Translated by Michelle Quay
“Blessed are the poor in reason, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.”
Matthew 5:3
“Not sure about Heaven, but the earthly kingdom definitely belongs to them.”
Two thousand years later, the morals, habits, and feelings of mankind had completely changed, along with its entire way of life. Everything promised to humanity by the various religions and sects two thousand years before, science had made a reality. Man’s every need had been eliminated – thirst, hunger, lust, all of it – and old age, illness and ugliness were a thing of the past. Family life had been abandoned, and everyone lived in huge, multi-story buildings shaped like honeycombs. Only one problem remained – an intractable problem – and that was the malaise arising from a pointless, meaningless life.
In addition to the usual ennui, which was a general, contagious disease, Soussan was suffering from another illness: her proclivity for spirituality, a spirituality that even she couldn’t define, and yet, she pursued it. She toiled away all day in the studio on the twenty-second floor of her high-rise and worked to realize her thoughts in the form of sculptures. Soussan had chosen Kanar specifically, a city far away from all her friends and acquaintances, so she could devote herself to her work with full clarity of mind, because she lived with and for her own ideas. It was a strange sort of life, highly circumscribed, in which she had banished all forms of pleasure and relaxation and approached her work with a particular sense of determination.
One day around dusk, Soussan set aside the new sculpture she was working on and went back to her apartment. She slid open a thin screen with a metal handle to reveal the window. Her face was lifeless, emotionless. It was a serious face, beautiful and still, like it had been made out of wax. From such a height, the city skyline was visible, quiet and mysterious. Its enormous skyscrapers made of smooth, tinted glass came in all different shapes – square, round, octagonal – and sprouted up from the ground at random like foul, toxic mushrooms. Under the glare of invisible flood lights, the cityscape looked miserable and harsh. The whole city was alight, despite there being no lamps visible anywhere. A lighted, moving highway, which acquired its glow from the rays of the sun, branched off in various directions, arced upward to the midpoint of the giant skyscraper outside Soussan’s window, then snaked around it and went back down the other side. Radio-electric automobiles of various shapes skittered past. The cars fueled up at radio-electric stations, which themselves were powered by the sun. A sign gleamed on each of the cars’ hoods, showing which city they came from. From afar, the horizon seemed to be awash in incongruent, dark colors stirred together, as though a painter had swirled the leftover globs of paint on his pallet together and brushed them carelessly across the sky.
Tiny people, quiet and slow moving, milled about aimlessly on paths that were set aside for them, like ants, or they were busy wandering in rooftop gardens. Loud speakers and moving screens advertised the shops with their big bright windows. In a middle of a roundabout, an android directed traffic instead of a police officer, indicating to people and radio-electric cars with sharp, direct movements of its arm. Colorful lights beamed from its eyes and by controlling the supply of electricity, it would temporarily halt the moving highways and set them in motion again. Multi-colored advertisements were beamed onto artificially-seeded clouds. Huge crowds of people were passing by in front of the door to the Radio-Vision Theater, which was directly across from Soussan’s high-rise window. Elevators went up and down continuously, and radio-electric cars dropped people off in front of buildings and shops.
An enormous leisure garden on the eighteenth floor of the opposite skyscraper looked strange and alien from afar. It was crowded with giant trees and unusual, overlapping designs as tall as the colossal waterfall that was lit up from a distance. Meanwhile, gyroplanes, powered by solar energy from a central system, glided in, one after another. With its commanding skyscrapers, the entire city gave off the air of a military fort or a hornet’s nest. The skyline slowly faded, drowning in the dark. Only the shape of Damavand mountain, tall and imposing, silent and threatening, could be seen to the south of the city, orange-tinted steam emanating from its cone-shaped peak. It was as if a master sorcerer had conjured the city from nothing in a form that was well beyond what mankind ever could have imagined in a million years.
Under the warm sky and muggy weather, this view of the city was both quiet and somber, and busy and beguiling. For Soussan, however, it felt monotonous and depressing. The spirit of her predecessors, her ancestral spirit, chaffed against so much artifice. All these people – bustling about, enjoying leisure activities or running their errands – all of it prompted a feeling of disgust in Soussan which weighed on her sensitive heart. It was an internal rebellion, as though she felt penned in, confined, and she yearned to escape into the wilderness, to retreat to a forest and hide herself away. Without thinking about it, she pulled the window screen shut. Her apartment was bright as day, illuminated by some invisible light source. Soussan pressed an electric button on the wall and laid down on the rubber pillows on the metal bed in the corner of the room. Suddenly the entire room was enveloped in a light blue color and the scent of a particular perfume, which was slightly pungent but intoxicating. The song of a gentle instrument began to play; a song so refined it was as if it wasn’t being played by human hands at all, but rather a delicate, heavenly instrument.
