Shepherd and Son and little Bo-peepHerd all the souls like frightened sheep.Staff in hand, hair like snowDoes even He know where they go?A swish as of a sudden wind....An open window ... a candle thinned,From broken bodies' spirits leapTo join the flock of frightened sheep.So ever They drive them on and onDown the night and over the dawn,And when dusk comes through golden barsThey urge them onward up the stars.
Shepherd and Son and little Bo-peepHerd all the souls like frightened sheep.Staff in hand, hair like snowDoes even He know where they go?
A swish as of a sudden wind....An open window ... a candle thinned,From broken bodies' spirits leapTo join the flock of frightened sheep.
So ever They drive them on and onDown the night and over the dawn,And when dusk comes through golden barsThey urge them onward up the stars.
When the music had done Gud picked up a curved line which was shaped like a scimetar and whacked at the whirling spheres. Each time Gud whacked, he whacked off a disk from a whirling sphere; and the disks continued to whirl and ceased not. Soon a corner of space was full of whirling wheels. And Gud wondered what made the wheels go round.
As he felt the wheels go round Gud remembered a far and distant world he had once visited before he had destroyed the universe. He remembered that this little world had been full of machines and that the machines had wheels going round, and could make things. And Gud remembered as far back as a god can remember, and yet he could not recall ever having made machines that made things. He saw that he had been unprogressive to have created with hand tools and never to have made machines nor the things that machines made.
So Gud resolved straightway to make a creating machine. He gathered the wheels together and filled them with substance from the heap of matter that he had made. And then he took squares and triangles and curves and cones and rhomboids and tetrahedrons and a great many other things that were in space; and he worked very fast and furiously, and presently he had made a machine which ground with a deafening roar, for it was a high-speed, self-acting, creating machine, the like of which had never been.
And the machine began to create and to grind out things. But there was nothing alive in the things which the creating machine ground out, for it had not in it the breath of life, but only the spirit of the machine. Those things which the machine made were other machines; and they came out of the creating machine endowed with the spirit of the machine, and straightway they began also to turn and grind with a great and discordant roar.
The machines of transportation began to distribute the other machines through space. They roared and shrieked and whistled as they hurtled thither and yon, and Gud fled before them.
Then came also great lighting machines and filled all the center of space with light, and drove the darkness into the outer edges of space, toward which Gud had fled.
There were many myriads of machines that Gud did not know, and he had no time in which to name them. But there were some machines that were very dreadful, and of these Gud knew the names and the uses, for he had seen the like of them in the little world of machines he had once visited, for these were killing machines.
But the killing machines could find nothing to kill for there was not any life, but only the machines that were fast filling all space. The spirit of the killing machines was not to create but to destroy and they boomed and shrieked mightily for their prey. Gud was sore afraid, and because of the great noise of the machines, he could not remember that he was immortal and need not fear even the killing machines.
So Gud reached the outer edges of space and stood there in the dark panting and trembling. And Gud regretted that he had made the creating machine which had made all of the other machines, and he wondered what he might do to undo what he had done. Then Gud bolstered his courage, and walked back into the midst of the roaring machines and bade the machines be still. But only hearing the machines, the talking machines and the printing machines obeyed, for they only understood the word of Gud. Then he commanded the talking machines and the printing machines to make words and news and gossip, and to proclaim to the other machines that they should cease to roar.
And the word machines obeyed Gud and made words, but the other machines harkened not unto the words of Gud.
Gud feared that if the machines did not cease to be made they might fill all space, so that nothing else could ever be. Then Gud, remembering that he was immortal, walked up to a great killing machine which gaped its terrible maw to swallow him. But Gud feared not and walked into the terrible maw and into the throat of the killing machine. And when Gud came out of the bowels of the killing machine he held in his hand a great sword that was as long as hope deferred and as broad as a liberal mind. Carrying the sword, Gud fled again from the midst of the machines and to the outer reaches of space.
And Gud swung the mighty sword and cut off the edges of space. He made haste, for the machines did fast approach and he feared that they might fill all space. So Gud ran about swinging his mighty sword, and shearing the edges of space.
The edges of space Gud trimmed off from the center of space where the machines were, so that the space occupied by the machines was bounded about by clean edges of space, beyond which no more space was and not anything at all.
And it came to pass that there was very little space for Gud to be in, and the machines came on. Gud stood against the clean edges of space and brandished his mighty sword and cried: "Come on, ye soulless machines, for I am Gud and I fear ye not."
As the machines came on, Gud swung his sword with might and valor, and the machines that fell before the sword of Gud were as many as there are ways to displease a woman. So great was the destruction of the machines that the calculating machines did call a halt and asked for a truce. But Gud would give no quarter. Then the calculating machines, leaving the others to receive the blows of Gud, hied themselves back to the center of space where the creating machine was.
