Claudio Paz - "Seventeen 20¢ Coins"

INTRODUCTION

I can find no information Claudio Paz. "Seventeen 20¢ Coins"/"17 monedas de Veinte" was initially published in the May 1955 issue of Más Allá, a special issue on flying saucers. The initial publication was published under the name "Roger Dee", but it does not appear to be a translation of any of his stories. The subsequent republications in Nueva Dimension #49 (1973) and all criticism attribute Claudio Paz as the author.

For further information on this era of Argentine science fiction, see Rachel Haywood Ferreira's "Más Allá, El Eternauta, and the Dawn of the Golden Age of Latin American Science Fiction (1953-59)" and "How Latin America Saved the World and Other Forgotten Futures".

For complete scans of Más Allá, including the illustrations, see: https://ahira.com.ar/revistas/mas-alla-de-la-ciencia-y-de-la-fantasia/

SEVENTEEN 20¢ COINS

THE burning rays of the February sun penetrated through a window at the police station and reverberated off a piece of wire running over the desk.

Stroking his mustache, Officer Paunero answered the question posed by Dr. Torres:

- "It's not nerves, doctor... it's just that there's days when everything comes at you all at once! First there's the fight in the stables; I have the jail all full of drunks, you know? And now..."

He drummed his fingers on the glass of the desk, trying to decide whether or not to continue. Finally, he asked abruptly:

- "Tell me, doctor, do you believe in flying saucers?"

The doctor laughed heartily.

- "Surely that old lady... that one, man, the saddler's neighbor! ... surely she asked for his protection to fend the Martians off for her. It's clear that these flying saucers are gonna to put an end to this town's peace and quiet! Even my son came to tell me that he saw one... Pure suggestion, of course.

"And if someone came to tell you that they saw one, and that they spoke with the pilot, what would you say?"

The doctor became serious. Choosing his words carefully, he began to say:

- "Well, Paunero, you've been working a lot lately. Even a serious person, when the state of their nerves isn't so great..."

Paunero sighed with relief.

- "Come on now, don't think it was me who saw one! The thing is, I've got a vagrant here who told me a very charming story... At first I thought that a better lie for defending himself never occured to him, but the man insists, and I'm afraid he's a little... well, you'll see now, doctor."

And raising his voice, he ordered:

- "Bring in Pereira... or whatever the hell his name is!"

The door opened, and with a gust of hot air, a little man came in, dirty, hunched, and poorly dressed.

- "You, old nutjob," - said Officer Paunero - "are you still going on with that absurd story?"

José Pereira did not deign to look at the officer. Instead, addressing Dr. Torres, he said in a plaintive tone:

- "I know it sounds strange, doctor, but I assure you, I'm not crazy. If I broke into the cash register at Rodriguez's bar and took out seventeen 20¢ coins, it was..."

The officer finished his sentence for him. With a tone of resignation, he said:

-"We already know that. It was to save humanity from destruction." - And he added, growling-: "Nonsense, nonsense!"

Yes, Officer Paunero was in a bad humor, but it was not his fault, as the doctor would come to understand when he learned of the events of the previous night:

At 4:30 in the morning, the policeman who was on patrol saw a light inside Rodríguez's bar. This set the little town's slightly complicated police machinery in motion.

The facts brought to light by the investigation can be summarized as follows:

At one in the morning, as usual, the barkeep closed the door, lowered the metal curtain, secured it with a padlock, yawned and went to sleep.

At 4:45 in the morning - which wasn't as usual - the owner of the bar, yawning, confirmed to Officer Paunero:

*That the padlock was opened with a bent wire.

*That someone forced the cash register open, whose contents were intact, except for - a rare detail - the twenty-centavo coins, which had disappeared. In addition, the bottle of authentic Scotch Whisky, the pride of the establishment, lay on the floor next to the alleged author of the disturbance, who was snoring under the effects of the aforementioned whisky. And, finally,

*That the water polo pinball machine disappeared without a trace.

These facts gave rise to the theory that Mr. Rodriguez vehemently sustained. He claimed that an unknown person or persons, in love with the progress they've made playing one of these pinball machines, stole it from the premises. Their mission accomplished, they silently withdrew, without taking the trouble to lower the metal curtain again. Favored by these circumstances and the luck that passed him by a little later, José Pereira introduced himself to the inside of the bar, taking the whiskey and the $3.40 in twenty-centavo coins. Then, the rapid effect of the drink plunged him into the deep sleep in which he was found.