Soussan’s eyes were glued to the television screen which, instead of showing the daily developments in global events, showed people and natural landscapes in three dimensions and in their natural colors. There was even sound, if you wanted. At this moment, long shots of the islands of Australia drifted across the screen, but it was obvious that Soussan’s mind was elsewhere.
Soussan’s clothes were very simple, a dingy yellow, the same color as her hair and her slippers. She had large eyes, long lashes, and thin brows. Her arms and legs were well-proportioned and pale white, and she had a nice figure. She was so beautiful she looked more like an android or a doll rather than a human – someone you might see in a dream or in a fairy tale; someone a master painter created in his imagination who came to life and stepped out of the painting. Her face was young and introspective, neither happy nor sad. Her gaze was dark, lifeless and listless. She moved like a beautiful doll that had had the life breathed into it by Satan or a power greater than a god. You couldn’t intuit her frame of mind, temper, or emotions by looking at her face. When she lay down on the bed, from afar she looked like a delicate, fragile sculpture, which a person dare not touch for fear it would shatter. Her room had been built to her proportions and it suited her taste and mindset. Such was the harmony of her furniture, clothes, movements and surroundings, that if an outsider so much as moved a chair, everything was thrown into discord. It seemed that Soussan’s life depended on harmonies: of songs, colors, lines, scents, instruments and beautiful designs. So much so that anyone could sense the good taste underlying her wardrobe, chairs, carpets and her entire way of living. She lived with and for art.
For the moment her room had three corners. One of the walls was curved, and all of the movable walls were made of tinted glass; thick, light glass that was soundproof and unbreakable. It eliminated all noise from outside and would never catch fire. They all had moveable frames, which were connected to each other and could be rearranged. The floor was soft, similar to the rubber walls, which were filled with air and eliminated the sound of any footsteps. The mattress, pillows, and couch cushions were all filled with air, too. The left-hand side of the apartment was entirely retractable windows, which opened onto a garden and greenhouse covered by a glass dome. Inside it were all types of exotic plants and a huge white snake, which slithered slowly across the ground. The climatization systems always kept the room at a set temperature. In front of every door was an Electric-Eye, which stood guard, and whenever someone came within a certain radius, it would ring a bell and the door would open on its own.
While Soussan’s gaze was focused on the landscape shots of the islands of Australia, suddenly the small television on the table rang. Soussan sat halfway up, pressed the button, and looked. She saw the face of her American painter friend, Ted, appear on the screen.
“Hi, Ted,” she said. “Where are you?”
“I’m here, in Kanar,” he said. “I came in today by Stratosphere X2. Do you want to talk?”
“Sure.”
The screen faded to black again. Soussan lay back down on the bed. A few minutes later, the door rang and opened by itself. Ted, a tall, handsome American, entered. The door closed behind him. He hesitated by the door for a moment, taking in the smell of the perfume, the sound of the music, and especially the sight of Soussan. He observed her like a lover, like an expert studying a work of art. Shaking his head, he moved closer and said:
“Lost in thought again?”
Soussan nodded, and Ted sat down in a chair next to the bed. He glanced at the artificial greenhouse, the door of which was halfway open, and noticed the white snake slithering in through the door.
“It doesn’t bite, does it?” he asked.
“No,” said Soussan. “Poor little Sheeshee wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Ted crouched down to pick up a book on the second shelf of the desk, next to which was the Watson reading machine. On the back of the book was written: “Entomologie Romancée.”
“Ooh!” he said with surprise. “Since when did you become an entomologist? Snakes over there, books about insects over here!”
“It was for a sculpture.”
“Speaking of which, are you working on any new pieces these days?”
“Nothing important.”
Suddenly the door to the room opened and a dark-skinned girl came in, naked from head to toe, with huge eyes, curly hair and red lips. She had fat gold bangles on her upper arms and ankles, and entered with measured steps. She was holding a small wooden tray with two glasses on it. She placed the glasses on the table, each one of which contained a piece of straw, and a fizzy green drink. Without saying a word, she went out the same door. Ted tasted the drink through the piece of straw. It had a subtle flavor, cold and pleasant, and was a little heady. Soussan stood up, took a sip through the straw, then let it go to ask:
“What’s going on these days?”
“Just the end of the world.”
“The end of the world?”
“Sorry, I meant the extinction of the human race. They want to round everyone up in the cities and eliminate them, whether by electricity, gas, or whatever other means, so that the human race can be free!”
“I saw it on the Shabtab nightly news. Sounds like they’re just waiting on the nudists, the Nacktkulturler.”
“A group of them have disappeared,” explained Ted. “But yesterday their leader said they were ready to submit, on certain conditions.”
“So they can join the collective suicide!”