As the result of their calculations, reinforcements came to the cause of the machines. These new recruits came on with whistlings and hummings and greater roaring than Gud had yet heard; and his courage was shaken so that his sword trembled in his hands, for the new recruits to the cause of the machines blew a great blast before them; for they were the fans and the blowers.
And Gud felt the blast in his face, and his sword swayed and shivered like a feather in the blast. And the blast became a mighty wind and the wind blew the sword of Gud from his hand and blew it over the edge of space, so that Gud was unarmed and cried aloud for quarter. But the howling of the blast drowned his cry, and the fans and blowers came on, blowing all before them. Gud turned and fled and ran around the narrow rim of the edge of space, but the fans and blowers followed after him and made a great cyclone that blew around the edges of space. Gud fled in the wind and was bruised and torn by the wind and the garments of Gud were shattered and torn ... and Gud was lifted out of space and hurled into an abysmal void where not even space was.
But in that wind beyond all spaceThe blast howled fiercely in his face....Suddenly, from out the skyA mote of dust blew in his eye.With pain he slowly rubbed it out,Examined it with passing doubt,Then burst into a tide of mirth:It was the cinder of an earth!
But in that wind beyond all spaceThe blast howled fiercely in his face....Suddenly, from out the skyA mote of dust blew in his eye.
With pain he slowly rubbed it out,Examined it with passing doubt,
Then burst into a tide of mirth:It was the cinder of an earth!
Gud was walking and as he walked he wondered wherein and whereon he was walking. But as he knew all things he realized that he was in the Nth dimension and that he was walking along the Impossible Curve which he had thrown out of space.
So Gud walked along the Impossible Curve in the Nth dimension until he came to a heap of discarded theories. It was a tangled heap and looked as if it might be a hiding place of ideas. So Gud caught up one of the sturdier theories and shook it, and the dried facts that the theory had borne rattled off like rotten fruit from a dead branch. Gud plucked the twigs of hypotheses from the heavier theory—and so made for himself a staff. This he rammed lustily into the tangled heap of theories, whereupon something ran out and leaped along the Impossible Curve.
When it stopped, Gud, with his staff in hand, walked after it and came up to it, and thought that it was the echo of a voice.
"What were you doing?" demanded Gud, "hiding in that heap of discarded theories?"
"Alas," said that which Gud thought was the echo of a voice, "I was not hiding. There was nothing left of me to hide, because I was an obedient man and gave myself away even as I was told to do."
"What did they tell you to do?" asked Gud.
"They told me to do what I did."
"What did you do?"
The nothing sighed, and then said faintly: "I gave my wealth to the poor, my mind to my work, my heart to my wife, my life to my country and my soul to my god."
Gud reached over and picked up the nothing which he had thought was the echo of a voice. He picked it up by the ears, which were very thin, and looked into its eyes, which were pale pink, and stroked its fur, which was soft and white. Then Gud tied the nothing's ears together and hung it over his staff, and proceeded on his way.
As Gud walked on along the Impossible Curve he saw himself approaching to meet him. This made Gud very angry at himself because himself insisted on walking in the opposite direction, which seemed to show Gud that he had a dual nature and could go two ways at once. So Gud charged ahead to meet himself, and as he approached himself he swung the staff, which was over his shoulder, with a vicious blow at himself.
In his anger, Gud had forgotten the nothing which was hanging by its ears on his staff. As he swung the staff, the Impossible Curve took a sudden turn in an unknown direction so that Gud missed himself at which he struck. But that which was hanging by the ears flew off the staff and went hurtling through the deceitful mirror.
In this new excitement Gud forgot himself and peered through the deceitful mirror to see what had become of nothing. Gud saw that nothing was being chased by something, which Gud recognized as the reflection of an Underdog.
The chase was exciting; the nothing ducked and the reflection of an Underdog leaped over it. Then the nothing turned and started back toward the deceitful mirror, through which Gud was peering. The reflection of the Underdog turned also, and when the quarry reached the mirror it came back through and its pursuer came after it.
Quickly Gud swung his staff again and broke the mirror into ten thousand pieces. Then he turned about and saw, by the contented look on the face of the Underdog, that nothing was no more. Gud was glad he had been engaged in breaking the mirror and so had not seen the finale of the chase, for thus he missed the suffering of the victim and yet could see the satisfaction of the victor.
Gud now looked at the staff in his hand and saw that it had borne a luscious fruit. He plucked the fruit and tasted it. At first it tasted very sweet but later the taste turned bitter in his mouth. Gud looked again at the staff which he had picked from the heap of discarded theories, and Gud saw that he held in his hand the theory of conquest. In horror he hurled it from him, and it struck the Underdog, who gave forth a great howl of pain.
