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    Atta (1953) by Francis Rufus Bellamy

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      do merely to keep up with him. I had no time for more

      speculations on the wisdom of my choice. Lame as he

      was, his strength, agility, and quickness were far superior

      to mine, and I had much ado not to be reduced to merely

      scrabbling after him.

      We traveled due north, and I kept careful check of the

      few landmarks we passed so that at the proper moment

      I could return to my metal shelter and recover my long

      black rope. In some dim way these two things seemed to

      represent to me all that remained of my actual entrance

      into this country, and I had the curious feeling that if I

      should lose them or be unable to find them again my

      road out would also be lost. For I had got to the rocky

      plateau by some route, and if this jungle lay at one end

      of it, then my own farm lay at the other.

      In the meantime I was growing very hungry indeed—

      almost faint, to tell the truth; and this condition was responsible for the only untoward incident that marked our journey—a happening that took place after we had been

      traveling for about an hour.

      During this time my new companion had waited for

      me to catch up with him every now and then, whereupon

      I had examined the splint to see how it was holding and

      both of us had rested ourselves. Usually such breathing

      spells had been productive of little more than the mutual

      A T T A

      29

      silence while I wiped my moist brow and my companion

      felt of his leg. This time, however, my eye was caught by

      what I took at first to be a mirror suspended from one of

      the limbs of a jungle tree and flashing in the noonday sun. It was a large eggshaped globule, I soon perceived, made of what looked to be polished glass, and it gathered and reflected the rays of the sun in an almost

      kaleidoscopic splendor of prismatic gleams. Resting in

      the lowest crotch of the tree where the first thick limb

      joined the trunk, it was not suspended, but it had clearly

      been put in its place by someone.

      Fascinated by its appearance, I rose and went to it—

      it was not more than thirty feet away—and reached up

      my hand to touch it, wondering who had made it and

      placed it there. Instantly, as if by magic, my simple

      touch wrought an incredible change. The moment my

      fingers came in contact with its cool surface it changed

      from a glass globule to a huge mass of water that broke

      its shape with a splash and flowed down and over me,

      soaking me to the skin.

      For an instant I stood utterly bewildered, soaking wet

      and stunned.

      Plain water! Was it nothing but plain water? If so,

      how in defiance of gravity could it have remained suspended in the crotch of this tree, a glistening wet sphere over two feet in diameter? Where in the world was I,

      that the very laws of gravity could be defied?

      At the unbidden question my overwrought nerves suddenly gave way and water rose to my own eyes. Standing alone in the heat of the jungle, I wept until the tears coursed down my cheeks.

      Was I, indeed, on the earth at all? Or had I, in the

      darkness, somehow been transported to the moon or an

      even more distant celestial body?

      These were my wild thoughts as I stood with my back

      to my companion. And you may laugh as you read this,

      seated in your comfortable chair, but I assure you that

      to me at that moment it was no laughing matter. Indeed,

      30

      A T T A

      put yourself in my place; consider the succession of unbelievable experiences that had come to me; and tell me then that you would have felt differently. Where on this

      broad earth do drops of water five times as big as a man’s

      head hang suspended in the trees? Where does one find

      grotesque valleys such as I had seen, or huge ant-like

      creatures with men’s brains but with feelers projecting

      from their heads?

      Consider all this, I say; and then tell me if it is any

      wonder that I broke down and wept.

      I was recalled to myself by a touch on my arm. My

      companion had evidently seen that something was wrong

      and had approached me and was stroking my arm gently

      with his feelers. His kindness, his evident sympathy, went

      to my heart. I could have embraced him, outlandish and

      grotesque as he was. Obviously I had found one friend

      at least in this nightmare country, and the thought gave

      me fresh courage.

      “Don’t worry,” I said. “It will pass.”

      To this he replied with more gesticulations and such a

      succession of strange high-pitched words that finally even

      I had to smile at my weakness. With half a sigh I -put

      my hand on his shoulder and walked back to where my

      lance lay, shouldered it, and thus signified that I was

      ready once more to go on.

      For some two hours we pushed on again, over the same

      rugged, desert country, between the same clumps of

      queer trees, which grew now more thickly, now more

      sparsely, as far as the eye could reach.

      Several times, down the long colonnades, I caught

      glimpses in the distance of moving figures like that of my

      guide, but smaller and clad in black armor; and these always hastened away at our approach as if fearing attack.

