This narrative masterfully exposes the fragility of any civilization built on the systematic suppression of reality for the sake of stability. It serves as a stark reminder that truth is not a luxury, but a volatile force capable of dismantling even the most meticulously engineered utopia.
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JESTING PILOT by Henry Kuttner & C. L. Moore (as Lewis Padgett)Added:
[music] [music] [music] [music] >> Jest in pilot by Henry Kuttner and C.L.
Moore as Lewis Padgett.
Originally published in the May 1947 issue of Astounding Science Fiction magazine.
Republished in a collection of stories by this husband and wife duo entitled "A Gnome There Was" in 1950 and in multiple anthologies including "Cities of Wonder" in 1966, "The Edge of the Chair" in 1967, "Urban Life Through Science Fiction" in 1976, a Belgian one in 1979 and German in 1982.
Read by Darrell T. Smith the second for my channel Quasar Spectra.
Jest in pilot.
The city screamed.
It had been screaming for 600 years and as long as that unendurable scream continued, the city was an efficient unit.
"You're getting special treatment."
Nerual said looking across the big bare silent room to where young Fleming sat on the cushioned seat. "Normally you wouldn't have graduated to control for another 6 months but something's come up. The others think a fresh viewpoint might help and you're elected since you're the oldest acolyte."
"Britain's older than I am."
Fleming said.
He was a short heavy red-haired boy with an unusual sensitivity conditioned into his blunt features. Utterly relaxed, he sat waiting. "Physiological age doesn't mean anything. The civilization index is more important and the empathy level.
You're 17 but you're emotionally mature.
On the other hand, you're not set. You haven't been a controller for years. We think you may have some fresh angles that can help us."
"Aren't fresh angles undesirable?"
Nerual's thin tired face twisted into a faint smile.
"There's been debate about that. A culture is a living organism and it can't exist indefinitely not indefinitely but we don't intend to remain isolated indefinitely."
"I didn't know that."
Fleming said.
Nerual studied his fingertips. "Don't get the idea that we're the masters.
We're servants far more so than the citizens. We've got to follow the plan and we don't know all the details of the plan. That was arranged purposely.
Someday the barrier will lift then the city won't be isolated any longer."
"But outside." Fleming said a little nervously. "Suppose."
Nerual said "600 years ago the city was built and the barrier created. The barrier's quite impassable. There's a switch. I'll show it to you sometime that's useless at present. It's purpose is to bring the barrier into existence but no one knows how to destroy the barrier. One theory is that it can't be destroyed until it's half-life is run and the energy's reached a sufficiently low level then it blinks out automatically."
"When?"
Nerual shrugged. "Nobody knows that either. Tomorrow or a thousand years from now.
Here's the idea. The city was isolated for protection. That meant complete isolation. Nothing nothing at all can pass the barrier so we're safe. When the barrier goes, we can see what's happened to the rest of the world. If the danger's gone, we can colonize. If it hasn't, we pull the switch again and we're safe behind the barrier for another indefinite period."
Danger.
The earth had been too big and too full of people. Archaic mores had prevailed.
The new science had plunged on but civilization had lagged fatally. In those days, many plans had been proposed. Only one had proved practical.
Rigid control, thorough utilization of the new power and unbreakable armor.
So the city was built and isolated by the barrier at a time when all other cities were falling.
Nerual said "We know the danger of status quo. New theories new experiments aren't forbidden far from it. Some of them can't be studied now a great many of them but records are kept. That reference library will be available when the barrier's lifted. Meanwhile the city's a lifeboat. This part of the human race has to survive. That's the main concern. You don't study physics in a lifeboat. You try to survive. After you've reached land, you can go to work again but now."
The other cities fell.
And the terror roared across the earth 600 years ago.
It was an age of genius and viciousness.
The weapons of the gods were at last available. The foundations of matter ripped screaming apart as the weapons were used. The lifeboat rode a typhoon.
The ark breasted a deluge. In other words, one thing led to another until the planet shook.
First the builders thought the barrier alone would be enough. The city of course had to be a self-contained unit.
That was difficult. A human being isn't.
He has to get food fuel from the air from plants and animals. The solution lay in creating all the necessities within the city but then matters got worse. There was germ warfare and germ mutations. There were the chain reactions. The [snorts] atmosphere itself under the constant bombardment.