Gud felt compassion for the Underdog and picked him up and nursed his wound, and the Underdog licked Gud's hands. Then he sat the Underdog down and started on his way, and the Underdog followed at Gud's heels along the Impossible Curve.
The Gogs are good, the Gogs are great,They rule a realm of real estate.Their greedy little eyes are slitsThat vision beauty torn to bits,And when the night's aglow with starsThey stagger through the lupinars.The Gogs are good, the Gogs are greatWe slave to rent their real estate;We toil in their behalf like fools,Obey their customs, creeds and rules,Because each intellectual hogWould like to be, and is a Gog!
The Gogs are good, the Gogs are great,They rule a realm of real estate.Their greedy little eyes are slitsThat vision beauty torn to bits,And when the night's aglow with starsThey stagger through the lupinars.The Gogs are good, the Gogs are greatWe slave to rent their real estate;We toil in their behalf like fools,Obey their customs, creeds and rules,Because each intellectual hogWould like to be, and is a Gog!
So they trudged along very happily until they met some one.
Gud was dumbfounded. "What can you be doing on this Impossible Curve?" he cried, "for I destroyed everything and my dog has eaten nothing. Speak up, sir, and tell me what you are before I annihilate you again."
"I am Cruickshank, the bookkeeper," replied the some one.
"Ah ha," exclaimed Gud, "and so you are another of those living things that evolved out of the ooze and slime of that little sphere that got the valences of its carbon atoms so dreadfully entangled!"
"I am a man," said Cruickshank, the bookkeeper.
"But," said Gud, quite exasperated, "I told you I destroyed everything."
"And so you did," agreed Cruickshank, the bookkeeper, "but do you not recall those that escaped and floated down on the star dust to wait for the day of judgment?"
"I certainly remember them very well," said Gud, "but I would have you to know that this is not the day of judgment but the day after eternity, and what is more, you did not escape on the star dust as you claim, for I chased after that bunch and destroyed them quite utterly."
"In a way," said Cruickshank, the bookkeeper, "you did, but we saved our souls by losing them."
"But," cried Gud, "you are not a soul, for see—" and Gud poked Cruickshank, the bookkeeper, gingerly in the ribs—"you are a material man with ribs and life and a liver and much orthodox and conventional stupidity. In fact, you seem very much like Cruickshank that you always were. How do you explain that?"
"The explanation is very simple," said Cruickshank, the bookkeeper, "and also very important; and you would do well not to forget it or tamper with it. I am Cruickshank the bookkeeper, just as I always have been, because you can not change human nature. And what is more, I tell you that if you divided all the wealth up equally it would be unequal again before sunset."
"Mere popular fallacies," said Gud. "And now I am going to show you who I really am. When my Underdog here barks at the moon you are going to change into a boiled lobster with one great claw—a very red lobster, on which your insufferable white collar will look quite ridiculous."
"But," cried Cruickshank, "you can not change human nature!"
"Yes, yes, I know," said Gud. "That is why I am doing it. Now bark," commanded Gud, addressing the Underdog, whose name was Fidu.
"But," said Fidu, "I do not see any moon to bark at."
"Imagine one, stupid," said Gud.
So Fidu imagined a moon to bark at, and barked at the moon he imagined; and then he and Gud went on their way, leaving a great, red, boiled lobster, wearing a white collar and crawling backward with one claw, along the Impossible Curve.
Now Cruickshank was a loyal workerWho frowned upon the average shirker,And in the place where Cruickshank toiledThe wheels of work were shrewdly oiled,And profits had a way of risingWhich showed the firm as enterprising.Through years that numbered thirty-oneCruickshank hated the owner's son—"Stool pigeon" was the name the boyHad given him with whoops of joy.In Cruickshank's breast ambition burnedAnd so he lived and worked and earned,Robbed Paul and Peter, had no goutAnd made his family go without.Sly Cruickshank in his stealthy wayBought shares in the firm for a rainy day,Existing on a miser's doleFor the hour when he would have control,Wander in and announce the doomOf the President's son in the President's room....So Cruickshank labored and did not shirkThough his poor wife died from overwork.But finally came the day of days....Sly Cruickshank asked for a lordly raise.When father and son had answered "No"Expecting old Cruickshank to goHe shrieked the triumph of his soul:"You are both discharged—I'm in control——"The President looked at the President's son;And the son looked at his father's sonIn a mirror that hung on the wall nearbyAnd carefully straightened his yellow tie.Old Cruickshank waited ill at easeAnd felt a trembling in his knees—The President spoke: "Why, we've just mailedThe notice that this firm has failed."