Officer Paunero had a different thesis: the old scoundrel forced the padlock. He then went into the bar and began to drink some authentic Scotch whisky. Drunkenness overcame him when he just finished only a part of the register's contents.

A search of the prisoner's tattered clothing revealed a bent piece of wire. This, as the officer pointed out to Mr. Rodriguez, supported his theory. However, although neither of the two could explain the absence of the coins, which didn't turn up in the search, Officer Paunero's theory - and this Mr. Rodriguez pointed out to him - had the additional disadvantage of being unable to explain the absence of the pinball machine.

While Rodríguez and Paunero were talking, Pereira was subjected to a vigorous detoxification process, which consisted of repeatedly pouring measureable quantities of cold water on his body. The treatment produced the desired effect, and the defendant was able to give a statement.

But his statement was so fantastic, absurd and incredible that the officer was forced to call on Dr. Torres to tell him whether the man was lying, whether he was still drunk, or - and this seemed most likely - whether the unfortunate man was crazy.

And yet, José Pereira's account explained the absence of the coins and the machine... and was completely true. We'll reproduce it, henceforth, with all the details.

* * *

GY'MBEL had carefully chosen the landing site. The weather was also favorable. At two in the morning, there wasn't much activity in the little town.

The flying saucer landed silently among the piles of bags, behind the tracks. The hatch was opened, and Gy'Mbel began his exploration.

And... what exploration! None of this slow gliding at 4,000 kilometers per hour, recording pressures, atmospheric compositions, cosmic radiation... No, this time the Research Expedition was going to make direct contact with the strange planet. He looked around: everything was calm.

Nestled in a thicket of weeds, Pereira was also calm. He made a little expedition of his own, with magnificent results: a duck and two chickens. He was wondering which to roast first, when he heard a crack behind him that made him turn around violently. Before him, illuminated by the moon, was Gy'Mbel.

Now very well, in order to fully comprehend what happened next, it's necessary to have an exact idea of ​​the character of our friend Pereira. He was eminently practical, and not at all a fool; his appearing to be stupid was only a defensive weapon against a hostile world. But before the fantastic appearance of the otherworldly extraterrestrial being, José Pereira did what the bravest and most intelligent man would have done: he was struck dumb with astonishment, and paralyzed with terror.

Gy'Mbel, on the other hand, was actively thinking. Without a doubt, the animal before him was an example of the most highly evolved life form on the planet. He tried to establish telepathic contact... this was easy.

- "Greetings, Earthling! Remain quiet or I'll disintegrate you."

We've already said that Pereira was practical and sensible. He didn't run to the first journalist who came along and declare that a strange being, something resembling a man, had come out of a flying saucer and had spoken to him. No, have faith; he remained very still.

Gy'Mbel continued:

- "You're surprised that I know your language. Answer, I won't harm you."

Pereira silently rummaged through his belongings and pulled out the remnants of a popular science magazine, which he displayed triumphantly. Then he turned his thoughts to Gy'Mbel:

- "I'm not surprised. They explain it all here. It's telepathy. You communicate directly with me, mind to mind, without using words."

- "Magnificent!" Gy'Mbel replied, adding: "What a pity! We'll have to eliminate them, it seems." [Translator's note: Gy'Mbel begins the conversation using informal address and at this point switches to more polite, formal address. Pereira always addresses Gy'Mbel formally.]

- "The scientific articles? Why? I like them a lot." Gy'Mbel's answer was not helpful in reassuring Pereira.

- "I wasn't referring to the scientific articles. We'll have to eliminate them, meaning you, the men."

This statement aroused vehement protests from our friend. Why, if anyone knew, did such an absurd idea enter their heads? (Supposing that the gelatinous mass under the transparent helmet was a head, of course.)

Gy'Mbel explained it clearly:

They came from far away, from very far away. Their people had achieved a high level of technical perfection, and started undertaking space travel a very long time ago. Successive conquests extended the radius of action in their domain. On numerous planets, they found conditions that allowed them to cultivate the lifeforms that supplied them with their food and raw materials. They, however, remained in their primitive planetary system, as they could not acclimatize themselves in any other...

- "And here, on Earth?" Pereira asked, horrified, believing he understood.

- "Oh, not here either!"

- "So why do you think you have to destroy us?"

