Ross Rocklynne - People of the Darkness

Nebula nominee Ross Rocklynnes awe inspiring cosmic masterpiece, People of the Darkness is a science fiction classic of vast, nebula-like beings and follows their life courses through billions from galaxy to galaxy. (The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction) Rocklynne was nominated for the Nebula in 1972 for his novelette, Ching Witch!, and People of the Darkness showcases his talents at their height. SF historian/critic Sam Moskowitz lauds Rocklynne as a successful exponent of telling the story from the viewpoint of the alien, and hails People of the Darkness as a fantasy masterpiece of intelligent spiral nebula.

In this book you will encounter one of the most amazing casts of characters in all of science fiction and not a single one is a human! You will meet Darkness, who rebelled against the ancient teachings of his people and set off on an impossible quest in search of other realms and other life. Sun Destroyer, whose delight was to demolish the solar systems other of her kind built the same way a kid kicks over someone elses sandcastle until she met Darkness. Yellow Light, offspring of Darkness and Sun Destroyer, who renewed his parents quest for other realms and beings, but whose destiny was to found a new, vital race to replace the dying People of the Darkness. And, finally, Devil Star, whose act of defiance would paradoxically make him his peoples guardian and the one to finally solved the secrets of life and death. Plus a host of other characters, Darting Green Ray, Swift, Star Dust, Great Red Sun, Dark Fire and the Oldster.

Its no wonder the Encyclopedia of Science Fiction says that Rocklynne, who specialized in space opera constructed around ingenious scientific problems, possessed one of the most interesting florid imaginations of his time, and the SF Source Book cautions his work should not be judged by the standards of his pulp contemporaries. While Ray Bradbury hailed Rocklynnes writing as Unusual and unexpected! and says, I liked People of the Darkness!

Here is how Ross Rocklynne described himself in a wartime issue of Planet Stories (May 1943), at about the time he was writing the People of the Darkness saga:

I was born February 21, 1913, in Cincinnati, Ohio. But before I explain anything else, let me account for the way the twig was bent: My earliest memories concern my fathers workshop, wherein he invented perpetual-motion machines. None of these machines ever worked, by the way. But I always waited in wide-eyed interest. It was only many years later, when, as a result of my admiration of these gadgets, I began to read science-fiction, that I was able to point out to my father the fallacies of his ambition. However, he was a die-hard (as his father was before him). And he never gave up. A peculiar commentary on this is that not so long before my fathers death, I was enthusiastically at work, collaborating with him on a perpetual-motion machine myself. I had mathematically proved that the theory was sound. We stayed in this happy state of mind for a long time, while the machine slowly grew. But long before its completion, I doubted my own arithmetic (which never had been my strong point) and busied myself drawing diagrams no one but I understood. Alas, these diagrams conclusively disproved what my mathematics had proved, and humanity was out a cheap source of power.

To get back to a chronological order, at various times in my life I have washed windows, scrubbed floors, tended guinea pigs and furnaces; worked in department stores as flunky, stock boy, supply clerk, assistant purchasing Agent; spent some interesting and instructive years at the Evening School of the University of Cincinnati, held the position of assistant editor on an Evening paper.

I have been happily married somewhat over a year, and the girl is a writer herself; which makes it about perfect, doesnt it? Since before the war, we have been to the West Coast, back East again, and have returned to California. To bring this up to date, at present we stand alone in the swollen city of Los Angeles, with virtually no permanent address, watching defense workers rush in from every direction. There is a stir in the air, a controlled excitement: Uncle Sam is rolling up his sleeves; and the date of the knock-out punch, we feel, is the only uncertainty.

Rocklynne modestly concludes: Unhappily (like a lot of other writers who find themselves writing an autobiographical sketch at the behest of a hopeful editor) my existence has been almost placid, certainly disappointing from an adventurous standpoint. In a way, though, I am happy about this. I write stories and have my adventures that way. I can only hope that the readers are happy about the situation, too.

We are sure that when you have finished People of the Darkness, you will be happy about the situation, too. (And look for Ching Witch! & Other Science Fiction Stories, the first ever collection of Ross Rocklynnes shorter work, coming soon from Renaissance E Books.)

Out in space, on the lip of the farthest galaxy and between the two star clusters, there came into being a luminiferous globe that radiated for light-years around. A life had been born!

It became aware of light; one of its visions had become activated. First it saw the innumerable suns and nebulae whose radiated energy now fed it. Beyond that it saw a dense, impenetrable darkness.

The darkness intrigued it. It could understand the stars, but the darkness it could not. The babe probed outward several light-years and met only lightlessness. It probed further, and further, but there was no light. Only after its visions could not delve deeper did it give up, but a strange seed had been sown; that there was light on the far edge of the darkness became its innate conviction.

Wonders never seemed to cease parading themselves before this newly-born. It became aware of another personality hovering near, an energy creature thirty million miles across. At its core hung a globe of subtly glowing green light one million miles in diameter.

He explored this being with his vision, and it remained still during his inspection. He felt strange forces plucking at him, forces that filled him to overflowing with peacefulness. At once, he discovered a system of energy waves having marvelous possibilities.

Who are you? these waves were able to inquire of that other life.

Softly soothing, he received answer.

I am your mother.

You mean?

You are my son my creation. I shall call you Darkness. Lie here and grow, Darkness, and when you are many times larger. I will come again.

She had vanished, swallowed untraceably by a vast spiral nebula, a cloud of swiftly twisting stardust.

He lay motionless, strange thoughts flowing. Mostly he wondered about the sea of lightlessness lapping the shore of this galaxy in which he had been born. Sometime later he wondered about life what life was, and its purpose.

Whenshe comes again, I shall ask her, he mused. Darkness, she called me Darkness!

His thoughts swung back to the darkness.

For five million years he bathed himself in the rays that permeate space. He grew. He was ten million miles in diameter.

His mother came; he saw her hurtling toward him from a far distance. She stopped close.