Daybreak
An Essay-Story
“If the stars should appear
one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore, and preserve
for many generations the remembrance of the City of God?”
-
Ralph Emerson
“They’d go mad.”
-
John Campbell
This essay-story is a combination of critique and fanfic,
about Isaac Asimov’s “Nightfall”. I imagine a world almost like his, but which breaks
free from its deadly cycle.
“Nightfall” is set on Lagash, an Earthlike world populated
by humanoid beings; but with a crucial difference; the world has multiple suns
and so experiences night only once a millennium. This happens when their sun
Beta wanders off alone to half of the sky – a Beta/Lagash/Suns alignment – and
Beta is then eclipsed by another body, previously unseen. The explanation
offered in Asimov’s story is that the eclipsing moon is made of blue slate,
which blends into Lagash’s sky.
But if the eclipsor (which I hereby dub Nemesis) eclipses
an entire hemisphere of Lagash for an entire planetary rotation, then either:
1) Nemesis is the primary and Lagash is a moon
or:
2) Beta is smaller than Nemesis, which orbits it.
Both
options have problems. If Lagash is a moon of Nemesis, then wouldn’t it be
tidally locked? And if so, then the night would cover only one hemisphere. And
if Lagash is not tidally locked to its primary, then there would be tides.
And
if Beta’s a white dwarf orbited by a gas giant, then it would not form a disk
in the sky of Lagash – which it did in Asimov’s story, which he mentioned to
dramatic effect.
In
either case, surely there would have been previous eclipses.
Also,
the Night would last one twelve-hour stretch only on parts of Lagash. For most
of the planet, those twelve hours of Night would come in two parts, with twelve
hours of daylight in between.
For
now I’ll go with the Nemesis-as-primary theory. All these mechanics are excuses
for the story’s central conceit; a world that has night only once in a thousand
years; a night whose sky is full of stars. Emerson said that in such a world
men would marvel and worship the starry night sky; Campbell told Asimov that
they’d go mad; and he paid Asimov to write a story showing it.
For
on Asimov’s Lagash, the humanoids have never experienced night darkness, and
are pathologically afraid of it. Desperate for light, they set things on fire, and
the cities burn down.
What
is worse, their world exists inside an enormous star-cluster, with millions of
Stars visible at Night. This spectacle overawes the disoriented Lagashians. After
the Night most of the survivors are mind-broken, unable to attend to their
needs. Therefore on Lagash there is a thousand-year cycle of city-building
punctuated by the millennial Night and civilizational collapse.
Asimov
presented Campbell’s cynical apocalypse well enough for this to be his first
published story. It annoyed him that so many fans admired him so much for that,
his first and worst work.
I
concur! Astronomical difficulties aside, the psychology and history he presents
is absurd. Taken at face value, Lagash’s eclipse-driven cycle cannot endure. Lagash
is fated to break loose.
For
by Asimov’s account, each Night, plus aftermath, exerts intense selective
pressure. Any Night-adaptation, however slight, will increase in the gene-pool
each Night, and will soon dominate. I guess that within a dozen Nights (12000
years) most Lagashians will have Night-vision, Dark-tolerance and
Star-tolerance.
Eventually
they will reach a tipping point, and their civilization will survive the Night.
That will be Daybreak. How will it go?
I
imagine a world that had predicted the coming eclipse, centuries earlier. During
those centuries, they made preparations, such as inventing electric lighting.
Also there were cultural adaptations, such as the Miner’s Guild. These
underground workers were pioneers in lighting and dark-adaptation; they formed
a secular allegiance with the religio-scientific Reformed Star-Cult, heretical
enemies of the traditionalist doomsday Orthodox Star-Cult.
By
Night time, most of Lagash had distributed some forms of lighting to the
general populace; plus had also trained specialized Night-time
firefighters and police. There were holdbacks; the Orthodox Star-Cult Magisterium issued an Anti-Electric Fatwa; so a whole continent
was plunged into Darkness when the Night came.
