by Philip K. Dick
Adapted to chat story format by Captivated Chat
Captain Franco: What’s the matter? You’re getting paid for all this.
The Optus: I’m just sad that I must leave your lovely spaceship and get back to my assignment.
Captain: Don’t go off. I’m not finished with you yet! Stop slouching and acting so morose!
The Optus: As you know, I must organize new hunts for more native animals.
Captain: Why not? You people can go out into the veldt and track it all down. But if we run out halfway between here and Earth–
Optus: I know, I don’t want that! So I am off to work, then!
Captain: And you: how’s it coming, Mister Christian?
First Mate: Not bad!
Captain: We got a bargain here!
First mate: How do you explain that?
Captain: What’s the matter with you? We need food more than they do!
First mate: I’ll see you later, then, Captain.
First Mate: If I can get up the walkway past these ostrich-y birds, that is, and into the spaceship.
Captain: My God! What’re you waltzin’ up the gangplank with, Peterson?
Peterson: I’m sorry, Captain.
Captain: What is it?
Peterson: Looks kinda like a hog, doesn’t it?
Captain: A huge one, maybe!
Peterson: It’s a wub. I got it from a native for fifty cents. He said it was a very unusual animal. Very respected.
Captain: This?
Peterson: Please don’t poke it.
Captain: That’s what you do with pigs!
Peterson: Yes sir, you’re right, it’s a pig. The natives call it a wub.
Captain: It must weigh four hundred pounds!
Peterson: No need to pull it’s tail, sir. That’s making its eyes tear up.
Captain: I just wanted to see if it was for real.
Peterson: Maybe it’s good to eat, sir.
Captain: We’ll soon find out.
* * * * Peterson: The wub has survived the take-off down in the hold.
Captain: Everything is running smoothly. So fetch the wub upstairs so we can see what manner of beast it is.
(A minute later)
Jones: Come on!
Captain: Good Lord. What is it?
Jones: Peterson says it’s a wub. It belongs to him.
Captain: What’s the matter with it? Is it going to be sick?
Peterson: I think it’s thirsty. I’ll get some water.
Jones: No wonder we had so much trouble taking off.
Peterson: See that, look at it lap it up!
Captain: Let’s have a look at it. You got this for fifty cents?
Peterson: Yes, sir. It eats almost anything. I fed it on grain and it liked that. And then potatoes, and mash, and scraps from the table, and milk. It seems to enjoy eating. After it eats, it lies down and goes to sleep.
Captain: I see. I doubt if there’s much point in fattening it up any more. It seems fat enough to me already. Where’s the cook? I want him here. I want to find out…
The wub: Really, Captain! I suggest we talk of other matters.
Captain: What was that? Just now.
Peterson: The wub, sir. It spoke.
Captain: What did it say? What did it say?
Peterson: It suggested we talk about other things.
Captain: I wonder if there’s a native inside it. Maybe we should open it up and have a look.
The wub: Oh, goodness! Is that all you people can think of, killing and cutting?
Captain: Come out of there! Whoever you are, come out! Did someone just belch?
The wub: I beg your pardon.
Jones: I don’t think there’s anyone in there.
The cook: You wanted me, Captain. What’s this thing?
Captain: This is a wub. It’s to be eaten. Will you measure it and figure out–
The wub: I think we should have a talk. I’d like to discuss this with you, Captain, if I might. I can see that you and I do not agree on some basic issues.
Captain: Come into my office.
The Cook: I wonder what the outcome will be. Well, I’ll be in the kitchen. Let me know as soon as you hear.
Jones: Sure, sure.
* * * * *The wub: You must forgive me. I’m afraid I’m addicted to various forms of relaxation. When one is as large as I–
Captain: All right. Let’s get started. You’re a wub? Is that correct?
The wub: I suppose so. That’s what they call us, the natives, I mean. We have our own term.
Captain: And you speak English? You’ve been in contact with Earthmen before?
The wub: No.
Captain: Then how do you do it?
The wub: Speak English? Am I speaking English? I’m not conscious of speaking anything in particular. I examined your mind–
Captain: My mind?
The wub: I studied the contents, especially the semantic warehouse, as I refer to it–
Captain: I see. Telepathy, of course.
The wub: We are a very old race. Very old and very ponderous. It is difficult for us to move around. You can appreciate that anything so slow and heavy would be at the mercy of more agile forms of life.
The wub: There was no use in our relying on physical defenses. How could we win? Too heavy to run, too soft to fight, too good-natured to hunt for game.
Captain: How do you live?
The wub: Plants. Vegetables. We can eat almost anything. We’re very catholic. Tolerant, eclectic, catholic. We live and let live. That’s how we’ve gotten along.
The wub: And that’s why I so violently objected to this business about having me boiled. I could see the image in your mind–most of me in the frozen food locker, some of me in the kettle, a bit for your pet cat–
Captain: So you read minds? How interesting. Anything else? I mean, what else can you do along those lines?