More and more complicated grew the ark.
So they built the city as it had to be built and then they found that it would be uninhabitable.
Fleming tilted back his head.
>> [snorts] >> Nerual said "Oh, we're shielded. We're specialized for we're the controllers."
"Yes, I know but I've wondered why can't the citizens be shielded as we are?" "Because they're to be the survivors. We're important only till the barrier lifts. After that we'll be useless away from the lifeboat. In a normal world, we have no place but now in here as controllers of the city, we are important. We serve."
Fleming stirred uneasily.
Nerual said "It will be difficult for you to conceive this. You have been specially conditioned since before your birth. You never knew none of us ever knew normal existence. You are deaf, dumb and blind."
The boy caught a little of the meaning.
"That means certain senses the citizens have because they'll be needed when the barrier lifts. We can't afford to have them under the circumstances. The telepathic sense is substituted. I'll tell you more about that later. Right now, I want you to concentrate on the problem of Bill Norman. He's a citizen."
Nerual paused.
He could feel the immense weight of the city above him and it seemed to him that the foundations were beginning to crumble.
"He's getting out of control."
Nerual said flatly.
"But I'm not important."
Bill Norman said.
They were dancing. Flickering quiet lights beat out from the seventh monument towering even above the roof garden where they were.
Far overhead was the gray emptiness of the barrier.
The music was exciting. Mia's hand crept up and ruffled the back of his neck.
"You are to me." she said. "Still, I'm prejudiced."
She was a tall slim dark girl sharp contrast to Norman's blonde hugeness.
His faintly puzzled blue eyes studied her.
"I'm lucky. I'm not so sure you are, Mia."
The orchestra reached a rhythmic climax.
Brass hit a low nostalgic note throbbingly sustained. Norman moved his big shoulders uneasily and turned toward the parapet towing Mia beside him. They walked in silence through the crowd to a walled embrasure where they were alone in a tiny vantage point overlooking the city.
Mia stole occasional glances at the man's troubled face. He was looking at the seventh monument, crowned with light, and beyond it to the sixth, and smaller in the distance, the fifth. Each a memorial to one of the great eras of man's history.
But the city there had never been a city like it in all the world, for no city before had ever been built for man.
Memphis was a towered colossus for the memory of kings. Baghdad was a sultan's jewel. They were stately pleasure domes by decree. New York and London, Paris and Moscow, they were less functional, less efficient for their citizens than the caves of the troglodytes.
In cities, man had always tried to sow on arid ground.
But this was a city for men. It was not merely a matter of parks and roads, of rolling ramps and para-gravity currents for levitation. Not simply a question of design and architecture. The city was planned according to rules of human psychology. The people fitted into it as into a foam mattress.
It was quiet. It was beautiful and functional. It was perfect for its purpose.
"I saw that psychologist again today."
Norman said.
Mia folded her arms and leaned on the parapet. She didn't look at her companion.
"And generalizations but they always know the answers." Mia said, "They always know the right answers." "This one didn't. It may take time. Really, Bill, you know, no one's frustrated. I don't know what it is."
Norman said, "Heredity, perhaps. All I know is I get these these flashes, which the psychologist can't explain.
But there has to be an explanation."
"That's what the psychologist said.
Still, he couldn't tell me what it was."
"Can't you analyze it at all?" she asked, sliding her hand into his.
His fingers tightened. He looked at the seventh monument and beyond it.
"No."
he said, "It's just that I feel there isn't any answer." "To what?"
"I don't know. I I wish I could get out of the city."
Her hand relaxed suddenly.
"Bill you know he laughed softly. "I know there's no way out, not through the barrier. Maybe that isn't what I want after all, but this this He stared at the monument.
It seems all wrong sometimes. I just can't explain it. It's the whole city.
It makes me feel haywire.
Then I get these flashes."
She felt his hand stiffen. It was jerked away abruptly.
Bill Norman covered his eyes and screamed.
"Flashes of realization."
Niro said to Fleming. "They don't last long. If they did, he'd go insane or die. Of course, the citizen psychologist can't help him. It's outside their scope by definition."
Fleming, sensitive to telepathic emotion, said "You're worried."
He did not speak aloud.
"Naturally.