- "Because the Earth is an excellent breeding ground for Ahjxes, who are very useful for us."

Nevertheless, Gy'Mbel continued, they had scruples about destroying life forms similar to their own. He didn't refer to mere physical resemblance, of course! He alluded to mental resemblance.

- "So, we're saved! Because the fact that you're mentally communicating with me demonstrates..."

- "I lament to tell you that this demonstrates practically nothing. We communicate, it's true, but when you receive my thought, do you know what form it had in my mind? Your mind, when it receives it, modifies it... assuming that our mental structures are indifferent. Yes, the example you brought up is apt: You speak to a dog and the animal understands you... to a certain extent. But do you know exactly how a dog interprets your commands? Certainly, there is a mental similarity between you and a dog... A very small similarity."

- "And our cities?" - Pereira excitedly shouted - "Our airplanes, so similar to your own..." - he was going to say "flying saucers," but changed his mind - ... "your own means of transportation?"

- "That doesn't demonstrate anything, either. Our exploratory group found an animal here that builds cities, raises animals, grows plants..."

- "Us men!"

- "No. The ants."

Pereira fell silent. Or rather, he turned his thoughts inward, and not toward the extraterrestrial monster. He understood the situation perfectly.

Yes, one doesn't kill men just to raise cows, whether they're white or black, pygmies or normal. One doesn't eliminate them... in theory, at least. But if it's ants that get in the way... or bees... well, so much the worse for them.

Pereira was intelligent, and had no difficulty in understanding the situation. And, furthermore, he was practical. In a short time, man would be swept from the face of the earth... Should he raise an alarm? How? Or, why resist? His thoughts became confused and he redirected his mind back to Gy'Mbel.

- "You didn't tell me why you think that men are less intelligent than you."

- "Please!" - Gy'Mbel was politely shocked - "not just 'less intelligent'. Your enormous technical inferiority to our doesn't give us the right to think that about you. We're simply interested in finding out whether you are different from us, or whether you are, mentally, our equals. In the latter case, your life will be sacred to us."

- "And how do you plan on figuring all that out?"

Gy'Mbel inwardly elaborated on the subject. You'll have to forgive him: it was his specialty. The gist of his explanation resulted in the following:

The first possibility would be, of course, to compare their products of science and technology: machines of various kinds, vehicles, construction. But this has little value. Machines are designed to dominate and exploit nature. Thus, these machines are more adapted to the very nature that they were designed to combat, rather than to those that built them. Mere technical similarity would therefore, have little value.

But there are devices of another kind: they're disconnected from those particular aspects of Nature in a certain way. Instead, they're closely related to the thinking being that creates them. Machines for reasoning, for verifying reasoning, to be more precise. These can provide valuable information on the workings of its user's thought processes.

- "But perhaps," Gy'Mbel added, "such machines exist here and you've never heard of them. I have one here, small and rudimentary, of course."

Pereira distractedly watched as Gy'Mbel's tentacles pulled a flat box from inside his spacesuit. There was something that didn't fit... an idea that struggled to be formulated clearly; something like an indication that there was something more...

- "Here" - Gy'Mbel interrupted his thoughts - "See?"

He opened the box, in whose interior he could see a tangled bunch of cables intermixed with small cubic-shaped pieces.

- "For example" - he continued - "to confirm that it's true that you live on this planet" - meanwhile he manipulated (or tenticlepulated?) some controls - "Aha, all men live on this planet, I start from that concrete proposition, and you are a man, aren't you?... And thus... You live on Earth."

A little blue light lit up on the lid of the box, blinked twice, and went out.

- "Correct," said Gy'Mbel with satisfaction.

And Pereira said slowly:

- "Now I understand... I understand everything."

* * *

JOSÉ Pereira didn't know what a syllogism was.

But one time, a policeman screamed at him, banging his fist on the table:

- "All you bums are liars, and since you're the worst bum, you're also a liar!"

And now, under the moonlight, facing a monster from another world, Pereira recalled that reasoning.

He recalled that reasoning and immediately recognized the resemblance. But he didn't cry out in joy that Gy'Mbel's race and the race of men bore any similarity. No, he took great care to not even imply it.

Because, finally, he knew the situation clearly.

Man respecting his fellow man? A powerful nation renouncing their gold mining in Africa as to not bother the black peoples?

Absurd.

Now everything was clear as water.

