You Created Us
(1955)*
Fantastic Universe, October 1955
Tom Godwin

	He saw the things for the first time in the Spring of 1953. A dust storm was raging across the southern Nevada desert that night, making a roaring, swirling medium through which his headlights penetrated for a limited distance and forcing him to drive slowly despite the importance of his being in San Francisco before noon of the following day. He was a hundred miles north of Las Vegas when he saw them--suddenly caught in the illumination of his headlights as he swung around a curve.

	There were two of them, and they were leaping up the embankment onto the highway, less than a hundred feet ahead of him, and in the first instant of seeing them he thought they were huge and grotesquely misshapen men. For an instant the swirling dust partly obscured them. Then they looked toward him as they bounded across the highway, and he knew they were not men. Their eyes blazed green as no human eyes ever could.

	He was almost abreast of them as they leaped down the opposite embankment and he saw them quite clearly for a moment. They ran on two legs, as men normally would run, but they were gray and scaly things eight feet tall. They had reptilian, lizard-like faces and they ran stooped forward a little as if to balance their heavy tails.

	His tires screamed above the roar of the wind as he jammed on the brakes and reached for the spotlight control. He was beyond them when his car slowed to a stop and the beam of the spotlight finally picked them out. It was a disappointing glimpse, for it revealed only their gray backs disappearing into the windswept darkness to the west.

	He backed down the highway to the place where they had crossed, and got out with a flashlight to look at the tracks. They were still visible in the soft silt beyond the highway. Great three-toed imprints they were, clawed, with the first and fifth toes set far back, as the digits are set on the foot of a lizard.

	He absently rubbed the back of his head, which felt oddly numb, and followed the tracks for some distance out across the desert. The wind had erased them by the time he had followed them for six hundred feet and when he returned to the car, frowning uneasily, the tracks by the highway had also disappeared.

	Back in his car, he checked the mileage from Las Vegas with his map and compass. He found the lizard-things had come from the direction of the atomic bomb test site and that they had been going toward the Funeral Range, which bounded Death Valley along its eastern side in that area.

	There was a village fifteen miles from where he had halted and he stopped there for a sandwich. Two hours later, and a hundred miles farther on, the numbness which he had noticed only subconsciously, suddenly left the back of his head. With its going, the realization and fear came to him.

	He had seen things that had not existed upon earth for a hundred million years, if ever—and he had been no more than mildly interested. He had seen them at close range as his car swerved past them. He had seen the powerful bulk of them, had seen the way their jaws were lined with knife-like serrations. Either of them could have torn him into ribbons in a matter of seconds.

	Yet, knowing that, he had followed their tracks out into the darkness armed only with a flashlight. He had not been afraid and only a mindless fool would have been unafraid under such unusual circumstances.

	He had told no one in the village of what he had seen as he ate his sandwich. At the time it had seemed of little importance to him. Now, it was too late to tell them. He could not go back and say: "By the way, I forgot to mention it when I was here before. I saw a couple of creatures as large as young dinosaurs cross the highway fifteen miles south of here."

	It was not too late to inform the Army authorities, of course. But what would they think of a phone call in the middle of the night from a madman or a drunk with a wild story of lizard-monsters coming from the atomic bomb test site?

	And what if he should rick losing the promotion to superintendent of his company's San Francisco plant by driving back to the army base and telling the authorities in person what he had seen? Would they believe an incredible story which he could not prove and which would indicate that he was not sane?

	And in addition he wore a silver plate on his skull where a piece of Chinese shrapnel in Korea had almost taken his life. Would not that be enough in itself to insure that all concerned would dismiss what he had seen as a hallucination caused by the old brain injury?

	He knew it had been no hallucination. Yet he had reacted in a manner not at all normal. Why? What had dulled his mind and caused him to accept it all with merely casual interest? Had the lizards done something to him, exerted some kind of hypnotic influence over him, as snakes were said to be able to do when they preyed on small birds? Or was it that the old injury under the silver plate on his skull had manifested itself at last, and he had made the first terrifying step into insanity that night?

	Which was it?

	He had no way of knowing for sure and fear and uncertainty rode with him for the rest of the night …

	The demands of his job kept him in San Francisco for two years. During the first year he watched the papers carefully for any scoffingly skeptical reports of lizard-monsters in southern Nevada. There were none and even before the year was out he almost succeeded in forgetting what he had seen. He almost succeeded in making himself believe he had been tired and drowsy from the night driving and had been deceived by no more than two clouds of dust whipping across the highway.

