This is an allegory that contains a good deal of subtlety. It is
an entertaining and fanciful story by a writer who, although a
relative newcomer to science fiction, has developed a unique
understanding of his craft. Incidentally, Mr. Lafferty prefers
the title "A Pride of Children" for this story.

AMONG THE HAIRY EARTHMEN

R. A. Lafferty
There is one period of our World History that has aspects so
different from anything that went before and after that we can
only gaze back on those several hundred years and ask:
"Was that ourselves who behaved so?"
Well, no, as a matter of fact, it wasn't. It was beings of
another sort who visited us briefly and who acted so glorious-
ly and abominably.
This is the way it was:
The Children had a Long Afternoon free. They could go to
any of a dozen wonderful places, but they were already in
one.
Seven of themfull to the craw of wonderful places
decided to go to Eretz.
"Children are attracted to the oddest and most shambling
things," said the Mothers. "Why should they want to go to
Eretz?"
"Let them go," said the Fathers. "Let them seebefore they
be goneone of the few simple peoples left. We ourselves
have become a contrived and compromised people. Let the
Children be children for half a day."
Eretz was the Planet of the Offense, and therefore it was to
be (perhaps it recently had been) the Planet of the Restitution
also. But in no other way was it distinguished. The Children
had received the tradition of Eretz as children receive all
traditionslike lightning.
Hobble, Michael Goodgrind, Ralpha, Lonnie, Laurie, Bea
and Joan they called themselves as they came down on Eretz
for these were their idea of Eretzi names. But they could
have as many names as they wished in their games.
An anomalous intrusion of great heat and force! The rocks
ran like water where they came down, and there was formed
a scarp-pebble enclave.
It was all shanty country and shanty towns on Eretz
clumsy hills, badly done plains and piedmonts, ragged fields,
uncleansed rivers, whole weedpatches of provincesnot at all
like Home. And the Towns! Firenze, Praha, Venezia, Londra,
Colonia, Gant, Romawhy, they were nothing but towns
made out of stone and wood! And these were the greatest of
the towns of Eretz, not the meanest.
The Children exploded into action. Like children of the less
transcendent races running wild on an ocean beach for an
afternoon, they ran wild over continents. They scattered. And
they took whatever forms first came into their minds.
Hobbledark and smoldering like crippled Vulcan.
Michael Goodgrinda broken-nosed bull of a man. How
they all howled when he invented that first form!
Ralphalike young Mercury.
And Lonniea tail giant with a golden beard.
Laurie was fire, Bea was light, Joan was moon-darkness.
But in these, or in any other forms they took, you'd always
know that they were cousins or brethren.
.  Lonnie went pure Gothic. He had come onto it at the tail
end of the thing and he fell in love with it.
"I am the Emperor!" he told the people like giant thunder.
He pushed the Emperor Wenceslas off the throne and became
Emperor.
"I am the true son of Charles, and you had thought me
dead," he told the people. "I am Sigismund." Sigismund was
really dead, but Lonnie became Sigismund and reigned, taking
the wife and all the castles of Wenceslas. He grabbed off
gangling old forts and mountain-rooks and raised howling
Eretzi armies to make war. He made new castles. He loved
the tall sweeping things and raised them to a new height. Have
you never wondered that the last of those castlesin the late
afternoon of the Gothicwere the tallest and oddest?
One day the deposed Wenceslas came back, and he was
possessed of a new power.
"Now we will see who is the real Emperor!" the new
Wenceslas cried like a rising storm.
They clashed their two forces and broke down each other's
bridges and towns and stole the high ladies from each other's
strongholds. They wrestled like boys. But they wrestled with a
continent.
Lonnie (who was Sigismund) learned that the Wenceslas he
battled was Michael Goodgrind wearing a contrived Emperor
body. So they fought harder.
There came a new man out of an old royal line.
"I am Jobst," the new man cried. "I will show you two
princelings who is the real Emperor!"
He fought the two of them with overwhelming verve. He
raised fast-striking Eretzi armies, and used tricks that only a
young Mercury would know. He was Ralpha, entering the
game as the third Emperor. But the two combined against
him and broke him at Constance.
They smashed Germany and France and Italy like a clutch
of eggs. Never had there been such spirited conflict. The
Eretzi were amazed by it all, but they were swept into it; it
was the Eretzi who made up the armies.
