The African scraped together the brushwood he had made ready. There was another article that had become necessary, a small lighter. Perhaps soon he would follow the example of some of the local inhabitants and inhale narcotic smoke to make the endlessly lengthy days seem shorter.
Tongues of flame played amongst the sticks, driving away the darkness and extinguishing the stars. The big animals were snuffling peacefully near by. Mven Mass stared pensively into the fire.
Had this bright planet of ours become a gloomy home for him?
No, his proud renunciation was nothing more than the self-confidence of ignorance. Ignorance of his own self, an underestimation of the loftiness of the full creative life he had lived, a misunderstanding of his love for Chara. It would be better to sacrifice his life for one hour of some worth-while deed for the Great World than to live here a whole century.
On the Island of Oblivion there were about two hundred medical centres where doctor volunteers from the Great World provided the local inhabitants with everything modern medicine could offer. The youth of the Great World also served in the Destroyer Battalions that prevented the island from becoming a breeding ground for the ancient diseases and for harmful animal life. Mven Mass deliberately avoided meeting these people so that he should not feel himself an outcast from the world of beauty and knowledge.
At dawn Mven Mass was relieved by another herdsman. He was free for two days and decided to go to a small town to get a cloak as the nights in the mountains were chilly.
It was a calm, hot day when Mven Mass left the plateau and descended to the wide plain, a veritable sea of pale lilac and golden-yellow flowers over which countless brightly coloured insects were hovering. Puffs of a light breeze made the tops of the plants wave and the flowers gently brushed their heads against Mven Mass’ bare knees as he walked through them. When he reached the middle of the huge field he stood still for a moment to enjoy the simple and joyful beauty of that aroma-filled natural garden. Bending down, the African passed the palms of his hands pensively over the wind-rocked flowers, and felt he was reliving a childhood dream.
A faint, rhythmical tinkle reached his ears. Mven Mass raised his head and saw a girl walking along swiftly, up to her waist in flowers. She turned to one side and Mven Mass looked admiringly at her graceful figure in the midst of that sea of flowers. A feeling of deep regret seized him: that could have been Chara if… if things had turned out differently.
His scientist’s sharp powers of observation told him at once that the girl was worried. She kept looking back and increased her pace without reason as though she were afraid she were being followed. Mven Mass changed his direction and quickly caught up with the girl.
The girl stopped. A brightly-coloured shawl was wrapped tightly round her body with the ends crossed and the hem of her red skirt was wet with dew. The thin bracelets on her bare arms tinkled more loudly as she threw back from her face a lock of hair that the wind had tousled. Her sorrowful eyes were looking out in concentration from under short curls that fell carelessly on her cheeks and forehead. The girl was breathing heavily, apparently from her long walk. A few beads of perspiration showed on her pretty, tanned face. She made a few uncertain steps towards Mven Mass.
“Who are you and where are you hurrying to?” he asked. “Perhaps you are in need of help?”
The girl stared intently at him and then answered, hurriedly and jerkily:
“I’m Onar from the 5th Settlement. But I don’t need help.”
“I think you do! You’re tired and something is bothering you. What can be threatening you? Why do you refuse my help?”
The girl looked at him and her eyes beamed, pure and profound, like those of a woman of the Great World.
“I know who you are! You are the big man from there,” and she waved her hand in the direction of Africa and the sea. “You are kind and credulous.”
“You be the same! Is somebody after you?”
“Yes!” gasped the girl in despair, “he’s chasing after me!”
“Who is he that dares to make you fear him and to chase after you?”
The girl blushed and hesitated.
“There’s one man who wants me to be his….”
“But surely you can choose for yourself whether to respond or not, can’t you? How can he compel you to love him? Let him come here and I’ll tell him….”
“Oh, no! He also came from the Great World, but a long time ago, and he’s strong, only he’s not like you, he’s terrible!”
Mven Mass laughed a carefree laugh.
“Where are you going?”
“To the 5th Settlement. I’ve been to the town and I met….”
Mven Mass nodded his head and took the girl by the hand. She allowed her fingers to remain in his big hand and together they went along a side path leading to the settlement.
On the way the girl, from time to time looking back apprehensively, told him that the man who was persecuting her was always accompanied by two other strong and evil men who were in every way obedient to him.
Her fear to speak frankly made Mven Mass indignant. He had been trained from childhood by history lessons, through books, films and music to hate all those who oppressed people, all the secret organizations that had existed in the past, everything that was hidden from the conscience and judgement of the people, everything that meant bloodshed and unhappiness. He could not tolerate the existence of oppression, even if it were only occasional, on their well-ordered earth!
“Why don’t your people do something?” exclaimed Mven Mass, “and why doesn’t the Control of Honour and Justice know about it? Don’t your schools teach you history and don’t you know what even tiny centres of brute force may lead to?”
“We’re taught… we know…” answered Onar, mechanically, looking straight in front of her. The flowery plain had come to an end and the path disappeared among the bushes in a sharp bend. Two men jumped out at the bend, barring the road to them. The girl snatched her hand away frantically, whispering, “I’m afraid for you, go away, man from the Great World!”
“Seize her!” came an imperative voice from behind the bushes. In the Great Circle Era nobody spoke so roughly. Mven Mass instinctively thrust the girl behind him and began to try his persuasion on these incomprehensibly wild people, but he stopped talking when he realized that his words did not reach them.
The broad-shouldered young men ran up to him and tried to push him away from the girl but Mven Mass stood as firm as a rock.
Then one of them gave him a lightning-like blow in the face with his fist. Mven Mass staggered. Never in his life had he seen deliberate, spiteful blows struck for the purpose of causing hurt, to stun and insult a man.
The other man punched him in the kidneys and through the ringing in his ears Mven Mass heard Onar’s pitiful cry. Fury overcame him and he threw himself on his enemies, trying to crush them. Two deadly blows in the stomach and the jaw brought the African to the ground. Onar dropped to her knees, covering him with her body but her enemies seized her with a howl of triumph. They pulled her elbows bads behind her and she straightened up in pain, her head thrown back. Hands filthy from earth and Mven Mass’ blood squeezed her helplessly writhing body and the girl sobbed, her face purple with anger.
“Bring her here!” came the loud voice again. An elderly man of tremendous height came out of the bushes. He was naked to the waist and athletic muscles rippled under the grey hair that covered his torso.
Mven Mass, however, had already recovered. He had had more serious tussles during his youth when he was performing his Labours of Hercules and had fought against sharks and octopuses, beings not bound by human laws. He tried to remember all he had been taught about hand-to-hand fighting with the monsters.