|
B |
ut mother,” said Mrs. Murray’s nine-year-old son, “won’t the creatures be embarrassed by our visit?”
“Yes, Mummy,” daughter Harriet stuttered excitedly, “won’t the creatures—feel funny—if we stare at them?” She was only three-and-a-half.
The three of them were standing on the broad escalator moving slowly upward into the dark, cool mouth of the syntho-marble building. Behind them lay the luxuriant botanical gardens, dancing in the heavy sunlight, and to Mrs. Murray the deep shadows within the Zoological Building offered sweet relief. She was a city girl, used to air-conditioning and artificial light.
Mrs. Murray started to say, “Don’t—,” remembered her Psych Three course, and said, instead, careful not to be patronizing, “Call them ‘beings’—’alien beings’—not ‘creatures.’ “ She squeezed each of their hands in turn, smiling at the pleasant thought of the cool air which would shortly brush her damp cheek. “And they won’t be embarrassed, Don. All the beings are behind one-way glass. We can see into their homes, but they can’t see us.”
They reached the broad stone veranda and walked toward the huge glass doors. As they entered—and the cool air brushed Mrs. Murray’s cheek and drove the warm, sticky air from the folds of her diaphanous nylon tunic—they noticed the bronze plaque with its embossed letters:
WELCOME TO
THE INTERSTELLAR ZOO
Below it in smaller letters was:
Help Yourself
Under that sign were neat stacks of booklets. Mrs. Murray gave one to each of her children and took one for herself. As they moved into the huge hall to their right, she began reading the introduction aloud. Don read his own book silently with her, but Harriet, too excited to concentrate, peered timidly at the far wall. Through the translucent barrier were swirling, subdued lights and ghostly forms.
“ ‘Picture Number One,’” Mrs. Murray read, “ ‘shows a Venusian.’ “ (Pic. A) “ ‘In the cloudy atmosphere of Venus, this 50-foot being constantly floats above the semi-liquid surface of the planet. All its sense organs, including its brain, hang beneath its balloon body. The long, sensitive tentacles are remarkably dextrous—’ “
“Excuse me, Mother,” said Don, “but it’s not necessary to read it aloud. I know all these simple facts.”
“Let’s not forget Harriet,” his mother replied patiently. “She’s still a little girl and can’t read very well.”
“That’s all right. I’ll explain things to her.”
Don took his sister by one hand and rubbed her frizzly blonde hair with his other.
“They have to live inside that big case, Sis, because the air is thick and specially mixed just like on Venus. And they can’t stand direct sunlight so the walls are tinted—which is why they’re so difficult to see. . . .”
Harriet dragged him on to the next section. The huge white figure inside was clearly seen. (Pic. B)
“Big bean!” Marion exclaimed.
“—Being,” Don corrected. “And it’s big, all right. Probably thirty feet tall. The air is blue because its more like ammonia than anything else. He’s galactic—not from our solar system. Look at its trunk—it uses it like a hand.”
“Like an elephant,” Mrs. Murray added helpfully.
“That’s not a good comparison,” Don said, rather stiffly. “Much more like a hand. You’ll note that every intelligent being has some sort of hand, or at least a hand substitute. It’s a mark of intelligence —any such being almost invariably has to have a mechanical means for manipulating its environment.”
“Don’t be too technical,” Mrs. Murray cautioned, forgetting to eliminate “Don’t” as the principal word in her sentence.
“I understand,” Harriet said, looking at her own hand and wiggling her fingers. “I think—” she suddenly added, doubtfully.
“Now, take this baby—I mean, this being,” Don said, conscious of his mother’s wince at the use of his slang. He pointed to the next wall. The two-legged thing was half the size of the white one, but it was still mammoth. (Pic. C) “You can see it has nothing like a hand. So it’s no wonder it’s not very bright. It’s from Jupiter ...” As though puzzled by his own statement, he checked his guide book. “. . . and Jupiter’s got tremendous gravity and a messy atmosphere . . .” He looked up triumphantly. “It’s only stuffed. It’d be almost impossible to keep one alive here on Earth so they brought back one that’d died. The others didn’t object because they’re of such a low order of intelligence.”