We controllers have our own conditioning. An ordinary citizen couldn't hold our power. It wouldn't be safe. The builders worked out a good many plans before they decided to create us. They'd thought of making androids and robots to control, but the human factor was needed. Emotions needed to react to the conditioning. From birth, by hypnosis, we're conditioned to protect and serve the citizens. We couldn't do anything else if we tried.
It's ingrained."
"Every citizen?" Fleming asked, and Niro sighed.
"That's the trouble. Every citizen. The whole is equal to the sum total of the parts. One citizen to us represents the entire group. I'm not certain that this wasn't a mistake of the builders. For when one citizen threatens the group, as Norman does, but we've got to solve Norman's problem."
"Yes, it's our problem. Every citizen must have physical and mental balance.
Must."
"I was wondering well for the good of the whole, it would be better if Norman could be eliminated. On purely logical grounds, he should be allowed to go mad or die.
I can't countenance that, though.
I'm too firmly conditioned against it."
"So am I." Fleming said, and Niro nodded. "Exactly. We must cure him.
We've got to get him back to a sane psychological balance, or we may crack up ourselves, because we're not conditioned to react to failure.
Now, you are the youngest of us available. You have more in common with the citizens than any of us. So, you may find an answer where we cannot."
"Norman should have been a controller."
Fleming said.
"Yes, but it's too late for that now.
He's mature. His heredity bad from our viewpoint. Mathematicians and theologians. The problems of every citizen in the city can be solved with the monuments.
We can give them answers that are right for them, but Norman's hunting an abstraction. That's the trouble. We can't give him a satisfactory answer."
"Haven't there ever been parallel psychoses?" "It's not a psychosis.
That's the difficulty. Except by the arbitrary standards of the city.
Oh, there've been plenty of human problems. A woman who wants children, for example, and can't have them. If medicine fails to help her, the monuments will. By creating diversion, arousing her maternal instinct for something else, or channeling it elsewhere by substitution. Making her believe she has a mission of some sort, or creating an emotional attachment of another kind, not maternal.
The idea is to trace the problems back to their psychological roots and then get rid of the frustration somehow.
It's the frustration that's fatal."
"Diversion, perhaps? I don't think it's possible. Norman's problem is an abstraction, and if we answered it, he would go insane."
"I don't know what my problem is."
Norman said desperately. "I don't have any. I'm young, healthy, doing work I like. I'm engaged."
The psychologist scratched his jaw.
"If we knew what your problem is, we could do something about it."
he said. "The most suggestive point here he rustled through the papers before him. Let's see. Do I seem real to you now?" "Very."
Norman said, "But there are times." "The syndrome's familiar. Sometimes you doubt reality. Most people have that feeling occasionally."
He leaned back and made thoughtful noises. Through the transparent wall, the fifth monument was visible, pulsating with soft beats of light. It was very quiet here.
"You mean you don't know what's wrong with me?"
Norman said. "I don't know yet, but I will. First, we must find out what your problem is.
How long will that take? 10 years?"
"I had a problem myself once." the psychologist said. "At the time, I didn't know what it was. I've found out since. I was heading for megalomania. I wanted to change people, so I took up this work. I turned my energy into a useful channel. That solved my problem for me. It's the right way for you, once we get at what's bothering you."
"All I want is to get rid of these hallucinations."
Norman said.
"Auditory, visual, and olfactory, mostly. And without external basis, in fact. They're not illusions, they're not hallucinations.
I wish you could give me more details about them."
"I can't."
Norman seemed to shrink. "It's like being dropped into boiling metal. It's simply indescribable.
An impression of noise light. It comes and goes in a flash, but it's a flash of hell."
"Tomorrow, we'll try narcosynthesis again. I want to correlate my ideas in the meantime. It's just possible."
Norman stepped into a levitating current and was borne upward. At the level of the fifth monument's upper balcony, he stepped off.
There were a few people here, not many, and they were busy with their own affairs, lovemaking and sightseeing.
Norman rested his arms on the rail and stared down. He had come up here because of a vague, unlikely hope that it would be quieter on the high balcony far above the city.
It was quiet, but no more so than the city had been.
The rolling waves curved and slid smoothly beneath him.
They were silent.
Above him, the barrier was a gray, silent dome. He thought that gigantic claps of thunder were pounding at the barrier from outside, that the impregnable hemisphere was beginning to crack, to buckle, to admit chaos in a roaring flood.