Even today the Eretzi or Earthers haven't the details of it
right in their histories. When the King of Aragon, for an
example, mixed into it, they treated him as a separate person.
They did not know that Michael Goodgrind was often the
King of Aragon, just as Lonnie was often the Duke of
Flanders. But, played for itself, the Emperor game would be
quite a limited one. Too limited for the children.
The girls played their own roles Laurie claimed to be
thirteen different queens. She was consort of all three Emper-
ors in every one of their guises, and she also dabbled with the
Eretzi. She was the wanton of the group.
Bea liked the Grande Dame part and the Lady Bountiful
bit.  She  was  very  good  on  Great  Renunciations.  In  her
different characters, she beat paths from thrones to nunneries
and back again; and she is now known as five different saints.
Every time you turn to the Common of the Mass of Holy
Women who are Neither Virgins nor Martyrs, you are likely
to meet her.
And Joan was the dreamer who may have enjoyed the
Afternoon more than any of them.
Laurie made up a melodramaLucrezia Borgia and the
Poison Ring. There is an advantage in doing these little
melodramas on Eretzi. You can have as many characters as
you wishthey come free. You can have them act as extrava-
gantly as you desirewho is there to object to it? Lucrezia
was very well done, as children's burlesques go, and the
bodies were strewn from Napoli to Vienne. The Eretzi play
with great eagerness any convincing part offered them, and
they go to their deaths quite willingly if the part calls for it.
Lonnie made one up called The Pawn-Broker and the
Pope. It was in the grand manner, all about the Medici
family, and had some very funny episodes in the fourth act.
Lonnie, who was vain of his acting ability, played Medici
parts in five succeeding generations. The drama left more
corpses than did the Lucrezia piece, but the killings weren't so
sudden or showy; the girls had a better touch at the bloody
stuff.
Ralpha did a Think Piece called One, Two, Three
Infinity. In its presentation he put all the rest of the Children
to roast grandly in Hell; he filled up Purgatory with Eretzi-
type peoplethe dullards; and for the Paradise he did a
burlesque of Home. The Eretzi use a cropped version of
Ralpha's piece and call it the Divine Comedy, leaving out a
lot of fun.
Bea did a poetic one named the Witches' Bonfire. All the
Children spent many a happy evening with that one, and they
burnt twenty thousand witches. There was something satisfy-
ing about those Eretzi autumnal twilights with the scarlet sky
and the frosty fields and the kine lowing in the meadows and
.lhe evening smell of witches burning. Bea's was really a
pastoral piece.
All the Children ranged far except Hobble. Hobble (who
was Vulcan) played with his sick toys. He played at Ateliers
and Smithies, at Furnaces and Carousels. And often the other
Children came and watched his work, and joined in for a
while.
They played with the glass from the furnaces. They made
goldtoned goblets, iridescent glass poems, figured spheres,
goblin pitchers, glass music boxes, gargoyle heads, dragon
chargers, princess salieras, figurines of lovers. So many things
to make of glass! To make, and to smash when made!
But some of the things they exchanged as' gifts instead of
smashing themglass birds and horses, fortune-telling globes
that showed changing people and scenes within, tuned chim-
ing balls that rang like bells, glass cats that sparkled when
stroked, wolves and bears, witches that flew.
The Eretzi found some of these things that the Children
discarded. They studied them and imitated them.
And again, in the interludes of their other games, the
Children came back to Hobble's shops where he sometimes
worked with looms. They made costumes of wool and linen
and silk. They made trains and cloaks and mantles, all the
things for their grand masquerades. They fabricated tapestries
and rugs and wove in all sorts of scenes: vistas of Home and
of Eretz, people and peacocks, fish and cranes, dingles and
dromedaries, larks and lovers. They set their creations in the
strange ragged scenery of Eretz and in the rich contrived
gardens of Home. A spark went from the Children to their
weaving so that none could tell wherq they left off and their
creations began.
Then they left poor Hobble and went on to their more vital
games.
There were seven of them (six, not counting the backward
Hobble), but they seemed a thousand. They built themselves
Castles in Spain and Gardes in Languedoc. The girls played
always at Intrigue, for the high pleasure of it, and to give a
causus for the wars. And the wars were the things that the
boys seldom tired of. It is fun to play at armies with live
warriors; and the Eretzi were live . . . in a sense.