Now Cruickshank was a loyal workerWho frowned upon the average shirker,And in the place where Cruickshank toiledThe wheels of work were shrewdly oiled,And profits had a way of risingWhich showed the firm as enterprising.Through years that numbered thirty-oneCruickshank hated the owner's son—"Stool pigeon" was the name the boyHad given him with whoops of joy.In Cruickshank's breast ambition burnedAnd so he lived and worked and earned,Robbed Paul and Peter, had no goutAnd made his family go without.Sly Cruickshank in his stealthy wayBought shares in the firm for a rainy day,Existing on a miser's doleFor the hour when he would have control,Wander in and announce the doomOf the President's son in the President's room....So Cruickshank labored and did not shirkThough his poor wife died from overwork.But finally came the day of days....Sly Cruickshank asked for a lordly raise.When father and son had answered "No"Expecting old Cruickshank to goHe shrieked the triumph of his soul:"You are both discharged—I'm in control——"The President looked at the President's son;And the son looked at his father's sonIn a mirror that hung on the wall nearbyAnd carefully straightened his yellow tie.Old Cruickshank waited ill at easeAnd felt a trembling in his knees—The President spoke: "Why, we've just mailedThe notice that this firm has failed."
After a long journey Gud came to a place where it looked as if it needed rain. So he sat down upon a cactus and took out his horoscope and consulted the stars. Then he made an elliptical ring around a new moon and hung the moon low in the sky. And Gud took a scarlet runner bean and put it in a pot and lit a fire of cactus thorns and set the pot to boil. When the thorns began to crackle, an arrogant savor arose from the pot, and the vapors of it filled the sky, and through the vapors the new-made moon shown red as the blood of saints torn by lions because of their faith.
Gud blew his breath on the fire and it waxed hot as anger and the pot boiled over and quenched the fire. Gud reached his hand into the pot and drew out the bean and cut it into three halves. And the left half of the bean he ate, and the right half of the bean he cast into Hell, but the other half of the bean Gud planted beneath a flat stone that bore the footprint of a hero who had passed that way when the stone was but a drifting sand on a lonely shore.
Presently the bean half sprouted, and the sprout split the stone athwart and rent the footprint of the hero. Gud watered the bean with tears, because there was no rain in that place. So the bean grew and on its stem were the leaves of the maiden-hair tree, and the tendrils by which the bean clambered were the tendrils of the snake-feeder vine, and the flowers that sprang from the nodules of the bean stalk were the flowers of the wormwood tree, but they gave forth the odor of liverworts and were of the color of faded hopes or of stale music.
Gud cut marks on the bean pole to observe the rate of growth of the bean vine, and he found that it grew much faster than grief dies but not so fast as jealousy is born.
And when the bean reached the top of the pole and could grow no more, it conceived and bore a fruit that was like a ripe gourd. Four eyes grew in the face of the fruit and a dim light shone out of the eyes. And Gud heard the patter of tiny feet within, and presently the ghosts of three blind mice came out of the four eyes of the fruit, one out of each of the four eyes, for the third one came out twice.
Oh, under the stars are things to see that foldTheir shining webs around the hidden sun....When the flesh is faint and the heart grows limp and old,Surely the work of living is not done.There was a breathless stillness and the crowdLeaned forward, looking on and barely stirred.The surgeon, knife in hand, with spotted shroud,Cut close around the heart and said no word.They saw his patient die, and whispered oneUnto another in the clinic there.But yet the surgeon saw strange actions doneThat streaked his head with strands of snow-white hair.From out the dead man's open chest there creptA shaggy spider shining in the light,That shook itself like one who having sleptPuts vainly back the shadows of the night.The surgeon clutched his throat. Within his breastHe felt a living thing twist here and there;A thing that stirred from out a deep unrestLike something moving through a drowned man's hair.The students only saw his hair turn white....But he heard tiny pulses throb and beat,He felt slim fingers clawing out of sightAnd hearkened to the patter of tiny feet.Then shrieking fell across the clinic floorThe students pouring from their seats. Stark deadHe must have been for he said nothing more;His fingers twitched and once he moved his head.They did not see that from his mouth there creptA shaggy spider shining in the light,That shook itself like one who having sleptPuts vainly back the shadows of the night.Then sideways moved it, trembling as though cold,Following where the other spider ran....Oh, hidden away there are things that are strange and old,And weave strange webs in the very breast of man.
Oh, under the stars are things to see that foldTheir shining webs around the hidden sun....When the flesh is faint and the heart grows limp and old,Surely the work of living is not done.
There was a breathless stillness and the crowdLeaned forward, looking on and barely stirred.The surgeon, knife in hand, with spotted shroud,Cut close around the heart and said no word.
