along on rollers for a half-finished pyramid in the background. That’s Utopia?”
The other waggled a finger at him. “There are a good many misconceptions, even among anthropologists, about the early dynasties of Egypt. The Pharaoh was not a king, Mr. West, and the people were not slaves. Later, things were to change—please keep that in mind—but the early Pharaohs, both of the Upper and Lower so-called kingdoms, were the equivalent of tribal chieftains, elected by the clan elders. And slavery had not evolved as yet. The people were comparatively free and their institutions democratic. The clan elders were elected by the clansmen; they were not hereditary. Even Menes, the Pharaoh who is accredited with uniting Upper and Lower Egypt, was not a monarch but a revered war chief and high priest. At this stage, the Egyptians as a people maintained a surprising standard of living as compared to the rest of the world. Considering that nine-tenths of the human race at the time were wearing animal skins—the Egyptians already had cotton—and surviving as best they could in a Neolithic hunting-and-gathering economy, Egypt was a Utopia indeed. It was after the first ten dynasties or so that the democratic institutions eroded, at least in part, and the clan chiefs became hereditary, as did the Pharaohs. Slavery was introduced, though to a lesser degree than is usually supposed. The everyday Egyptian was not a slave beaten with whips.”
Julian was out of his depth. Wondering how in the hell the conversation had taken this bent, he commented, “Well, I suppose a case could be made for what you say. I suppose it’s a comparative thing—Utopia. Undoubtedly, a thousand years from now our descendants will look upon this period and consider us semi-barbarians.”
“Possibly, if this present socioeconomic system continues, Mr. West.”
Julian sipped his drink and frowned at the other questioningly. Harrison didn’t seem particularly interested in his drink, nor did Sean or the dour Ley.
Harrison said, “The pyramids of Gizeh, the greatest constructions of antiquity, were built during the Fourth Dynasty, roughly 2700 B.C. So was the Sphinx, one of the most noble pieces of sculpture ever produced. In this early Utopia of ours, art was well established. The point I was building up to is that three thousand years were to pass without any fundamental changes in Egyptian art, its sciences, its technology; in short, its way of life. There was seemingly no need for change. The Nile fed them abundantly, their clothing needs were minimal, as were their housing needs in that climate. They had it made, so to speak. Oh, there were ups and downs on the political scene. For about a hundred years the Hyksos, the so-called shepherd-kings, ruled them, and at another point the black Nubians took over. But these conquerors didn’t basically change the socioeconomic system. It was still a comparatively stilted Utopia for the average Egyptian. It wasn’t until the coming of the Greeks under Alexander and the progressive rule of the Ptolemies that Egypt began to break out of the cocoon in which she had existed for three millennia.”
“I see,” Julian said, not seeing at all. “And another example of Utopia in the past?”
Harrison thought for a moment, finally taking a sip of his drink.
“The Mayans, perhaps. They were on the scene possibly as early as 1500 B.C. One of their first cities, Tikal, in Guatemala, is also one of their most impressive. The temple of the Jaguar God is over one-hundred sixty feet, one of the highest and most beautiful of Mayan pyramids. Early in the game they reached an astonishingly advanced level of mathematics, having hit upon the zero many centuries before the Europeans had it; likewise in astronomy, in medicine, in architecture and other arts. As in the case of the Egyptians, they too had it made. Guatemala, Chiapas, and Yucatan are lush. Actually, the Mayans ate better than the Spanish at the time of the conquest. They, like the early Egyptians, had a tribal society, perhaps top-heavy with the priesthood, but the people were free. Slavery, as we know it, was unknown. Their fabulous pyramids, temples, and governmental buildings, such as the House of the Governors in Uxmal, were built by communal labor, during the months of the year not needed for agricultural work. It was, Mr. West, a Neolithic Utopia.” He paused and, without asking, dialed another Scotch for Julian.
“And so?” Julian prodded. He couldn’t get the drift. Sean had said these friends had wanted to talk about firsthand accounts of the mid-twentieth century. But here he was getting a rundown on ancient history.
Harrison went on. “One of their last cities, built shortly before the coming of the Spanish, was Mayapan. Mr. West, it was little, if at all, more advanced than Tikal. More than a thousand years earlier they had achieved a calendar more accurate than our own Gregorian, and had hit upon the zero, but where were their new advances? They had achieved a Neolithic Utopia and then they stopped. And for nearly two thousand years they remained stagnant.”
“I don’t think you’re getting through to me,” Julian said. “What’s the point?”
The other ignored him. “Now, the Incas were another thing. They too were a Neolithic people to begin with. Ambitious and aggressive, in a couple of centuries they had dominated the Cuzco valley, but it wasn’t until about 1440 A.D. that their power exploded. By 1493 they ruled from Quito, Ecuador, to the Rio Maule in Chile. Their art, particularly in metallurgy and textiles, has not been surpassed to this day. Their engineering of roads, bridges, and irrigation projects was superb. They worked copper, tin, bronze, gold, and silver and knew smelting, alloying, casting, inlaying, soldering, riveting, and incrustation. Their medicine too was higher than the level that prevailed in Europe at the time and their diet was superior. They had even taken to the sea and evidently had craft capable of crossing the Pacific, as noted in Hyderthal’s
“Your point?” Julian said impatiently. His new drink had arrived and he began on it.
“My point is,” Harrison said, “that man cannot afford Utopia. Man is an aggressive, impatient, striving animal and has been since he issued forth from the caves to conquer his world. He cannot afford to hesitate, to speak of coming to a halt. If he does, he stagnates and eventually dies—as the Egyptian culture died, as the Mayan culture died.”
Sean O’Callahan and the quiet Ley nodded. “Yes,” Sean agreed. “A Utopia dies.”
Julian thought that possibly at last they were getting to the point of this meeting.
He said, “This particular Utopia doesn’t seem to be dying. It’s developing like crazy in all directions.”
Harrison shook his head. “No. Not as it should be. Ninety-eight percent of our population is not being utilized. They sit around doing make-work. Our civilization is stagnating, Mr. West.”
“Yeah,” Ley echoed. “Back in the 1960s and earlier, if somebody had it on the ball, he could fight his way to the top, make his mark on the world. Look at Hitler. Started off as a poor boy and fought his way up to be the most powerful man in the world. And he didn’t need any goddamned computers to tell him whether or not he could do it.”
Sean laughed lightly. “Not exactly the example I would use,” he said.
William Dempsey Harrison brought forth his transceiver and flicked the stud for the time. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to be running along.” He looked at Julian. “There’s quite a bit more I wanted to discuss with you, but perhaps you’ve got enough to reflect upon. Can we get together again?”
“Why, of course.” In actuality, Julian didn’t know exactly where he stood with this man, or how he felt about him. Obviously, the other wasn’t satisfied with the status quo. Thus far, Julian West had met only the Leetes, who were. He wouldn’t mind knowing a bit more about what was wrong with Utopia.
Harrison stood. “I’ll get in touch through Sean, here.” He hesitated. “Meanwhile, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this conversation to any of the Leete family.”
Chapter Six
The session with Harrison, Ley, and O’Callahan hadn’t left him feeling very balanced. On his return from the Cub Bar he had gone immediately to bed, only to have one of his worst nightmares ever.
Though all of the war dreams were bad, it was the worst. Certainly it was one of the longest. It invariably started at the same point and ended at the same point, and it always took long minutes to get over.
Captain Julian West returned to Fire Base 2224 in a slick (as the grunts called helicopters) that was large enough to hold six men. It was equipped with sliding doors on both sides. These were open so that the two gunners, who were strapped to either side, could lean out and fire their .30 caliber machine guns if required.