“I thought all the exhibits in this building are alive,” his mother said with curiosity.
(Pic. A)
(Pic. B)
(Pic. C)
(Pic. D)
(Pic. E)
(Pic. F.)
(Pic. G)
(Pic. H)
(Pic. I)
(Pic. J)
(Pic. K)
(Pic. L)
(Pic. M)
(Pic. N.)
(Pic. O)
(Pic. P)
“There are two exceptions,” Don said knowingly. “This one the zoo made because it represented the only alive, semi-intelligent being in our solar system—that we know of, that is—that otherwise wouldn’t have been represented here.”
“And the other?” his mother asked.
“We’ll come to him,” Don said mysteriously.
Harriet had urged them on to the next exhibit. The case was almost pitch black. (Pic. D)
“This fellow’s from Saturn.” Don moved close to the glass wall. The thing was stalking around at the far side. “He must be fifteen feet tall, but those long legs are stronger than molybdenum-steel to support his weight. He’s pretty dumb, though, even if he’s got a bigger brain than anybody.”
Harriet gave a little cry of recognition. She was in front of the next case, her round face pressed tightly against the glass surface. “A Martian!” she giggled. (Pic. E)
Mrs. Murray wasn’t interested. Martians were one of the very few alien beings who could walk Terrestrial streets without complicated clothing or apparatus. One, 10-foot tall and dark green, had even visited her home before Harriet had been born. He had had to wear an oxygen trap over his hard-shelled mouth—without it he would have quickly become “drunk as a coot,” as her husband had reported from first-hand observation, on the oxygen-rich air of Earth—and he had to take body temperature reducing tablets frequently. But his intelligence had been great—yes, she remembered, remarkable—though somehow kind of worn out.
This time Donald had moved on to the next case first.
“From Callisto,” he said simply. (Pic. F)
Harriet looked at the nine-foot figure with respect. “I like him,” she said.
Mrs. Murray liked him, too. She knew this native of one of Jupiter’s moons was in many ways smarter than Earthmen and had often seen them on TV programs, sparkling with wit. They were strikingly handsome. She suddenly hoped her husband would invite one to their home the next time he docked at Spaceport.
Donald moved reluctantly on, firmly hauling a none-too-willing Harriet after him.
The being they now observed was a six-foot high, gaudy confusion of hair, legs, tentacles and beak. Only his big red eye seemed to make sense. (Pic. G)
“He’s extra-galactic.” Noticing his sister’s puzzled look, he added, “He’s from beyond our own galaxy, our own group of stars.” He shielded his eyes against the dazzling colors. “The fellow’s camouflaged naturally to blend in with his own world. He isn’t as stupid as he looks.”
“Is there a special order to this exhibit?” Mrs. Murray asked her son, suddenly suspecting the fact.
“Yup, Mom,” Don said. “The zoo’s graded by size. We’re progressing from the biggest to the smallest.”
“I don’t see a Big Bumble,” Harriet said, absorbing Don’s announcement. “Why don’t we see a Big Bumble?”
“Because a Big Bumble’s a big stupid animal and this is the high level of intelligence section. We can see a Big Bumble in the low level section in another building.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Murray, interested. “Then we’ll see only one representative type from each world?”
“We won’t even see that much, Mother,” Don replied. “We’ll only see high level intelligence, comparable to man. And only those who now exist—no dead races. There are many forms which are impossible to exhibit, for one reason or another, which we won’t see, of course. And it just happens there are single exhibits from each world —life seems to work out with only one dominant, really intelligent race from each place. Except for rare occasions.”
Harriet had skipped the lecture for the next case.
This time it was Mrs. Murray who exclaimed, “My! What pretty colors!” This was an addition since her last visit. It was like an iridescent worm. (Pic. H)
“From Titan,” Don said. “One of Saturn’s moons. But take a look at the next one—he has a sack of gas on his back and the colors keep changing in spots all over its surface.”
They passed to the exhibit to which Don referred. (Pic. I)
“He comes from the double star 61 Cygni and has a civilization which is superior, in its way, to our own. It lives in a kind of ammonia atmosphere and likes to sit in one place for years. That’s why they need no zoo of their own.”
