The Party of Emergence
Although all Atlantis resumed its normal aspect soon after the wall
had been repaired, things were never again to be quite as before.
It was as though there were some unseen fissure in the life of the
Sunken World as well as in its glass boundary; as though the people
realized, subconsciously, that they hovered on the rim of a smoldering
volcano. Something seemed to be lacking that had been there before,
perhaps because something was present that had never been there
before; and the corrosive effects of fear, injected for the first time
during all the centuries of the Submergence, seemed to dissipate the
charmed tranquility of Atlantis and to suggest that inimical and even
treacherous forces lurked beyond the marble fountains and palaces and
the weird green-golden dome.
But the one tangible result of the discovery of the crack was the
rise of the Party of Emergence. This despised minority group, whose
very name had been a phrase of contempt, now burst into a prominence
as surprising to its members as to the people as a whole, and for
the first time in history, threatened to become a power in Atlantean
politics. Perhaps it was that there were thousands who, beset by
a secret dread, looked to the Party of Emergence as their only
salvation; perhaps it was merely that they had been shocked into a
more liberal-minded attitude, and could view the policy of Emergence
with wide-open eyes. At all events, a host of disciples flocked
voluntarily to the Emergence banners; and among these were many persons
of influence and position, including Peliades, the engineer who had
declared the wall unsound, and Chorendos, the Local Adviser of Archeon.
And now began a heated and aggressive campaign, conducted incessantly
and not without success in the Hall of Public Enlightenment of every
town and village in Atlantis--a campaign that threatened to develop
into a life-or-death struggle between the regenerated Emergence Party
and the more venerable Submergence group. It happened that I myself
took an active, if minor part in that contest; and it also happened
that the entire Upper World Club was implicated, for we all realized
that the cause of Emergence offered us our only opportunity of
returning to the upper world.
Innumerable were the meetings that we attended, and innumerable the
pleas that we made. To give a complete account of all our activities
would be impossible, even if I could recall them all; and so I will
have to confine myself to describing a particular meeting, which stands
forth in my mind as typical.
One afternoon, many months after the crack in the wall had been sealed,
Xanocles and I found ourselves preparing for a strenuous session at
the Hall of Public Enlightenment. It had been rumored that the day’s
meeting was to be unusually interesting, and Xanocles and I were
secretly determined to make it so; hence, when we arrived at the
sapphire and amber theatre and found almost all the seats occupied, we
felt that we had every reason to congratulate ourselves.
We took chairs in the rear, and quietly awaited our turn. A discussion
was in progress regarding the award of honor to be made to a certain
lyric poet. (I do not know quite what the issue was, for I did not
listen attentively.) But everyone understood that this was not to
be the topic of the day; and after the question had been settled, a
momentary hush came over the audience and many pairs of eyes were bent
toward us inquiringly.
Then it was that Xanocles arose. At a gesture from that same
broad-browed elderly woman who had presided when Gavison and his crew
had been brought to trial long before, my friend stepped out into
the aisle and down to the central platform or stage, while all eyes
followed him intently and a speechless lull dominated that great
assemblage.
“Fellow citizens,” he said, not taking time even for an instant’s pause
after reaching the foot of the stairs, “I am here today to make one of
the most momentous proposals ever presented since Agripides pleaded
for the Submergence. But it is not a proposal that has never been put
forth before; it is merely one that has never been endorsed. It has
been, indeed, at the very backbone of the Party of Emergence, and will
continue to be argued and preached until it meets with that success
which it merits. For it is impossible, my friends, that Atlantis should
retain its age-old isolation; modern progress makes such backwardness
inconceivable, as the arrival of thirty-nine men from outside has
demonstrated. I am certain that if Agripides himself were here now he
would agree that our policies must be revised.”