This
time the people thought themselves prepared. Hand-held electric Lights,
firemen, mass darkness training, even suborbital robot photos of the Stars.
Come the Night, the people huddle indoors, all Lights on. The TVs issue
warnings; don’t look at the Stars… but some just have to look. One in ten
bundles up and goes out to see the Stars.
***
Hints of Darkness lurked
in the corners of the room, despite the Lights. The wall TV flickered images
from all around Lagash; the talking heads chattered of totality and orbital
mechanics.
On screen, a talking head
was saying, “Mercedes, think of it! Once in a thousand years, an eclipse! Once
in a thousand years, a Night! With Dark, Cold and Stars! We are witnessing history here!”
The other talking head
smiled and said, “Call me 312! Or maybe the end
of history, Decatur!”
“Call me 761! So how is
the eclipse going?”
She smiled and said, “The
eclipse is going right on schedule, just as the astronomers predicted! Beta is
alone in the sky-”
Decatur 761 said, “Here in
Theremin City all other five suns are still in the sky!”
Mercedes 312 said, “Here
in Saro, Beta is halfway to totality! You can see it on your screen here.”
“Very impressive. How are
the people reacting?”
Mercedes 312 said, “With awe! But also fear. Of the Dark. And the
Cold.”
“And of course the Stars.”
“And the Stars. Of course.
But every home is lit. Electric Lights for everyone! And the people are staying
indoors.”
“Except essential
personnel?”
“Yes, police,
firefighters.”
“And Star-Cultists?”
The two talking heads
chuckled a bit at 761’s little joke. But 312 said, “You mean… Reformed Star-Cultists? Yes.” By which
she meant the astronomers. “And the Miner’s Guild, of course. But they’re
trained for darkness.”
“As are we all, 312. So no
civil disorders?”
“None.”
“Any signs of panic?
Symptoms of claustrophobia?”
Mercedes 312 inhaled
sharply, let it out slowly. “It’s getting… Dark out there… yes. But every room
indoors is well lit.”
“It pays to be prepared,
312.”
“You bet, 761. We here in
Saro City have been preparing for this Night for centuries.”
Decatur 761 said, “As we
here in Theremin. Luck of the draw, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“Once every thousand
years, Night fell, and civilization wasn’t ready, so it burned. This has
happened, what, ten times?”
“Twelve!”
“But
sooner or later civilization was bound to figure it out in time. That’s us. We
know Night is coming, and we know how to cope with it.”
Mercedes 312 recited from
the Reformed Star-Cult Credo, “‘For the Cold, dress warm. For the Dark, take a
lamp. For the Stars, stay indoors.’ ”
Decatur 761 said, “That’s
the credo for the laity. For the clergy, it ends, ‘For the Stars, bring a
scope’.”
The talking heads chattered on, but
the sole occupant of the room paid little attention to them. Shon 137 was at
the window, standing sideways to it, looking sideways out into the Twilight.
On screen the local
anchorwoman said, “Beta is three-quarters to totality! The sky is turning from
red to black!”
The head anchorman said,
“A black sky? How strange!”
“And look! You see? There
on the screen?”
“Are those… Stars?”
The screen showed a
sprinkling of Stars; Shon’s own window showed more. Shon knew that there will
be more. Millions more.
Lagash and its six suns orbited
each other within a globular cluster. The view was titanic – or it would be if
ever Lagash had a moment of true Night. But this only happened once in a
thousand years, when all suns but Beta lined up – just in time and place to be
eclipsed by Lagash’s Moon.
Thus causing the millennial
planetary Night.
Thus causing mass Darkness-panic.
The people of many-sunned Lagash never experienced Night-blindness, normally.
Thus claustrophobia, panic, Light-need; leading to arson, the burning of the
cities, and yet another collapse of civilization.