“You mean . . . ?” Mrs. Murray exclaimed, with sudden realization. She had forgotten.
“Why, of course,” said Don with a brief nod. “Wherever possible we have a human being in one of their zoos. They’re all volunteers for a period of time. All these creatures in this zoo on Earth are volunteers. They don’t do much, just philosophize, sort of, except they give consultations on specific problems to our own specialists.”
Harriet was amused. “People in zoos? I wish bad Mr. Diquilson was in a zoo.” Mr. Diquilson was Harriet’s Infant Punishment Officer.
“But getting back to our own system again,” Dick said, “the next fellow is from the closest planet to the sun, Mercury.” (Pic. J)
“Betcha he’s awful hot,” said Harriet, worried.
“Yes and no,” Don answered. “Mercury always faces one side to Ole Sol, so there it’s tremendously hot and on the other side it’s tremendously cold. But running around the border of the two sides is a narrow strip where this little guy lives—he’s only three or four feet high. He’s an oddity in our system because his chemistry is based on a silicon cycle, not carbon like ours. He builds up big flakes on his brain pan which drop off, kind of like our breathing out carbon dioxide.” They watched the being pop his eyes in and out of his head. “Yes sir, he’s a real oddity. He lives in tunnels he digs with his powerful hands. Everybody thinks he must have come from another system. He’s pretty brainy, but he just doesn’t seem to care about the Solar Union or progress.”
“He cares, though,” Mrs. Murray said, indicating the next room. They had turned a passage and stood before a model of a powder blue skyscraper. Behind the model was the glass case containing its creative builder, the crystalline-like native of Io, another moon of Jupiter. (Pic. K)
“Yes,” Don agreed. “Io and Callisto have exceptionally talented inhabitants—they practically formed the Solar Union themselves. But the smartest of them all is that fellow over there.” Don turned around and pointed beyond another skyscraper model, this one with delicate curves in gray metal. Behind the glass wall was a two-foot high blue mass. (Pic. L)
“That’s the real brains of the Solar Union and the Galactic Union, too.”
“He’s upside down,” said Harriet.
“No,” Don said. “It looks like he’s standing on his head, but he’s not. His head is that bulb at the top. And he’s got a name—he’s the only one here most everybody can name—Tsu-Tse. You see,” Don nodded sagely, “he’s the other one that’s stuffed in here.”
“Ah,” said Mrs. Murray, her memory stirred, “he’s the famous scientist and statesman who donated his body to this museum.”
“Right, Mother,” Don agreed. “You see he’s from the neighborhood of Luyten 789-6 on the other side of the galaxy on a giant planet of tremendous gravity with a methane atmosphere. So it was impossible for his race to be represented here alive. But because he wanted to spread understanding and tolerance, he donated his body for exhibition after his death.”
They stood a moment in respect before considering the next subject. (Pic. M)
“He’s from Tau Ceti, practically next door to Luyten. I shouldn’t say ‘he,’ because his race has twenty-eight sexes. You see—” But Mrs. Murray interrupted her son: “Not now, Don.” She glanced at Harriet. “It’ll be all right to go into that next year.”
Don smiled and turned a corner of the corridor. There were two very small windows in the wall.
“That,” Don said, indicating the nearest, “contains a six-inch high being who claims his entire race lives in space ships scattered around the galaxy, with their home planet long since vanished. (Pic. N)
“And that,” indicating the other window, “is an inch-high fellow suspected of being more plant than animal. All the way from one of the Messier galaxies. (Pic. O)
“But here,” he said dramatically, pointing to a metal case in the center of the floor, “is the smallest intelligent being known. You’ve got to peer at him through the eyepiece of that microscope at the top.” (Pic. P)
After his mother had finished her inspection, he lifted his sister so she could see too.
“With such a small being as he,” Mrs. Murray said, “perhaps there are many more such races which we terrestrials haven’t yet noticed.”
Don finally lowered Harriet back to the floor. The girl grasped her mother’s hand firmly as they started toward the exit.
“I know what I want to be when I grow up, Momma,” she said.
“What, dear?”
“In a zoo. In a zoo on another world!”
Don laughed, but Mrs. Murray didn’t—the idea intrigued her woman’s vanity.