      Once, too, a deep humming filled the air, far louder than

      the incessant hum and rattle of the swaying trees. It came

      near and then nearer and finally passed over our heads

      with the roar of a bomber, while its huge black shadow

      swept the boulder-strewn ground. My companion, how­

      A T T A

      31

      ever, paid no attention to these appearances, but kept

      steadily on until finally, in the center of an unusually

      dense grove of trees, he stopped and signified that we

      had reached our journey’s end.

      Before us, hidden from view on all sides by the crowding green trunks of the bamboolike woods, was a roughly spherical light brown wooden structure; at least, it had

      the grain and appearance of brown seasoned wood,

      though nowhere could I see any sign of joints or planks.

      Some twelve feet high, with an irregular surface marked

      by cracks like those in a dried mud marsh, it looked for

      all the world like a huge English walnut shell.

      I was in no mood for curiosity, however. Indeed, I

      was now far gone with hunger, and my weariness of both

      body and spirit was so great that I bestowed only a perfunctory glance even upon this new prodigy. Halfway up one side was a circular entrance, and up through this my

      companion now pulled himself, while I laid my lance

      against the irregular wall and with its aid climbed up

      after him.

      The inside, I saw, had been cleared out and was divided into two chambers: an upper one in which I now found myself under a low domelike roof, and a lower one

      apparently reached by a round hole in the floor. Down

      this hole my host had already disappeared. I leaned out

      the doorway, pulled up my lance and laid it on the

      floor, and sank down to await his return.

      To tell the truth, I no longer had much interest in my

      surroundings, or in life itself. I merely wished to eat and

      drive away the faintness that was assai
    ling me. And the

      fact that my host had already so casually disappeared

      slightly irritated me.

      Consider my surprise, then, when presently he reappeared from the room beneath, carrying several whitish objects like huge mushrooms, which he gave to me, indicating by his gestures that they were good to eat. Without hesitation I bit into one, found it indeed of the consistency of a dried mushroom though with little taste,

      32

      A T T A

      and soon had finished it to the last crumb. It had a peculiarly satisfying after-flavor, I found. I tried another and another until my hunger was satisfied and I could

      eat no more. In the end I had eaten five.

      Then I lay back with a sigh of exhaustion and closed

      my eyes. Within five minutes, I think, I was asleep.

      Chapter 4

      How long I slept I cannot say, or if it were the next

      morning or the day after that my new companion waked

      me with another meal of his odd mushrooms. For of

      the two weeks that followed I have little remembrance

      now, except that my host’s leg healed rapidly, and that

      I myself achieved a measure of acceptance of a situation

      whose reality I could not deny, yet whose explanation

      was beyond me.

      Indeed, I think you will agree that the original mystery

      of my surroundings was now so doubly enhanced by the

      outlandish appearance of my new host that it was almost

      painful to consider. He lay nearly always at my elbow

      during those first nights, and, strive as I might to shut

      him out, there were few evenings when the nightmare

      implications of his presence did not rush at me and pin

      me down. For several, nights I could scarcely sleep at all,

      but sat at the doorway staring out at the moonlight,

      hoping that I might wake the next second and find myself back in the sunlight of the sunken garden.

      In these dark moments I arrived at only one conclusion: the sun still rose and set, the length of night and day seemed unchanged, the stars appeared precisely as

      A T T A

      33

      before, and, despite the character of the country and its

      storms, summer still continued. Therefore the presumption was that I was still on earth and in a latitude closely resembling the one in which I had been so incontinently

      struck down.

      Right or wrong, this simple deduction temporarily

      satisfied my desperate need for at least one basic, familiar

      fact; and for many days it was tire one rock to which I

      clung.

      Meanwhile neither my new host nor I ever ventured

      far from our house; so that most of my time was spent

      in the little grove at our doorway, where I practised with

      my lance. It was too heavy to throw, I found, but I soon

      attained to a certain proficiency in using it as an old-

      fashioned pike, and this ability stood me in good stead

      later on.

      My companion took little interest in this, but devoted

      most of his time to our larder. The food supply seemed

      to be, and in fact was, practically inexhaustible; for I

      found that the strange mushrooms that served as both

      meat and drink were nothing less than a kind of edible

      plant that my host cultivated in the lower room of our

      home. Every morning, in spite of his strapped leg, he

      would make a dozen or more trips into the grove, climbing the trees with surprising agility and cutting off certain long leaves with his beak. These he would bring back to the house, and when, with my help, he had laid

      them out and shredded them into small pieces, he would

      take them into the cellar and spread them over the mushroom plants, where they acted as a sort of fertilizer; for in a surprisingly short time a fresh crop would appear.

