J francis mccomas, p.1
J. Francis McComas, page 1
J. FRANCIS McCOMAS
Brave New Word
J. Francis McComas was an important figure in science fiction in three areas: (1) as an author, with such stories as “Shock Treatment,” and “Criminal Negligence”; (2) as the coeditor of Adventures in Time and Space (New York: Random House, 1946), one of the earliest and most important SF reprint anthologies (as A. J. Budrys has pointed out, this book—and several others edited by Groff Conklin—helped to establish science fiction as a significant branch of literature); and (3) McComas was also the founding coeditor of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, one of the “big three” of the post—World War II period. His efforts on the magazine were important but almost totally unappreciated, since historians have given their attention only to Anthony Boucher.
McComas the writer has also been underrated, and although his output was small, he produced some memorable stories, including this one. “Brave New Word” is an example of what might be called “prehistoric science fiction,” a most interesting subgenre which addresses itself to the question of “how it all began.”
Brave New World
The travelers to the hot country arrived today, carrying many things, so tonight there will be dancing and all the hearts of The People will be good. As ever, when the travelers return, I remember how the thing began with Sleepy Hawk, that great doer of deeds, that laugher, that maker of words.
Most of The People think the matter had its beginning later; but I, whose oldest father had the story from the mouth of Sleepy Hawk himself, think otherwise. The true beginning was when Long Ax, that angry man, had his new ax handle break in his hand the very first time he swung the weapon. Long Ax had chosen the wood with care and knowledge, made it straight with his knife and then, in—the chosen way, fixed it to the great stone ax his oldest father had given him.
Then, at the very first trial swing at one of the big trees that grew by the river where The People were camped, the handle had splintered, the great stone head had bounced from the tree to the river water, and Long Ax, a splinter driven into his thumb, danced about, shouting with pain and anger.
Since all this was a very bad sign, the rest of the young men looked very solemn. All, that is, except Sleepy Hawk, who fell on his back and laughed. He laughed so loud and so long that the other four thought he might never stop, but choke himself to death there by the river.
“Why do you laugh?” cried Long Ax. “Now I must make another handle! We can’t start until I do!”
“Yes,” asked Hungry Dog, who was fat and liked to sit in Long Ax’s shadow, “why do you laugh?”
Sleepy Hawk stopped choking himself and said, “I’m sorry. But you looked so—so—” he looked in his head for a word, could not find one and said, “so—laugh—making! One moment you were swinging your great ax, the next moment you were dancing about, a little boy with a splinter in your hand! And the fine new handle for your ax was nothing but wood for the fire!”
At Sleepy Hawk’s words, even Mountain Bear, the quiet man, laughed softly deep in his throat.
The face of Long Ax colored the angry red and he said, “How would you like to stay here and laugh while the others follow me on our hunt?”
Sleepy Hawk sat up then and looked at the other. His face did look something like that of a hawk that sleeps, with his sharp curved nose and his half—closed eyes. But it was the face of a hawk just waiting to wake and pounce.
“How would you like to try to make me?” he said very softly.
Long Ax was still red with anger but he looked away from Sleepy Hawk, toward the river.
“You have a knife and I have nothing,” he growled.
With a move so fast it could barely be seen Sleepy Hawk jumped to his feet, took the knife from his belt and tossed it away.
“Now, I have no knife.”
“Enough!” cried Mountain Bear, who was a quiet man but strong like his name animal. “Save your blows for our enemies! Long Ax, I have a stick for a spear, dry and tough. You may have it for your ax. Sleepy Hawk, take up your knife. You know we would not go on a fight or a hunt without you to lead us.”
So there was peace but later, while waiting for Long Ax to bind together haft and head of his weapon, Mountain Bear said to Sleepy Hawk, “I cannot understand you. Always you laugh. And there is nothing to smile about in life.”
“Yes, there is! Each thing of life, even the worst thing, has a part of it that will make you laugh, if only you will see it.”