For starters, this flying saucer bug was a liar and a hypocrite. Of course he wanted to find out any possible resemblance to them. But for purposes that were completely opposite to those he declared.

The truth was simple: a race that had conquered an enormous empire by means of its intelligence wasn't prepared to admit any similar race into its domain. Because, if we were their equals, what would prevent us from going as far as they went... or even further?

Pereira saw the matter clearly, and he liked it less and less. He pushed his tongue through his dry lips. "I need a drink," he thought. A drink. Who wouldn't be able to find peace at the bar!... The bar! How hadn't this occurred to him before! He felt secure, relieved, happy. He directed his thoughts back to Gy'Mbel.

- "Thinking machines! Of course we have them! It's just that..."

- "They're not similar? That would be rather lamentable!"

Pereira feigned a fear that he was now far from feeling.

- "I can't say, but I'm afraid they're not similar. Anyway, come with me. No, none of the flying saucers. We'll walk."

* * *

THE main street of the little town opened up like one yawning underneath the moonlight. The trees cast uncertain shadows on the pavement.

Crouching in the shadows, Pereira finished forcing the padlock. He sighed in relief. But the worst was yet to come.

He carefully lifted the metal curtain. Slowly... , slowly... It made more noise than an earthquake! Finally he turned to Gy'Mbel, who had been waiting patiently at his side.

- "You can go in," he said. He looked both ways one last time - no one in sight - and then went in. He pulled down the curtain and felt along the wall until he found the light switch.

The lights lit up the deserted establishment. The pinball machine - Table Water Polo Fun Play - 5 pulls for $0.20 - was in a corner.

- "You can examine it if you want" - Pereira told Gy'Mbel - "I'm going to look for some 'concrete propositions'. Without 'concrete propositions', it doesn't work."

The cash register suffered from the same disease as the lock: debilitating senility. A pull, a push, and a fork used as a lever persuaded it to open. Pereira was rewarded for his efforts by a handful of $0.20 coins.

Walking over to the pinball machine, he inserted a coin into the slot and pressed the button... An half an hour later, Gy'Mbel was at the point of despair. This strange mechanical-electrical brain, or whatever it was, was completely different from anything he could've possibly conceived.

- "You still don't understand? It's simple." - Pereira was saying - "I enter a concrete proposition and press the button." (Needless to say, the "concrete proposition" was the seventeenth twenty-centavo coin.)

A small steel ball fell in front of the little handle.

- "I put the semi-supersonic three-dimensional control into operation. All, hic, men live on Earth."

(As the astute reader will guess, the "hic" was caused by the authentic Scotch whisky.)

Pereira pulled the little handle, which compressed the spring.

- "I am, hic!, a man."

He let go of the little handle, which struck the steel ball. It flew out and hit a stopper. A buzzer sounded. The ball hit another spring, and a green light came on. Then it passed under a row of arches and tripped a wire. The machine was going faster and faster. Buzzers sounded, sharp "clicks" were heard, lights indicating the points scored flashed on and off... The machine gave a final hum, grumbled something to itself, and the ball fell down a ramp. One light remained on.

- "Twelve points!..., I say, hic, then: I live on earth!" - said Pereira triumphantly. - "Similar to yours, no?"

- "Oh, yes," replied Gy'Mbel with false happiness. "Very similar. Well, it's been a pleasure finding in this corner of the Universe..."

Pereira didn't hear him. Lying beside the bottle, he dozed off in his alcoholic slumber with the tranquility that comes from one's duty accomplished.

Using his gravity interference nullifier, Gy'Mbel quickly moved the pinball machine to the flying saucer and took off for the mothership.

* * *

A freight train struggles breathless up a hill. Comfortably installed on the roof of one of the cars, José Pereira dreamily contemplates the landscape.

How? Oh, of course it was their opinion that he was crazy. But the cell was full and Pereira needed medical attention, so they made the mistake of locking him up in the spare room at Dr. Torres' house for the night. And on the floor, there was a piece of wire...

As you can all see, an old lock doesn't hold very many secrets for José Pereira.

Meanwhile, the fleet of flying saucers anxiously scans the surface of Aldebaran III.

And Gy'Mbel, connecting the automatic flight control for a moment, records in the expedition log:

"Specimen 17. Strange reasoning machine from 030-4.33-1248-III. Supposedly combining a rudimentary knowledge of incomprehensible logic with a high proportion of superstitious divinatory rituals."