They saw his patient die, and whispered oneUnto another in the clinic there.But yet the surgeon saw strange actions doneThat streaked his head with strands of snow-white hair.
From out the dead man's open chest there creptA shaggy spider shining in the light,That shook itself like one who having sleptPuts vainly back the shadows of the night.
The surgeon clutched his throat. Within his breastHe felt a living thing twist here and there;A thing that stirred from out a deep unrestLike something moving through a drowned man's hair.
The students only saw his hair turn white....But he heard tiny pulses throb and beat,He felt slim fingers clawing out of sightAnd hearkened to the patter of tiny feet.
Then shrieking fell across the clinic floorThe students pouring from their seats. Stark deadHe must have been for he said nothing more;His fingers twitched and once he moved his head.
They did not see that from his mouth there creptA shaggy spider shining in the light,That shook itself like one who having sleptPuts vainly back the shadows of the night.
Then sideways moved it, trembling as though cold,Following where the other spider ran....Oh, hidden away there are things that are strange and old,And weave strange webs in the very breast of man.
And the ghosts of the three blind mice sang to Gud as if their hearts would break. They sang of brave deeds, for they had been field mice and they had died upon the field of honor.
And when the song was done, Gud wept again; for now he understood why it had never rained in that place.
So he arose and stamped out the smouldering embers of the fire he had builded, and whistled for the Underdog. And when the Underdog came he devoured the ghosts of the three blind mice, the one after the other and the third which came out twice, after the one. Then the Underdog licked his chops and Gud sighed, and together they departed from that place, very sorrowful that they had come.
"What are you eating?" asked Fidu, the Underdog, returning from a fruitless chase.
"I am eating leopard's spots," replied Gud; "will you have some?"
"No thanks," returned Fidu, "for they look to me like apples of Sodom or Dead Sea fruit."
"That is what they are."
"But," retorted Fidu, "you just now said they were leopard's spots."
"So they were," said Gud, "but I changed them."
Then Fidu pricked up his ears and listened. And Gud listened also and he heard a far-off wailing sound, as of a soul in torment. So he bade Fidu to remain where he was, and he cast down his staff for the Underdog to watch, for he was a watchdog also.
Then Gud went on alone to find the cause of the wailing. When he found it, behold, it was a soul in pain, and Gud said: "What can I do to stop your wailing?"
The tormented soul replied: "Oh, comrade, I wail because of the memory of injustice and inequality."
"Then your case is simple. I do not know what these things were, the memory of which distresses you, but I have a tube of oblivion here that I can assure you will destroy any memory."
At this the soul shrank from Gud and wailed the louder. "But, I do not want to forget, for that would be unfaithful to the cause."
"Then, what do you want?" asked Gud impatiently.
"I want to see the revolution come."
"What is that?" asked Gud, his curiosity now thoroughly aroused.
"The revolution," said the soul, "would make a world where all are equal, and perfect justice reigns."
"I never heard of a world like that, but I think I can make one. If I do so, will that stop your wailing?"
"Alas, it cannot be, for the world of equality must be made by the workers themselves."
"But I do not see any workers."
"True, they were all destroyed in the rebellion against their masters."
"Then, where are the masters?"
"They were all destroyed in suppressing the rebellion of the workers."
"That must have been quite a fight," remarked Gud. "On which side were you?"
"My heart was with the workers," said the soul, "but my training and inhibitions were with the masters. Therefore, I was torn between opposing forces and was transfixed with horror and remained neutral, which is why I alone escaped destruction."
"Just what were you?" asked Gud, a little puzzled.
"I was a parlor sociologist," said the soul, straightening up proudly.
"I am sorry that you weren't either a master or a worker," said Gud, "for your wailing annoys me and it annoyed my dog. I think I had better destroy you now."
At this the soul cringed cowardly, and Gud was annoyed and turned to go, whereupon the soul started wailing more dismally than ever.
Gud turned back again and said: "Whatever it was you wanted, I see I will have to make it for you, because I cannot stand that wailing—it sounds like a hell that a friend of mine was experimenting with, and I do not like it."
"I wail," said the soul, "because I remember the injustice and inequality, and because the workers are all destroyed and revolution can never be."
"Nonsense! Nothing can never be. Let us make this thing and be done with it. What was it you said you wanted?"
"The world of equality."
"But just a moment ago you said it was a revolution."
"True. But that was but a means to the end."
"Shall I make the means or the end?"
"Alas, neither can ever be, for the workers are destroyed."
"You said that before. You talk in circles like a philosopher, and I don't like philosophers; they are all talk; I believe in action. I don't know what you want, but I heard you say something about a world. I understand that and can make it—I have made myriads of them just to pass the time away. Wait a second."
