with the bomb; those things we are very good at, but we have never been any good at changing ourselves or the way we behave.