Savages of Gor (45 page)

"Masters?" she asked.

"Your masters, and ours," said Pumpkin, "Bondwoman."

"Bondwoman!" she cried, struggling in the yoke. But she did not try to rise to her feet. I think this was because I was present.

"Yes," said Pumpkin.

"We are going to call her Turnip," said one of Waniyanpi.

"I am a free woman," she cried. "I am the Lady Mira, the City of Venna!"

I smiled to myself. How naive seemed the kneeling slave, Turnip.

"By the instructions of our masters," said Pumpkin, "you are to be taken as you are, yoked and unclothed, to the con pound

"Compound?" she asked.

"Yes, Garden Eleven, our home," said Pumpkin.

"You will be happy there," said one of the Waniyanpi.

"We all are," insisted another.

"Unfortunately," said Pumpkin, "you are to be taken there on a tether, marched across the grasslands, without clothing and in your yoke, much as might be any common Gorean slave, whose slavery is being impressed upon her."

"And, doubtlessly," she said, acidly, "I will give you much pleasure on the trek."

"We will look forward to the pleasure of your company, said one of them.

"I see," she said.

"I do not think you do," I said, "at least as yet."

"Do not fear," said Pumpkin. "You will be treated, at times, with total dignity and respect."

"We will not even look at you, at least not directly," said another.

"That is," said another, "until your shame has been covered."

"Shame?" asked the girl.

"Your beauty, your prettiness," explained another.

Not all the Sames, those who have the unimportant and negligible property of femaleness, are as -- healthy appearing as you," said another.

"Thus you might make them feel that they were not the same as you, or that you were not the same as they," said another.

"They would not like that," said another.

"It is shameful not to make people feel they are the same, said another.

"Because everyone is the same, really," said another, "of course."

"Of course," said another.

"Too," said Pumpkin, "it can trouble the Sames who have the unimportant and negligible property of maleness. It may make them have certain kinds of feelings."

"Not me," said one of the Waniyanpi.

"Nor I," said another. "I never have such feelings."

"But not all of us," said Pumpkin, "are as strong and good as Carrot and Cabbage."

"I myself," said another, "can look on such things and not have the least feeling."

A chorus of admiration thrilled the Waniyanpi.

"Nor as Beans," said Pumpkin. "But for some of us your healthy appearance can be extremely disturbing."

"It makes me sick," said another.

"It makes me ill, too, to look upon it," said another. "I threw up when first I saw it."

"Good," said another fellow.

"It disturbs me," said another fellow. "I admit that it is

"An honest confession," said Pumpkin. "You are to be congratulated on your candor and veracity. The next task is to seek improvement."

"Yes," said the fellow who had spoken, contritely. "Perhaps if I were permitted to look upon it more often I might manage to steel myself against it."

"Plunge rather into arduous, time-consuming, mind-occupying labors," said Pumpkin.

"And bathe often in cold streams," advised another.

The fellow looked down. I did not blame him. I myself did not relish bathing in cold streams. I preferred warm baths, being attended by a beautiful female slave. After all, should a free man be expected to apply his own oils, scrape the dirt from his own skin with the strigil and towel himself?

"You see," said Pumpkin to the captured girl, "your appearance, even if it were not so healthy looking. perhaps, can cause some of us to think certain thoughts and have certain feelings. It can even bring about movements in our bodies. This makes it harder to be Sames. And it is shameful not to be Sames."

"For we are Sames," said another. "Everyone knows that."

"And thus it is," said Pumpkin, "that your appearance can cause shame, and as it causes shame, it must be shameful."

"Too," said another, "it can distract from truly important things.

"Such as being Sames," said another.

"Yes," said Pumpkin.

The girl shuddered, convinced perhaps that she was in the presence of lunatics. Madness is an interesting concept. As some define it, it is a function of the social conventions obtaining at a given time. In the country of the mad, thusly only the sane will be accounted insane. Acquiescence to con temporary axiological conventions, of course is not the only possible conceptual approach to such matters. Another approach might be to envision a world compatible with reality and congenial to human nature, a world in which science even social science, might be free, a world in which truth would not be against the law, a world designed not for the crippling, distortion and torture of humanity but for its fulfillment

"But do not fear," said Pumpkin to the girl, "for, soon when we reach the compound, you will be decently clothed."

"Like you?" she asked. She regarded the long, gray, coarse, clumsy dresses on the Waniyanpi with distaste.

'These garments help us to suppress our desires and keel us humble," said one of the Waniyanpi.

"We are reminded by them that we are all Sames," said another.

'That we all, when all is said and done," said another, "an naught but Waniyanpi."

This seemed to make sense to me. The human being has tendency to be consistent, no matter from what eccentric premises he may begin. He will normally behave in a way accordingly, that befits his clothing. This is perhaps the deeper sense of the English expression that clothing makes the man.

"Better to be stripped and have a string of hide tied on one's neck!" said the girl, angrily.

"What is done to those in your compound who are not the same?" I asked.

"We attempt to convert them," said one of the men.

