Piper in the Woods - 2

himself crossing a dry meadow, the grass and weeds burned brown in the
sun. Insects buzzed around him, rising up from the dry weed-stalks.
Something scuttled ahead, hurrying through the undergrowth. He caught
sight of a grey ball with many legs, scampering furiously, its antennae
weaving.
The meadow ended at the bottom of a hill. He was going up, now, going
higher and higher. Ahead of him an endless expanse of green rose, acres
of wild growth. He scrambled to the top finally, blowing and panting,
catching his breath.
He went on. Now he was going down again, plunging into a deep gully.
Tall ferns grew, as large as trees. He was entering a living Jurassic
forest, ferns that stretched out endlessly ahead of him. Down he went,
walking carefully. The air began to turn cold around him. The floor of
the gully was damp and silent; underfoot the ground was almost wet.
He came out on a level table. It was dark, with the ferns growing up on
all sides, dense growths of ferns, silent and unmoving. He came upon a
natural path, an old stream bed, rough and rocky, but easy to follow.
The air was thick and oppressive. Beyond the ferns he could see the side
of the next hill, a green field rising up.
Something grey was ahead. Rocks, piled-up boulders, scattered and
stacked here and there. The stream bed led directly to them. Apparently
this had been a pool of some kind, a stream emptying from it. He climbed
the first of the boulders awkwardly, feeling his way up. At the top he
paused, resting again.
As yet he had had no luck. So far he had not met any of the natives. It
would be through them that he would find the mysterious Pipers that were
stealing the men away, if such really existed. If he could find the
natives, talk to them, perhaps he could find out something. But as yet
he had been unsuccessful. He looked around. The woods were very silent.
A slight breeze moved through the ferns, rustling them, but that was
all. Where were the natives? Probably they had a settlement of some
sort, huts, a clearing. The asteroid was small; he should be able to
find them by nightfall.
* * * * *
He started down the rocks. More rocks rose up ahead and he climbed them.
Suddenly he stopped, listening. Far off, he could hear a sound, the
sound of water. Was he approaching a pool of some kind? He went on
again, trying to locate the sound. He scrambled down rocks and up rocks,
and all around him there was silence, except for the splashing of
distant water. Maybe a waterfall, water in motion. A stream. If he found
the stream he might find the natives.
The rocks ended and the stream bed began again, but this time it was
wet, the bottom muddy and overgrown with moss. He was on the right
track; not too long ago this stream had flowed, probably during the
rainy season. He went up on the side of the stream, pushing through the
ferns and vines. A golden snake slid expertly out of his path. Something
glinted ahead, something sparkling through the ferns. Water. A pool. He
hurried, pushing the vines aside and stepping out, leaving them behind.
He was standing on the edge of a pool, a deep pool sunk in a hollow of
grey rocks, surrounded by ferns and vines. The water was clear and
bright, and in motion, flowing in a waterfall at the far end. It was
beautiful, and he stood watching, marveling at it, the undisturbed
quality of it. Untouched, it was. Just as it had always been, probably.
As long as the asteroid existed. Was he the first to see it? Perhaps. It
was so hidden, so concealed by the ferns. It gave him a strange feeling,
a feeling almost of ownership. He stepped down a little toward the
water.
And it was then he noticed her.
The girl was sitting on the far edge of the pool, staring down into the
water, resting her head on one drawn-up knee. She had been bathing; he
could see that at once. Her coppery body was still wet and glistening
with moisture, sparkling in the sun. She had not seen him. He stopped,
holding his breath, watching her.
She was lovely, very lovely, with long dark hair that wound around her
shoulders and arms. Her body was slim, very slender, with a supple grace
to it that made him stare, accustomed as he was to various forms of
anatomy. How silent she was! Silent and unmoving, staring down at the
water. Time passed, strange, unchanging time, as he watched the girl.
Time might even have ceased, with the girl sitting on the rock staring
into the water, and the rows of great ferns behind her, as rigid as if
they had been painted there.
All at once the girl looked up. Harris shifted, suddenly conscious of
himself as an intruder. He stepped back. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm
from the Garrison. I didn't mean to come poking around."
