"Stanislaw Lem - Ijon Tichy 03 - The Futurological Congress" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lem Stanislaw)

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THE FUTUROLOGICAL CONGRESS
Stanislaw Lem
(from the memoirs of Ijon Tichy)

translated from the Polish by Michael Kandel


The Eighth World Futurological Congress was held in Costa Rica. To tell the truth, I never would
have gone to Nounas if it hadn't been for Professor Tarantoga, who gave me clearly to understand that
this was expected of me. He also saidтАФpointedlyтАФthat space travel nowadays was an escape from the
problems of Earth. That is, one took off for the stars in the hope that the worst would happen and be
done with in one's absence. And indeed I couldn't deny that more than once I had peered anxiously out
the portholeтАФespecially when returning from a long voyageтАФto see whether or not our planet resembled
a burnt potato. So I didn't argue the point with Tarantoga, but only remarked that, really, I wasn't much
of an expert on futurology. His reply was that hardly anyone knows a thing about pumping, and yet we
don't stand idly by when we hear the cry of "Man the pumps!"
The directors of the Futurological Association had chosen Costa Rica to be the site of their annual
meeting, which this year was to deal exclusively with the population explosion and possible methods of
keeping it in check. Costa Rica presently boasts the highest rate of demographic growth in the world;
presumably the force of that reality alone was to help spur our deliberations to some successful
conclusion. Though there were cynics who observed that only the new Hilton in Nounas had vacancies
enough to accommodate all the futurologists, not to mention twice again as many reporters. Inasmuch as
this hotel was completely demolished in the course of our conference, I can't be accused of making a
plug when I say that the place was absolutely first-rate. These words have particular weight, coming from
a confirmed sybarite; for indeed, it was only a sense of duty that had driven me to forsake the comforts
of home for the travail of outer space.
The Costa Rica Hilton soared one hundred and six floors upward from its flat, four-story base. On
the roof of this lower structure were tennis courts, swimming pools, solariums, racetracks,
merry-go-rounds (which simultaneously served as roulette wheels), and shooting galleries where you
could fire at absolutely anyone you likedтАФin effigyтАФprovided you put in your order twenty-four hours in
advance, and there were concert amphitheaters equipped with tear gas sprinklers in case the audience
got out of hand. I was given a room on the hundredth floor; from it I could see only the top of the bluish
brown cloud of smog that coiled about the city. Some of the hotel furnishings puzzled meтАФthe ten-foot
crowbar propped up in a corner of the jade and jasper bathroom, for example, or the khaki camouflage
cape in the closet, or the sack of hardtack under the bed. Over the tub, next to the towels, hung an
enormous spool of standard Alpine rope, and on the door was a card which I first noticed when I went
to triple-lock the super-yale. It read: "This Room Guaranteed BOMB-FREE. From the Management."
It is common knowledge that there are two kinds of scholar these days: the stationary and the
peripatetic. The stationaries pursue their studies in the traditional way, while their restless colleagues
participate in every sort of international seminar and symposium imaginable. The scholar of this second
type may be readily identified: in his lapel he wears a card bearing his name, rank and home university, in
his pocket sticks a flight schedule of arrivals and departures, and the buckle on his beltтАФas well as the
snaps on his briefcaseтАФare plastic, never metal, so as not to trigger unnecessarily the alarms of the
airport scanners that search boarding passengers for weapons. Our peripatetic scholar keeps up with the
literature of his field by studying in buses, waiting rooms, planes and hotel bars. Since I wasтАФnaturally
enoughтАФunacquainted with many of the recent customs of Earth, I set off alarms in the airports of
Bangkok, Athens and Costa Rica itself, having six amalgam fillings in my mouth. These I was planning to
replace with porcelain in Nounas, but the events that followed so unexpectedly made that quite