they looking for?
First there was this little animal that suddenly appeared in the cell,
like an octopus, but green all over, with clusters of tentacles and hair
everywhere . . . And its eyes, waving around on stalks! Where the hell
did they pick that up? What’s worse, it got through that invisible wall
and I couldn’t. It’s as if they’re trying to drive us crazy!
The woman over there was scared out of her mind! Not me. I’ve
seen a lot, after all. But I can’t figure out how the octopus could get
through the wall. It disappeared just as it came. Ffft! Gone! In its
place, six big tubes arrived with bunches of—bunches of little tubes
that branched out in all directions. I’m not a complete idiot. It was
perfectly clear to me that it was a test, and that they wanted me to do
something with these tubes. But what? . . . In the end I just gave up.
58
J.-P. Andrevon
And finally the invisible wall began to vibrate, vibrate . . . with
blinding colours, green, orange, red, spinning around, dazzling me . . .
I couldn’t stand it. Fortunately, it’s over now. They’ve given up. But it doesn’t seem natural to me, all this stuff . . . I’ve got my own theory:
what if our kidnappers are Martians? That’s right, Martians . . .Mar-
tians or people from God knows what planet. Because with all these
stories about flying saucers, you’ve got to be ready for anything!
Yes sir! Martians!
Csou.
I have eliminated the wall. As I have been able to observe, it was
totally invisible to these creatures, who register only a pitifully limited range of vibrations; nevertheless, Quadragne A, who was in the habit
of going up to feel it continually, soon perceived its disappearance. He
reacted to this with excitement, and crossed the former line of
demarcation to approach Quadragne B. The latter seemed to display
signs of fear, and retreated. The two Quadragnes then exchanged a
series of modulated sounds from their head-mandibles: as I have
noted elsewhere, it is their primitive mode of communication.
What followed is more curious, and exhibits that character of
fundamental strangeness which characterizes the vital norms of the
Quadragnes. I did not really observe how the situation first became
tense between them, but it is certain that hostilities were declared
when Quadragne A started to run his upper paws over the body of
Quadragne B. The latter tried to fend off these attacks by backing
away and by disordered movements of her paws. Then the two
Quadragnes, one pursuing the other, made several rounds of the
cage in rapid propulsion. Quadragne A finally succeeded in pinning
Quadragne B against a wall, holding her firmly to him with his two
upper members, and pressing the sucker of his mandibles to his
adversary’s head (as well as the intermediary articulation). It was
my initial fear that I was about to witness a scene of cannibalism—I
prepared to turn on the ongdal gas—but it soon appeared to me that
this mandible-play was quite superficial and presented no real danger
for the assaulted Quadragne.
Finally, Quadragne A introduced his ventral tube (which had in the
meantime achieved its maximum length) into the small vertical cleft
which Quadragne B possesses completely beneath her posterior parts,
concealed under a hairy surface and through which she ordinarily
discharges her liquid excrements. Quadragne A, holding his victim
firmly upright, then began to jerk up and down in place, with the
Observation of Quadragnes
59
effect (of course I was observing the process with a powerful magnify-
ing lens) of slipping his ventral tube into the interior of the cavity of Quadragne B. The back-and-forth movement achieved an accelerated
rhythm, and the two Quadragnes began to moan softly. Quadragne B
no longer seemed to be struggling, but passed her upper paws over the
posterior parts of Quadragne A with a kind of gentleness. Then the two
animals separated rather abruptly, without my clearly understanding
the reason. I saw them squat against the wall of the cage, rather distant from each other. The ventral tube of Quadragne A had returned to its
size that I will henceforth call ‘in repose’. In the eyes of Quadragne B a colourless liquid formed and abundantly exuded.
*
*
*
*
*
O Lord! . . . What have I done? . . . What has been done to me?
You are my witness that I resisted, that I did what I could to avoid
. . . what happened. But his young good-for-nothing threw himself on
me like a wild animal . . . And like an animal, he sated his basest
instincts.
What a shame . . . what terrible shame! And this, under those
invisible eyes which, I well know, never cease from watching us.
And under Your eyes, Lord! But I must not spend my time lamenting.
One day this martyrdom will end, I know; I have faith. I have only to
wait, to be calm, to think of my dear Martial, of my little Pierrot and
little Annette . . . and to pray.
*
*
*
*
*
I couldn’t resist . . .
Put yourself in my place! For eight days I was stuck there, going
around in circles. And then this naked woman in front of me all the
time!
When I realized that the goddamn wall had disappeared, I . . . and
besides if she hadn’t screamed, if she hadn’t started running . . . That’s what excites me, broads who are scared.