The wub: A few odds and ends. A nice apartment you have here, Captain. You keep it quite neat. I respect life-forms that are tidy. Some Marsutian birds are quite tidy. They throw things out of their nests and sweep them–
Captain: Indeed. But to get back to the problem–
The wub: Quite so. You spoke of dining on me. The taste, I am told, is good. A little fatty, but tender. But how can any lasting contact be established between your people and mine if you resort to such barbaric attitudes?
The wub: Eat me? Rather you should discuss questions with me, philosophy, the arts, philology.
Captain: It might interest you to know that we will be hard put to find something to eat for the next month. An unfortunate spoilage–
The wub: I know. But wouldn’t it be more in accord with your principles of democracy if we all drew straws, or something along that line? After all, democracy is to protect the minority from just such infringements. Now, if each of us casts one vote–
Captain: Nuts to you.
The wub: Then you still plan to eat me. Don’t reach for that door knob. I’m freezing you, then!
(Zap!)
* * * * *The wub: So you see, we have a common myth. Your mind contains many familiar myth symbols. Ishtar, Odysseus–
Peterson: That is a surprise. Go on. Please go on.
The wub: I find in your Odysseus a figure common to the mythology of most self-conscious races. As I interpret it, Odysseus wanders as an individual, aware of himself as such. This is the idea of separation, of separation from family and country. The process of individuation.
The wub: But Odysseus returns to his home. Finally he goes home.As must all creatures. The moment of separation is a temporary period, a brief journey of the soul. It begins, it ends. The wanderer returns to land and race–
Captain: The hero’s return can be rough.
French: Are you all right?
Peterson: Do you mean me? Why me?
Captain: Come over here, Peterson.
The wub: Go ahead. It doesn’t matter.
Peterson: What for?
Captain: It’s an order!
Peterson: Yes, sir.
French: What’s going on? What’s the matter with you?
The wub: It is interesting that you are obsessed with the idea of eating me. I wonder why.
Captain: Get up.
The wub: If you wish. Be patient. It is difficult for me.
French: Shoot it now.
Peterson: For God’s sake!
French: You didn’t see the Captain–like a statue, standing there, his mouth open. If we hadn’t come down, he’d still be there.
Peterson: But he’s all right now.
Captain: Come on, get out of the way.
The wub: You are quite afraid, aren’t you? Have I done anything to you? I am against the idea of hurting. All I have done is try to protect myself. Can you expect me to rush eagerly to my death? I am a sensible being like yourselves. I was curious to see your ship, learn about you. I suggested to the native–
The wub: It is very warm in here. Atomic powerplant must be nearby: you have done many wonderful things with it–technically. Apparently, your scientific hierarchy is not equipped to solve moral, ethical–
Captain: I’ll do it. You can watch. I try to hit the brain. It’s no good for eating. Don’t hit the chest. If the rib cage shatters, we’ll have to pick bones out.
Peterson: Listen! Has it done anything? What harm has it done? I’m asking you. And anyhow, it’s still mine. You have no right to shoot it! It doesn’t belong to you.
Captain: Do you men see where I’m aiming?
Jones: I’m going out, I feel sick. I don’t want to see it.
French: Me too.
Peterson: It was talking to me about myths. It wouldn’t hurt anyone. I’m going with Jones and French.
The wub: A very foolish thing. I am sorry that you want to do it.
The wub: There was a parable that your Saviour related–
The wub: Can you look me in the eye and do it? Can you do that?
Captain: I can look you in the eye. Back in the day we had wild hogs in our woods, dirty razor-back hogs. I can do it–
* * * * *Captain: The taste is excellent!
Peterson: You seem to be the only one enjoying himself.
Captain: More? More? And some wine, perhaps.
French: Not me. I think I’ll go back to the chart room.
Jones: Me, too. I’ll see you later.
Captain: What do you suppose the matter is?
Peterson: I can’t say. But it may be something they ate. After all, who knows how digestible this exotic meat may be, or if it contains pathogens or parasites.
Captain: Sorry, Peterson. It is only organic matter, now. The life essence is gone.
Captain: I, myself, love to eat. It is one of the greatest things that a living creature can enjoy. Eating, resting, meditation, discussing things.
Captain: Well, I must say that this was a very enjoyable meal. All the reports I had heard were quite true–the taste of wub. Very fine.
Captain: But I was prevented from enjoying this pleasure in times past.
Peterson: Uh-huh.
Captain: Come, come. Cheer up! Let’s discuss things. Be happy!
Captain: As I was saying before I was interrupted, the role of Odysseus in the myths–
Peterson: Huh? What’s that you say?
Captain: To go on, Odysseus, as I understand him– —
By Philip K. Dick
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