The Eretzi had had wars and armies and sieges long before
this, but they had been aimless things. Oh, this was one field
where the Eretzi needed the Children Consider the battles
that the Children engineered that afternoon'
Oallipolihow they managed the ships in that one! The
Fathers could not have maneuvered more intricately in their
four-dimension chess at Home.
Adrianople, Kunovitza, Dibra, Varna, Hexamilion! It's fun
just to call out the bloody names of battles.
Constantinople! That was the one where they first used the
big cannon. But who cast the big cannon for the Turks there?
In <beirlffstories the Eretzi say that it was a mai named
Orban or Urban, and that he was Dacian, or he was Hungar-
ian, or he was Danish. How many places did you tell them
that you came from, Michael Goodgrind?
Belgrad, Trebizond, Morat, Blackheath, Napoli, Dornach!
Cupua and TarantoRalpha's armies beat Michael's at
both of those.
CarignolaLonnie foxed both Michael and Ralpha there,
and nearly foxed himself. (You didn't intend it all that way,
Lonnie. It was seven-cornered luck and you know it!)
Garigliano where the sea was red with blood and the ships
were like broken twigs on the water!
Brescia! Ravenna! Who would have believed that such
things could be done with a device known as Spanish in-
fantry?
Villalar, Milan, Pavia! Best of all, the sack of Rome! There
were a dozen different games blended into that one. The
Eretzi  discovered  new  emotions  in  themselves  therea
deeper depravity and a higher heroism.
Siege of Florence! That one called out the Children's every
trick. A wonderfully well played game!
Turin, San Quentin, Moncontour, Mookerhide!
Lepanto! The great sea-siege where the castled ships broke
asunder and the tall Turk Ochiali Pasha perished with all his
fleet and was drowned forever. But it wasn't so forever as you
might suppose, for he was Michael Goodgrind who had more
bodies than one. The fish still remember Lepanto. Never had
there been such feastings.
Alcazar-Quivar! That was the last of the excellent ones
the end of the litany. The Children left off the game. They
remembered (but conveniently, and after they had worn out
the fun of it) that they were forbidden to play Warfare with
live soldiers. The Eretzi, left to themselves again, once more
conducted their battles as dull and uninspired affairs.
You can put it to a test, now, tonight. Study the conflicts of
the earlier times, of this high period, and of the time that
followed. You will see the difference. For a short two or three
centuries you will find really well contrived battles. And
before and after there is only ineptitude.
Often the Children played at Jealousies and raised up all
the black passions in themselves. They played at Immoralities,
for there is an abiding evil in all children.
Maskings and water-carnivals and balls, and forever the
emotional intrigue!
Ralpha walked down a valley, playing a lute and wearing
the body of somebody else. He luted the birds out of the trees
and worked a charm on the whole countryside.
An old crone followed him and called, "Love me when I'm
old."
"Semprernai, tuttavia," sang Ralpha in Eretzi or Earthian.
"For Ever, For Always."
A small girl followed and called, "Love me when I'm
young."
"Forever, for always," sang Ralpha.
The weirdest witch in the world followed him and called,
"Love me when I'm ugly."
"For always, forever," sang Ralpha, and pulled her down
on the grass. He knew that all the creatures had been Laurie
playing Bodies.
But a peculiar thing happened: the prelude became more
important than the play. Ralpha fell in love with his own
song, and forgot Laurie who had inspired it. He made all
manner of music and poemaubade, madrigal, chanson; and
he topped it off with one hundred sonnets. He made them in
Eretzi words, Italy words, Languedoc words, and they were
excellent. And the Eretzi still copy them.
Ralpha discovered there that poetry and song are Passion
Deferred. But Laurie would rather have deferred the song.
She was long gone away and taking up with others before
Ralpha had finished singing his love for her, but he never
noticed that she had left him. After Hobble, Ralpha was the
most peculiar of them all.
In the meanwhile, Michael Goodgrind invented another
game of Bodies. He made them of marblean Eretzi lime-
stone that cuts easily without faulting. And he painted them on
canvas. He made the People of Home, and the Eretzi. He said
that he would make angels.
"But you cannot make angels," said Joan.
"We know that," said Michael, "but do the Eretzi know
that I cannot? I will make angels for the Eretzi."
He made them grotesque, like chicken men, like bird men,
with an impossible duplication of humeral function. And the
Children laughed at the carven jokes.
But Michael had sudden inspiration. He touched his crea-
tionsupand added an element of nobility. So an iconography
wasborn.
