The doctor and I looked in the direction indicated and speedily realized that the superiority of the dwellers on Mars extended to the sense of sight, for we could see nothing. But we were sailing so swiftly that the shore we were approaching was before very long brought within our vision also, and among the alert crew, who were now preparing to bring the vessel into its harbor, there could be none so interested in what was to come as the doctor and myself. We were to see what had been accomplished by a race of whose perfections we had been hearing so much.
As we effected a landing and walked up the streets of the city, we were not nearly so much impressed with the size and beauty of the buildings and the appearance of the people as we were by the spirit of absolute peace and quiet which prevailed. With perfect skill, and without noise or bustle, the ship was brought to its dock and the crew went ashore. The screams and calls, the rattle of vehicles and the babel of sounds we had been accustomed to on such occasions, were all missing. The silence and order were almost oppressive because they were so strange. But there was no lack of activity among the immense creatures who thronged around us. Everyone was busy, knowing apparently just what to do without direction from others, and just the best way to do it. Beings with lungs powerful enough to wake the mountain echoes went about with mild and tuneful voices, and, though each one seemed possessed of a giant’s strength, no severe labor was required of any.
The streets and walks were paved with a soft material, yielding slightly to pressure, but so firm and tough that it showed no sign of wear, an ideal pavement, over which the wheels rolled as noiselessly as they would over a velvet carpet. It was, moreover, laid in beautiful patterns of the most varied colors. The vehicles, of which there were many kinds for different uses, were so faultlessly made that they moved with the utmost quiet and apparent ease, the power that propelled them being invisible. There were no tracks or wires, but all were guided in any direction and with any speed at the pleasure of the riders.
Thorwald led me from the vessel, and another stalwart son of Mars took charge of the doctor. After walking a few steps up the street we all stepped into an empty carriage without saying as much as “by your leave,” Thorwald touched a button, and we were off.
“This,” said Thorwald, “is one of the best illustrations of the manner in which we are applying electricity. You saw them also unloading the heavy freight from the boat by the same power. So all our work is done. No fleshly limb is strained, no conscious life is burdened, by any of the labor of our complex society. This subtle force is so well controlled and its laws are so thoroughly understood that it is equal to every demand.”
“I am entranced, Thorwald,” said the doctor, “with everything I see. But I would like to ask if you own this comfortable carriage and had it sent to the wharf to meet you.”
“I own it,” our friend replied, “just as I own the street we are riding over or the house I live in. I own this or any other vehicle whenever I desire to use it. You saw a great number of carriages near the wharf, and there are several over on that corner. Anyone is at perfect liberty to appropriate one to his own use at any time, and when he is through he merely leaves it at a convenient place by the roadside for some one else to take.”
“I should think they would be stolen,” said I. Thorwald laughed at my ignorance and answered: “Why, who is there to steal when everybody, either friend or stranger, can use them as often and as long as he likes?”
The talk promised to grow more interesting still, but now our attention was turned to the delightful scene through which we were passing. It will be utterly impossible to describe the beauty of the landscape, where nature and art seemed to be striving to outdo each other. Before reaching land I had imagined that the houses, if they were to be proportioned to the inhabitants, must pierce the sky. But we were surprised to find that they were all comparatively low, of not more than two or three stories. And all, even those near the wharf, were surrounded with ample grounds. Some of the houses were larger than others, some more ornate than their neighbors, and the architecture varied as much as the size and arrangement of the grounds. But all were beautiful beyond description. One thing that appeared very strange to us was that the prevailing color of the vegetation was red, although that shade did not predominate as much as green does on the earth. For instance, after we had admired a stretch of lawn brilliant as a crimson sky, we would come to another which would surprise and please us with a lovely shade of blue. Still another was green, and then one glowed with a variety of colors, whose combination showed a most refined taste. As with the grass, so it was with the foliage of the trees. The richest tints of our autumnal forests were here present in permanence, but with a much greater wealth of coloring. Flowers, too, of every hue and form were to be seen on all sides, and their appearance was so perfectly natural that if they had been set with design then the art itself had concealed the art of their arrangement.
With all this mass of color there were no unpleasant contrasts, no discordant tones. As, amid the bustle of the landing place, our ears had not been shocked with rude noises, so now we received through our eyes only a delightful sense of quiet beauty.
Riding, now slowly and now more rapidly, through such a scene, we could think of nothing better to question our friend about, so the doctor found his voice and said:
“This far surpasses our anticipations, Thorwald, and I am sure this place must be exceptional, even on Mars. I suppose it is a resort where some of your wealthy people have built themselves homes in which to enjoy their leisure months.”
“Nothing of the kind,” replied Thorwald. “These people live here all the year, they are not wealthy, and there is nothing to distinguish this city above others.”
“Why, this seems more like a private park than a city. Where are your crowded streets and houses for the poor?”
“After all I have told you of our high civilization, Doctor, do you not understand that we have long since abolished poverty?”
“Yes,” answered the doctor, “I understand that in a general way; but I did not suppose everybody was rich, as it is certain everybody must be to own such palaces as these.”