He gripped the cool plastic rail hard.
Its solidity wasn't reassuring. In a moment, the barrier would split wide open.
There was no relief on the monument.
He glanced behind him at the base of the softly shining globe with its rippling patterns of light, but that looked ready to shatter, too.
He stumbled as he jumped back into the drop current. In fact, he missed it entirely.
There was a heart-stopping instant when he was in free fall. Then, a safety para-gravity locked tight on his body and slid him easily into the current.
He fell slowly, but he had a new thought now.
Suicide.
There were two questions involved. Did he want to commit suicide? And would suicide be possible?
He studied the second point.
Without noticing, automatically he stepped on a moving way and dropped into one of the cushioned seats.
No one died of violence in the city. No one ever had, as far as he knew. But had people tried to kill themselves?
It was a new, strange concept. There were so many safeties. No danger had been overlooked. There were no accidents.
The road curved. 40 ft away, across a lawn and a low wall, was the barrier.
Norman stood up and walked toward it. He was conscious of both attraction and repulsion.
Beyond the barrier.
He stopped.
There it was, directly before him, a smooth, gray substance without any mark or pattern.
It wasn't matter. It was something the builders had made in the old days.
What was it like outside? 600 years had passed since the barrier was created. In that time, the rest of the world could have changed considerably.
An odd idea struck him. Suppose the planet had been destroyed. Suppose a chain reaction had finally volatilized it. Would the city have been affected?
Or was the city within that fantastic barrier not merely shielded, but actually shifted into another plane of existence?
He struck his fist hard against the grayness. It was like striking rubber.
Without warning, the terror engulfed him. He could not hear himself screaming.
Afterward, he wondered how an eternity could be compressed into one instant.
His thoughts swung back to suicide.
Suicide?
Fleming said.
Nerual's mind was troubled.
Ecology fails, he remarked. I suppose the trouble is that the city's a closed unit. We're doing artificially what was a natural law 600 years ago. But nature didn't play favorites as we're doing, and nature used variables.
Mutations, I mean. There weren't any rules about introducing new pieces into the game. In fact, there weren't any rules about not introducing new rules.
But here in the city, we've got to stick by the original rules and the original pieces. If Bill Norman kills himself, I don't know what may happen.
To us?
To us and through us to the citizens.
Norman's psychologist can't help him.
He's a citizen, too. He doesn't know What was his problem, by the way? The psychologist, I mean. He told Norman he'd solved it by taking up psychology.
Sadism. We took care of that easily enough. We aroused [snorts] his interest in the study of psychology. His mental index was so high, we couldn't give him surgery. He needed a subtler intellectual release, but he's thoroughly social and well-balanced now.
The practice of psychology is the sublimation he needed, and he's very competent. However, he'll never get at the root of Norman's trouble.
Ecology fails.
He repeated.
The relationship between an organism and its environment irreconcilable in this case.
Hallucinations.
Norman doesn't have hallucinations or even illusions. He simply has rational periods, luckily brief.
It's an abnormally ecology, anyway.
It had to be. The city is uninhabitable.
The city screamed.
It was a microcosm, and it had to battle unimaginable stresses to maintain its lifeboat didn't know there was a storm. They saw only placid water on which the boat drifted smoothly.
The city screamed to deaf ears.
No one had heard it for 600 years. No one had felt the radiation or seen the blinding, shocking light that flashed through the city. The citizens could not, and the controllers could not, either, because they were blind and deaf and dumb and lacking in certain other senses.
They had their telepathy, their ESP, which enabled them to accomplish their task of steering the lifeboat. As for the citizens, their job was to survive.
No one had heard the city screaming for 600 years, except Bill Norman.
He has an inquiring mind.
Nerual said dryly. Too inquiring. His problem's in abstraction, as I've mentioned, and if he gets the right answer, it'll kill him. If he doesn't, he'll go insane. In either case, we'll suffer because we're not conditioned to failure. The main hypnotic maxim implanted in our minds is that every citizen must survive.
All right. You've got the facts now.
Fleming, does anything suggest itself?
I don't have all the facts. What's Norman's problem?
He comes of dangerous stock.
Nerual answered indirectly.
Theologians and mathematicians. His mind is a little too rational. As for his problem, well, Pilot asked the same question 3,000 years ago, and I don't recall his ever getting an answer. It's a question that's laying behind every bit of research since research first started.