      Tasks such as these took up much of our day; but we

      both sat long over meals, he never worked at midday,

      and if it rained he did not go out at all. Thus we spent

      much time together. As a result we gradually learned

      to communicate roughly with each other, and after a

      number of ridiculous attempts we managed to identify

      and name, to our mutual satisfaction, most of the im­

      34

      A T T A

      mediate objects around us. This achievement we followed with a similar identification of our common movements and actions—“eat” and “good,” I remember, were among our first successes— and here, somewhat to my

      surprise, I found my new friend remarkably intelligent

      Atta—for that, I found, was his name—even got to understand much of my language before I understood his; more, I think, from the inflection of my voice than the

      actual words, for he could never learn actually to speak

      English. Yet I had by far the greater curiosity and initiative, and the end result was that our conversation, such as it was, came gradually to be carried on in his language, which consisted of a combination of complicated gestures with a high-pitched use of words—I am at a loss

      to describe it—that I found very difficult to reproduce.

      Indeed, during all our months together I never learned

      to speak it without conscious effort. And Atta himself

      had a great deal of difficulty with certain English words

      —my own name, Brokell, among them.

      Nevertheless both he and I made a sincere attempt to

      understand each other, and even during those first few

      weeks our ability to communicate with each other progressed remarkably; so much so that eventually I learned from him a number of things that both surprised and

      confounded me.

      The jungle country about us was strange to him too, it

      appeared, though his ignorance of it was not on the

      same plane as mine. It belonged to no one in particular,

      he said, though it was infested at the moment by wandering bands of savages who were like him in general appearance and spoke a rude variation of the same language, but were of a rather lower type of civilization. He had never seen anyone like me before, and my clothing,

      white skin, and yellow hair were a constant source of

      wonder to him. Yellow, in particular, was a color he

      liked.

      In his own country, he said, he was one of the leaders

      of a populous city long established, which in the far dis­

      A T T A

      35

      tant past his ancestors had conquered. He himself was of

      the present ruling class, a circumstance that had allowed

      him to go out on a scouting expedition. Unfortunately he’

      had not suspected the presence of hostile invaders. His

      five companions had been killed in an ambush, and he

      alone had escaped, preserving his life by the discovery

      of this odd house.

      His first experience in solitary living he had found unexpectedly pleasant—“disturbingly pleasant” were his exact words—except for the continued presence of the

      unexpected roving bands of savages who had killed his

      companions and who still appeared continually and prevented him from making any attempt to get home. Nevertheless he had managed to explore some of the surrounding country. His one error, he admitted, had been a failure to recognize how the sandstone boulders on the hills had been undermined by the recent storm. This failure

      had led him into the plight in which I had discovered

      him. Without my help, he said, he should inevitably have

      perished of hunger or fallen victim to some wild beast

      or to a passing party of one of the invading tribes; some


      of which last, he warned me, were not to be underestim ated, being both ferocious and skilful fighters, particularly when they were on a foray to capture slaves, which was their main object in waging war. Such was the substance of what Atta told me in snatches during our first weeks—facts both stunning in kind and highly unsatisfactory in content.

      For my new friend seemed to find sustained conversation or any continued intercourse a heavy burden, which he laid down as soon as he could. His disinclination afterward wore off; as was subsequently proved in different and tragic circumstances. But it would be idle to deny

      that in the beginning he was highly averse to telling me

      any connected story at all about himself.

      Indeed, until I had known him at least a month he

      never asked me a personal question or displayed the

      slightest interest in the fact that I was obviously of a dif­

      36

      A T T A

      ferent race and from a different world. He appeared to

      have almost no curiosity and to view the ordinary give-

      and-take of a personal relationship with coldness and a

      touch of suspicion. Only on subjects like enemies, and

      fighting did he seem to have no inhibitions, and in such

      contexts he could be eloquent.

      In the beginning, for instance, my obviously soft and

      unprotected skin elicited many shakings of the head from

      him, and he had no hesitation in expressing the lowest

      possible opinion of my clothes, which he looked on solely

      as a very inferior kind of armor. Even his own tough

      hide, he said, with its undeniably armorlike quality, was

      not always proof against enemy attacks. Many savages

      had discovered the value of poison, and sometimes a very

      slight wound could result in death. In the circumstances

      he did not see how I had survived so far or could continue to do so except by great good luck.

      He said all this in an impersonal, almost professional

      manner, as if it were none of his business, yet was a subject he understood. But it had more than the ring of truth in it; and it warned me that mere practical survival

      was still my first necessity in my new world. Thus his interest in my personal welfare had a practical result.

      Indeed, now that I look back upon it, this first faint

     


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