The Face of Heaven. Brian Stableford

      Obviously, it was the fungi and the nonphotosynthetic algae which proved most readily adaptable to the new conditions. They underwent an evolutionary renaissance with great alacrity.

      The specialists of the second stratum—the primary consumers—went the way of their diet. The generalists, however, simply reordered their personal priorities. Man had no chance at all of saving the cow, the sheep, or the hen, but he could and did save the pig.

      In the higher strata, the percentage devastation decreased serially. Secondary consumers tended to be much less particular than primaries, and had an advantage because of the relative success of some primary species. The more secondaries that were successful, the easier it became for the tertiaries. There was change in the higher regions of life’s hierarchy—of course there was change—but there was a relatively low level of extinction. In terms of appearance, change was slow but eventually drastic, but in terms of evolutionary continuity there was nothing like the cataclysmic reorganization suffered in the lower strata. Only the specialist insectivores and some of the carnivores disappeared from the scene that was visible to the naked eye. Microbiotically, things were slightly more complicated, but the principle remained the same.

      The omnivores were in no real trouble (in terms of racial survival) at any time. Any species which had survived the rigors of the second dark age was unlikely to be troubled by the roofing of the world. Man’s ancient allies the cat and the dog both survived—but independently of man. His ancient rivals, the rat and the cockroach, also survived—indeed, they thrived.

      Extinction was responsible for very few of the changes which took place in the tertiary strata. Adaptation, on the other hand, demanded that vast changes in behavioral patterns—and often vast changes in physical form—must take place.

      Under the circumstances of such a vast reorganization evolution was permitted—forced, in fact—to work very quickly indeed. The rate of evolution, not just in one or a group of species but throughout the life-system, passed into tachytelic mode.

      Evolution by natural selection can be immensely costly. In order to replace erstwhile-useful genes by now-useful genes, vast numbers of individuals in a number of generations have to die. The load on the species becomes tremendous. This demands great fecundity and the acceptance of a very high mortality rate. When unusual requirements are placed on a species the gross numbers of that species inevitably shrink. The more the numbers shrink the faster the turnover of genes proceeds. But there is a threshold beyond which the species cannot replenish itself no matter how fast its rate of evolution. At or near that threshold the evolutionary process is capable of incredible bursts of change. Below it, extinction becomes inevitable and the species dies amid a truly frantic burst of adaptive attempts. If, however, the evolutionary burst at threshold is successful in providing a whole new schema of adaptation without taking the absolute numbers of the standing population too low, the evolutionary burst is followed by a rapid increase in numbers, during which selection still continues to foster a rate of evolution faster than the “normal” horotelic mode characteristic of a stable species in a stable environment. Relatively rare species with a high degree of genetic homogeneity existing in ultra-stable environments may slip into the third mode of evolutionary pace—the bradytelic—whereby change slows down drastically and the species retains little capacity for change.

      During the thousands of years that the Euchronians were taking their Plan to ultimate completion the tachytelic evolution which embraced the entire Underworld life-system completely changed the face of the lower Earth. A few thousand years is a very brief interval in evolutionary terms but the circumstances were highly unusual, and the process was—to some extent—stimulated and guided by the efforts of mankind. Man himself was by no means immune from the changes he helped to bring about, and the human race—or races, to be strictly accurate—which survived in the Underworld were very different in many ways from the race which survived up above. Even that race—Euchronian man—underwent some evolution during the millennia of the Plan, for the circumstances of that race also necessitated a rate of change somewhat higher than horotelic.

      By the time the Euchronian Millennium began, the Underworld had slowed in its evolutionary progress. But the stable horotelic rate which was becoming characteristic of that world was by no means the same as the horotelic rate in the Overworld. In the Underworld there was still a régime of rigorous competition demanding evolutionary divergence. In addition to that there was an extra, and by no means insignificant, load imposed by the high frequency of mutation. The radiation output of the Overworld was directed downwards. Radioactive wastes were disposed of down below, and though they were carefully packaged the rate of leakage was high.

      Man—omnivorous, intelligent and at the very highest level of the biotic hierarchy—changed least of the species at that level, and even the human race suffered a tripartite sub-speciation. The species which changed most were the semi-intelligent species which had cohabited with man the concrete jungles of the age of psychosis. Such species had been under considerable adaptive pressure for some centuries before the advent of Euchronia’s Plan. Under the new régime that pressure burst the conceptual barriers which hindered mind development, and three species quickly evolved intelligence of an unusual order.

      While the Euchronians began their new life after the Plan had been brought to a successful conclusion, the people of the Underworld were still faced with a fearsome struggle for existence. While the one world settled down to embrace total stability, the other remained in a state of virtual chaos.

      Chapter 11

      The Marriage of Heaven and Hell by Carl Magner became available at all household lineprinters and the usual public outlets within a matter of minutes after the job of coding it into the cybernet was complete. The information that the book was so available took a little longer to circulate, and even then there was no mad rush to have a look at it.

      Many people misinterpreted the use of a well-known title by William Blake. It was by no means uncommon in Euchronia’s Millennium for people to write long commentaries on, and even new versions of, prehistoric literature. After all, the essence and the meaning of ancient works had changed completely in the light of brand new Euchronian perspectives, and there was an eleven-thousand-year gap in the more abstract realms of cultural studies to be intellectually bridged. The assumption that Magner’s work was intimately connected with Blake’s was not unnatural. It is entirely possible that some of the men and women who did read the book soon after publication actually misread the whole text on the basis of that presumed connection. It is not inconceivable that given a decent interval and a certain amount of wayward luck Magner might have become something of a literary phenomenon, hailed as a genius in some quarters and viciously slandered in others.

      But the avant-garde missed their chance (or Magner missed his). It was not too long before it was realized that the work stood by itself, that what it proposed was real, and that Magner actually meant what he said. This revelation caused something of a stir, but it was a stir of an entirely different kind.

      The book gave a detailed account of life in the Underworld as it was lived by the human race. The account was possessed of a strange kind of hysteria, and the images presented lacked overall coherency though they had undoubted force and individual clarity. Many readers came to the conclusion that Magner was, if nothing else, a consummate artist. The bizarre and the terrifying were not common in the literature of the Euchronian Millennium.

      The book also presented a strongly worded argument to the effect that Euchronia was guilty of extreme inhumanity In that it chose not to share its wealth with the men on the ground. Magner claimed that Euchronian civilization should not have shut the door on the Underworld when the platform became a single unit. He claimed that the opportunity to join the Movement should have been made available throughout the history of the Plan.

      He further claimed that the citizens of the Euchronian Millennium had a moral obligation to throw open the doors to the Underworld, to resume commerce with the men on the ground, to supply their needs, and to allow them—if they wished—to leave the Underworld and take their place in the sun. “We have no right whatsoever,” wrote Magner, “to deny the people of the world below the Face of Heaven.”

      Chapter 12

      It