“But last night the news said that they still couldn’t get along with the nudists, and everybody was waiting for Professor Rock’s advice, because he’s supposed to advise the world on a new plan tonight.”
“Oh ho, a new plan!” exclaimed Soussan.
“I’m not sure why they’re so dead-set on this. Of course not everyone is willing, but the majority voted definitively.”
“Let’s not talk about it,” said Soussan. “Words like ‘majority,’ ‘minority,’ ‘humankind,’ and those crazy people who think of nothing but service to society, suffering from Socialservissomania – they all disgust me. It’d be better if we all just suddenly up and died. I hate those schemes they draw up, and besides, a collective death wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Let’s go look at your new pieces, then.”
Ted and Soussan stood up, and Soussan pressed a button on the wall. The wall opened up and her workroom appeared. They went inside. Things were strewn everywhere: half-finished sculptures, tools and supplies, small electric machines. A tall, three-sided sculpture stood in front of a grey, velvet curtain. On one side, the background was dotted with little balls that looked like silkworm cocoons. In the center was a large worm on a mulberry leaf, busy eating. On the base was written, “Childhood or Ignorance.” On the other side was the same worm, curled up in its cocoon, surrounded by leafy branches of the mulberry tree, under which was written, “Contemplation or Adulthood.” On the third side, the worm had taken the form of a golden butterfly, flying towards a tiny star, under which was written: “Death or Freedom.” The whole sculpture was made from a translucent, crystalline material.
After considering for a moment, Ted said, “Susu dear, are you back to fantasizing? It looks like you were inspired by the plan for collective suicide.”
Soussan shrugged her shoulders.
“Look Susu, you’ve made a mockery of the soul. The way the butterfly looks, with its goofy eyes, and this faint star, flickering in the corner of the sky, has brought out a symbol, a metaphor for the spirit, in a ridiculous way. It’s like you wanted to show how tiny and childish man’s thoughts and similes have been over the past three thousand years.”
“Maybe I did!”
“So why do you work? Why do you go to the trouble? Didn’t you decide that humankind should be eradicated? I stopped painting a while ago.”
“Who said I work for humanity? Even if mankind goes extinct and my work is left to the snow, the rain, and the blind forces of nature, who gives a damn? I’m enjoying my work right now, and that’s enough.”
“What if there are better pleasures to be had?” said Ted. “The pleasure of being lazy, of love, of moonlit nights? Aren’t these better? You have to seize the moment. Even if humanity did continue, after we died, what would it matter if an imaginary memory of us remained in the minds of a handful of microbes crawling around on the earth? What would it matter if people enjoyed our artwork or they didn’t?”
“And if everything is transient and the world will come to an end one day, what does it matter anyway? The pleasure of love and moonlit nights is the same to me: it’ll all be forgotten. It’s all a delusion, one grand delusion!”
“The world won’t end,” said Ted. “It’s just humanity that’s ending. And by its own hand, too.”
“What difference does it make? Every living creature imagines the world in a certain way, and when it dies, its world dies with it. If life on earth is going to come to an end eventually, it’s better if man carries it out of his own free will. What does it matter?”
“So this soul that you believe in – after the sun evaporates like a dewdrop and everyone’s gone on their way, what is the soul of your butterfly, with its ridiculous eyes staring at a faint star, going to do as it drifts in space? Will there be a special museum that assigns numbers to all these sickly, pale souls and stores them? The whole idea comes from the hubris of man three thousand years ago, who imagined a fantasy world beyond the material world, but after the body was destroyed, there was no sign of it.”
“You misunderstand me,” said Soussan. “I don’t believe in a discrete, independent soul that lives on separately after death. The soul is the set of spiritual characteristics that make up the personality of every person and every living creature. The butterfly is also defined by a set of material and spiritual characteristics, all of which form its existence. Isn’t it true that everything we think and imagine is a part of nature? After we die, the materials that our bodies borrowed are returned to nature. Why should the thoughts and forms that we derive from nature disappear? Our physical forms also disintegrate after death, but they don’t vanish. Just as the atoms in our bodies might find their way into other bodies later on, our ideas might influence other minds, like a photograph on a negative plate.”
“You’ll have to add a new chapter to the field of psychology and the old divinity books,” said Ted. “I don’t see any relationship between the mirror and what is reflected on it. If you want to call that the soul, that’s fine, but in my view, since artists are more sensitive than other people and see the ugliness and harsh needs of life more clearly than the rest, in their creations, they represent life the way they want it to be, not the way it is, so they can find an escape route or a way to fool themselves. But this has nothing to do with the soul, it’s just a disease.”
“That’s speculative, too.”
