Pablo Capanna - "Incomprehension" (1956)

INTRODUCTION

Pablo Capanna was born in Florence, Italy on February 16th, 1939 and has lived in Argentina since he was ten years old. He is a professor of philosophy and a lifelong science fiction scholar, writing extensively on Philip K. Dick, J.G. Ballard, Andrey Tarkovsky and Cordwainer Smith.

Capanna wrote three short stories, "Incomprehension" (1956), "Acronia" (1968), and "From Eutopia to Technopolis" ("De Eutopia a Tecnópolis") (1998). "Incomprehension" was published in the June 1956 issue of Más Allá and was illustrated by Eusevi.

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/

INCOMPREHENSION

HE LOOKED UP FROM THE GROUND; far away, near the horizon, he heard something resonate like a confused thunderclap. Scanning the distance carefully: as far as he could see, everything was calm. Tall cornfields swayed in the evening breeze, covering the gentle slope in step-like formations and framing the tiny village in green.

No, he had been deceived by the spirits, as solitary wanderers often were; he wiped his brow with the back of his hand and, picking up the heavy hoe, prepared to continue his work.

Not five seconds passed when another sound, something like a sharp ascending note, distracted him again.

Between anger and curiosity, he looked up again, expecting it to die out like the previous time. No; this time it didn't die out, and the astonished farmer had to rub his eyes several times to believe what he was seeing.

Cleaving through the monotony of a colorless sky, swift and yet majestic, a whirlwind of blinding light advanced, followed by a brilliant trail of fire.

Further on, it took on a strange purple color and dissolved, falling slowly onto the heated dunes.

The savage, first frozen with terror, then incapable of understanding, could do nothing but flee madly, uttering a howl of terror.

Behind him, "something" was slowly settling on one of the dunes.

.. .... .... .... .... .... ..

From the height of his watchtower, the sentinel was contemplating the whole of the drowsy village, which, like a grotesque house of cards, stretched out against the hill. Suddenly, something caught his attention: What was that man who entered through the western gate doing? He appeared to be heading toward the Kiva, the underground location where the tribe elders gathered.

Everyone asked the same question: the women pounding corn between chunks of hardened lava, the old men telling stories to their grandchildren, the potters manipulating their rudimentary wheels; the entire tribe was waiting in anticipation.

Sweaty, exhausted, breathing unevenly, the man entered the Kiva and before falling prostrate before the chieftain he managed to utter a few words:

- "The Sun God... our god has fallen to earth!"

Curious, the chief ordered him to be helped up, and as two robust warriors handed him a gourd of water, he was able to explain himself more clearly:

- "Oh, great chief of the desert tribes! It all happened just a few minutes ago, while I was working in the corn fields, when I heard a noise a thousand times louder than that of a hurricane, and when I looked up at the sky I saw falling, enveloped in flames, our god... the Sun!"

The man was silent and those present looked at each other, seized by superstitious terror. The chieftain was unable to say anything; he quickly climbed the ladder and looked outside for a few moments. Then, addressing his men who were waiting anxiously, he said, unable to avoid shuddering:

- "We must consult the sorcerers! Our god has been cast out of heaven by the storm demons and now it is they who reign!"

.. .... .... .... .... .... ..

Dark rain-laden clouds danced in the furious sky, assuming vague shapes.

At times, the lightning shook the silver threads of the rain with its fiery fingers, while, with the dull rumble of a timpani, the thunder let its hoarse voice be heard.

Down below, lashed by the continuous bursts of rain that fell mercilessly upon them, a strange procession advanced over the flooded plain.

Men were in search of the sun, which fell down to earth, the work of the forces of evil. They were fearful, ill-humored, and doubtful of the success of their undertaking.

It was in vain that the sorcerers offered sacrifices to the storm demons to drive them away from the fallen sun.

In vain they tried to impose their virility: all their valor crashed against an atavistic fear, as old as the world, which was inevitably seizing their hearts.

It was the fear of a man who knows the limitations of his powers and has lost faith in the supernatural.

A shower of rain in the Arizona desert was as rare among the pueblos of pre-Columbian America as it is among us now, and they knew it very well. Furthermore, they were unable to stop thinking about that vision, which, in their eyes, confirmed the advent of extraordinary events; the hour of the gods arrived and everything they could do to prevent it was useless.

And when finally, the guides who preceded the caravan discovered an inexplicable furrow which, as if caused by a very high temperature, was full of glass fragments and always advanced in a straight line, without worrying about elevation, the desire to escape from everything there became irresistible. But fate had another surprise in store for them yet: as they went around a dune, the strange furrow ended, and at its terminus the strangest thing they could imagine awaited them. It was an enormous biconvex disk of a strange, almost transparent material which, illuminated by the dim glow of the lightning it reflected like a mirror, was resting on its side, as if waiting for someone to discover it.

Slowly, not daring to break the silence, the timorous aborigines surrounded it and were observing the curious device from all sides until one of them, the most audacious, dared to touch it. Seeing that nothing happened to him, calm was restored and, fascinated by this strange spectacle, they hardly heard their chief, who in an exalted tone indicated to them what, to him, was the sun extinguished by the work of evil spirits.

When he finally ordered them to search for the place where the demons had entered, they reluctantly agreed and, climbing up the polished surface, began their task.

It wasn't long before a cry of triumph signaled the discovery of a fine incision that separated what appeared to be a small circular cover from the rest of the disk.

Shortly thereafter, several spears were locked in a fierce struggle with the hard material, while strong flint axes dealt it violent blows.

Within a few minutes the opalescent body, without a single dent, seemed to mock them, while broken spears and pieces of stone were scattered around, a testament to all their effort's results.