When he had spoken thus, Gud took out his pocket handkerchief and held it up by two corners. "Now, you see," said Gud, as he exhibited first one side and then the other; "the handkerchief is perfectly empty."
The soul looked at the handkerchief and saw that Gud spoke the truth.
"Now watch!" said Gud, determined to do this thing as impressionably as possible. Then, as the soul watched, Gud caught up the other corners of the handkerchief; then he rolled it into a ball and tossed it up and caught it and made magic passes and said: "Doramialfalfalasido" and did several other perfectly useless and unnecessary things, as all magicians and miracle workers do. Then he caught the handkerchief by the center and shook it out vociferously, and there was a nice virgin world spinning round and round, with its axis wabbling a bit so as to give it a change of climate.
The soul was duly impressed when it saw a real sky-covered dirt-bottomed world spinning from east to west; and the soul said: "I beg your pardon, comrade, I did not recognize you as a worker, but I see that you are, for you have created something—pardon me, but have you a card?"
Gud was puzzled for a moment. Then he remembered the cards he had printed when he entered celestial society, and he drew one out and handed it to the soul. The soul could not read the language in which it was printed, and not wanting to admit his ignorance, assumed that it was O.K.
"Now are you satisfied?" asked Gud.
"The world pleases me, but there is no one in it."
So Gud took the soul by the hand and they leaped across the void and found themselves in the world Gud had made, and standing in a beautiful garden full of luscious fruit and nice tame animals.
The soul sighed a little sigh of delight, and sat down on an ant hill and began eating alligator pears. Gud strolled around for a few centuries and counted the animals to see if they were all there, and being satisfied on that point, he went back to the soul, who was still sitting on the ant hill eating avacadoes. So Gud went out again and counted the sands of the seashore. He had to count five times to make the count come out twice alike, but in the middle of the fifth count he succeeded and so he went back and found the soul had eaten all the fruit in the garden and was beginning to whimper.
"Oh, bother," said Gud, "are you going to start that wailing again? What's the matter now?"
"I have not the patience," the soul cried, "to wait for the tedious and materialistic process of evolution to make rational beings; and besides if I had, in the struggle for existence they would all become unequal and the revolution would still have to be—it might be sanguinary, and the sight of blood makes me sick at my stomach."
"I never said anything about evolution," replied Gud. "As a matter of fact, I do not take much stock in it, and many of my friends do not believe in it at all; besides, it is liable to get out of hand and produce something entirely different from one's designs. So if you will tell me what more you want I will make it outright, like I did this world."
"I only want," said the soul, "to see this beautiful place inhabited by happy, rational beings among whom there will be no inequality."
"That means that they must all be exactly alike as atoms of hydrogen."
"Well—yes," admitted the soul rather grudgingly. "I suppose it does, if you put it that way, but it sounds much nicer merely to speak of equality."
"Put it any way you like, I want to get the job done and get back to my dog. He is faithful enough, but I don't like to put too much strain on fidelity. Now, as I get it, you want this world peopled with rational beings that are all alike. I am ready to make them, only what kind do you want—something like yourself?"
"No! no! not like me, for I am a weak and selfish fence-straddler. Moreover, I am too modest to be used as a prototype for the members of a perfect world."
"Worse than that, you are a ghost and immaterial and invisible to animal eyes. If I filled the world with creatures like you, the animals might walk right through them—No, we want material beings."
"Then materialize me," cried the soul in sudden eagerness.
"Hold on, if I materialize you in your present immaterial likeness, then all the beings I am to make for this world would have to be like you or you would be the exception and spoil the equality."
"That is so," admitted the soul.
"We are standing here talking like metaphysicians. If there is anything I hate worse than philosophers, it is metaphysicians which are philosophers bereft of what commonsense they did have. I have made this world scientifically," continued Gud, "but the work you want done now is a work of art, and I shall need a model. Since you refuse to be used as a model, I will have to resort to an old trick of my profession."
Gud paused significantly and walked over to a nearby pool of water that, having sought its level in a quiet nook, was very placid. He bent over the pool for a moment and smiled in a pleased fashion at what he saw. But the position was unpleasant and the ground at the edge of the pool was damp and stained his robe where it stretched over his knees. So Gud picked up the pool and propped it up against a rock in a nearly vertical position.
His reflection in the propped-up pool was still more pleasing and Gud called the soul over to him:
"I am going to use my reflection for a model," said Gud, "to fashion the creatures you want to people this world. To try the idea out first, I am going to re-do you in my own image."
The soul was mute with embarrassment and suffered Gud to place it upon a hastily constructed easel. Then, glancing at his own reflection in the propped-up pool, Gud, with a few deft strokes, redid the soul into an image of himself.