All the Children did it then, and they carried it into other
mediums. They made the Eretzi, and they made themselves.
You can still see their deep features on some of those statues,
that family look that was on them no matter what faces they
wore or copied.
Bronze is fun! Bronze horses are the best. Big bronze doors
can be an orgy of delight, or bronze bells whose shape is their
tone.
The Children went to larger things. They played at Realms
and Constitutions, and Banks and Ships and Provinces. Then
they came down to smaller things again and played at Books,
for Hobble had just invented the printing thing.
Of them all. Hobble had the least imagination. He didn't
range wide like the others. He didn't outrage the Eretzi. He
spent all his time with his sick toys as though he were a child
of much younger years.
The only new body he acquired was another one just like
his own. Even this he didn't acquire as did the other Children
theirs. He made it laboriously in his shop, and animated it.
Hobble and the Hobble Creature worked together thereafter,
and you could not tell them apart. One was as dull and
laboring as the other.
The Eretzi had no effect whatsoever on the Children, but
the Children had great effect on the Eretzi. The Children had
the faculty of making whatever little things they needed or
wanted, and the Eretzi began to copy them. In this manner
the Eretzi came onto many tools, processes, devices and arts
that they had never known before. Out of ten thousand, there
were these:
The Astrolabe, Equatorium, Quadrant, Lathes and Travers-
ing Tools, Ball-Bearings, Gudgeons, Gig-Mills, Barometers,
Range-Finders, Cantilever Construction, Machine-Saws, Screw-
Jacks, Hammer-Forges and Drop-Forges, Printing, Steel that
was more than puddled Iron, Logarithms, Hydraulic Rams,
Screw-Dies, Spanner-Wrenches, Flux-Solder, Telescopes, Mi-
croscopes,  Mortising  Machines,  Wire-Drawing,  Stanches
(Navigation-Locks), Gear Trains, Paper Making, Magnetic
Compass and Wind-Rhumb, Portulan Charts and Projection
Maps, Pinnule-Sights, Spirit-Levels, Fine Micrometers, Por-
celain, Fire-Lock Guns, Music Notation and Music Printing,
Complex Pulleys and Snatch-Blocks, the Seed-Drill, Playing
Cards (the Children's masquerade faces may still be seen on
them), Tobacco, the Violin, Whisky, the Mechanical Clock.
They were forbidden, of course, to display any second-
aspect powers or machines, as these would disrupt things. But
they disrupted accidently in building, in tooling, in armies and
navies, in harbors and canals, in towns and bridges, in ways
of thinking and recording. They started a thing that couldn't
be reversed. It was only the One Afternoon they were here,
only two or three Eretzi Centuries, but they set a trend. They
overwhelmed by the very number of their new devices, and it
could never be simple on Eretz again.
There were many thousands of Eretz days and nights in
that Long Afternoon. The Children had begun to tire of it,
and the hour was growing late. For the last time they
wandered off, this time all Seven of them together.
In the bodies of Kings and their Ladies, they strode down a
High Road in the Levant. They were wondering what last
thing they could contrive, when they found their way blocked
by a Pilgrim with a staff.
"Let's tumble the hairy Eretzi," shouted Ralpha. "Let him
not stand in the way of Kings!" For Ralpha was King of
Bulgaria that day.
But they did not tumble the Pilgrim. That man knew how to
handle his staff, and he laid the bunch of them low. It was
nothing to him that they were the high people of the World
who ordered Nations. He flogged them flat.
"Bleak Children!" that Pilgrim cried out as he beat them
into the ground. "Unfledged little oafs! Is it so that you waste
your Afternoon on Earth? I'll give you what your Fathers
forgot."
Seven-colored thunder, how he could use that staff! He
smashed the gaudy bodies of the Children and broke many of
their damnable bones. Did he know that it didn't matter? Did
he understand that the bodies they wore were only for an
antic?
"Lay off, old Father!" begged Michael Goodgrind, bleeding
and half beaten into the earth. "Stay your bloody bludgeon.
You do not know who we are."
"I know you," maintained  the  Pilgrim mountainously.
"You are ignorant Children who have abused the Afteinoon
given you on Earth. You have marred and ruined and warped
everything you have touched."
"No, no," Ralpha protestedas he set in new bones for his
old damaged ones"You do not understand. We have ad-
vanced you a thousand of your years in one of our after-
noons. Consider the Centuries we have saved you! It's as
though we had increased your life by that thousand years."