“It’s because artists feel more pain than other people, and this in and of itself is a kind of sickness. A normal, healthy person should eat well, drink well, and love well. Reading, writing, and thinking – all they bring is misery and ruin. The nudists are right when they say we have to return to nature. The further man gets from nature, the worse off he becomes. The golden sun, sparkling pools, delectable fruits, and pleasant weather.”
“Congrats, I see you’re a poet now too!”
“Ever since the day … the day I fell in love with you … ever since I fell for you, everything seems beautiful to me. You’re the only thing I can’t reach. That’s why I just up and left my work in a mad rush and came to see you.”
“Oh, what distress! How poetic! No need for preamble. Why are you being so cryptic? So enigmatic? Sounds like something people from three thousand years ago would say. I bet your love is “Platonic,” too.”
“No,” replied Ted. “My love for myself, my love, other people’s love: they have no meaning for me. What I sense, what I know, is that I want you to stay away from me. I didn’t want to tell you any of this, but now that the world is ending, now that the human race is going extinct, I came to tell you.”
“Thank you, but you should know that you’re just a child … a momma’s boy! You enjoy the pain of love, not love itself. It’s the pain of love that’s made you into an artist. But it’s a love that’s dead. If you want to try it out, I’m ready now. Here’s the bed,” she said, gesturing to it.
“Please, don’t be so cruel. Please don’t say the rest of what you were going to say. I don’t want you to say it. I’ll admit I’m old-fashioned. If only I could drink wine like in ancient times, come to your alley and watch your shadow from outside the window of your small, mudbrick house, and sleep right there all night until morning.”
“And you would have seen me making love to another man!”
“That’s what I want.”
“No, you’re wrong,” said Soussan. “Haven’t you ever dreamed about me?”
“Yes, just once, and I hated myself for it.”
“The way you dreamed about me is the way you want me. You’re mistaken; that was the real desire. It was your repressed lust taking on that form.”
“I dreamt that I’d killed you and had drawn your body into an embrace.”
“I’d still do it. You can make your dreams a reality.”
“What a horrible age we live in!”
“On the contrary,” said Soussan. “For several centuries a corrupt civilization considered natural desire a bad thing. A bunch of sick, lust-driven individuals elevated love to the heavens for their own personal gain. This era has returned to nature, and the natural result is that it has satisfied itself, and its habits and pleasures have changed. These days, women are uninteresting, and drinking makes your head hurt.”
“Such a materialistic and shameless time! Now I realize that the extinction of mankind is the logical outcome of our own age, but in general, humanity has always been the same. It’s had the same emotions and outlook. Man today is no different than the ape-men of twenty thousand years ago, but civilization has brought about some superficial changes in him. All of today’s feelings are manufactured, and it’s the self-righteous nudists who have trodden all over human civilization. With the legacy of millions of years we’ve inherited from our ancestors, mankind has always enjoyed seeing green forests, flowers and birds more than castles it has built in the name of its sickly “civilization.” Because man slept under the branches of trees for millions of years, he felt the calm of the forest, woke up in the morning with the sound of the birds singing. On moonlit nights he looked to the sky, and now, being denied all these pleasures, he’s turned out the way he has today by isolating himself from his natural habitat. I, for one, enjoy moonlight the most. Whenever I look at the moon, I think to myself that our ancestors looked up at the same moon; they pondered and shed tears, and the moon kept rising and setting, cold and indifferent. It’s like the moon holds the memory of them inside of it. I enjoy moonlight more than the best lamps that mankind has invented. For all of man’s inventions, all the products of his thinking, the roots can be found in those ancestral emotions. Why should love, which is the most basic need, be exempt from this rule?”
“What beautiful logic! You should talk on the radio so everyone can benefit. But love is neither higher nor lower than other needs. It’s a basic need like eating and sleeping. Today, love and the drama of the theater have been unshackled from one another. You’re one of those old-fashioned people: cowardly and spineless. Why don’t you get help!”
“I know you’re not as harsh as you’re pretending to be,” said Tim. “So why did you push me away? Why did you reject me every time I told you how I felt? And now this.”
“Because I enjoy my work more than I enjoy love.”
Just then, the bell signaling the start of Shabtab nightly news rang in the apartment.
Nervously, Ted said, “Listen, it must be something important.”
“I’m tired of the news,” said Sousann. “They should play their tricks as quickly as possible so they and everyone else can rest easy!”
“No, what’s the rush? It’s entertaining.”
Ted took Soussan’s hand as they went into the apartment. Sousann pressed the button next to the television. First, the screen changed colors, and then the following appeared: “Professor Rock’s Laboratory.” Sousann put her arm around Ted’s shoulders. They stood back a few paces and watched.