Never mind . . . it’s okay now.
She’s putting on her crying act, but in a few days she’ll calm down
and ask for it again. Yes sir! I’ve known them, ones like her. Middle-
aged broads who haven’t kissed anyone for a long time. It’s hard to
loosen them up, but after that . . . real furies!
The stupid thing is that we can’t understand each other. I would
60
J.-P. Andrevon
never have figured her for a foreigner. She must be French . . . or
Italian. Apparently Italian women don’t care about getting old. And
they’re really hot for it.
Yes, I’d really like her to be Italian . . . I never had an Italian before!
Csu.
The two Quadragnes appear to have reached a mode of peaceful co-
existence. Towards the end of Csou, they resumed their oral commu-
nication—although the exchanges seemed rather brief to me—and
when I made it dark in their cage, they lay down with each other, and
mutually passed their upper paws over all the surfaces of the other’s
body, particularly over (and in) their excretory organs; the tube of
Quadragne A again grew to the size which I will call ‘in labour’. Again
there was introduction, Quadragne A being extended horizontally on
individual B, and the two animals were ‘facing’. The same grotesque
dance recommenced, the transition from a vertical position to a
horizontal position having in no way modified the ritual. Then they
rapidly fell asleep, very entangled. I ended the observation, quite
puzzled and, I must admit, sufficiently disgusted.
*
*
*
*
*
I’m ashamed to say it, but I feel myself taken with a sort of tenderness
for this young rascal. Despite his violence and his lack of education, I
am sure that he is basically good. The young people of today are like
that, it seems: impulsive, unaccustomed to restraining their instincts.
Headstrong, in a way . . .
And what could I do, in the situation in which we find ourselves?
Struggle, resist to my last breath? That would have been quite stupid
and would have done no good. When one finds oneself in an
exceptional situation, one must adapt oneself to exceptional con-
tingencies. Rather than be enemies, it’s better to be comrades, no
longer having to ignore certain inconvenient needs.
Besides, if Martial were able to see me, I am sure that he would
understand me, that he would pardon me and even approve. Poor
Martial . . . With him I have never . . . But after all I am a good
Christian, and there are some things it’s better not to talk about.
Nevertheless, it would be foolish to be ashamed of our bodies. God
has made us thus, capable of experiencing sorrow as well as pleasure.
My modesty forbids me to insist on this point, but when enforced
contact makes the simplest decency impossible, why desperately wish
Observation of Quadragnes
61
to go against the natural order of things? And then I should also put
myself in the place of this young man, whom the sight of my naked
body incites to lust. It is true that I am still young: I am just barely
thirty-six years old. And I do believe that I am not unattractive . . . To refuse my body in such a situation would be mere hypocrisy; I even
believe that it would be contrary to the simplest Christian charity.
One can only give what one has!
I only regret that we do not speak the same language. It would have
been truly comforting to exchange ideas on this impossible situation.
And then we would have been able to know and understand each
other better . . . He might have said nice things to me, told me that he
finds me beautiful. But he’s English, alas, English or American—and I
have completely forgotten the few words of English that I learned at
school . . .
No matter! Words don’t count for much in comparison with a
simple presence. And his is, all things considered, as comforting as
that of anyone. And thanks to you, my pet, I am no longer alone.
Despite his long hair and his moustache, I almost find him handsome!
Dro/Drou/Dru/Dso.
I have kept the activity of the Quadragnes under constant supervision
for four cycles, noting the periodicity and the frequency of their
meals, their evacuations and their ‘copulations’.
Copulation: this term was suggested to me by 11.427 Green In Sky
Of Topaz Nadir, who has a certain amount of experience with
‘bisexual’ subjects (another new term!). It seems that the introduction
of the tube and the subsequent dance are the preliminaries to
semination, strictly speaking; Quadragne A releases his seed into
Quadragne B, who is then ‘fecundated’. All these rites, then, have
simply to do with reproduction. I am quite willing to accept the
explanation of Green In Sky Of Topaz Nadir, but I nonetheless note
two things: why these repeated relations, when in principle a single
releasing of seed is enough for the germination of a new being? On
the other hand, if we grant that these so-called organs of reproduction
are bound in with orifices of liquid evacuation, then copulation must
not be a very enjoyable act for the Quadragnes . . . In brief, there is
more mystery in these animals than in all our philosophy!