“Ha! I suppose you laugh even when you are with a woman!”
“Sometimes. If it is the proper woman and her heart is like mine.”
But, as I said, most of The People think the matter had its beginning later, there on the ledge of the mountain of the Mud Dwellers, halfway down the great cliff, when the five young men came face to face with six of the little Mud Dwellers and there was no going back for any man.
For, after much thought, the band had decided to go toward the sun and into the mountain of the Mud Dwellers, rather than to the cold mountains and the Dwellers—in—Caves. The young men of The People wanted women. Those Dwellers—in—Caves, who made such queer markings on the walls of their homes, were strong and not easy to surprise. Too, their women were fierce, not kind and pleasing like those of the Mud Dwellers.
So they made a long journey, over a strange country. First, the river had dried into a hot land. After that, they seemed to be in the time of the long sun, come before they had thought, and the skins of animals they wore were hot on their backs. Sleepy Hawk wound into a tight roll his skin of a big cat and wrapped it around his waist. After a while, the others did the same.
Sleepy Hawk looked at them, running slowly along, the water pouring off their bodies, and said, “It is cooler by the side of our river.”
Even Long Ax grinned at this although his tongue was swollen in his mouth.
The heat of the long sun fell on them and what little water they found made their hearts sick and their minds weak. So the young men went a day and a night without drinking.
Then, when they felt they could run no longer, they saw before them that great mountain rising straight up from the ground to the sky which held in its heart the little caves of the little men that The People called the Mud Dwellers. They stopped and looked up at the mountain.
“Oo—ee!” cried Hungry Dog. “That will be a hard run!”
But Sleepy Hawk found a trickle of water and they drank it without having their bellies cry out against them.
So the five young men of The People climbed the mountain that day and found its top was broad and flat. They moved carefully across the ground, ducking from tree to tree. Once, they found a pile of rocks that had, in the long ago, been a Mud Dwellers’ home, before the wars of The People had driven them down inside the mountain, where the little men thought they might live more safely.
“These do not look like rocks,” said Mountain Bear, stopping to look at them.
“They are not rocks,” said Sleepy Hawk. “I have heard that the Mud Dwellers mix dried grass with mud, shape this into blocks and let the heat of the sun hake the blocks hard. They build their caves with these hard blocks.”
“That is a foolish waste of time,” said Mountain Bear.
“And we waste time,” said Sleepy Hawk. “We must reach the edge of their home place before dark.”
So, just before the hiding of the sun, the young hunters came to where the top of the mountain suddenly ended. They crouched down and looked over the edge. There was a great cut, going deep to the heart of the mountain; and down, far down at the bottom of the cut, they could see, moving like bugs on a raw hide, a few of the Mud Dwellers.
“We’ll rest here until the first morning light,” Sleepy Hawk told them.
“Then climb down as far as we can?” asked Mountain Bear.
Sleepy Hawk nodded.
“Then we should watch another day, I think,” said Long Ax.
Sleepy Hawk nodded again.
“We’ll have to be quick,” said Short Spear.
“Take women only,” grunted Long Ax. “Weapons too, if there are any.”
“And food!” added Hungry Dog.
“No food!” cried all the others.
“They do not eat,” Cat—in—the—Mud told Hungry Dog. “Their food is taken from the ground and it is dirty.”
Sleepy Hawk smiled a little at this, but said nothing.
Yet it did not work out as they planned. The five young men waked at the first light and slowly, quietly, they climbed down the steep side of the cut in the mountain. But as they crawled around a high rock to a narrow ledge, six men of the Mud Dwellers came up onto the ledge from the down trail. All stopped suddenly and stared at each other.
Then each side took a step forward, raised their weapons, then stopped again, weapons half lifted in their hands.
“Well,” Long Ax growled deep in his throat, “why do we wait?”
“For the same reason they do!” Sleepy Hawk’s voice was sharp.
