Galaxy Zee

by Brian W. Aldiss


AUTUMN. Autumn had come to Galaxy Zee. On a million million uninhabited planets,
trees of all varieties turned their  backs to a freshening wind and  shed leaves
like  sepia tears.  On a  million million  inhabited planets,  where trees  were
permitted,  there too  those trees  which lived  their lives  out in  the  stony
solitude  of streets,  sent their  browned tears  bowling down  the highways  to
Distribution Centres.  In those  centres they  would be  machine-masticated into
nourishment for  the huddled  poor. The  huddled poor  would struggle to comfort
themselves against the new chill in a million million atmospheres.


TERRAFORMING. Where  could they  run to,  these paupers?  Not to another planet.
Planet A resembled Planet B resembled Planet C resembled Planet D, right through
a  million  million  alphabets.  All planets  had  been  terraformed  alike. All
lifestyles were alike.  All valleys had  been filled by  levelled mountains, all
mountains had  been made  low. And  those who  lived on  a billion billiard ball
worlds were alike in skin  colour, the perfect tintless, odourless,  wrinkleless
skin that with its million million miles of texture covered all the  inhabitants
of Galaxy Zee.


THE POOR. The poor had no regret  that they were poor. There were millions  upon
millions  like  them, identical  with  them. They  were  programmed to  be  poor
throughout life. Never did they lift  their eyes to wealth or warmth.  The Great
Programme made no allowance for mercy. Winters were programmed to follow summers
on the million million planets of Galaxy Zee. Winters were programmed to  winnow
the poor. Frosts glittered  in the air, winds  rushed like great brooms  through
the thoroughfares, flesh  became chill to  the touch. It  was a time  to die, to
join the great blackness of night. By the end of winter, hundreds of millions of
the poor would no longer infest the mean streets at th^ backs of cities. Nothing
was left to chance: everything was programmed. Except that this much was left to
chance: that the  man sheltering in  Doorway X would  survive, whereas his  next
door neighbour  sheltering in  Doorway Y  would expire.  Such minor  statistical
randomness was not important. The death mattered no more than the life.


THE RICH. It was the poor who had  nothing to do. The Rich were always busy.  In
darkened rooms, members of the Rich consulted therapists on the question of  why
they had so much to do. The  healthier ones joined clubs where they were  likely
to kill one another. Most of their days were filled with very important meetings
and consultations. They flew from one identical city to the next identical  city
to speak or to  listen, or to report  on those who spoke  or listened. Sometimes
while they were meeting, their cities fell apart like broken hearts. They funded
or arranged or attended great banquets. At these banquets, serious men and women
rose and spoke on such topics of the day as 'Why Are The Poor So Many?' and 'Why
Are The Poor  Determined To Remain  Poor?' and 'Should  Hunting Hengiss Be  Made
Less Dangerous?'


THE HENGISS. No actual animals survived on any of the million million planets of
Galaxy  Zee.  The hengiss  was  a manufacture.  Since  the hengiss  was  made of
stellena, a steel-plastic material  containing its own human  DNA genome-strain,
it was regarded  as animal and,  in fact, resembled  the front part  of a clawed
horse with two legs.  It fed on mutantin.  Throughout the course of  ten days, a
hengiss  was  fed  and  exercised   and  carefully  tortured,  to  improve   its
temperament.


THE HUNT. Every ten  days, a hunt was  held in every city.  At the start of  the
hunt, uniformity prevailed. The current hengiss  was taken to the centre of  the
main square, the same in every city, and at the same time released. Off went the
hengiss, running furiously,  seeking escape. It  was unprogrammed. This  was the
great crime.  Its movements  could not  be predicted.  However, it was essential
that its end was predictable. Off went the Rich in pursuit, all clad in  motiles
making  great  noise,  speeding,  speeding,  clashing  one  against  the  other,
sparking, sparking, swerving and jarring in pursuit.


THE VICTORS. Ahead rushed the great hengiss. It would leave the streets to swarm
up the side of  a building, a great  building whose walls swelled  and burned as
the  Hengiss climbed.  Through windows,  burning, blazing,  blasting its  course
through  rooms, doors,  walls and  windows. The  motiles rose  like a  swarm  of
hornets  to pursue.  Many crashed.  Others in  sagacious pursuit  closed on  the
fleeing animal. Dive as it might,  and run inexhaustibly, still the hengiss  was
overtaken - until in desperation it  turned at bay. Then the nearest  Rich threw
themselves upon it and bludgeoned it to extinction with nuclear prods. A banquet
for the victors followed.


THE  UNICRAT. Stationed  in higher  dimensions was  the Unicrat,  the Maker   of
Worlds.  These  dimensions  were  multiple,  mirroring  each  other,   sometimes
multiplying, sometimes diminishing.  They diminished until  the Maker of  Worlds
would be the size of  a pinhead, had size existed  as a factor. Or they  swelled
like a  nuclear cloud  until the  Maker of  Worlds was  Itself greater  than the
universe It controlled - had such dimensions utilised the factor of size.

These dimensions had been  purged of size and  of time. Eternity did  not exist,
nor did time: there was only an etiolated Newness.

The Unicrat Itself spanned dimensions.

Under one of Its  mandibles on Its left  flank lay an alec-trollic  reduction of
Galaxy Zee. The mandible ran its  sensor over the reduction, which resembled  in
some  respects  a gigantic  camera  obscura, in  which  suns and  planets  moved
according to rigid physical law - and living beings with them.