She nodded without speaking.
"You don't mind?" Harris asked presently.
"No."
So she spoke Terran! He moved a little toward her, around the side of
the pool. "I hope you don't mind my bothering you. I won't be on the
asteroid very long. This is my first day here. I just arrived from
Terra."
She smiled faintly.
"I'm a doctor. Henry Harris." He looked down at her, at the slim coppery
body, gleaming in the sunlight, a faint sheen of moisture on her arms
and thighs. "You might be interested in why I'm here." He paused. "Maybe
you can even help me."
She looked up a little. "Oh?"
"Would you like to help me?"
She smiled. "Yes. Of course."
"That's good. Mind if I sit down?" He looked around and found himself a
flat rock. He sat down slowly, facing her. "Cigarette?"
"No."
"Well, I'll have one." He lit up, taking a deep breath. "You see, we
have a problem at the Garrison. Something has been happening to some of
the men, and it seems to be spreading. We have to find out what causes
it or we won't be able to run the Garrison."
* * * * *
He waited for a moment. She nodded slightly. How silent she was! Silent
and unmoving. Like the ferns.
"Well, I've been able to find out a few things from them, and one very
interesting fact stands out. They keep saying that something
called--called The Pipers are responsible for their condition. They say
the Pipers taught them--" He stopped. A strange look had flitted across
her dark, small face. "Do you know the Pipers?"
She nodded.
Acute satisfaction flooded over Harris. "You do? I was sure the natives
would know." He stood up again. "I was sure they would, if the Pipers
really existed. Then they do exist, do they?"
"They exist."
Harris frowned. "And they're here, in the woods?"
"Yes."
"I see." He ground his cigarette out impatiently. "You don't suppose
there's any chance you could take me to them, do you?"
"Take you?"
"Yes. I have this problem and I have to solve it. You see, the Base
Commander on Terra has assigned this to me, this business about the
Pipers. It has to be solved. And I'm the one assigned to the job. So
it's important to me to find them. Do you see? Do you understand?"
She nodded.
"Well, will you take me to them?"
The girl was silent. For a long time she sat, staring down into the
water, resting her head against her knee. Harris began to become
impatient. He fidgeted back and forth, resting first on one leg and
then on the other.
"Well, will you?" he said again. "It's important to the whole Garrison.
What do you say?" He felt around in his pockets. "Maybe I could give you
something. What do I have...." He brought out his lighter. "I could give
you my lighter."
The girl stood up, rising slowly, gracefully, without motion or effort.
Harris' mouth fell open. How supple she was, gliding to her feet in a
single motion! He blinked. Without effort she had stood, seemingly
without _change_. All at once she was standing instead of sitting,
standing and looking calmly at him, her small face expressionless.
"Will you?" he said.
"Yes. Come along." She turned away, moving toward the row of ferns.
Harris followed quickly, stumbling across the rocks. "Fine," he said.
"Thanks a lot. I'm very interested to meet these Pipers. Where are you
taking me, to your village? How much time do we have before nightfall?"
The girl did not answer. She had entered the ferns already, and Harris
quickened his pace to keep from losing her. How silently she glided!
"Wait," he called. "Wait for me."
The girl paused, waiting for him, slim and lovely, looking silently
back.
He entered the ferns, hurrying after her.
* * * * *
"Well, I'll be damned!" Commander Cox said. "It sure didn't take you
long." He leaped down the steps two at a time. "Let me give you a hand."
Harris grinned, lugging his heavy suitcases. He set them down and
breathed a sigh of relief. "It isn't worth it," he said. "I'm going to
give up taking so much."
"Come on inside. Soldier, give him a hand." A Patrolman hurried over and
took one of the suitcases. The three men went inside and down the
corridor to Harris' quarters. Harris unlocked the door and the Patrolman
deposited his suitcase inside.
"Thanks," Harris said. He set the other down beside it. "It's good to be
back, even for a little while."
"A little while?"
"I just came back to settle my affairs. I have to return to Y-3 tomorrow
morning."