"We have all the time there is," said the Pilgrim solidly.
"We were well and seriously along our road, and it was not so
crooked as the one you have brought us over. You have
broken our sequence with your meddling. You've set us back
more ways than you've advanced us. You've shattered our
Unity."
"Pigs have unity!" Joan shouted.  "We've brought you
diversity. Think deep. Consider all the machines we have
showed you, the building and the technique. I can name you a
thousand things we've given you. You will never be the same
again."
"True. We will never be the same," said the Pilgrim. "You
may not be an unmixed curse. I'm a plain man and I don't
know. Surety is one of the things you've lost us. But you
befouled us. You played the game of Immoralities and taught
it to us earthlings."
"You had it already," Laurie insisted. "We only brought
elegance instead of piggishness to its practice." Immoralities
was Laurie's own game, and she didn't like to hear it slighted.
"You have killed many thousands of us in your battles,"
said the Pilgrim. "You're a bitter fruitsweet at the first taste
only."
"You would yourselves have killed the same numbers in
battles, and the battles wouldn't have been so .good," said
Michael. "Do you not realize that we are the higher race? We
have roots of great antiquity."
'  "We have roots older than antiquity," averred the Pilgrim.
"You are wicked Children without compassion."
"Compassion? For the Eretzi?" shouted Lonnie in disbelief.
"Do you have compassion for mice?" demanded Ralpha.
"Yes. I have compassion for mice," the Pilgrim said softly.
"I make a guess," Ralpha shot in shrewdly after they had
all repaired their damaged bodies. "You travel as a Pilgrim,
and Pilgrims sometimes come from very far away. You are
not Eretzi. You are one of the Fathers from Home going in
the guise of an Eretzi Pilgrim. You have this routine so that
sometimes one of you comes to this worldand to every
worldto see how it goes. You may have come to investi-
gate an event said to have happened on Eretz a day ago."
Ralpha did not mean an Eretzi day ago, but a day ago at
Home. The High Road they were on was in Coele-Syria not
far from where the Event was thought to have happened, and
Ralpha pursued his point:
"You are no Eretzi, or you would not dare to confront us,
knowing what we are."
"You guess wrong in this and in everything," said the
Pilgrim. "I am of this Earth, earthly. And I will not be
intimidated by a gangle of children of whatever speciesi
You're a weaker flesh than ourselves. You hide in other
bodies, and you get earthlings to do your slaughter. And you
cannot stand up to my staff!"
"Go home, you witless weanlings!" and he raised his
terrible staff again.
"Our time is nearly up. We will be gone soon," said Joan
softly.
The last game they played? They played Saintsfor the
Evil they had done in playing Bodies wrongly, and in playing
Wars with live soldiers. But they repented of the things only
after they had enjoyed them for the Long Afternoon. They
played Saints in hairshirt and ashes, and revived that affair
among the Eretzi.
And finally they all assembled and took off from the high
hill between Prato and Firenze in Italy. The rocks flowed like
water where they left, and now there would be a double scarp
formation.
They were gone, and that was the end of them here.
There is a theory, however, that one of the Hobbles
remained and is with us yet. Hobble and his creature could
not be told apart and could not finally tell themselves apart.
They flipped an Eretzi coin. Emperors or Shields, to see
which one would go and which one would stay. One went and
one stayed. One is still here.
But, after all. Hobble was only concerned with the sick
toys, the mechanical things, the material inventions. Would it
have been better if Ralpha or Joan stayed with us? They'd
have burned us crisp by now! They were damnable and
irresponsible children.
This short Historical Monograph was not assembled for a
distraction or an amusement. We consider the evidence that
Children have spent their short vacations here more than once
and in both hemispheres. We set out the theses in ordered
parallels and we discover that we have begun to tremble
unaccountably.
When last came such visitors here? What thing has beset us
during the last long Eretzi lifetime?
We consider a new periodand it impinges on the Present
with aspects so different from anything that went before
that we can only gasp aghast and gasp in sick wonder:
"Is it ourselves who behave so?
"Is it beings of another sort, or have we become those
beings?
"Are we ourselves? Are these our deeds?"
There are great deep faces looking over our shoulder, there
are cold voices of ancient Children jeering "Compassion? For
Earthlings?", there is nasty frozen laughter that does not
belong to our species.