Read Online Jack Vance - Gaean Reach 01 by Gray Prince - Free Book Online
Authors: Gray Prince
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it. In passing, I might point out that Kelse’s remarks indicate considerable skill in urbane and civilized abstraction.”
Kelse laughed. “Also in passing, I might mention that urbane folk make up the membership of the Redemptionist Alliance, the Vitatis Cult, the Cosmic Peace Movement, Panortheism, a dozen more: all motivated by abstractions four or five or six times removed from reality.”
“Reality, so-called, is itself an abstraction,” Elvo Glissam remarked.
“It’s an abstraction with a difference, because it can hurt, as when your sky-car comes down in the wilderness with a hundred miles to walk. That’s real. Aunt Val’s chamber of winds at Villa Mirasol isn’t real.”
Schaine said: “You’re simply beating a horse to death. Because a person can deal with ideas doesn’t signify that, ergo, he’s helpless.”
“In an urban environment he’s quite safe; in fact, he prospers. But such environments are fragile as cobwebs, and when they break—chaos!”
Gerd Jemasze joined the conversation. “Reflect on human history.”
“I’ve done so,” said Kelse. “History describes the destruction of a long series of urban civilizations because the citizens preferred intellectualism and abstraction to competence in basic skills, such as self-defense. Or attack, for that matter.”
Schaine said in disgust: “You’ve become awfully crabbed and illiberal, Kelse. Father certainly stamped his opinions upon you.”
“Your theory has its obverse,” said Elvo Glissam. “From this viewpoint, history becomes a succession of cases in which barbarians, renouncing crassness, develop a brilliant civilization.”
“Usually destroying older civilizations in the process,” remarked Kelse.
“Or exploiting other less capable barbarians. Uaia is a case in point. Here a group of civilized men attacked and plundered the barbarians. The barbarians were helpless in the face of energy weapons and sky-cars—all contrived through the use of abstractions, and, incidentally, built by urbanites.”
Gerd Jemasze chuckled, a sound which annoyed Schaine. She said: “These are merely facts.”
“But not all the facts. The barbarians weren’t plundered; they use their lands as freely as before. I must concede that torture and slavery have been discouraged.”
“Very well then,” said Elvo Glissam. “Imagine yourself an Uldra: disenfranchised and subject to alien law. What would you do?”
Gerd Jemasze pondered a moment or two. “I suppose it would depend on what I wanted. What I wanted I’d try to get.”
Before dawn the party was astir and away. A great reef of clouds obscured the east and the party walked in maroon gloom. At noon lightning began to strike down at the buttes, now lonely shapes in the southern distance, and draughts of dank air blew north across the plain. Halfway into the afternoon a rain squall raced past, drenching the group to the skin and laying the dust; shortly after, the sun found gaps in the clouds and sent remarkable pink rays slanting down at the ground. Jemasze led the way, accommodating his pace to that of Kelse, whose limp had become somewhat more noticeable. Schaine and Elvo Glissam sauntered along to the rear. Had the circumstances been different, had her father been alive and Kelse not so obviously contriving each separate step by an effort of will, she might almost have enjoyed the adventure.
The land sloped down into a sink paved with pale hardpan. At the far verge stood a cluster of sandstone pinnacles and beyond, an irregular scarp of pink, mauve and russet sandstone. Schaine called ahead to Kelse: “There’s Bottom Edge!”
“Almost like home,” said Kelse.
Schaine excitedly told Elvo Glissam: “Morningswake starts at the brink of the cliff. Beyond is our land—all the way north to the Volwodes.”
Elvo Glissam shook his head in sad disapproval, and Schaine looked at him wonderingly. She thought a moment, reflecting upon what she had said, then laughed but
Kelse laughed. “Also in passing, I might mention that urbane folk make up the membership of the Redemptionist Alliance, the Vitatis Cult, the Cosmic Peace Movement, Panortheism, a dozen more: all motivated by abstractions four or five or six times removed from reality.”
“Reality, so-called, is itself an abstraction,” Elvo Glissam remarked.
“It’s an abstraction with a difference, because it can hurt, as when your sky-car comes down in the wilderness with a hundred miles to walk. That’s real. Aunt Val’s chamber of winds at Villa Mirasol isn’t real.”
Schaine said: “You’re simply beating a horse to death. Because a person can deal with ideas doesn’t signify that, ergo, he’s helpless.”
“In an urban environment he’s quite safe; in fact, he prospers. But such environments are fragile as cobwebs, and when they break—chaos!”
Gerd Jemasze joined the conversation. “Reflect on human history.”
“I’ve done so,” said Kelse. “History describes the destruction of a long series of urban civilizations because the citizens preferred intellectualism and abstraction to competence in basic skills, such as self-defense. Or attack, for that matter.”
Schaine said in disgust: “You’ve become awfully crabbed and illiberal, Kelse. Father certainly stamped his opinions upon you.”
“Your theory has its obverse,” said Elvo Glissam. “From this viewpoint, history becomes a succession of cases in which barbarians, renouncing crassness, develop a brilliant civilization.”
“Usually destroying older civilizations in the process,” remarked Kelse.
“Or exploiting other less capable barbarians. Uaia is a case in point. Here a group of civilized men attacked and plundered the barbarians. The barbarians were helpless in the face of energy weapons and sky-cars—all contrived through the use of abstractions, and, incidentally, built by urbanites.”
Gerd Jemasze chuckled, a sound which annoyed Schaine. She said: “These are merely facts.”
“But not all the facts. The barbarians weren’t plundered; they use their lands as freely as before. I must concede that torture and slavery have been discouraged.”
“Very well then,” said Elvo Glissam. “Imagine yourself an Uldra: disenfranchised and subject to alien law. What would you do?”
Gerd Jemasze pondered a moment or two. “I suppose it would depend on what I wanted. What I wanted I’d try to get.”
Before dawn the party was astir and away. A great reef of clouds obscured the east and the party walked in maroon gloom. At noon lightning began to strike down at the buttes, now lonely shapes in the southern distance, and draughts of dank air blew north across the plain. Halfway into the afternoon a rain squall raced past, drenching the group to the skin and laying the dust; shortly after, the sun found gaps in the clouds and sent remarkable pink rays slanting down at the ground. Jemasze led the way, accommodating his pace to that of Kelse, whose limp had become somewhat more noticeable. Schaine and Elvo Glissam sauntered along to the rear. Had the circumstances been different, had her father been alive and Kelse not so obviously contriving each separate step by an effort of will, she might almost have enjoyed the adventure.
The land sloped down into a sink paved with pale hardpan. At the far verge stood a cluster of sandstone pinnacles and beyond, an irregular scarp of pink, mauve and russet sandstone. Schaine called ahead to Kelse: “There’s Bottom Edge!”
“Almost like home,” said Kelse.
Schaine excitedly told Elvo Glissam: “Morningswake starts at the brink of the cliff. Beyond is our land—all the way north to the Volwodes.”
Elvo Glissam shook his head in sad disapproval, and Schaine looked at him wonderingly. She thought a moment, reflecting upon what she had said, then laughed but
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