A man appeared on the screen, seated behind a huge table. In front of him were a number of glass tubes and various substances. At first it seemed like he was looking at a piece of paper. Then he looked up and started speaking with a natural tone and a reserved face:
“Man first appeared on Earth twenty thousand years ago, and for twenty thousand years he has warred with the elements. He has always supposed that he would overcome the deficiencies of nature and find a logic, a reason for being. All of man’s beliefs, religions, and theories have been weighed and tested by now, and yet none of them has been able to help humanity become happy, satisfied, or at peace. Although these days, all the laws of nature are mere playthings in mankind’s hand, there remain no mysteries, no secrets, from the depths of the ocean to the vaults of the heavens, that belong to the realm of faith. We exploit the powers around us, like the energy we derive from water and sunlight. Although today man’s every need can be easily fulfilled – sustenance, clothing, housing, lust, entertainment – the very things our simple forefathers always dreamed of and imagined to be their ‘heaven’ – everything has been made possible by the knowledge and labors of mankind. Cold, heat, old age, madness, illness, war, genocide. Class warfare, crime, and theft – all of these, the advancement of science has made obsolete. All of man’s enemies have been vanquished. However, another catastrophe has advanced at the same rate, and that is mankind’s way of thinking.
“Three thousand years ago, a typical man would make just enough money to survive and clothe himself. He would have a wife, a home, and a handful of superstitions. He was happy. He reveled in his filth and thanked God every day until he died. Science has made this lazy, pleasurable lifestyle from antiquity a thousand times better and more wonderful for everyone. Today, the vigilant electronic eyes keep watch over specially-designed greenhouses that produce millions of bushels of substitute fruit, wheat, vegetables and other food products on the cheap by extracting cells from the trees from warmer climes, insulating us from any kind of pointless suffering. Today, with the help of electric machines and scientific methods, cotton, wool and silk are grown and made into fabric, which all mankind can make use of without having to pay or barter. Eternal youth – that ancient dream of mankind – has become a reality. All facial deficiencies can be corrected, age is limitless, love is available to all, the bacteriophages have eliminated all illnesses, and the earth has grown so small for mankind. He can traverse it in very little time with startling speed. We have made links to the stars. What has nature given man? Nothing. Heat, cold, hunger, old age, illness, and war with the elements. Today man has emerged victorious in this battle and attained what he always dreamed of.
“But of all these developments, the most important victory mankind has won was establishing freedom of thought, truth, eradicating superstition, and the advancing thought across the social classes. These days, there is no need for wordsmithing or using empty jargon, and no one can deceive anyone. The advancement of a scientific language is considered one of mankind’s greatest achievements, because a simple, straightforward, scientific language, free from any garish, decadent similes and metaphors, can’t be interpreted in three hundred different ways. I apologize for being so long winded. Everyone knows these things and there’s no need to repeat them. It follows, therefore, that man today should consider himself to be the happiest in history. What more could he want?
“And yet, it is this very advancement in thought, the opening of man’s eyes, which has led to his distress. Despite all these improvements, people are more dissatisfied and are suffering more than ever. This existential pain – the pain Khayyam recognized three thousand years ago when he said: ‘If the people of future knew what we suffered at the hands of fate, they’d never be born!’ A solution for this pain must be found. Because we must admit that in this regard, things are no different than that time, and we can still sympathize with Khayyam. A dark, aimless life is leading people to the Institut d’Euthanasie, and suicide has become a widespread issue, to such an extent that one can say without exaggeration that nobody dies a natural death anymore. Neither science, nor various beliefs, nor philosophical reasoning could lessen man’s spiritual suffering. Do we have to trick him, like they did thousands of years ago, and pull the wool over his eyes? Luckily, however, nothing remains of this pitiful idea except a historical memory. Won’t the sun and moon disappear one day? According to the precise calculations carried out by Professor Ravansheed, in three thousand five hundred years, the earth will go cold, and the energy from the sun will diminish, causing the entire planet to be threatened with death. Two thousand years after that, life on earth will go completely extinct. And so, this is the final victory of humanity’s thought: that they will not submit themselves blindly to the indiscriminate forces of nature and random events. Rather, they will demonstrate enough bravery to drown themselves in eternal oblivion of their own accord. Man’s final conquest will be his freedom from the constraints of the needs of life, that is, the erasure of his race from the face of the earth. \
“During the most recent congress, which was held in N3, twelve thousand scientists of planet Earth voted for this action to be taken, and practically all of the people of the world expressed their support for the plan to end the human race. Some time ago, my esteemed colleague Professor Shock suggested that everyone should be rounded up in the big cities and exterminated using the Radiosile technology. Professor Hope suggested that Hopomite be used to eliminate the urban residents, while Professor Shidush proposed that the people be killed with Fatal Color. Doctor Balad, meanwhile, believed that everyone should be suffocated with Courant Ozogène, so they would die happily and calmly. According to recent statistics compiled by the Institut d’Euthanasie, every day more than twenty-five thousand people have attempted suicide so as to escape the pain of a collective death. As you can see, all the methods that have been proposed are violent and barbaric, and there is no guarantee of their success. Instead of wiping pain and suffering off the face of the earth, they would intensify it. No doubt you will say this suffering only happens once and then it is over, but what is truly important are the people who are alive right now, whom the scientists have forgotten about. Something must be done for them; we must prevent their suffering. Furthermore, it’s possible that after every precaution is taken to prevent pain, a number of people would survive and carrying on living, undoing all our hard work and sending the planet back to square one. Because our goal with all this is to eliminate suffering on earth, not add to it.