Here Xanocles paused as if for emphasis; but the audience remained
intently silent, and with increased forcefulness he continued, “The
question of emigration, my friends, is one of the most important
that can confront any land. Never in the last three thousand years
has Atlantis had an adequate law on this subject; our prohibition
of emigration has been a form of intolerance unworthy of the high
traditions of our people; and free emigration, if forbidden by the
arbitrary conventions of society, is justified by the mandates of
nature and the normal human craving for romance and adventure.
“Therefore I suggest that the fundamental law of Atlantis be modified.
But for the sake of those who fear to be too radical, I recommend that
we proceed cautiously at first; let us begin by allowing three or four
of our people to visit the upper world; and let these, having made
their investigations, return with their reports, so that then, on the
basis of definite knowledge, we may decide on the advantage of further
emergence.”
* * * * *
“No, no, no!” rang forth half a dozen voices in sharp disapproval; and,
as Xanocles gracefully resigned the floor, one of the dissenters--a
tall, stooped man with sallow face, fringed with a white beard--stepped
down to express his views.
“Citizens of Atlantis,” he declared, in a voice surprisingly resonant
and vigorous for one of his age, “I have lived long enough to follow
the debates of a hundred years, but never have I heard such folly as
has just been advised. Under the influence of Agripides, Atlantis has
been beautiful, and it has been happy--and what more can life give us
than happiness and beauty? Would you let yourselves be stampeded by the
ravings of these modernists, who would trample on every sacred thing,
seeking a panicky escape from some imaginary peril, or misled by a
childish lust for adventure or romance? Take an old man’s word, in all
the upper world there can be no romance like that spread beneath our
green-glass dome, and no adventure like that of our golden-illumined
ways. Agripides was right, my friends, perhaps more marvelously right
than even he could have known; for Atlantis can remain Atlantis only so
long as the corrupting influence of the world is excluded; only so long
as we are protected from those bickerings, greedy strivings and ruinous
stupidities that must beset all men on an earth, which are things too
vast to control and too diversified to understand. Need I do more than
to remind you that already the first shock of contact with the upper
world has almost shattered the foundations of Atlantis, and left us all
momentarily in acute danger and fear?”
And the old man ceased, and stalked majestically back to his seat,
while the nods and murmurs of approval showed how favorably he had
been received. Evidently the Submergence Party had scored, and scored
heavily; and therefore the time seemed ripe for the address which I had
prepared.
I had no difficulty in gaining the floor; and after a few remarks
expressing my sympathy with the ends if not with the methods of the
Submergence Party, I launched into the main body of my speech.
“You are all building without ample knowledge,” said I. “And that must
necessarily be so, for what can you have learned of the upper world?
But it happens that I, thanks to some years of experience, do know a
little of the upper world; and it is because of this that I venture to
address you on behalf of the policy of Emergence.”
I paused momentarily, to pave the way for my next point; and I observed
that hundreds of pairs of eyes were straining toward me, in a silence
so intense that one might have heard the dropping of the proverbial pin.
“I shall not dwell upon the merely physical advantages of my own
world,” I continued. “I shall not describe its wide spaces and
splendid vistas, its tree-mantled valleys and sun-burnished lakes,
its uproarious white-splashed oceans and billowy mountains, dark
with forest or glittering with the snow. I shall not linger over the
tingling freshness of starry winter nights, the feathery softness
of the spring, the enchantment of firefly-haunted glades or of the
ever-shifting skies, with their fragile blue or gray or burning sunset
red. I shall not discourse upon these sights, for even in the upper
world they are but little noted, save by an occasional nature crank or
poet.
“But what I shall strive to make plain are those advantages familiar
to every thinking citizen of the earth. Let me begin, for example, by
picturing the life of the typical dweller in our greatest city. Not
only in his home but in his work he enjoys the benefits of the most
progressive civilization ever known. To begin with, his dwelling may be
of any type that accords with his means and capacity, for if he likes
high places and can afford them, he may enjoy the privilege of looking
down upon his neighbors from the eleventh story; or, if he prefers
exercise, he may walk up to the sixth floor whenever he goes home; or,
again, if he be of a sluggish disposition, he may take lodgings at
street level--and all without extra charge.
