THE UNTHINKING DESTROYER
by ROG PHILLIPS
Gordon and Harold both admittedthe possibility of thinking entities otherthan human. But would they ever recognizethe physical form of some of these beings?
"Hey, Gordon!"
Gordon Marlow, Ph.D.,straightened up and turnedin the direction of the voice, the gardentrowel dangling in his dirt-stained whitecanvas glove. His wide mouth brokeinto a smile that revealed even whiteteeth. It was Harold Harper, an undergraduatestudent, who had called.
"Hop over the fence and come in,"Gordon invited.
He dropped the trowel and, takingoff his work gloves, reached into hispocket and extracted an old pipe. Hefilled it, the welcoming smile remainingon his lips, while Harold Harper approached,stepping carefully betweenthe rows of carrots, cabbages, and cauliflower.
Harold held a newspaper in hishand. When he reached Gordon Marlowhe held it open and pointed to theheadline. ROBOT ROCKET SHIPTO MARS.
Gordon took the paper and read theitem, puffing slowly and contentedly onhis old pipe. His eyes took on an interestedlook when he came to the reporter'sspeculations on the possibilityof intelligent life on Mars.
Finally he handed the newspaperback to Harold.
"You know, Harold," he said, "Iwonder if they would recognize intelligentlife if they saw it on other planets."
"Of course they would," Harold replied."Regardless of its form therewould be artifacts that only intelligentlife could create."
"Would there?" Gordon snorted. "Iwonder."
He squatted down, picking up thetrowel and lazily poking it into therich soil at his feet.
"That's why I wonder," he continued."We are so prone to set up testson what intelligent life is that we arelikely to miss it entirely if it doesn'tconform exactly to our preconceivednotions. We assume that if a being isintelligent it must get the urge to buildartifacts of some kind—pots and vases,houses, idols, machinery, metal objects.But MUST it? In order to do so itmust have hands and perhaps legs.Suppose it doesn't have such things?Suppose that no matter how intelligentit might be, it could not do thosethings!"
"Then it wouldn't be intelligent,would it?" Harold asked, puzzled.
"We are assuming it is," Gordonsaid patiently. "There are other outletsfor intelligence than making claypots. As a last resort for an intelligentbeing there is always—thinking."
He chuckled at his joke.
Harold held a newspaper in his hands."I've often wondered what it wouldbe like to be a thinking, reasoning beingwith no powers of movement whatsoever.With bodily energy providedautomatically by environment, say,and all the days of life with nothingto do but think. What a chance for aphilosopher! What depths of thoughthe might explore. What heights ofintellectual perception he might attain.And if there were some means of contactwith others of his kind, so that allcould pool their thoughts and guide theyounger generation, what progress sucha race might make!"
"And so we see," Ont telepathed,"that there must be a Whole ofwhich each of us is a part only. Theold process which says 'I think, thereforeI am,' has its fallacy in the statement,'I think.' It assumes that thatassertion is axiomatic and basic, whenin reality it is the conclusion derivedfrom a long process of mental introspection.It is a theory rather than anaxiom."
"But don't you t