Eden by Stanislaw Lem Read Free Book Online Page B

the ground. He walked around looking for rocks to hold down the edges of the tent—they had pegs, but nothing to drive them with. All he could find were small chips, so he returned empty-handed and rejoined the others sitting around the blue glimmer. Then his gaze fell on the heavy object that they had brought with them from the "factory." He anchored the tent with that.
    "At least it's useful for something," said the Doctor, watching.
    The Engineer sat hunched over, his head in his hands, a picture of dejection. He said nothing, and even when receiving his plate of food only grunted. Then, unexpectedly, he stood up and asked, "Well, and what now?"
    "We go to sleep, of course." The Doctor solemnly took a cigarette from his pack, lit it, and inhaled with obvious pleasure.
    "And tomorrow?" asked the Engineer.
    "Henry, you're acting like a child," said the Captain, cleaning the saucepan with a handful of sandy earth. "Tomorrow we'll investigate more of the factory. Today we must have covered a quarter of a mile."
    "And you think we'll find something different?"
    "I don't know. We'll have the whole morning. In the afternoon we return to the ship."
    "Wonderful," grumbled the Engineer. He stretched, groaned. "I feel as if I've been beaten."
    "So do we," the Doctor assured him good-humoredly. "But listen, you really can't tell us anything about this?" He pointed the glowing tip of his cigarette at the barely visible shape holding down the tent.
    "Of course. Isn't it obvious? It's a device to—"
    "No, seriously. After all, the thing has so many parts. But this is not my line."
    "And you think it's mine?!" the Engineer exploded. "It's the work of a lunatic, or, rather"—he pointed in the direction of the factory—"lunatics. A civilization of lunatics, that's what this damned Eden is!" Then he added calmly: "The object we hauled here was manufactured by a whole series of processes—compression, segmentation, thermal treatment, polishing. It's made of polymers, inorganic crystals. What it's for, I have no idea. It's a part, not a whole. But even as a part, taken out of this crack-brained mill, it looks crazy to me."
    "What do you mean?" asked the Captain. The Chemist, having put away the utensils, was spreading out his blanket. The Doctor extinguished his cigarette and carefully put the unsmoked half back in his pocket.
    "I have no proof. There are power cells, units of some kind, in there—not connected to anything. Like a closed circuit, but crisscrossed by a strange insulating substance. This thing … cannot function. That's how it looks to me. After a number of years a man develops a kind of professional intuition. I could be mistaken, but … no, I'd rather not talk about that."
    The Captain got up. The others followed his example. When they extinguished the stove, they were plunged into total darkness. The stars above sparkled intensely in what seemed a peculiarly low sky.
    "Deneb," said the Physicist softly. The men looked up.
    "Where? There?" asked the Doctor. Unconsciously they lowered their voices.
    "Yes. And the smaller star nearby is Gamma Cygni. Very bright!"
    "About three times brighter than on Earth," said the Captain.
    "We're a long way from home," muttered the Doctor. Nobody said anything more. One by one they crawled into the round tent. They were so tired that, when the Doctor said his customary "Good night," deep breathing was the only reply.
    He lay awake, thinking. Were they being careless? What if something nasty crawled out of the neighboring scrub during the night? They should have posted a sentry. For a while the Doctor considered getting up and standing guard, but then he smiled his ironic smile in the darkness, turned over with a sigh, and fell sound asleep.
    The morning greeted them with sunshine. There were more white cumulus clouds in the sky than before. The men ate little breakfast, saving the rest of their food for a final meal before returning to the ship.
    "If only I could wash!" the