It was in these latter days that the Patagonians discovered the
civilization that had preceded them. In rejecting the ancient religion
of fear, they had abandoned also the legend of a remote magnificence,
and had come to regard themselves as pioneers of the mind. In the new
continent which was their homeland there were, of course, no relics of
the ancient order; and the ruins that besprinkled the older regions had
been explained as mere freaks of nature. But latterly, with the advance
of natural knowledge, archaeologists had reconstructed something of the
forgotten world. And the crisis came when, in the basement of a
shattered pylon in China, they found a store of metal plates
(constructed of an immensely durable artificial element), on which were
embossed crowded lines of writing. These objects were, in fact, blocks
from which books were printed a thousand centuries earlier. Other
deposits were soon discovered, and bit by bit the dead language was
deciphered. Within three centuries the outline of the ancient culture
was laid bare; and presently the whole history of man’s rise and ruin
fell upon this latter-day civilization with crushing effect, as though
an ancient pylon were to have fallen on a village of wigwams at its
foot. The pioneers discovered that all the ground which they had so
painfully won from the wild had been conquered long ago, and lost; that
on the material side their glory was nothing beside the glory of the
past; and that in the sphere of mind they had established only a few
scattered settlements where formerly was an empire. The Patagonian
system of natural knowledge had been scarcely further advanced than that
of pre-Newtonian Europe. They had done little more than conceive the
scientific spirit and unlearn a few superstitions. And now suddenly they
came into a vast inheritance of thought.
This in itself was a gravely disturbing experience for a people of
strong intellectual interest. But even more overwhelming was the
discovery, borne in on them in the course of their research, that the
past had been not only brilliant but crazy, and that in the long run the
crazy element had completely triumphed. For the Patagonian mind was by
now too sane and empirical to accept the ancient knowledge without
testing it. The findings of the archaeologists were handed over to the
physicists and other scientists, and the firm thought and valuation of
Europe and America at their zenith were soon distinguished from the
degenerate products of the World State.
The upshot of this impact with a more developed civilization was
dramatic and tragic. It divided the Patagonians into loyalists and
rebels, into those who clung to the view that the new learning was a
satanic lie, and those who faced the facts. To the former party the
facts were thoroughly depressing; the latter, though overawed, found in
them a compelling majesty, and also a hope. That the earth was a mote
among the starclouds was the least subversive of the new doctrines, for
the Patagonians had already abandoned the geocentric view. What was so
distressing to the reactionaries was the theory that an earlier race had
long ago possessed and spent the vitality that they themselves so
craved. The party of progress, on the other hand, urged that this vast
new knowledge must be used; and that, thus equipped, Patagonia might
compensate for lack of youthfulness by superior sanity.
This divergence of will resulted in a physical conflict such as had
never before occurred in the Patagonian world. Something like
nationalism emerged. The more vigorous Antarctic coasts became modern,
while Patagonia itself clung to the older culture. There were several
wars, but as physics and chemistry advanced in Antarctica, the
Southerners were able to devise engines of war which the Northerners
could not resist. In a couple of centuries the new ‘culture’ had
triumphed. The world was once more unified.
Hitherto Patagonian civilization had been of a medieval type. Under the
influence of physics and chemistry it began to change. Wind- and
water-power began to be used for the generation of electricity. Vast
mining operations were undertaken in search of the metals and other
minerals which no longer occurred at easy depths. Architecture began to
make use of steel. Electrically driven aeroplanes were made, but without
real success. And this failure was symptomatic; for the Patagonians were
not sufficiently foolhardy to master aviation, even had their planes
been more efficient. They themselves naturally attributed their failure
wholly to lack of a convenient source of power, such as the ancient
petrol. Indeed this lack of oil and coal hampered them at every turn.
Volcanic power, of course, was available; but, never having been really
mastered by the more resourceful ancients, it defeated the Patagonians
completely.
As a matter of fact, in wind and water they had all that was needed. The
resources of the whole planet were available, and the world-population
was less than a hundred million. With this source alone they could
never, indeed, have competed in luxury with the earlier World State, but
they might well have achieved something like Utopia.
But this was not to be. Industrialism, though accompanied by only a slow
increase of population, produced in time most of the social discords
which had almost ruined their predecessors. To them it appeared that all
their troubles would be solved if only their material power were far
ampler. The strong and scarcely rational conviction was a symptom of
their ruling obsession, the craving for increased vitality.
