Shikasta

And there are those who long for the subtler fulfilments, for not all by any means of these hungry ones long for the sensational and violent, the crude or the ugly.

Around those beds where lovers lie obsessed, what accomplished beings hover, savouring each caress, each long drunken look, each kiss - of all the intoxicants, this is the most powerful, and these are not savage or brutal ghosts, no hungerers for pain or to inflict it, not owners of comfortable bellies and soft beds - no, these may be among the most refined and responsive souls, most closely tuned to Canopus, but who allowed themselves to be tangled in these Shikastan nets and could not free themselves before they died. Among the fascinated crowds are uglier beings, the succubi and the incubi, the many varieties of vampire, those who have learned how to feed off the energies of Shikasta.

Around the accomplished and the talented, those who have easily, or through some lucky combination of circumstances, become artists of all kinds, the tellers of stories, musicians, makers of images or of pictures - the souls who linger here are to be pitied more than any. These knew what it was to feed the needs of poor mankind with the nourishments of art (part food though it is, only shadows of what they might have had) but who could not, for some reason to do with the oppressions and hazards that are the very nature of Shikasta, which chokes off and destroys so much vital creativity. These are not souls to be feared or shrunk from. As I passed by a scene, perhaps, of a scientist calculating the nature of stars and star-forces, or a woman at work on a tale that may help others to see a situation or a passion more clearly, I recognised friends crowding hungrily there. Poor ghosts. "Move on, move on," I urged, "leave here, don't allow yourselves to be fastened here around these glass walls, go - free yourselves. Find useful work in the other Zones, or return the hard way to Shikasta - those are your ways out. You may yearn and lean and pine here for long ages and never know anything but frustration and emptiness and longing..." But they ca

I passed through crowding souls who, knowing of the imminent and awful trials of Shikasta, tormented with anxiety for their children, their friends, their lovers, sigh and pine around the council rooms and discussion chambers where the powerful talk and make decisions as to the future of Shikasta - or think they do - and found there many old friends. They recognised me, some of them. "Johor," they cried, "Johor, look, let me back, let me tell them, let me, let me, me, me, me, me..." and great wails and groans go up, as they stand listening to the infantile wranglings of the conference tables, the matchings of strength with strength, power with power - and ahead lies destruction, where nothing will remain alive across continents but an occasional diseased animal, a demented child. "Johor, Johor," they cried, grasping me, pulling me back, "let me in, let me through, let me slip through now, and stand there among them and tell them, warn them..."

"Leave it," I said, "go, leave these frontiers. You've played your part, and it wasn't chosen by you - and if you did not do as well as you should, then turn your back on what you may not change now. Or if you want to be one who can change, then don't crowd there like little children who ca

But they ca

Oh, the borders and frontiers of Shikasta are very terrible, not for the easily swayed to pity, not for the easily horrified. Many have faltered there, eyes so filled with what they see they are blinded to what they have to do. And I, too, pushing my way through, felt faint, and lost my strength to these bitter and famished ghosts. As I had done before, of course, and that helped me, being able to recognise what I felt - though this visit was so much worse than the last, things are so much worse, oh, poor Shikasta, its dramas being played out on such a stage, and with such crowded tiers of observers.

I left this region and approached the entry posts where the lines waited. I looked for Ranee, who had again worked her way halfway up her line, having lost her position to go and deal with the emergency. She was alone there. I could not see Rilla and Ben. I asked her where they were, and she said that she had brought them to the region of the lines, put them together, and returned to her own place. I stood by her, looking everywhere, then went up and down asking for them. At last I was told that a couple similar to those I described had been seen. They were in their places at the end of a long line, but had strayed off, attracted by something, and had not been observed to come back.

And now what should I do! Already late, and weakened - yet I had to go and search for them.

I did not have to go far into the scrubland. I saw before I came close, some coloured blobs or balls floating and playing in the air, and found that I had come to a standstill, watching, enchanted. It was as if these flying tinted balls had life and intention, and could direct themselves. As if they were playing a game, teasing each other, evading, then chasing and gently bumping, before swerving off again. I realised I had been there for some time, quite absorbed. I made myself go on. Soon I came on Ben and Rilla, sitting side by side on the warm white sand between shrubs, staring up, smiling, delighted, altogether lost. "Rilla! Ben!" I called, and called again. It was some time before I could attract their attention away from those delightful fleeing and pursuing balls or bubbles that now I was close under them seemed like animated soap bubbles, globules of differently tinted light, transparent, or seeming to be, for as one hung immediately above me - perhaps to observe me, I wondered? - I saw that inside transparent surfaces were moving sparks and flashes, always changing. At any moment Ben and Rilla would have forgotten me again, and I called to them to stand up and follow me. They did not, at least not at once. They looked up, they looked down, they looked anywhere and at anything but me. I saw Rilla was concealing something, and heard, or felt, a small pulse of complaint and fear. I went to her, and pulled up her fist, and made her open it, and she had captured one of these lights or bubbles which, through being confined in her hand, had lost most of its colour and vitality and was a dull sick thing pulsing feverishly, as if breathing for its life. I held my hand under hers, and lifted both, till our palms lay one above another in front of us, with the damaged creature recovering there, slowly regaining its life, and then suddenly it sped up and off and resumed its games among the others. And again I found I was standing staring, just as Ben and Rilla did, for I had never seen any thing so pretty and engaging as the game of the lights, or the crystals. I put one arm around Ben, and one around Rilla, and walked them away from that place, while they hung back and dawdled and looked over their shoulders - just as they had with the scenes of the churning sands. And then, as we got away from the enchantments of the place, Rilla began scolding me. "Why did you take so long! I thought you'd be back to fetch me before this!" I could not help laughing, it was so absurd, and Ben laughed, too, but Rilla certainly did not, and kept up her scolding as we approached the long lines of waiting people.