“Now let me depict the daily routine of such a man. After being
aroused in the morning by a wonderful little clock that is almost human
in its faithfulness to habit, he slips hastily into his clothes and
consumes a breakfast perhaps featured by refrigerated beefsteak grown
half a world away, and by coffee mixed with the condensed milk of cows
that lived far away and long ago. Having thus fortified himself against
the day’s exigencies, he loses no time about leaving the house; and,
in company with thousands as fortunate as himself, he enters a little
hole in the ground, and twenty minutes or half an hour later emerges
from another and precisely similar hole five or ten miles away. But
this is the least of his conveniences. After climbing from the second
hole, he wedges his way into a little movable electric box in any of
our downtown buildings, and promptly finds himself delivered opposite
his office on the fifteenth or twentieth floor. He is now ready for the
day’s duties; and so marvelously simple is modern civilization that, no
matter what those duties be, they are always the same.
“For there is only one task that seems worth while to the modern man,
and that is the making of money. Just why money-making is so important
is a question that I personally cannot answer; but it must be important
indeed, for every one becomes involved in it, especially those who have
more already than they know what to do with; and this is doubtless why
modern civilization runs so smoothly, why the wheels turn so regularly
in so many mills, the shafts are sunk so deeply in so many mines, the
forests are cut so completely from so many mountain sides, and men
continue to spread out and multiply despite battles, pestilences, labor
wars, earthquakes, and explosions.”
* * * * *
In the latter part of my address I had rather lost control of myself,
saying things I had not intended to say, things I did not exactly mean.
But my enthusiasm carried me along irresistibly, and it was not until
I was launched into mid-channel that I paused for a glimpse of my
audience and observed the stares of amazement the nods of incredulity
and the frowns of repulsion with which my words were received. Then
suddenly I was sorry, for now I remembered how once before I had
damaged my own cause by dwelling indiscreetly upon the merits of the
upper world. But though I was following the wrong track I did not know
how to find the right one--for unless I described our industrial and
mechanical progress, what was there for me to boast about? And so, face
to face with an impassable barrier, I faltered midway in my address,
hastily summarized, led up to a feeble peroration, and confusedly took
my seat.
As I returned to Xanocles’ side, a strained silence filled the air;
and the shocked and even hostile glances of the audiences showed how
gravely I had harmed the cause of Emergence.
But though I personally had failed, Xanocles was equal to the
emergency. Springing to his feet during the momentary lull that
followed my fiasco, he caught the attention of the chairwoman, and for
the second time was accorded permission to address the meeting.
“Fellow citizens,” he began, while the full attention of the assembled
hundreds was focused upon him, “it deeply grieves me to hear of the
deplorable state of affairs in the upper world. No doubt our friend has
unconsciously exaggerated, for it is incredible that, after all these
thousands of years, the unsubmerged races should still be so primitive
as he has indicated. Yet we must accept his picture of conditions; we
must reluctantly admit that our fellows on earth are still groping
in the semi-savagery of the Age of Smoke and Iron, from which we
Atlanteans escaped three thousand years ago.
“But does that mean that we should ignore the upper world? Does that
mean that we, in the consciousness of our superiority, should not reach
out a helping hand to our brothers? To forget them in their need would
be unworthy of the disciples of Agripides! Indeed, it is because of
the very limitations of the upper world that we must emerge!--it is
because the people are so deeply in need of assistance! Let us show
them the folly of their ways! Let us convert them to the wisdom of
Atlantis! Let us teach them that steel and gold are but frail things
after all! Let us send out our missionaries among them, and bring them
the creed of Agripides! Do you not realize, fellow citizens, that such
an opportunity has never before been thrust at your door? For not only
may you deliver the upper world from its barbarities and teach it a
true culture, but you may show its peoples how to build glass walls and
submerge as we have submerged!”