Under these circumstances it was natural that one event and one strand
of ancient history should fascinate them. The secret of limitless
material power had once been known and lost. Why should not Patagonians
rediscover it, and use it, with their superior sanity, to bring heaven
on earth? The ancients, no doubt, did well to forego this dangerous
source of power; but the Patagonians, level-headed and single-minded,
need have no fear. Some, indeed, considered it less important to seek
power than to find a means of checking biological senescence; but,
unfortunately, though physical science had advanced so rapidly, the more
subtle biological sciences had remained backward, largely because among
the ancients themselves little more had been done than to prepare their
way. Thus it happened that the most brilliant minds of Patagonia,
fascinated by the prize at stake, concentrated upon the problem of
matter. The state encouraged this research by founding and endowing
laboratories whose avowed end was this sole work.
The problem was difficult, and the Patagonian scientists, though
intelligent, were somewhat lacking in grit. Only after some five hundred
years of intermittent research was the secret discovered, or partially
so. It was found possible, by means of a huge initial expenditure of
energy, to annihilate the positive and negative electric charges in one
not very common kind of atom. But this limitation mattered not at all;
the human race now possessed an inexhaustible source of power which
could be easily manipulated and easily controlled. But though
controllable, the new gift was not fool-proof; and there was no
guarantee that those who used it might not use it foolishly, or
inadvertently let it get out of hand.
Unfortunately, at the time when the new source of energy was discovered,
the Patagonians were more divided than of old. Industrialism, combined
with the innate docility of the race, had gradually brought about a
class cleavage more extreme even than that of the ancient world, though
a cleavage of a curiously different kind. The strongly parental
disposition of the average Patagonian prevented the dominant class from
such brutal exploitation as had formerly occurred. Save during the first
century of industrialism, there was no serious physical suffering among
the proletariat. A paternal government saw to it that all Patagonians
were at least properly fed and clothed, that all had ample leisure and
opportunities of amusement. At the same time they saw to it also that
the populace became more and more regimented. As in the First World
State, civil authority was once more in the hands of a small group of
masters of industry, but with a difference. Formerly the dominant motive
of big business had been an almost mystical passion for the creation of
activity; now the ruling minority regarded themselves as standing
towards the populace _in loco parentis_, and aimed at creating ‘a
young-hearted people, simple, gay, vigorous, and loyal’. Their ideal of
the state was something between a preparatory school under a sympathetic
but strict adult staff, and a joint-stock company, in which the
shareholders retained only one function, to delegate their powers
thankfully to a set of brilliant directors.
That the system had worked so well and survived so long was due not only
to innate Patagonian docility, but also to the principle by which the
governing class recruited itself. One lesson at least had been learnt
from the bad example of the earlier civilization, namely respect for
intelligence. By a system of careful testing the brightest children were
selected from all classes and trained to be governors. Even the children
of the governors themselves were subjected to the same examination, and
only those who qualified were sent to the ‘schools for young governors’.
Some corruption no doubt existed, but in the main this system worked.
The children thus selected were very carefully trained in theory and
practice, as organizers, scientists, priests, and logicians.
The less brilliant children of the race were educated very differently
from the young governors. It was impressed on them that they were less
able than the others. They were taught to respect the governors as
superior beings, who were called upon to serve the community in
specially skilled and arduous work, simply because of their ability. It
would not be true to say that the less intelligent were educated merely
to be slaves; rather they were expected to be the docile, diligent, and
happy sons and daughters of the fatherland. They were taught to be loyal
and optimistic. They were given vocational training for their various
occupations, and encouraged to use their intelligence as much as
possible upon the plane suited to it; but the affairs of the state and
the problems of religion and theoretical science were strictly
forbidden. The official doctrine of the beauty of youth was fundamental
in their education. They were taught all the conventional virtues of
youth, and in particular modesty and simplicity. As a class they were
extremely healthy, for physical training was a very important part of
education in Patagonia. Moreover, the universal practice of sun-bathing,
which was a religious rite, was especially encouraged among the
proletariat, as it was believed to keep the body ‘young’ and the mind
placid. The leisure of the governed class was devoted mostly to
athletics and other sport, physical and mental. Music and other forms of
art were also practised, for these were considered fit occupations for
juveniles. The government exercised a censorship over artistic products,
but it was seldom enforced; for the common folk of Patagonia were mostly
too phlegmatic and too busy to conceive anything but the most obvious
and respectable art. They were fully occupied with work and pleasure.