“I will now add my proposal to what others have suggested. I have arrived at it after twenty years of experience and daily experimentation: a special serum called ‘Serum gegen Leibesleidenschaft.’ Since it’s a complicated name, we’ll call it S.G.L.L. for short. The properties of this serum are such that it not only eliminates the ability to reproduce, it also completely nullifies any desire or lust, without causing any physical or psychological harm. Using this serum, therefore, is the best way to neutralize the masses that won’t submit to a collective death. However, worthy, exceptional individuals will no doubt behave in accordance with the philosophy of ‘the suicide of the fittest.’ I have been testing this serum on humans and animals for twenty years, and it has always worked. Before making this serum publicly available for testing, let me demonstrate a few live examples of the impact it can have.”
At this moment, Professor Rock stood up from behind the table, and with the help of an electric button, the wall slid aside. In the next room was a young man sitting naked on a chair and looking out the window. A beautiful woman was sitting next him, naked from head to toe.
Professor Rock looked to the man and said, “Please explain for us the effect that the S.G.L.L. serum has had on you.”
The man stood up and began to speak: “I used to be overcome by lust, and all my time was taken up by it. I had a few operations, I tried Rayon Vb rays, nothing changed. After taking S.G.L.L., I’m completely free from the overexcitement and desire that was always tempting me. Previously, I would have died for this woman,” (here he gestured towards her), “and my interest was all based on lust. But now, we’re just friends. I can’t say I have it so bad, though. Quite the opposite. A certain calm has washed over me, like I’ve achieved all my hopes and dreams. The way things are on Earth and the whole process of lovemaking have become completely ridiculous to me. I should be thanking Professor Rock for bringing peace and quiet to my life.”
“And now,” said Professor Rock, “I will show you an example from thousands of years ago. Let’s take a look at the Anthropopithèque ape, man’s illustrious ancestor.”
Professor Rock opened another door, passed through a hallway and moved another wall aside with the press of a button. A room appeared with two large apes in it, one male, one female, looking dispirited. One was lying on the bed, and the other leaned back in a chair, hand underneath its chin.
“This is a lost generation,” explained Professor Rock, “which we have obtained today by scientific methods and by mixing the blood of many monkeys together. It is a representative of the lost bloodline of mankind’s ancestors. Now allow me to speak on behalf of this silent, lust-free couple. They no longer have any desire or inclination, and there’s been no change in their mental or physical faculties. Their thinking is sharper, and their temperaments are improving. Only their desires and lusts have been squashed. They’ve stopped their troublemaking and are well-behaved and harmless, and now we eat lunch and dinner at the same table. Observe, therefore, how the S.G.L.L. serum produces a general calm in individuals, yet does not cause any mental or physical harm. It merely prevents the arrival of the next generation. That way, no more children will be born after the current generation, and the human race will slowly and peacefully die out on its own.
“Now please be patient and allow me to show the effect of the S.G.L.L. serum in my own laboratory on animals and even on plants and cells, after which some important scientific experts will share their opinions.”
Ted took Soussan’s hand, pulled her aside and said, “That’s enough. That’s quite enough.”
Soussan turned the knob next to the screen. The feed was cut and the static crackled loudly.
“Su-su,” said Ted. “Susie dear, what do you say? Isn’t it all insane?”
“It’s the most reasonable thing in the world.”
“Look at the age we’re living in. Love, friendship, caring – everything’s gone. Words are hollow. I can’t stand to look at these lifeless faces, as if they’ve been carved out of wood. Humanity has really lost its mind. With this one act, born of madness and hubris, they’re going to destroy the sacred progeny of mankind!”
“Oh ho! Now we’re getting somewhere!” exclaimed Soussan. “The sacred progeny! What a strange choice of adjective! Just now you were letting me have it for saying the statue I made could be a symbol for the soul, and now you’re defending the sacred progeny? On the contrary, what an enormous victory it would be for this sacred progeny to be eliminated along with all its crimes, suffering, beauties and idiocies. The Earth turned for millions of years in peace. Compared to the lifetime of the Earth, humanity has been around for no more than a day, and it was a day full of turmoil. Humanity has brought all living things to their wit’s end. It has destroyed the balance and peace of nature. Let it give that peace back to the planet Earth.”