And in this wild vein Xanocles rambled on and on, while his hearers
followed him with enthusiasm that seemed gradually to mount to the
point of conviction.
Other arguments followed, which I will not weary the reader with
repeating; and after all who desired it, had had their say, a vote was
taken on Xanocles’ emergence proposal.
To our great joy, the motion carried--carried by the decisive ratio of
almost two to one! The moment of triumph, however, had not yet arrived;
for, before the measure could become operative, it had to be approved
by a referendum of all the Atlanteans.
That referendum, according to the law, could not be held for at least
thirty days, the interval being considered necessary for discussion.
Hence there ensued a most exciting thirty days for Xanocles and myself,
as well as for all members of the parties of Emergence and Submergence.
Never in the past three thousand years had so fundamental an issue
been brought before the people; for the first time since the Good
Destruction, the basic principles of Agripides were at stake!
Since there were no newspapers in Atlantis, at least one agency of
political excitement was lacking. But there were other agencies in
abundance. Never--with the exception of those dreadful days following
the discovery of the crack--had I seen the Atlanteans so agitated.
In all the houses and meetings that I visited, the chief topic of
conversation was the proposed “Emergence Act”; every one was anxious to
deliver his opinion, and every one----man and woman alike,----seemed to
have an opinion, which he was capable of expressing in apt and pointed
terms. But the desire for discussion was particularly in evidence at
the great assemblies held daily at the Hall of Public Enlightenment;
and it was there that Xanocles and his fellow “Debating Delegates”
of the Emergence Party made some of the most forceful and eloquent
pleas I had ever heard; and their rivals of the Submergence group
were scarcely less fervid in appealing for the time-honored policies.
These activities, I need hardly point out, were not confined to one
city, but were participated in by all the eighteen cities of Atlantis;
and numerous speakers from outside points would arrive to address the
gatherings in Archeon, while occasionally Xanocles or some other leader
would leave to speak in neighboring towns.
Not least eager among the fighters for Emergence were the thirty-nine
members of the Upper World Club. Indeed, it is certain that none of the
older members could have outdone us in enthusiasm or determination. For
we had more than an abstract principle at stake--our entire future lay
in the balance.
And while I personally was not eager to return to earth just now (being
detained by thought of a certain fair-haired, blue-eyed woman), yet
most of my comrades were almost passionately anxious to escape, for
as time went by they found themselves more and more out of place in
this too-perfect land, and increasingly unable to perform the duties
required of them as citizens of Atlantis.
But if they were dissatisfied with the Sunken World and incapable
of making any contribution to Atlantean culture, they proved very
competent when it came to helping the cause of Emergence. Few of
them were sufficiently skilled in the language to speak in public
(Captain Gavison was an exception, and several times expressed himself
forcefully and to good effect); but they were all adepts at private
electioneering; and they would stop every Atlantean they could inveigle
into conversation and plead the cause of Emergence. Frequently, indeed,
they did more harm than good; and I remember that Stranahan repeated
my own error, and frightened away several prospective emergionists
by boastfully describing the magnitude of wars in the upper world;
and once I overheard Rawson draw an involuntary cry of disgust from a
hearer, when he tactlessly decanted upon the advantages of airplanes
as bomb throwers. But on the whole the men were well coached by
members of the Emergence party, and knew enough to confine themselves
to describing the beauty of the upper world! Partly because of their
aid, but chiefly by virtue of the vigorous campaign being conducted in
all the four corners of Atlantis, we had hopes that our revolutionary
measure was to become law.
* * * * *
[Illustration: And the utter helplessness of their plight--and of
ours--became tragically apparent when suddenly a great elongated
gray mass came flying in with the torrents from the sea--a rescuing
submarine that had been hurled in through the gap in the wall!]
* * * * *