To come back to more practical notations, I was able to observe,
during the four illuminated periods and the four nocturnal periods
which have just elapsed, that the Quadragnes copulated eleven times,
always horizontally, the sole variants being found in their respective
62
J.-P. Andrevon
posture of domination, Quadragne A sometimes being on top, some-
times on the bottom. On several occasions, prior to the introduction of
the tube, the Quadragnes reversed their position (I am tempted to
represent this new caprice by the sign of a horizontal 69—which is
not far removed from the symbol of infinity!) to devote themselves to
buccal-reproductive contacts: at one end, Quadragne B absorbs in her
buccal air-hole the tube of Quadragne A, while he introduces his
retractile lapper in the cleft of Quadragne B. I think that these singular manoeuvres must be considered as a sort of symbolic toilet, or
washing performed on the reproductory organs before the act prop-
erly so called: it is easily understandable, when one knows for what
uses the said organs are otherwise employed.
Aside from these details, I have nothing in particular to note. The
observation of the Quadragnes has become for me a sort of routine,
and I no longer take very much interest in it. Moreover, I am going to
break off for a while this tedious study, since we are nearing the
megacycle of Fouge-Framme and I will have to put myself in stasis for
recharging.
*
*
*
*
Bed and board, with a pretty woman whenever I want her—who
could ask for anything more? A little something to drink from time to
time, of course . . . But I’ve crossed that one out.
The Martians are A-okay with me!
Eru.
Here I am again (with an index of 148!) at the cage of the Quad-
ragnes. I have hardly observed them today, since the success of my
charging stasis has impelled me to enter into contact with numerous
other individualities of class F. Besides, I have resolved to materialize a dorzz with the help of 11.427 Green In Sky Of Topaz Nadir, to the
limit of instability of our two influxes. This is infinitely more creative than the study of these two primitive organisms. Moreover, their
activities seem to have become rarefied: the two Quadragnes remain
squatting, each on his own side, against the wall of the cage and no
longer seem to be prey to this reproductive madness which agitated
them prior to Fouge-Framme. But perhaps now that Quadragne B has
finally been fecundated (all this is perfectly clear to me since stasis,
when I integrated in my circuits a spool on the customs of sexual
beings), these two animals no longer feel the need to copulate.
Observation of Quadragnes
63
*
*
*
*
*
How well I understand them!
They’ve started up again! Their filthy tricks, tests, whatever it is . . . it’s started up again.
My God, I really thought I was going to pop out of my skin, I was so
scared!
There I was, peaceful, almost asleep—I have to say that I’ve started
to have enough of the old girl—when the cage vanished. Yes sir! The
walls, the ceiling, the floor . . . pffft! All gone! Just me and the dame, standing there in mid-air! But the most incredible thing was, we
didn’t
fall. At first I said to myself, This is it, they’ve seen enough of our faces, they’ve dropped us without parachutes from their cotton-picking flying saucer . . . But no. We floated in a sky, a sky that was a funny violet colour. And then, all of a sudden, objects came flying
toward us. Like balls of fire . . . well, not exactly balls of fire . . . I don’t really know how to describe them. Comets, maybe, with wriggling
tails of fire. They were coming right down on us! I thought it was
curtains, that we’d go up in flames like a couple of Buddhist monks.
The broad was screaming her head off—you should’ve heard her.
And then suddenly there were no more flaming balls. We began to
descend very gently, like feathers. Far below us, in the purple void, I
saw a luminous white circle that got bigger and bigger . . . Actually, it wasn’t getting any bigger; we were falling onto it, but very slowly.
Finally we landed on it, and she throws herself into my arms,
jabbering something or other in her French or Italian. I told her not
to get excited, but of course she didn’t understand me.
The white thing on which we landed was so big that I couldn’t see
where it ended. I told myself it might be a planet—not Mars, of
course, because Mars is all red. I tried the ground with my foot. It was
hard . . . harder than the hardest rock. And so shiny that it made me
cry just to look at it. We stood there a while without knowing what to
do, and then all of a sudden something new appeared on the horizon.
It was like a gigantic pink board that grew, and grew so fast that it
soon became as big as a mountain. I had the impression that it was
like a giant saw, cutting up the white plain and coming right toward
us. We started to run, and suddenly we found ourselves in a kind of
pink molasses. It wasn’t liquid—we would’ve suffocated—but some-
thing like a thick dust, and it made us cough. The pink board had
overtaken us, but it wasn’t as solid as I’d thought.
I didn’t realize until later that the white plain had disappeared out
64
J.-P. Andrevon
from under our feet, and that we were floating in the molasses just
like we’d floated in the sky. There were also piles of stuff moving
around in this jelly. Stars, it looked like, that expanded and divided,
stuff riddled with holes like sponges, things with lots of threads
coming out of them, like big worms . . . I asked myself if they were