Gud lifted the re-done soul down from the easel and set it over beside the propped-up pool, and then stood back and looked at his own reflection and then at the soul which he had re-made in his own image: and the only way he could tell them apart was by the background.
"That's one of the best pieces of copying I ever did," cried Gud. "I am delighted with my craftsmanship. But before I make the rest of the crowd, I think we had better materialize ourselves, otherwise there would not be equality in the world, because we would be immaterial and hence be different from the others."
"Quite right, you are, comrade," said the soul, who was now the image of Gud and so had to agree with him.
Gud looked around for some clever trick by which he could make this materialization impressive—and the soul also looked around, being Gud's double and having identical thoughts. When Gud saw that his thoughts were the soul's thoughts, he was annoyed, because he saw he could not do anything now to astonish or impress the soul. So Gud decided to materialize without any hocus pocus, and the soul thought what Gud thought; so they materialized themselves without more ado.
"Well," said Gud, "let's make the rest of us."
"That's what I was thinking," agreed the soul.
"And shall we be savage or civilized?"
"Civilized," said the soul; "of course, it will be a lot of bother to make all the appurtenances of civilization, but one can't have equality as long as there is savagery and poverty in the world."
"That's just what I was thinking," agreed Gud, annoyed to find himself thinking the soul's thoughts.
So Gud, and his image that had been the soul, made a world full of civilized beings and all the appurtenances of civilization, and they did it very quickly, for they were both impatient to find themselves thinking the other's thoughts, and were desirous to get the job done and get away from that world and get back to the Underdog.
And when they had done this thing they found themselves in a great convention hall that had arisen where the garden had been. The hall was full of creatures made in the exact image of Gud and in the image of the soul that Gud had re-made in his own image.
As Gud glanced around, marveling at the myriads of creatures that were exactly alike, he suddenly realized that he could no longer identify the soul for which he had done all this—and for a brief moment he was very much relieved for that particular creature had annoyed him grieviously.
But Gud's relief was of short duration, for it was dawning upon his consciousness that he had done a terrible thing, because all these myriads of creatures about him looked just like himself. And Gud saw that he had no longer the one Gud but one of a myriad of Guds; and that he had lost his distinction and position and superiority, and all the other satisfying attributes that attach to the office and function of being Gud.
How it would all have ended, not even Gud knew, but just then they all saw a stream of smoke in one of the galleries and they all shouted: "Fire." There was a wild scramble. And when the Guds nearest the fire had stamped out the flames, the real Gud had been lost in the turmoil and confusion, and did not know which one of the myriads of Guds was himself and which were the other Guds made in the image of himself.
It was very distressing.
For three days and seven nights Gud went around that world of equality, wondering who he was and whether he was Gud or one of the imitation Guds; and all the imitation Guds went around wondering whether they were Gud or one of the imitation Guds.
And then a joyful event happened! The Underdog had become worried over his master's long absence and had trailed him with his unerring canine scent. Coming into the confusion of this world of equality, the Underdog walked right up to the honest-to-God Gud, leaped up and sat himself upon his own true master's shoulder and barked with delight, and licked the cheek of his master.
When he saw the action of his dog, Gud knew again for a surety that he was himself. With a mighty cry of deliverance from this torture and terror of pure democracy and achieved equality, Gud called down lightning from on high and earthquakes from below and winds from abroad and floods from the seas, and destroyed the world of equality once and for all and forever, and all that was therein contained, and all the myriads of fraudulent Guds he had so foolishly made in his own image to please the longing for equality in the soul of the parlor sociologist, and thereby stop its wailing.
And when the fire and flood and the winds and the earthquakes had done their work with neatness and dispatch, Gud and the Underdog went on their way rejoicing, and Gud made three cats for the Underdog to chase. They were all alike because they were copycats, and the Underdog would chase one and then the other and then all three at once.
Gud sat down and laughed at the troubles of the Underdog, because the poor beast, despite his canine instinct, could not tell one cat from the other two, and could not catch any of them because they were always crossing each other's paths, so that the Underdog would chase the others and give the one a chance to rest.
But being cats, they were not friendly, even though they were copycats; and finally they ran into each other and began to fight among themselves and to chase each other around in a circle.
Now the Underdog was wise, and he stopped running and sat down on the edge of the circle and got the one and then the other, which left only the third. Then Gud called off his dog, and also called up the last copycat for a bowl of cream; and the Underdog and the copycat drank cream together out of the same bowl. Which proves, dear children, the importance of a good example and demonstrates the power of kindness.
So Gud, and the Underdog, and the copycat all started walking along the Impossible Curve, all of them wondering what the next adventure would be. But I think we had better go to bed, for too much of this kind of stuff is likely to make us talk indiscreetly in our sleep.