"Then you didn't solve the problem?"
"I solved it, but I haven't _cured_ it. I'm going back and get to work
right away. There's a lot to be done."
"But you found out what it is?"
"Yes. It was just what the men said. The Pipers."
"The Pipers do exist?"
"Yes." Harris nodded. "They do exist." He removed his coat and put it
over the back of the chair. Then he went to the window and let it down.
Warm spring air rushed into the room. He settled himself on the bed,
leaning back.
"The Pipers exist, all right--in the minds of the Garrison crew! To the
crew, the Pipers are real. The crew created them. It's a mass hypnosis,
a group projection, and all the men there have it, to some degree."
"How did it start?"
"Those men on Y-3 were sent there because they were skilled,
highly-trained men with exceptional ability. All their lives they've
been schooled by complex modern society, fast tempo and high integration
between people. Constant pressure toward some goal, some job to be done.
"Those men are put down suddenly on an asteroid where there are natives
living the most primitive of existence, completely vegetable lives. No
concept of goal, no concept of purpose, and hence no ability to plan.
The natives live the way the animals live, from day to day, sleeping,
picking food from the trees. A kind of Garden-of-Eden existence, without
struggle or conflict."
"So? But--"
"Each of the Garrison crew sees the natives and _unconsciously_ thinks
of his own early life, when he was a child, when _he_ had no worries, no
responsibilities, before he joined modern society. A baby lying in the
sun.
"But he can't admit this to himself! He can't admit that he might _want_
to live like the natives, to lie and sleep all day. So he invents The
Pipers, the idea of a mysterious group living in the woods who trap him,
lead him into their kind of life. Then he can blame _them_, not himself.
They 'teach' him to become a part of the woods."
"What are you going to do? Have the woods burned?"
"No." Harris shook his head. "That's not the answer; the woods are
harmless. The answer is psychotherapy for the men. That's why I'm going
right back, so I can begin work. They've got to be made to see that the
Pipers are inside them, their own unconscious voices calling to them to
give up their responsibilities. They've got to be made to realize that
there are no Pipers, at least, not outside themselves. The woods are
harmless and the natives have nothing to teach anyone. They're primitive
savages, without even a written language. We're seeing a psychological
projection by a whole Garrison of men who want to lay down their work
and take it easy for a while."
The room was silent.
"I see," Cox said presently. "Well, it makes sense." He got to his feet.
"I hope you can do something with the men when you get back."
"I hope so, too," Harris agreed. "And I think I can. After all, it's
just a question of increasing their self-awareness. When they have that
the Pipers will vanish."
Cox nodded. "Well, you go ahead with your unpacking, Doc. I'll see you
at dinner. And maybe before you leave, tomorrow."
"Fine."
* * * * *
Harris opened the door and the Commander went out into the hall. Harris
closed the door after him and then went back across the room. He looked
out the window for a moment, his hands in his pockets.
It was becoming evening, the air was turning cool. The sun was just
setting as he watched, disappearing behind the buildings of the city
surrounding the hospital. He watched it go down.
Then he went over to his two suitcases. He was tired, very tired from
his trip. A great weariness was beginning to descend over him. There
were so many things to do, so terribly many. How could he hope to do
them all? Back to the asteroid. And then what?
He yawned, his eyes closing. How sleepy he was! He looked over at the
bed. Then he sat down on the edge of it and took his shoes off. So much
to do, the next day.
He put his shoes in the corner of the room. Then he bent over,
unsnapping one of the suitcases. He opened the suitcase. From it he took
a bulging gunnysack. Carefully, he emptied the contents of the sack out
on the floor. Dirt, rich soft dirt. Dirt he had collected during his
last hours there, dirt he had carefully gathered up.
When the dirt was spread out on the floor he sat down in the middle of
it. He stretched himself out, leaning back. When he was fully
comfortable he folded his hands across his chest and closed his eyes. So
much work to do--But later on, of course. Tomorrow. How warm the dirt
was....
He was sound asleep in a moment.


Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Imagination: Stories of Science and
Fantasy_ February 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any
evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without
note.