“But in this barbaric way?”
“Do you really believe man’s death instinct is weaker than his life instinct? Love and death always come as a pair. Humans have always yearned for death, even as they supposedly fought for life. Now they’re free, and even though everything they need to live is readily available, they still haven’t overcome their death wish. In fact it’s gotten stronger, spreading on its own, so common now that everyone is clamoring for collective extinction and engaging in the struggle for death. This is the logical conclusion of man’s existence.”
“I’m going crazy here, Susu,” said Ted. “Susie dear, I’m going to go now, but just answer me this one thing. Just one thing. You have no idea how important these words are for me, even if you say they’re hollow. Just give me one word: tell me if you love me or hate me. Swear at me, tell me off, kick me out of your apartment, but don’t sit there so quiet; so cool, calm and unaffected. I don’t know if everything is fake now, if it’s just superficial, but the human heart and emotions never change. If man could change the earth’s orbit around the sun one day, or if he could make it all the way to Sirius, he’d still be the same weak, cowardly, and emotional creature. You saw the ape’s pitiful looks, full of soul, full of emotions. It’s the same ancestral human soul. Just give me one word. Swear at me!”
“What a baby, just a big, grown-up baby. You’re still acting like a person from two thousand years ago. You’re perfect for an exhibit at the natural history museum. All these beautiful girls, so many ways to entertain yourself. What are you waiting for?”
“They’re all the same to me,” said Ted. “I don’t want you for a normal love the way that you think. You’re an inseparable part of my soul.”
“Soul?” asked Soussan. “What a joke! I see so clearly now that the great apes – ‘man’s illustrious ancestor,’ as Professor Rock called them – left quite an impact on you.” \
Ted moved over to the door, hesitated for a moment like he was going to say something, then turned away. The door opened automatically and slowly closed behind him.
***
Six months passed and the lust-killing serum was administered to everyone. Contrary to expectation, however, the serum had a strange effect. Because there had been a mistake in the laboratory when mixing the amount of the serum into a solution, it ended up not eliminating lust. Instead, it neutralized mankind’s only means to resist it. As a result, it engendered a kind of collective insanity in humanity. Everyone was attempting suicide by different methods. Professor Rock killed himself as well, and the TV screen was covered in suicides and deranged acts: factory explosions; groups of people shouting in the cities; a man gouging his own eye out; a woman drinking liquor from her son’s skull; a girl who collected a bunch of flowers and dirty pictures in her room and then killed herself. Man’s weaknesses and childish emotions had reached a fever pitch. Wrinkles had beset all those formerly calm, emotionless faces. They’d grown old. Cities devolved into chaos: the electricity was out most of the time, cars crashed into each other, there was always screaming and shouting, and nobody helped anyone. It had grown difficult to collect all the dead bodies. The cremation facilities were constantly at work and they still could not keep up with the demand. The painters and artists all turned toward making lewd art. Lewd songs, lewd paintings, lewd thoughts. The thinkers began spending all their time on vulgar topics. Another development occurred to threaten the city of Kanar: Damavand Mountain was showing signs it would erupt. Earthquakes kept happening one after the other. Although sophisticated seismographs had predicted the eruption down to the minute well in advance, nobody paid any attention.
These developments brought about some general changes in Sousann’s life too. After taking the S.G.L.L. serum, she became distracted and started to look pale, verging on sallow. An enticing perfume was hanging in the air, and she kept playing her sensual music. There was a wine bottle and glasses on every table. Her room was a mess and looked like one of those safehouses thieves would party and drink in after a raid, then abandon. \
One day Soussan was sitting by the window in her apartment and looking outside. The skyscraper across the way was visible, with its broken, burnt windows darkened by smoke. Broken-down radio-electric cars were scattered here and there on the road that arched upwards to the midpoint of the skyscraper. Terrified people were moving frantically and there was a great commotion. All the moving roads had stopped, and in the leisure garden on the eighteenth floor of the skyscraper, a huge group of people milled about in a haze. One group was performing a play, some were playing instruments and dancing. While Sousann was busy watching, the doorbell rang and the door opened. Ted entered looking distraught. He’d come to see Soussan many times recently but she was always too busy working on her statue, which she wouldn’t show him, and promised to show it to him after it was completed. Soussan was so preoccupied with looking out the window, she didn’t realized Ted was there at first.
Ted came closer and said, “What are you looking at?”
“I’m watching the conquest of love,” she replied.
“Do you believe me now? This was the feeling of love. Nature’s ploy to get people to reproduce. Human civilization, man’s efforts and the will to live were all based upon it. And now that this feeling has been taken away from them, look at how they destroy the progress created by thousands of years of thought and struggle. Their way of thought, their energy, and their interest in living have evaporated.”