It was impossible to continue; the natives gathered at one side of the disk to discuss matters and, fearful, tried to convince their chief and the witch doctors to abandon such a crazy enterprise: they were soaked to the bone and there was no path to success.

Suddenly all discussion ceased: all eyes, as if drawn by a magnet, were simultaneously directed towards the disk, where faint crackling sounds were emerging from within.

Slowly, while an irresistible terror seized everyone, the upper part of the supposed sun rose until it stood firm against the sullen sky. A confused shadow emerged from its interior, at times illuminated by the purple flashes of lightning.

Pale with terror, the natives retreated, as the strangest being they could ever have imagined was slowly advancing over the surface of the disk; although the figure was vaguely human, its appearance was more reminiscent of a saurian. Its large eyes, triangular mouth, and excessively long neck, together with the pale green tone of its skin, gave it a bucolic and spectral appearance that evoked terror.

Hesitating, with sinuous movements, it advanced wrapped in tight clothing, waving his long hands with three unique and sharp fingers.

Perhaps his gestures were friendly, but terror is irrational and destroys one's will; his spectators began to retreat insensibly; then they did so more and more rapidly, when at last it all turned into a mad flight.

Syss remained in silence, enraptured in contemplation of the Creator's work; it did not look like Home, but it had a wild beauty that made it captivating.

On his world, water molecules were never seen to fall in such large quantities; the precious liquid was already scarce there, and stories were told of other times when it periodically rained: he himself heard them, but didn't want to believe them.

Everything was strangely new to him: the strong gravity that hampered his movements, the air that circulated in his body, refreshing and intoxicating in its richness of oxygen, the enormous silver disk of its satellite, everything.

With an effort of will, he overcame the momentary neural distortion and, raising his mental level, sent out a call to his companion; after all, if they had been lucky enough to participate in the first voyage to the third planet, they should take visual, sonic, physical and chemical records to serve for future explorers, since they didn't have enough fuel for exploration at the moment.

Perhaps one day there would be cultural exchange with those curious bipeds who had fled at his appearance. Why had they done so? Their appearance indicated that they were intelligent and perhaps somewhat civilized.

He suddenly stopped all his reflections and, approaching the instrument compartment, activated the photoelectric lock that gave him access.

.................................

- "The children of the sun can't be defeated like this, by a few demons fallen from the sky!" - the painted witch doctor jumped up and down, berating the warriors. "It was enough for you to see just one of them and you fled like frightened children!" He paused so that his embarrassed listeners could understand the meaning of the sentence. Then he continued: "But you can still redeem yourselves: go back there, kill them, and the sun will shine again forever over the fields and villages!"

There were some murmurs of discontent, but when one determined party took up arms, the others, though not very pleased, followed them: after all, they'd seen only one of the demons, and it had done them no harm: it was foolish to risk a reputation of valor for so little.

From a small hill near their target, they observed the scene: the strange being, who had just assembled a set of multicolored spheres mounted on a tripod, was manipulating a triangular box filled with strange lights, from which a translucent globe was emerging, slowly inflating. Bent over his instruments, he didn't suspect what was about to happen to him, until a sharp crack caught his attention. What was happening? He only managed to see the globe by his side shattered by a well-aimed arrow, and a howling horde descending rapidly down the slope, bellicosely waving their feathered clubs. With a quick gesture, he put his instruments inside the disk and, with open arms, prepared to receive them.

A human avalanche fell upon him: with his hissing little voice he shouted something incomprehensible, trying to hold them back until a violent blow brusquely made him silent. Everything happened quickly: nothing could be distinguished in the confused agglomeration, blows fell upon him with ferocious rage while a green lymph flowed from his numerous wounds.

In a last vestige of life, fatigued, he climbed up the side of the disk, and before sinking inside he rebuked them with his clenched fist; then, defeated, he collapsed, closing the hatch, while a shower of arrows fell upon it.

Satisfied with their feat, the primitives sang a hymn of praise to the sun, while prostrating themselves in worship. And suddenly, the entire disk seemed to burn as it began to spin rapidly, enveloped in sharp whistling sounds.

The warriors, terrified, began to retreat as the machine, perched on a column of fire rising from its interior, began to sway, slowly ascending through the air.

It progressively increased its speed, until, leaving a trail of light, was lost in the immensity.

...............................

The psychological analysis of the behavior of the beings from the third planet was conclusive: the bloody attack, baselessly mounted against the members of the first expedition, was inexplicable of anyone from a scientific canon and was worthy only of inferior beings.

No matter how much they may evolve, those beings had cruel and irrational instincts that would never, even with centuries of continual civilization, be completely erased.

If there was at least some motive in their actions, the decision would have been less drastic. But it was dangerous to take the risk: the Power decreed that spaceships should never land on the third planet; any contact with beings with such instincts would be dangerous for the race and could lead to its destruction.

.....................................

The storm had passed. That night in the village, there would be dancing and singing around the fire in homage to the sun.

High above, the pale moon, its companion, was already shining, announcing a reign of peace and tranquility.

For many years the warriors, full of pride, would tell their grandchildren how they had answered the call of the Sun God and killed one of the "green demons" cast down from the heavens.

Then, as the years went by, the same legend would be lost in the mists of time and would be forgotten by all.

Centuries later, when the Hopi and Zuni villages in the Arizona desert were already an archaeological curiosity sunken in the sand, other men would inhabit that area.

And those men, seeing the mysterious "flying saucers" surging through the air at insane velocities, would wonder why their crews avoided them and never landed.

There was incomprehension on both sides.