The Unicrat's  factual part  spoke to  Its judgemental  part in  the language of
light-impulse It used for self-meditation.

'My plan is not working out properly.'

Judgemental  replied. 'Uniformity  has triumphed.  The physical  laws have  been
drawn up too tightly.'

'They have some randomness.'

'Not enough.'

'I see that man in Doorway X  survives, whereas the man in Doorway Y  dies. That
is random.'

'Just that effect applies in all cities on all million million planets of Galaxy
Zee.'

"Is action to be taken?'

The judgemental replied, 'Many eons ago,  we sent down a Son to  enliven matters
and bring fresh thinking. The same experiment might be attempted again.'

'Yes. But can we hope for better success? I feel the plan should be  scrapped.'.
'Quite. But a last chance...'


THE SON. All  at precisely the  same time, ignoring  light years, the  Unicrat's
sons materialised on each of the million million planets of Galaxy Zee. The  Son
was made largely of  impervium. Its face was  a benevolent and immoveable  mask,
its heart, unmoving, sent out electric impulses. It strode first among the poor,
who feared it and cowered away from it. Still they did not flee, hoping for some
possible free benefit.

'Do not despair.  One day the  galaxy will be  yours and you  will own it.' Thus
spoke the Son to the poor. To which the shouted response was 'Rubbish!'

'Your children are so thin. Yet they are beautiful. Suffer them to come to  me.'
To which the shouted response was 'Paedophile!'

'What can I do to help you?' To which the shouted response was 'Kill the Rich!'

'You miserable wretches!' said the Son in contempt.


THE TRAP. When the Son went to the quarters where the Rich lived, he found a fat
and evil-faced man planning a trap to kill his rival. The fifteenth floor of his
palace he had entirely filled to a depth of twenty feet with various slimes  and
bloods and  shredded bones  of the  recently dead.  On the  fourteenth floor,  a
banquet was spread,  to which the  hated rival was  invited. When the  rival was
seated, it needed but the  pressure on a button and  all the filth in the  floor
above would come flooding down and drown him.

The Son said to this fat man, 'I am seeking some mercy somewhere here. Will  you
not forgive your rival and thus save your world?'

'It is  predetermined he  will die,'  said the  fat man.  'I consulted a  psycho
-necessiter and it said  my rival will die  today. So I can't  stop the process,
not even to save this world.'

The rival came, wary, bold, sly. He confronted the heavily laid banqueting table
and perceived that the fruit piled  there was plastic. A quick covert  infra-red
search revealed the vital button. Seizing his fat enemy, he plunged his thumb on
the button. The ceiling  burst open. Down came  the rancid flood. Both  men were
drowned, clutching each other in hatred.

The Son decided there was no remedy for this world.

All the Sons decided there was no remedy for their world.


DESTRUCTION. The work of destruction  was promptly begun. Crevices like  burning
red mouths appeared, tearing  apart the mantle of  the planets as if  it were so
much cloth. Into these gulfs plunged  the hengiss, escaping at last, only  to be
at  once consumed.  Small things  like shoes  scuttled forth  from the  tortured
ground, ran in their thousands up the walls of the palaces of the Rich,  feeding
on the masonry  as they went.  The Rich fel'l  screaming to the  ground as their
homes disappeared  like marzipan.  A great  wind storm  arose, blowing  the poor
people like straws into  the fiery gulfs. Mountains  rose up. Valleys sank.  The
planet sang in its misery. Even the atmosphere burned.


THE STATUE. The  Son, supervising all,  walked along the  shore of a  lava lake.
There, on all the million million  planets, he saw a grand statue.  Smoke formed
her cloak.  The statue  was of  a woman,  whose bronze  hair blew  in the  gale.
Drawing near, the Son saw that the statue moved. It was not a woman. Nor was  it
a statue, but something between statue and woman, and the bronze hair was of  an
unknown metal.

'Why do you destroy this planet?' this semi-female demanded in a deep voice.

'All planets, all million million of  them, are being destroyed. The Unicrat  is
cancelling Galaxy Zee. The plan is not working out.'

'It is the Unicrat that is at fault. He must be destroyed.' 'The Unicrat  cannot
be destroyed. But you can be.'  The semi-female said in its deep  and melancholy
voice, "No, I cannot be destroyed. I  am the Controller of Galaxy Why, where  we
order things better.'

'Yes?' said the Son, with sarcasm. 'How better?' 'You, Son, have only intellect.
No compassion. No emotion. So your plan can never succeed.'

'But -' exclaimed  the Son in  triumph - 'I  can and will  wipe out this planet.
Together with all the million million other planets!'


THE UNION. AS) he spoke, the Son clapped his hands. The world began to boil.  It
shrank and the galaxy thereabout  shrank with it, causing infernal  temperatures
to rise. Darkness fed on light, light  snapped at the belly of the dark.  A soup
of matter was rapidly forming,  curdling, spewing out radiation. Electrons  from
the outer parts of atoms were torn away, so that a stew of nuclei and  electrons
boiled and blazed. Total  annihilation was coming within  a millionth part of  a
second, when the semi-female clasped the Son in her mighty arms, and whisked him
instantaneously away, away into Galaxy Why, to form a new union.


BANG. Space, time  and energy were  consumed to nothing.  The entire galaxy  was
contained within  the space  of a  flea's eyeball.  The contraction  was all but
instantaneous.  And then,  purified, all  burst forth  once more  in a  fury  of
renewed energy.

The Unicrat cried in delight at such a Big Bang.