A great storm of the far-flung astronomical elements arose without cause. The like of it had never been before nor since and it disobeyed all laws, both known and unknown, natural and unnatural. Gud was sore puzzled because the storm was without cause but not without effect. He ran hither and here and darted thither and yon, and in the turmoil he was separated from Fidu, his faithful Underdog.
The impalpable ether that fills all space became palpable and vibrated and palpated with incommensurate waves; and the non-popitent nether which is beyond all space became popitent and gyrated and popitated with calculatious ostenulations.
Throughout the abysmal reaches of indefinite dimension the far-flung, flaming suns were exploding with blinding flashes and deafening roars, and their molten fragments were spewing and spilling this way and that, knocking constellations asunder and painting cold, dead worlds with liquid fire and blazing splendor.
Comets fell, dragging their tails behind them, twisting and writhing as if in pain. And the stars were falling, too. Meteors pattered as rain upon the roof of heaven. Broken nebulae whipped along as snow-flakes driven of the northwest wind. Pleiades smashed like hail through the windows of space. Vile smelling gasses blew about all the interstellar void and vastness. Tornadoes and mighty cyclones and vortices torned and cycled vorted.
All this frightened Gud, so that he sought for shelter from the storm. Just then a little world came rolling by, and it wabbled as it rolled. It did not look very safe, but it was solid underfoot. Gud boarded it and found himself before a tiny cabin on the wabbling world. The cabin was built of old cracker boxes and looked frail as a ten-cent toy; but there was no other cover at hand, so Gud knocked on the cabin door to ask for shelter.
When no one answered, Gud entered and closed the door behind him. There before him sat a dear little widow knitting a bellyband for someone else's baby. She was so deaf she could not hear quinine, and so blind she could not see a house afire, and had catarrah so badly that she could not smell a herring; but for all that she was a very good cook.
Gud addressed her in telepathy, saying: "I wonder if you would make me a cake?"
And the woman replied by thought transference and answered: "Alas, I cannot make you a cake today, for I have but one hen and she has already laid her one egg this morning, and I have eaten it for my breakfast."
Then Gud said: "If you will show me the hen, perhaps I can persuade her to lay another egg."
So the woman called to the hen in the language of beasts and birds, and the hen came out from under the bed where she had been looking for insects. Gud saw that the hen had false teeth and was getting old, for her comb was pale as roses in the night. So he flattered the vanity of the hen by commenting on the beauty of her scarlet comb. Whereupon she laid another egg, whilst without the cottage the astronomical storm raged on.
The widow picked up the egg and found that it was as fresh as home grown lettuce. She made a curtsy to Gud and said: "I perceive that you are a wise magician, for who ever heard of a stupid one that could make a hen lay two fresh eggs in one day? And now I will make a little cake, which will be big enough for one to eat."
"Make it for two," said Gud, "for I would not like to eat alone."
"But," said the widow, "how can I unless I have another egg, and the hen has already laid two eggs in one day. How can she lay another?"
"I do not know," said Gud, "but I will find out."
So he called to the little hen again and gave her a homily on the evils of race suicide. The hen became as moral as a tombstone and grievously wrought up over the way her sisters were neglecting their duty, so that she laid yet another egg.
The widow picked up this egg and shook it also, and saw that it was even fresher than the other one, and she made another curtsy to Gud and said: "I perceive that you are a great fakir, but you are very clever, and so I will make a cake for two and we shall eat it together, and perhaps have a cup of tea, if there is any sugar in the house."
At last the cake was put into the oven. The fire of the oven waxed hot and the cake began to rise nicely. And when it had risen above the top of the pan and almost to the top of the oven, the dear little widow opened the oven door ever so softly. As she peeked in, a nearby constellation broke asunder; the crash of the breaking shook the wobbling world like a great earthquake, the cottage jarred as with a blow from the hand of wrath, and the cake fell and was ruined utterly.
Then the dear little widow began to weep because her cake had fallen, and she was very angry through her tears and said: "What is the matter and what happened and what ruined my cake?"
"I fear me, it is the storm outside," replied Gud.
"Then I think you ought to go out and stop it."
"I will," agreed Gud.
And he went out and stopped the storm, and while he was out he destroyed the major portion of the local law of gravitation.
When he came back into the cottage, the moral little hen was all a-cackling and the dear little widow was all a-smiling, for behold, the hen was looking at the widow, who in her hand held the lightest cake she had ever lifted.
After he had had his cake and eaten it, too, Gud returned to the Impossible Curve, and as he reached it, Fidu came romping forth to meet him.
As Gud passed on along the way he saw a white-haired man sitting in a window of the sky and writing with a tattered goose quill pen, which he dipped into a pool of blood.