Is That What People Do? by Robert Sheckley Page A

the spaceship’s monotonous provisions.
    On the periphery of the crowd, Danton saw several men with rifles and ammunition belts. They were evidently on guard, keeping close watch on the jungle and glancing apprehensively overhead at the darkening sky.
    Simeon raised his hands. There was immediate silence.
    “Friends,” the military leader orated, “we have come at last to our long-awaited home! Behold, here is a land of milk and honey, a place of bounty and abundance. Was it not worth the long voyage, the constant danger, the endless search?”
    “Yes, brother!” the people responded.
    Simeon held up his hands again for silence. “No civilized man has settled upon this planet. We are the first and therefore the place is ours. But there are perils, my friends! Who knows what strange monsters the jungle hides?”
    “Nothing larger than a chipmunk,” Danton muttered to himself. “Why don’t they ask me? I’d tell them.”
    “Who knows what leviathan swims in the deep?” Simeon continued. “We do know one thing: There is an aboriginal people here, naked and savage, undoubtedly cunning, ruthless and amoral, as aboriginals always are. Of course we must beware. We will live in peace with them, if they will let us. We will bring to them the fruits of civilization and the flowers of culture. They may profess friendship, but always remember this, friends: No one can tell what goes on in a savage heart. Their standards are not ours; their morals are not ours. We cannot trust them; we must be forever on guard. And if in doubt, we must shoot first! Remember Lan II!”
    Everybody applauded, sang a hymn, and began their evening meal. As night fell, searchlights came on from the ship, making the beach bright as day. The sentries paced up and down, shoulders hunched nervously, rifles ready.
    Danton watched the settlers shake out their sleeping bags and retire under the bulge of the ship. Even their fear of sudden attack couldn’t force them to spend another night inside the ship, when there was fresh air to breathe outside.
    The great orange moon of New Tahiti was half-hidden by highflying night clouds. The sentries paced and swore, and moved closer together for mutual comfort and protection. They began firing at the jungle sounds and blasting at shadows.
    Danton crept back into the jungle. He retired for the night behind a tree, where he would be safe from stray bullets. This evening had not seemed the time for straightening things out. The Hutters were too jumpy. It would be better, he decided, to handle the matter by daylight, in a simple, straightforward, reasonable fashion.
    The trouble was, the Hutters hardly seemed reasonable.
    In the morning, though, everything looked more promising. Danton waited until the Hutters had finished their breakfast, then strolled into view at the edge of the beach.
    “Halt!” every one of the sentries barked.
    “That savage is back!” called a settler.
    “Mummy,” cried a little boy, “don’t let the nasty bad man eat me!”
    “Don’t worry, dear,” the boy’s mother said. “Your father has a rifle for shooting savages.”
    Simeon rushed out of the spaceship and glared at Danton. “All right, you! Come forward!”
    Danton stepped gingerly across the beach, his skin tingling with nervous expectation. He walked to Simeon, keeping his empty hands in sight.
    “I am the leader of these people,” Simeon said, speaking very slowly, as if to a child. “I the big chief fella. You big fella chief your people?”
    “There’s no need to talk that way,” Danton said. “I can hardly understand you. I told you yesterday that I haven’t any people. There’s just me.”
    Simeon’s hard face grew white with anger. “Unless you’re honest with me, you’re going to regret it. Now—where is your tribe?”
    “I’m an Earthman,” Danton yelled. “Are you deaf? Can’t you hear how I talk?”
    A stooped little man with white hair and great horn-rimmed glasses came over with Jedekiah.