“You are still wrong,” said Thorwald. “We have no such distinctions as rich and poor. All our cities are of this character, only there is great variety in the residences and in the way in which the streets and lots are laid out. These places that we are passing are inferior to many, but no houses are built that are at all mean or uncomfortable. Indeed, I think we have to-day passed some of the poorest that I know of. As to the word city, we use it only as a convenient expression. It really means nothing more than a certain locality, for, as I told you at the beginning of our conversation, we have no need of government of any kind. In some sections one city runs into another, so that the whole country is filled with the beauty and delight of the landscape which you see about you.”
“But,” asked the doctor, “with the population spread out in this marvelous way, is there room for everybody?”
“Oh, yes,” answered Thorwald. “All the surface of our planet is brought into use; the waste places are reclaimed, and there is abundant room for all. And now, as this pleasant air and easy motion seem to be agreeable to you, we may as well ride slowly for a while longer.
“In your intercourse with us you will find it is never necessary for us to hurry when, for any good reason, we choose to loiter, and, therefore, if you care to hear me talk, I will take the time to correct another wrong impression you seem to have.
“You spoke, Doctor, about the people owning these houses. No one owns them.”
“Do they belong to the state?” asked the doctor.
“There is no state.”
“Well, this is a curious condition of affairs,” resumed the doctor. “Here is valuable property belonging to no one and no government to claim it. I should think anyone that happened along could take possession.”
“Now you are right,” said Thorwald. “That is just the state of the case. It is with houses and all other property as I told you it was with this carriage. All the right one has to any object is the right to use it. Everything that has been produced by art and skill is just as free as the bounties of nature, such as air and water and land, which of course no one would ever dream of subjecting to private ownership.”
The doctor winced as he heard Thorwald include land among these free bounties of nature, and the expression of his face did not escape the quick eye of the Martian, who exclaimed:
“So you earth-dwellers are still in the habit of buying and selling land, are you?”
“That was the practice when we left home,” replied the doctor. “And I cannot understand how we can do differently. Your views of property are so strange to us that I am sure my companion will join me in asking you to explain them more fully.”
“I certainly do,” I said.
“Property,” began Thorwald, “we do not have, but we have many of the rights of proprietorship in the things we use from time to time. And what other benefit than the free use of what we need could be derived from the possession of things? Suppose I, for example, owned a thousand acres of land and a hundred fine mansions. I could cultivate but a small part of the land and occupy but one house at a time, and of what value would the remainder be?”
“Would not such palaces as these on this beautiful street bring a good rent?” I inquired.
“Don’t be stupid,” replied Thorwald good-naturedly. “You must know by this time that we are not a race of self-seekers, each one taking advantage of the necessity of his neighbor. But I suppose it is difficult for you to appreciate a state of society in which each individual considers the feelings and needs of others as much as his own. With us this principle is not preached any more, but it is actually practiced in all our affairs.”
“I will try to keep that in mind,” I said, “although it is a fact I can hardly realize. But about this matter of houses I want to make another inquiry. After you have become established in a beautiful home to which you have no more right than anyone else, what is to prevent some other man (I use the word for convenience) coming forward and asking you to give it up to him?”
“Nothing,” answered Thorwald. “In such a case I should immediately move out and let him have it, knowing he must be entirely unselfish in the matter and that there must be some sufficient reason for the request.”
“But would you go to all the trouble of moving without even knowing his reason?”
“Yes, I would do it to accommodate him, but then the trouble would be nothing. We would merely have to go out and take another house.”
“But would you not have to move all the furniture?”
“Oh, no. We could take anything we pleased, of course, but it is not usual to make radical changes. Another house would contain all that was desirable. As a matter of fact, however, such removals are by no means frequent. We usually remain in one place and acquire all the tender associations of home which could be possible under any system. But if a family should increase so that it would be better for them to take a larger house, they could easily find one, or if not they would ask those who are fond of that work to build one to their taste. The moment a thing is made or produced it belongs to the general store, to be used by any and all who need it.”
“Under such conditions,” said I, “what we call the eighth commandment would be superfluous.”
“If that refers to theft,” answered Thorwald, “you are certainly right, for it is impossible to steal where everything is free.
“It will be well for you to understand how happily we have solved this question of property, but of course we could not have found such a solution until we had first reached a high spiritual plane and learned the lesson of true brotherhood. From your words I know just about the point in our development which corresponds with the present state of your race, and therefore I know something of the nature of the struggle through which the earth is now passing. I warn you that the unrestricted right of private ownership is a menace to your civilization, all the greater because its evil is probably not clearly seen. We are assured by our historians, who try to point out the causes for all the great convulsions in our career, that excessive individualism in property rights, with its selfish disregard of others, was a potent factor in the downfall of many of the enlightened nations of our antiquity. We have noticed that even our animals have the instinct of possession, and it is certain that the love of ownership and accumulation has been one of the hardest evils to eradicate from our naturally selfish nature. If you should ever return to the earth, do not neglect to signal for this danger.”
“But what is the remedy?” asked the doctor. “The system of which you have been speaking might be called the mainspring of our society. I can hardly imagine what we should be without it. With our note of warning, what message of help will you send?”
“Doctor,” answered Thorwald, “it pleases me to hear you ask that question, and I am rejoiced also that I have so good an answer for you. The remedy is to be found in the law of love. Follow that law as closely as possible. The way will be hard, the progress slow, but every step taken will be a solid advance. It is the only safe road, and you will find that every other will lead to disappointment and disaster.”
enthusiasm and positiveness that our respect for him increased rapidly.
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