“Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t guard the whole length of the canal.”
“Exactly,” said the farmer. “So someone who was a slacker would have the same benefit from the canal as the others, but without the cost.”
“I have to admit that,” said the hodja.
“So everyone who is good at numbers will try to shirk his duty. One day it’ll be a lame donkey. Another day someone’s boy will have a cough. And then someone’s wife will be ill, and the boy and the donkey will be needed to fetch the doctor. But in our village, everyone is good at numbers, so everyone will try to get out of doing his share. And since every one of us knows that the others won’t pitch in, no one will send his donkey and his boy to work. So the canal won’t even be started.”
“I have to admit that your arguments sound very convincing,” said the hodja. He brooded for a while, then he suddenly called out, “But I know a village on the other side of the mountains that had exactly the same problem as you have. But they’ve had a canal for twenty years.”
“Right,” said the farmer, “but they aren’t good at numbers.”
The Strange War
On a foreign planet or in another time, there were once two countries called Over Here and Over There. There were also other countries, like Next Door and Far Away, but this story is about Over Here and Over There.
One day the High and Mighty of Over Here gave a speech to his citizens. He said that the nation of Over Here was being pressured by the nation of Over There and that the Over Herians could no longer sit idly by and watch the nation of Over There use its borders to push and confine the nation of Over Here.
“They are situated so close to us that we don’t even have a place to catch our breaths!” he shouted. “We’re so cramped we can hardly move. They’re not prepared to move even an inch to give us some space, to grant us a little freedom of movement. But if they don’t feel like doing even that little bit for us, then we’ll just have to force them to.
We don’t want war. If it were up to us, there would be everlasting peace. But I’m afraid it’s not up to us. If they aren’t prepared to move over a little with their country, then they’re going to force us into war. But we won’t allow a war to be forced upon us. Not us! We won’t permit them to force us to sacrifice ours sons senselessly, so that our women will become widows, our children orphans! That’s why we have to break the power of Over There before they force us to start a war. And that’s why, fellow citizens, in order to defend ourselves, in order to protect the peace, in order to save our children, I hereby formally declare war on the nation of Over There!”
The confused Over Herians first looked at one another. Then they looked at their High and Mighty. And then they looked at the special police troops with their armored helmets and exterminator-laser blasters. They were standing around the town square and were applauding enthusiastically and shouting, “Long live the High and Mighty! Down with the Over Therians!”
And the war began.
On that very day, the army of the Over Herians crossed the border. It was a powerful sight. The armored vehicles looked like giant iron dragon fish. They crushed everything that got in their way. They could fire grenades out of their canon tubes that tore everything apart, and they could spew poison gases that annihilated everyone. Each one left behind it a 100-yard wide death zone.
In front of them lay a beautiful green forest, and behind them lay nothing.
The sky became dark where the planes were flying, and people standing beneath, fell on their faces, the noise alone filling them with terror. And where the shadow fell, there also fell the bombs.
Between the giant planes in the sky and the armored vehicles on the ground, swarms of helicopters buzzed, like tiny, wicked mosquitoes. The soldiers, however, looked like fighting steel robots in their armored suits that made them invulnerable to bullets, gas, poison, and bacteria.
In their hands they carried heavy individual combat weapons that could spray deadly shells or laser rays that melted everything in their paths.
This is how the unstoppable army of Over Here advanced, ruthlessly intending to crush every enemy. But strangely they found no enemy.
On the first day the army advanced ten kilometers into enemy territory, on the second, twenty. On the third day they crossed the big river. Everywhere they found only abandoned villages, harvested fields, deserted factories, empty warehouses. “They’re hiding, and when we’re past them, they’ll attack us from behind!” shouted the High and Mighty. “Search all the haylofts and all the manure piles!”
The soldiers poked through the manure piles, but the only thing they found in the process were piles of identification papers: driver’s licenses, birth certificates, and passports, shot records, school records; receipts for payment of dog licenses and cable TV, and hundreds of other documents. And the photographs had been torn out of the documents that required photo identification. Nobody could tell what all that meant.
A big problem was that the road signs showing directions had been pulled up or turned in the wrong direction or painted over. But some of them were correct, so that you couldn’t even depend on them being wrong. Soldiers kept getting lost, whole companies were unable to find their way, divisions went astray, and many a deserted general cursed and sent motorcycle drivers in every direction to look for his soldiers. The High and Mighty had to call up surveyors and geography teachers so that the conquered country could be properly mapped.
On the fourth day of the campaign, the soldiers of Over Here took their first prisoner. He wasn’t a soldier, but a civilian who had been found in a wood with a mushroom basket over his shoulder. The High and Mighty ordered the man to be brought to him personally for an interrogation. The prisoner said his name was John Smith and that his profession was mushroom gatherer. He said he had lost his ID and that he didn’t know where the Over Therian army was.
In the next few days, the army of Over Here arrested several thousand civilians. All of them were called John or Jane Smith, and none of them had any identification papers. The High and Mighty seethed.
Finally the army of Over Here occupied their first large city. Everywhere soldiers could be seen painting street names on walls. They had had to have the city maps sent by the secret service. Of course, because of the rush, there were many mistakes, and some streets were named one thing on the right side of the street and something else on the left side and one thing on the upper end of the street and something else on the lower end.
Companies of soldiers were constantly wandering around the city aimlessly, in front of them a cursing sergeant with a city map in his hand. In general nothing worked in the city. The power plant wasn’t operating and neither was the gas company or the telephone company. Nothing worked.
The High and Mighty immediately announced that going on strike was prohibited and that everybody had to go to work without delay.
And the people went to the factories and offices, but still nothing was working. When the soldiers went there and asked, “Why isn’t anybody working here?” the people said, “the engineer is not here” or “the chief technician is not here” or “Mrs. so and so, the director is not here.”
But how was Mrs. so and so the director to be found when every woman was called Jane Smith? The High and Mighty announced that those who didn’t use their correct names and titles would be shot. So the Over Therians no longer called themselves Smith but used any old name, but what good was that?
The farther the army advanced into the country the more difficult everything became. Pretty soon they weren’t able to round up any fresh food for the soldiers; everything had to be brought in from Over Here. The railroad didn’t work; the railroaders were either standing around or mindlessly driving the engines back and forth. The conductors couldn’t decide who should be in charge of which coach, and naturally all the bosses who knew how things were supposed to work had disappeared. No one could find them.
Nobody did anything to harm the soldiers. So soon they became careless, wa
lking around with open visors on their armored helmets and chatting with the people. And the people from Over There, who were hiding everything edible from the army’s confiscation commandos, shared what little food they had with individual soldiers or traded fresh lettuce or homemade cake for canned food. The soldiers had plenty of canned food and they were frankly sick and tired of it.
When the High and Mighty found out about it, he flew into a rage, almost foaming at the mouth, and he issued an order forbidding all soldiers to leave their quarters except when out on patrol with their units. The soldiers didn’t like that at all.
Finally the army occupied the capital of Over There. But here, too, everything was like everywhere in this country. There were no street signs, no house numbers, and no family names on the doors. There were no directors, engineers, chief technicians, no policemen and no public officials. The government agencies were empty, and all the files had disappeared. No one knew where the national administration was.
The High and Mighty decided that he would finally have to get ruthless. He announced that all adults would be required to go to their factories and offices. Whoever stayed home would be shot.
Then he himself went to the power plant and ordered all soldiers and officers who, at home, had had something to do with