But the answer has never been fatal till now. Norman's question is simply this, what is truth?
There was a pause.
Nero went on. He hasn't expressed it even to himself. He doesn't know he's asking that question, but we know. We have entree to his mind. That's the question that he's finding insoluble, and the problem that's bringing him gradually out of control, out of his hypnosis.
So far there have been only flashes of realization, split-second rational periods. Those are bad enough for him.
He's heard and seen the city as it is.
Another pause. Fleming's thoughts stilled.
Nero said, "It's the only problem we can't solve by hypnotic suggestion.
We've tried, but it's useless. Norman's that remarkably rare person, someone who is looking for the truth."
Fleming said slowly, "He's looking for the truth, but does he have to find it?"
His thoughts raced into Nero's brain, flint against steel, and struck fire there.
Three weeks later, the psychologist pronounced Norman cured, and he instantly married Mia. They went up to the fifth monument and held hands.
"As long as you understand," Norman said, "I'll go with you." She told him, "Anywhere."
"Well, it won't be tomorrow.
I was going at it the wrong way. Imagine trying to tunnel out through the barrier.
Now, I'll have to fight fire with fire.
The barrier's the result of natural physical laws. There's no secret about how it was created, but how to destroy it, that's another thing entirely.
They say it can't be destroyed.
Someday it'll disappear, Bill.
When? I'm not going to wait for that. It may take me years because I'll have to learn how to use my weapons, years of study and practice and research, but I've got a purpose.
You can't become an expert nuclear physicist overnight.
He laughed and put his arm around her shoulders.
"I don't expect to. First things come first. First I'll have to learn to be a good physicist.
Ehrlich and Pasteur and Curie, they had a drive, a motivation. So have I now.
I know what I want.
I want out."
"Bill, if you should fail," "I expect to at first, but in the end I won't fail. I know what I want.
Out."
She moved closer to him, and they were silent, looking down at the quiet, familiar, friendly nest of the city.
"I can stand it for a while," Norman thought, "especially with Mia.
Now that the psychologist got rid of my trouble, I can settle down to work."
Above them, the rippling soft light beat out from the great globe atop the monument.
"Mia?"
"Yes?"
"I know what I want now."
"But he doesn't know," Fleming said.
"That's all right," Nero said cheerfully. "He never really knew what his problem was.
You found the answer, not the one he wanted, but the best one. Displacement, diversion, sublimation, the [clears throat] name doesn't matter. It was the same treatment basically as turning sadistic tendencies into channels of beneficial surgery. We've given Norman his compromise. He still doesn't know what he's looking for, but he's been hypnotized into believing that he can find it outside the city. Put food on top of a wall out of reach of a starving man, and you'll get a neurosis, but if you give the man materials for building a ladder, his energy will be deflected into a productive channel.
Norman will spend all his life in research and probably make some valuable discoveries. He's sane again. He's under the preventive hypnosis, and he'll die thinking there's a way out." "Through the barrier?
There isn't." "Of course there isn't, but Norman could accept the hypnotic suggestion that there was a way, if only he could find it. We've given him the materials to build his ladder. He'll fail and fail, but he'll never really get discouraged. He's looking for truth.
We've told him he can find truth outside the barrier, and that he can find a way out. He's happy now. He's stopped rocking the lifeboat."
"Truth," Fleming said, "and then, Nero, I've been wondering, what?
Is there a barrier?"
Nero said, "But the city has survived.
Nothing from outside has ever come through the barrier. Suppose there isn't a barrier," Fleming said, "how would the city look from outside? Like a a furnace, perhaps. It's uninhabitable.
We can't conceive of the real city any more than the hypnotized citizens can.
Would you walk into a furnace?
Nero, perhaps the city's its own barrier.
But we sense the barrier. The citizens see the barrier. Do they?
Do we?
Or is that part of the hypnosis, too? A part we don't know about. Nero, I don't know. There may be a barrier, and it may disappear when its half-time is run, but suppose we just think there's a barrier.
But Nero said and stopped.
"That would mean Norman might find a way out.
I wonder if that was what the builders planned," Fleming said.
>> [music] >> You've been listening to pre-1990s speculative fiction readings with a highlight on science fiction by Darrell T. Smith II.
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Thank you so much for your time and your imagination.
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