Shon knew that too; so had everyone
in Lagash, due to the intensive educational mission of the Miners and the
Reformed Star-Cult. The mining guild and the heretical religion taught physics,
Astronomy, and orbital mechanics, but also Light-making. The discovery of
electric Lighting was a Miner triumph; as was the Reformed Star-Cult imposition
of Lighting on all indoor structures, in preparation for the Night.
Shon knew all of these historical
facts, they had been taught to him in school. He also knew that these teachings
had long been violently opposed by the Orthodox
Star-Cult.
On screen, Decatur 761 reported
that the Orthodox Star-Cult Magisterium had reaffirmed their Anti-Electric
Fatwa. “The Mome has said, Starlight should suffice, or a torch. Repeat, he has
said, Starlight should suffice, or a torch. Possession of non-combustive forms
of illumination will be ‘Prosecuted under Starlight’.”
Mercedes 312 said, “But those laws
apply only within the Protectorate, isn’t that right, 761?”
“Of course, 312! And we’ll keep you
– and our viewers – up to developments in the Protectorate, as soon as it
rotates into Night!”
“Speaking of which!” 312 shrilled.
“It’s Totality!”
Beta winked from view, and Night
fell.
The screen showed only darkness.
Shon saw it too, with his own eyes, but he also saw the Stars.
Shon knew, from history, that the
Orthodox Protectorate, in firm control of 25% of the cities of Lagash, wanted
the cycle to continue as usual; whereas the heretical Reformed Star-Cult’s mission
was for civilization to survive this Night.
Shon knew all that
history, but there was something about the Stars that was beyond history. The
Stars on the television screen seemed… small somehow. Smaller than the screen. Faded.
Not so for the Stars outside.
Shon was sitting at a
chair, beside the window but set sideways to it. He sat there, shivering
slightly from the Cold seeping from the window. He looked sideways into the
Night. From time to time he inhaled hugely, then looked sideways into the room.
For a few moments he’d look around at blue-flickering TV and table and chairs
and books and Lamps casting reassuring electric light; then he’d look out at
the Night again.
He did this over and over,
as he had been trained. Eventually his heart stopped racing, his breathing slowed
down. Viewed objectively, he thought, Night is actually rather peaceful…
Hints of Darkness lurked
in the corners of the room, despite the Lights. He could stay inside, alone
with the talking heads, with Lights and hints of Darkness; or he could go out,
with Darkness everywhere, but also the Stars.
On screen, Mercedes 312
said, “And in a related story, Saro City officials have declared an official
curfew. All citizens are to stay indoors, with their loved ones and their
Lights. We will keep you updated all Night long. Dress warmly against the Cold.
Keep your Lights lit. Do not go into the Dark. Do not look at the Stars.”
Shon got up. He strode
around his conapt, he put on sweater, wool cap and jacket, he got binoculars,
and a hand-held Lamp, and a wrist-strapped-mini-Lamp, and forehead Lamp. He too
had been preparing for the Night.
He looked over the
forehead Lamp. Its crest said “Miner’s Guild”. A gift from a third cousin. He
strapped it on and switched it on. A reassuring spot of light appeared in front
of him.
He left the Lights on
before stepping out, and the TV running too. The last he heard from it before
he shut the door was the anchorwoman saying, “Repeat, do not go into the Dark.
Do not look at the Stars.”
***
It is inevitable the Lagashians would adapt to the
Night; and that they would aspire to survive the Night; and eventually succeed;
but it is equally inevitable that the first such Night would surprise them. One
surprise was the one in ten who ventured into the Night to see the Stars.
In the aftermath, civilization was mostly intact – except
for the self-slaughtered Protectorate, its cities burned, its people mad and
starving, its land open for takeover. Merely absorbing this took the surviving
civilization centuries. But though the harsh madness of the Orthodox was a
burden to them, they were far more baffled by the gentler madness of the
Star-Struck.
