Clifford D. Simak. Way Station

small ones would become so small they would disappear. But it is becoming

different now. There is a tendency to pull the pettiness from underneath the

rug and blow it beyond its size, meanwhile letting the major and the

important issues fall away.”

“It sounds like Earth,” said Enoch.

“In many ways,” Ulysses said. “In principle, although the circumstances

would diverge immensely.”

“You’ve been reading the papers I have been saving for you?”

Ulysses noped. “It doesn’t look too happy.”

“It looks like war,” said Enoch bluntly.

Ulysses stirred uneasily.

“You don’t have wars,” said Enoch.

“The galaxy, you mean. No, as we are set up now we don’t have wars.”

“Too civilized?”

“Stop being bitter,” Ulysses told him. “There has been a time or two

when we came very close, but not in recent years. There are many races now

in the cofratemity that in their formative years had a history of war.”

“There is hope for us, then. It’s something you outgrow.”

“In time, perhaps.”

“But not a certainty?”

“No, I wouldn’t say so.”

“I’ve been working on a chart,” said Enoch. “Based on the Mizar system

of statistics. The chart says there is going to be war.”

“You don’t need the chart,” Ulysses said, “to tell you that.”

“But there was something else. It was not just knowing if there’d be a

war. I had hoped that the chart might show how to keep the peace. There must

be a way. A formula, perhaps. If we could only think of it or know where to

look or whom to ask or …”

“There is a way,” Ulysses said, “to prevent a war.”

“You mean you know …”

“It’s a drastic measure. It only can be used as a last resort.”

“And we’ve not reached that last resort?”

“I think, perhaps, you have. The kind of war that Earth would fight

could spell an end to thousands of years of advancement, could wipe out all

the culture, everything but the feeble remnants of civilizations. It could,

just possibly, eliminate most of the life upon the planet.”

“This method of yours-it has been used?”

“A few times.”

“And worked?”

“Oh, certainly. We’d not even consider it if it didn’t work.”

“It could be used on Earth?”

“You could apply for its application.”

“I?”

“As a representative of the Earth. You could appear before Galactic

Central and appeal for us to use it. As a member of your race, you could

give testimony and you would be given a hearing. If there seemed to be merit

in your plea, Central might name a group to investigate and then, upon the

report of its findings, a decision would be made.”

“You said I. Could anyone on Earth?”

“Anyone who could gain a hearing. To gain a hearing, you must know

about Galactic Central and you’re the only man of Earth who does. Besides,

you’re a part of Galactic Central’s staff. You have served as a keeper for a

long time. Your record has been good. We would listen to you.”

“But one man alone! One man can’t speak for an entire race.”

“You’re the only one of your race who is qualified.”

“If I could consult some others of my race.”

“You can’t. And even if you could, who would believe you?”

“That’s true,” said Enoch.

Of course it was. To him there was no longer any strangeness in the

idea of a galactic cofraternity, of a transportation network that spread

among the stars-a sense of wonder at times, but the strangeness had largely

worn off. Although, he remembered, it had taken years. Years even with the

physical evidence there before his eyes, before he could bring himself to a

complete acceptance of it. But tell it to any other Earthman and it would

sound like madness.

“And this method?” he asked, almost afraid to ask it, braced to take

the shock of whatever it might be.

“Stupidity,” Ulysses said.

Enoch gasped. “Stupidity? I don’t understand. We are stupid enough, in

many ways, right now.”

“You’re thinking of intellectual stupidity and there is plenty of that,

not only on Earth, but throughout the galaxy. What I am talking about is a

mental incapacity. An inability to understand the science and the technique

that makes possible the kind of war that Earth would fight. An inability to

operate the machines that are necessary to fight that kind of war. Turning

the people back to a mental position where they would not be able to

comprehend the mechanical and technological and scientific advances they

have made. Those who know would forget. Those who didn’t know could never

learn. Back to the simplicity of the wheel and lever. That would make your

kind of war impossible.”

Enoch sat stiff and straight, unable to speak, gripped by an icy

terror, while a million disconnected thoughts went chasing one another in a

circle through his brain.

“I told you it was drastic,” Ulysses said. “It has to be. War is

something that costs a lot to stop. The price is high.”

“I couldn’t!” Enoch said. “No one could.”

“Perhaps you can’t. But consider this: If there is a war…”

“I know. If there is a war, it could be worse. But it wouldn’t stop

war. It’s not the kind of thing I had in mind. People still could fight,

still could kill.”

“With clubs,” said Ulysses. “Maybe bows and arrows. Rifles, so long as

they still had rifles, and until they ran out of ammunition. Then they

wouldn’t know how to make more powder or how to get the metal to make the

bullets or even how to make the bullets. There might be fighting, but

there’d be no holocaust. Cities would not be wiped out by nuclear warheads,

for no one could fire a rocket or arm the warhead-perhaps wouldn’t even know

what a rocket or a warhead was. Communications as you know them would be

gone. All but the simplest transportation would be gone. War, except on a

limited local scale, would be impossible.”

“It would be terrible,” Enoch said.

“So is war,” Ulysses said. “The choice is up to you.”

“But how long?” asked Enoch. “How long would it last? We wouldn’t have

to go back to stupidity forever?”

“Several generations,” said Ulysses. “By that time the effect of-what

shall we call it? the treatment?-would gradually begin wearing off. The

people slowly would shake off their moronic state and begin their

intellectual climb again. They’d be given, in effect, a second chance.”

“They could,” said Enoch, “in a few generations after that arrive at

exactly the same situation that we have today.”

“Possibly. I wouldn’t expect it, though. Cultural development would be

most unlikely to be entirely parallel. There’d be a chance that you’d have a

better civilization and a more peaceful people.”

“It’s too much for one man …”

“Something hopeful,” Ulysses said, “that you might consider. The method

is offered only to those races which seem to us to be worth the saving.”

“You have to give me time,” said Enoch.

But he knew there was no time.

23

A man would have a job and supenly be unable to perform it. Nor could

the men around him carry on their jobs. For they would not have the

knowledge or the backgrounds to do the tasks that they had been doing. They

might try, of course-they might keep on trying for a time, but perhaps for

not too long. And because the jobs could not be done, the business or the

corporation or factory or whatever it might be, would cease its operation.

Although the going out of business would not be a formal nor a legal thing.

It would simply stop. And not entirely because the jobs could not be done,

because no one could muster the business sense to keep it operating, but

also because the transportation and communications which made the business

possible also would have stopped.

Locomotives could not be operated, nor could planes and ships, for

there would be no one who would remember how to operate them. There would be

men who at one time had possessed all the skills that had been necessary for

their operation, but now the skills would have disappeared. There might be

some who still would try, with tragic consequences. And there still might be

a few who could vaguely remember how to operate the car or truck or bus, for

they were simple things to run and it would be almost second nature for a

man to drive them. But once they had broken down, there would be no one with

the knowledge of mechanics to repair them and they’d not run again.

In the space of a few hours’ time the human race would be stranded in a

world where distance once again had come to be a factor. The world would

grow the larger and the oceans would be barriers and a mile would be long

once more. And in a few days’ time there would be a panic and a hupling and

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