"We plead with them. We reason with them " said another.

''And what if you cannot convince them of the glories of sameness?" I asked.

"We then drive them out, into the Barrens, to die," said another.

"It grieves us to do so," said another.

"But it must be done," said another.

'The contagion of their heresy must not be permitted to Infect others," said another.

"The good of the whole must take precedence over the good of the parts," said another.

"You kill them?". I asked.

"No!" cried one.

"We cannot kill!" said another.

"It is against the Teaching," said another.

"But you banish them, on the supposition that they will perish in the Barrens," I said.

'Thusly, it is the Barrens which kills them, not us," said another.

"We are thus innocent," said another.

"Such banishment is acceptable to the Teaching?" I asked.

"Of course," said another. "How else is the compound to be ridded of them?"

"You must understand," said another, "it does not please us to do that sort of thing."

"It is done only after every other alternative has been exhausted," said another.

"Difference strikes at the root of sameness," said another. "Sameness is essential to civilization itself. Difference, thus, threatens society and civilization itself."

"It must thus be eradicated," said another.

"There is, thus, only one value, one virtue?" I asked.

"Yes," said another.

"One is one," said another, profoundly, "self-identical and the same."

"Sixteen is sixteen, too," I said.

"But sixteen is only sixteen times one, and thus all reduces to one, which is one," said another.

"What about one-half and one-half?" I asked.

"They add up to one," said another.

"What about one-third and one-third, then?" I asked.

"Each of those is but one number," said another, "and, thus, each is one, and one is one."

"What of the diversity you see about you," I asked, "say, of kaiila and sleen?"

"One kaiila and one sleen are both one, which is one," said another fellow.

"What about zero and one?" I asked.

"Zero is one number and one is one number, and thus each is one, and one is one," said another.

"What about nothing and one?" I asked.

"One is one, and nothing is nothing," said another, "so one is left with one, which is one."

"But you would have at least one nothing, wouldn't you?' I asked.

"Nothing is either nothing or one," said another. "If it is nothing, then it is nothing. If it is one, then it is one, and on is one," said another.

"Thus, all is the same," said another.

"You are spouting total gibberish," I said. "Are you aware of that?"

'To the unenlightened profundity often appears gibberish, said another.

''Indeed," said another, "and to some who have lost the enlightenment it can also appear gibberish."

'The more absurd something seems, the more likely it is to be true," said another.

"That seems absurd," I said.

"And, thus," said the fellow, "it, in itself, by the same proof, is shown most likely to be true."

"Is that supposed to be self-evident?" I asked.

"Yes," said another.

"It is not self-evident to me," I said.

'That is not the fault of its self-evidence," said another.

"You cannot blame its self-evidence for that."

"Something which is self-evident to one person may not be self-evident to another," said another fellow.

"How can it be self-evident to one and not to another?" asked.

"One may be more talented in the detecting of self-evidence than another," said another.

"How do you distinguish between what merely seems self evident and that which is truly self-evident?" I asked.

"The Priest-Kings would not deceive us," said another.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"That is self-evident," said another.

"Have you ever been mistaken about what is self-evident?"

"Yes, frequently," said Pumpkin.

"How do you explain that?" I asked.

"We are weak, and frail," he said.

"We are only Waniyanpi," said another.

I regarded Pumpkin.

'To be sure," he said, "There is a place for faith in all of this."

"A rather large place, I conjecture," I said.

"Large enough," he said.

"How large is that?" I asked.

"Large enough to protect the Teaching," he said. _,"I thought so," I said.

"One must believe something," said Pumpkin.

"Why not experiment with the truth?" I said.

"We already believe the truth," said one of the fellows about.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"The Teaching tells us," said another.

"You must understand," said another, "that we do not like putting people out to die. It makes us very sorry to do this. On the occasions of expulsion we often eat a meal in silence, and weep bitter tears into our gruel."

"I am sure it is a touching sight," I said.

Pumpkin looked down toward the girl. He did not look directly at her, but she knew herself to be the object of his attention, indirect though that attention might have been.

"Teach me your Teaching," she said. "I want to be a Same."

"Wonderful," said Pumpkin. He almost reached out to touch her, so pleased he was, but suddenly, fearfully, he drew back his hand. He blushed. There was sweat on his forehead.

"Excellent," said more than one of the Waniyanpi

"You will not regret it," said another.

"You will love being a Same," said another. "It is the only thing to be," said another.

"When we reach the vicinity of the compound," said Pumpkin, "and you are unbound and properly clothed, in suitable Waniyanpi garb, you will lead us all through the am

Rate preceding us, this thus attesting to your honor amongst us and the respect in which you are held."

"I shall look forward eagerly to my reception into the compound, " said the girl.

"And so, too, shall we, welcome citizen," said Pumpkin.

He then turned to the others. "We must now return to our work," he said. "There is refuse to be gathered and debris to be burned."

When the Waniyanpi had filed away, taking their leave, I turned to regard the girl.

"They are mad," she said, "mad," squirming in the yoke.