For
that was their name for the one in ten who volunteered to see the Stars. It turns
out that Darkness and Stars are like a powerful drug, in that their effect
depends on set and setting. Night was a terror to the frightened and unprepared;
but to those prepared and understanding, Night was ecstasy. The Star-Struck are
mad, but most are harmless and some are inspired.
Therefore
I agree with both Emerson and Campbell. Elysium or Inferno, what you see in the
starry Night depends on how you look.
***
Afterwards, Shon could not
tell the tale of the Night in one piece. He remembered it in vivid scrambled fragments
like a dream.
He remembered a path
through a field. His lights were off, he was seeing by Starlight, in dim
colorless shapes but he could see, and then he looked up, and the Stars –
The radio reported on Star-gazers.
The talking heads said, one in ten went to see, despite government warnings.
What are we to do with the Star-Struck? Shon and a Miner grinned at each other.
He remembered the Astronomer’s
camp. They had set up telescopes and cameras, they were busy recording, all but
one. That one was Night-blind, and he was lying on his back, raving a hymn to
the Stars, which were all that he could see.
At the Miner camp he heard radio
reports from across Lagash. Nightfall at Isak; overcast at Theremin, but an
amazing view from Saro. Civil order held across Lagash… except from the
Orthodox Protectorate, from which communications have ceased.
He remembered stumbling into a
Miner Guild basecamp. They sat him on a bench, they gave him hot chocolate and
a blanket to wrap around himself. They asked if he could see, and he said that
he saw by Starlight. They asked him if he was scared, and he said that the
Night is peaceful. They asked him how he was, and he said that the Stars are
beautiful.
The raver at the Astronomer’s camp said
that Lagash’s Moon was no moon, it was the Primary, a giant blue ball of methane
gas, and rocky Lagash was one of its moons, one of many.
He remembered the Primary. It cast
a big blue blot over Beta and some of the sky. All the rest of the sky swarmed
with Stars.
The raver at the Astronomer’s camp
said that one in two Lagashians were like Shon; not Night-blind. A retinal
mutation, said the raver, formerly rare but strongly selected for each Night.
The Night-blind raver said, we are evolving.
He remembered stumbling up a
hillside, seeing by Starlight, the ground vague and cluttered, but up he went
because up ahead was a camp of Astronomers.
To the Miner’s camp came satellite
reports of firestorms in the Protectorate. One in four cities on Lagash alight,
the reporters said. But in the other three in four, civil peace held.
He remembered seeing swarms of
Stars, millions of them, blazing from horizon to zenith and all around. Stars
in depth, near and far. Streams of stars, orbital dances of Stars, like their
own suns, their own suns were Stars.
He remembered standing on
a hillside, looking at the city of Saro. Each window glowed with a Light
within. He looked up and saw Stars. He looked down and saw Lights. He thought:
Stars on the ground, Lights in the sky.
***
Daybreak meant two things to the Star-Struck. On the
one hand, loss; for when the Suns rise, they will never see Night or Stars
again. On the other hand, victory. Civilization survives, the Star-cycle is
broken, and a Second Millennium dawns.
***
Shon stood on a hillside
facing east. The horizon was brightening; tiny blue Zeta and big red Gamma were
soon to appear. At Shon’s side the raver sat, weeping; Shon had a hand on his
shoulder.
“But we win,” said Shon.
“We’re still here, despite the Night.”
“Yes, yes,” the raver wailed,
“we lit a candle against the Darkness! But I love the Darkness, and I love the
Night, and I love the Stars, and I will never, ever, see them again!”
“They’ll still be out
there, beyond the Suns-dazzled sky. The Night and the Stars will wait for us,”
said Shon.
The raver stopped weeping.
“What, we’ll go out there?”
“Sure as Nightfall. Sure
as Daybreak.”
The raver smiled. “You are Star-Struck.”
Just then Zeta cleared the
horizon, and its bright blue-white light flashed over the land. Gamma’s disk
rose up, and its rosy light brightened the sky, washing out the Stars.
A new Day had begun.
No comments:
Post a Comment