They suffered no sexual restraints. Their impersonal interests were
satisfied with the official religion of youth-worship and loyalty to the
community. This placid condition lasted for some four hundred years
after the first century of industrialism. But as time passed the mental
difference between the two classes increased. Superior intelligence
became rarer and rarer among the proletariat; the governors were
recruited more and more from their own offspring, until finally they
became an hereditary caste. The gulf widened. The governors began to
lose all mental contact with the governed. They made a mistake which
could never have been committed had their psychology kept pace with
their other sciences. Ever confronted with the workers’ lack of
intelligence, they came to treat them more and more as children, and
forgot that, though simple, they were grown men and women who needed to
feel themselves as free partners in a great human enterprise. Formerly
this illusion of responsibility had been sedulously encouraged. But as
the gulf widened the proletarians were treated rather as infants than as
adolescents, rather as well-cared-for domestic animals than as human
beings. Their lives became more and more minutely, though benevolently,
systematized for them. At the same time less care was taken to educate
them up to an understanding and appreciation of the common human
enterprise. Under these circumstances the temper of the people changed.
Though their material condition was better than had ever been known
before, save under the first World State, they became listless,
discontented, mischievous, ungrateful to their superiors.
Such was the state of affairs when the new source of energy was
discovered. The world-community consisted of two very different
elements, first a small, highly intellectual caste, passionately devoted
to the state and to the advancement of culture amongst themselves; and,
second, a much more numerous population of rather obtuse, physically
well-cared-for, and spiritually starved industrialists. A serious clash
between the two classes had already occurred over the use of a certain
drug, favoured by the people for the bliss it produced, forbidden by the
governors for its evil after-effects. The drug was abolished; but the
motive was misinterpreted by the proletariat. This incident brought to
the surface a hate that had for long been gathering strength in the
popular mind, though unwittingly.
When rumour got afoot that in future mechanical power would be
unlimited, the people expected a millennium. Every one would have his
own limitless source of energy. Work would cease. Pleasure would be
increased to infinity. Unfortunately the first use made of the new power
was extensive mining at unheard-of depths in search of metals and other
minerals which had long ago ceased to be available near the surface.
This involved difficult and dangerous work for the miners. There were
casualties. Riots occurred. The new power was used upon the rioters with
murderous effect, the governors declaring that, though their paternal
hearts bled for their foolish children, this chastisement was necessary
to prevent worse evils. The workers were urged to face their troubles
with that detachment which the Divine Boy had preached in his final
phase; but this advice was greeted with the derision which it deserved.
Further strikes, riots, assassinations. The proletariat had scarcely
more power against their masters than sheep against the shepherd, for
they had not the brains for large-scale organization. But it was through
one of these pathetically futile rebellions that Patagonia was at last
destroyed.
A petty dispute had occurred in one of the new mines. The management
refused to allow miners to teach their trade to their sons; for
vocational education, it was said, should be carried on professionally.
Indignation against this interference with parental authority caused a
sudden flash of the old rage. A power unit was seized, and after a bout
of insane monkeying with the machinery, the mischief-makers
inadvertently got things into such a state that at last the awful djinn
of physical energy was able to wrench off his fetters and rage over the
planet. The first explosion was enough to blow up the mountain range
above the mine. In those mountains were huge tracts of the critical
element, and these were detonated by rays from the initial explosion.
This sufficed to set in action still more remote tracts of the element.
An incandescent hurricane spread over the whole of Patagonia,
reinforcing itself with fresh atomic fury wherever it went. It raged
along the line of the Andes and the Rockies, scorching both continents
with its heat. It undermined and blew up the Bering Straits, spread like
a brood of gigantic fiery serpents into Asia, Europe, and Africa.
Martians, already watching the earth as a cat a bird beyond its spring,
noted that the brilliance of the neighbour planet was suddenly enhanced.
Presently the oceans began to boil here and there with submarine
commotion. Tidal waves mangled the coasts and floundered up the valleys.
But in time the general sea level sank considerably through evaporation
and the opening of chasms in the ocean floor. All volcanic regions
became fantastically active. The polar caps began to melt, but prevented
the arctic regions from being calcined like the rest of the planet. The
atmosphere was a continuous dense cloud of moisture, fumes, and dust,
churned in ceaseless hurricanes. As the fury of the electro-magnetic
collapse proceeded, the surface temperature of the planet steadily
increased, till only in the Arctic and a few favoured corners of the
sub-Arctic could life persist.
Patagonia’s death agony was brief. In Africa and Europe a few remote
settlements escaped the actual track of the eruptions, but succumbed in
a few weeks to hurricanes of steam. Of the two hundred million members
of the human race, all were burnt or roasted or suffocated within three
months—all but thirty-five, who happened to be in the neighbourhood of
the North Pole.