“What could be better than subjugating frenzied and rebellious mankind to the laws of nature? Nature, which so far man has controlled like a puppet. Let him destroy it all. Destruction also holds great pleasure in it. Instead of nature destroying everything bit by bit, it’s better if he destroys it by his own hand. The feeling of destruction and the feeling of creation are two sides of the same coin.”
“Are you prepared to demolish all your sculptures, too?” asked Ted.
“Relax, I already destroyed them and built a new sculpture out of the materials. There’s only one left.”
“Did you demolish the silkworm sculpture too?”
“That one was already old for me. I wasn’t enjoying it anymore.”
“Let’s go look at the new sculpture then. I feel like you’re going to say yes, today!”
They got up and went to the workshop. In the front was a large sculpture, almost as tall as a person, which was radiating a reddish glow. A silk velvet curtain was hanging behind it. The sculpture was of two huge, delicate insects that were tangled up in each other. Their giant, copper wings were coated in a cloudy, skin-colored glaze. Their bodies clung to each other. One of their heads looked like Ted, the other looked like Soussan, her head tilted back. Her eyes were closed, and Ted’s arms were wrapped around her body.
Shocked, Ted asked, “Bugs again?”
“This is a short-lived insect whose lifespan is only one day. It dies at the peak of pleasure.”
“Why did you pick this subject and these faces?”
“It’s the dream that you had. The dream where you killed me and then took me into your embrace.”
“Look, Susu. All feelings of love in me have died. Maybe lust remains, but I’ll say it again: I love you. I love your soul. Let me tell you again that it’s not for lust.”
“Before I took S.G.L.L., I loved you, too,” said Soussan. “I used to torture you on purpose. I’ll admit I enjoyed toying with you, but that’s all in the past now. Forget about the myth of the soul. Now I want you for pleasure. I feel like my logic, emotions, and entire being has changed.”
“Susu, can I ask you for a favor? Can you buy back the last moments of my life? This life I spent being tortured by you!”
“I understand what you mean. Come with me.”
Soussan took Ted’s hand, and they returned to her apartment. Ted sat down on the rubber couch. Soussan went and turned the knob on the instrument, leaving it on the “P” setting. All of a sudden, the air turned red, then orange. A delicate, sensual song and an enticing perfume wafted through the air. Soussan went over to sit next to Ted. She filled two glasses with the wine that was on the table, handed one to Ted and took the other for herself. They took a drink. Ted fished a small vial out of his pocket and was about to pour it into his drink. Soussan grabbed his arm and looked at the vial.
“What are you trying to do?” she said. “Oh, Atropine! What an old-fashioned word. So old it’s buried in dust! Atropine was good for two thousand years ago. Do you know what it does? It causes seizures, hallucinations, and fainting, then nightmares and visions of massacres, decapitated heads, and a thousand other agonies until it kills you. So wait a minute.”
Soussan stood up and handed Ted a small metallic ball she pulled out of a secret cabinet in the corner. “You put this mask on and very slowly inhale, but don’t inhale all of it. Leave some for me and Sheeshee!”
“What is it?” asked Ted.
“It’s protoxide d’asote. It puts you to sleep, very pleasantly. Then, after it has a bit of an aphrodisiac effect, it makes your vision a bit hazy and your ears tingle. But overall it feels nice.”
“Laughing gas?”
“Exactly.”
Ted nodded and attached the mask strap to the small metallic ball, then tied it around the back of his neck. As he laid his head down on the pillow, a calm and happy expression came over his face. A few minutes later, his eyes fluttered closed. Soussan took the mask off of him, turned the knob to shut off the ball, put it on the table, and laid Ted down on the rubber bed.
***
Later that same day around dusk, there was a great commotion that could be heard from far away. A group of the nudists, with their trained bodies, tanned skin and muscular arms, invaded Kanar and conquered the whole thing before midnight, with no resistance.
When five of the nudists broke down the door and went into Soussan’s workshop, it was illuminated with a bright, red light. A mild, sensual song was playing, and an enticing, alluring perfume filled the air. The sculpture of the ephemeral insect glittered in front of the grey curtain. In front of it was an intricately carved coffin, on which was written: “The Lover’s Dream.”
One of the nudists stepped forward and pressed a button next to the coffin. It rang softly three times, and the lid opened by itself. The open coffin exuded the strong scent of the same stupefying perfume that infused the air in the room. Stunned, the nudists stumbled backwards. What they saw in the coffin was a naked man and woman in the same pose as the insect sculpture, wrapped in a fabric so thin it looked like mist, lying together in an embrace, lips locked in a kiss, and a white snake coiled around their waists.