He waved his hand and they all looked quickly about them. There was the long, narrow ledge, with the mountain going straight up from one side and, from the other, straight down in a heart—choking drop. And at each end of the ledge stood a little group of men, angry, uncertain, the length of three steps of a tall man between them.
“Who can win a fight in such a place?” asked Sleepy Hawk.
“We can!” growled Long Ax. “They are but little men!”
“But they are six and we are five, so all is equal.”
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Cat—in—the—Mud and Hungry Dog raised their weapons. As they did so, three of the Mud Dwellers lifted their arms.
“Stop!” cried Sleepy Hawk. Over his shoulder he said to Long Ax, “I am chief here. Now look, all of you. They throw, we throw. None can miss. If any men are left after the throwing, they fight. Perhaps one of all here lives. Then what? If that one is of The People, can he, wounded, alone, ever hope to return to our river? No!”
“You are right,” said Mountain Bear.
“They will call for help,” warned Cat—in—the—Mud.
“Soon enough to fight then,” said Sleepy Hawk. “There is little room for more on this ground.”
“True enough,” said Mountain Bear.
“Now, quiet, all of you,” ordered Sleepy Hawk, “and let me think. “
He watched the Mud Dwellers. They were strange little men. Around their waists they wore belts of dried skin, but in these belts were set little pieces of colored stone. They wore smaller belts around
their heads, to keep their long hair from falling over their eyes, and these belts, too, had the pieces of stone in them.
Sleepy Hawk liked these colored stones very much. But he did not think he would get any from the Mud Dwellers, who, though small, stood their ground as bravely as did The People, frowning, with knives and spears ready for the fight.
“Look at their spears,” Sleepy Hawk said.
“They have two handles!” There was wonder in Cat—in—the—Mud’s voice.
“Yes. One goes back from the hand, then joins the other, which goes forward to the head of the spear.”
“I don’t understand,” Mountain Bear said softly.
“Neither do I.” Sleepy Hawk frowned. “Two handles … I would like a closer look at those strange spears.”
“Enough of this women’s chatter!” screamed Long Ax. “Let us fight like men!”
Sleepy Hawk shrugged.
“If the rest of you feel that we should get ourselves killed,” he said quietly, “and leave our bones here for Mud Dwellers to hang in their caves, why—let Long Ax begin the fight.”
None moved.
Long Ax called out again but still no man of the other four moved and Long Ax closed his mouth tightly.
For a time there was silence on the ledge. Sleepy Hawk watched the Mud Dwellers; he had a wish to talk with them, to learn what they might be thinking. Now, like many of The People, Sleepy Hawk had a woman from the Mud Dwellers in his family, and from her had learned a few of their love words, the words that a mother says to a child that pleases her. But that was all. When The People caught a Mud Dweller woman it was her duty to learn their talk, not theirs to learn her noises.
So there was nothing he could say to them. He watched. They, too, stood as did The People, their leader a little in front of them, staring at his enemies, his men behind him, looking about nervously, their knives and strange two—handled spears ready for blood.
It seemed then to Sleepy Hawk that the two groups of men looked like two deer caught in the trap sands of a river. A deer so caught by the water hiding below the quiet—looking sands cannot step forward, nor can it move backward. So it was with the men. Their legs were caught on the rock. They dared not move either up or down. All of them, The People and Mud Dwellers, could only stand still and wait for what would happen.
And thinking of the men trapped like silly deer, Sleepy Hawk laughed aloud.
“Why do you laugh?” snaffled Hungry Dog. Fright was in his voice.
Sleepy Hawk was choking again, as he always did when laughing swelled in his throat.
“This is—this is all very—” He choked and his breath flew out between his lips and he made a word.
“What was that?” cried Mountain Bear. “What did you say?”
“I said, funny.”
“What does funny mean?”
“It is a word I have made and it means laugh—making. All this—we and they standing here, of us all none daring to go a step forward or back—it is very laugh—making … very funny!”
“We have a crazy man for a chief,” growled Long Ax. “Or a fool. It takes little to make a fool laugh—”
But Sleepy Hawk was not listening. He was watching the leader of the Mud Dwellers and he was so startled by what that one was doing that he gave no ear to Long Ax’s words. For the Mud Dweller was smiling. At first, it was a little smile, on the mouth only, but then, as Sleepy Hawk started to laugh again, the Mud Dweller’s smile shone in his eyes, he opened his mouth and laughed as loudly as Sleepy Hawk ever did.
The two of them stood and laughed with each other while their followers looked at them uneasily and Long Ax muttered words of anger that he knew Sleepy Hawk could not hear.
Then, perhaps because his heart was warmed by his laughing, or because he was a great thinker as the later days of his life proved, Sleepy Hawk did a very strange thing. First he put his knife back in his belt, so that his left hand held nothing. Then he dropped his spear from his right hand. Mountain Bear cried out at this, but Sleepy Hawk did not listen. He stepped forward one step and raised his right hand, so that the chief of the Mud Dwellers could see that it was empty.
The Mud Dweller’s smile was now on his lips only. He looked very hard at Sleepy Hawk, then he slowly nodded his head. Then he moved his hands slowly so that the two handles of his spear came apart. In one hand, he held a spear with a sharp stone head. In the other, just a simple, harmless stick with a hook at one end. He dropped these to the ground and stepped toward Sleepy Hawk, his right hand raised.
The two of them came close together. Sleepy Hawk said a Mud Dweller word that they all knew, one that a mother uses when her child makes her smile at his play. The Mud Dweller’s smile became smaller; the young men saw that he did not like the use of that word between men. So Sleepy Hawk pointed at the young men of The People, then at the Mud Dwellers, making fearful frowns to show each of them angry at the other. Then he pointed to himself and laughed. He pointed to the Mud Dweller and laughed. He swept his arm around the air, pointing at both sides and laughing.
Then, slowly and clearly, Sleepy Hawk said his new word.
The chief of the Mud Dwellers nodded and said it after him.
“Fun—nee!” he said.
Sleepy Hawk held out his empty right hand and the Mud Dweller slowly reached out and touched Sleepy Hawk’s hand with his.
“Very funny,” answered Sleepy Hawk, grinning. Then, hoping the Mud Dweller might know the tongue of The People, he said, “I am Sleepy Hawk.”
But the Mud Dweller did not understand. He said some words, in the high bird voice of the Mud Dwellers. Nor did Sleepy Hawk understand the Mud Dweller’s words, so the two men just stood there, their right hands touching, smiling.
“Do any of you know any of the Mud Dwellers’ words among men?” asked Sleepy Hawk.
The young men shook their heads.
“Never mind. Put down your weapons.”
“Is that wise?” asked Mountain Bear.
“It is. Put them down.”
So all the young men except Long Ax lowered their spears and put their knives and axes in their belts.
“Long Ax! I command you—” Sleepy Hawk began, but the chief of the Mud Dwellers turned his head and said a few words to his followers and they, slowly, took apart their two—handled spears and set them on the ground and those that had knives in their hands put these back in their belts. So Long Ax, too, let his weapon rest on the ground.
While their men stood, not at peace, but not ready for war, the two chiefs made talk with their hands; and after a while Sleepy Hawk nodded many times and turned to his followers and said, “Now we may go. With no spears in our backs. I have his promise.”
“What is that worth!” cried Long Ax. “I do not turn my back on an enemy.”
“Stay here, then,” answered Sleepy Hawk. He himself waved at the Mud Dweller, turned and took a step back toward the upward trail.
Then he stopped, so suddenly that Mountain Bear, who was behind him, bumped into Sleepy Hawk.
“What is the matter with you?” cried Mountain Bear.
“Let us stay a little longer. I want one of those spears.”
Sleepy Hawk looked again at the Mud Dweller, smiled, and very slowly, took the knife from his belt. The Mud Dweller frowned, but made no move when he saw that Sleepy Hawk held the knife by its blade and offered it to him.