	Yet there had been the green glow of their eyes in his headlights and there had been their tracks. Surely he could not have imagined the tracks! And if he had not imagined them, then the lizard-things might still be in the Funeral Range along the east side of Death Valley.

	The creatures had been going toward a particular section of the Funerals—a place on their summit called Chloride Cliff. He had once visited Chloride Cliff and he knew that a trail led down from it into Death Valley, proceeding past an old mine that had known no activity in many years.

	It occurred to him that the mine's many tunnels would be a perfect hiding place for the lizard-things—until he remembered that Chloride Cliff was a point of interest to the Death Valley winter tourist traffic. It was only a three-mile hike from the end of the dirt side-road up to the abandoned diggings and even though only a minor number of tourists would care to make the hike, it could be safely presumed that at least two or three a week would climb all the way up to the mine. Which meant that at least fifty people much have been to the mine since the night he had seen the lizards.

	He met many different people in his work and he acquired the habit of bringing Death Valley into the conversation whenever he could do so in a casual manner. A man from Los Angeles supplied the first clue unimportant though it was in itself. His informant described the various points of interest in Death Valley with a detailed and painstaking clarity: Dante's View, Scotty's Castle, Ubehebe Crater and all the other places. But of the old mine he could only say vaguely:

	"There were some tunnels there on a steep mountainside. I don't remember now what they looked like nor how many there were …"

	Later, he met a man from Oregon who told him, when he inquired about the mine: "I remember climbing up to it, but I've forgotten now just what the tunnels were like."

	A client of his firm from Ohio mentioned the mine in the same vague way, as did three young mining engineers from Colorado. The young mining engineers, even though green and inexperienced, should in obligation to their profession have observed the old workings with more than casual interest.

	Instead, they couldn't even recall the formation of the rock, although they remembered well the mines at Skidoo, Bullfrog, Rhyolite and the other old camps in that area.

	A question arose, and became an obsession with him: Were the lizards living in the tunnels and using their hypnotic powers to make people forget what they had seen?

	Then the tormenting problem of the lizards lost some of its importance as the shadow of war grew increasingly darker throughout 1955. On May 10, 1956 he received a letter from his superiors, ordering him to the east coast and saying in part:

	"With was almost certain to come within the next few months, San Francisco's vulnerability as a target area for enemy bombs makes further expansion of the San Francisco plant extremely unwise …"

	He debated only briefly about what he would do. He would go to the east coast, of course, but not before he had gone to Death Valley. He could drive his own car east, with the side trip to Death Valley taking no more than an extra day at the most. And it would be his last and only chance to learn the truth about the lizard-things …

	Death Valley was blue with haze under the warm spring sun as he rolled down the long grade from Daylight Pass, between mountains decked in the brightest of Maytime finery. To his left was the harsh, canyon-riven Funeral Range and he drove slowly after he passed the Stovepipe Wells junction so that he would not miss the dirt road he was seeking. He came to it and followed it down into the broad wash and up the long slope to the foot of the mountain.

	He parked his car near the beginning of the trail, and slipped on a light jacket—and dropped an automatic pistol in the right pocket and a small camera in the left. He hesitated a moment, and then decided that a notebook and pencil might also prove of value.

	He started up the trail then, in his growing excitement forgetting to take the key out of the car. He remembered the oversight when he was a hundred feet up, but did not turn back. The important thing was to reach the old tunnels, and to take pictures of them, even if he saw nothing. Light-and-shadow impressions on camera film would be incapable of a memory lapse and could not fade away.

	He was sweating when he reached the end of the first and steepest half of the climb. His breath came hard and panting, but he refused to stop to rest. He followed the trail in a fast walk, the mountain rearing steeply above him and the canyon wall dropping swiftly away below.

	He came first upon the old camp, where the few remaining buildings were warped with age, and the empty, crooked windows gaped vacantly. He passed the abandoned structures with hardly a glance, his attention on the steep mountainside above him where he could already see waste dumps that marked the location of the mine tunnels.

	It was impossible to fully control his impatience and he was breathing hard again when the steep trail encircled one of the dumps and the first tunnel appeared suddenly before him. He stopped in his tracks, his hand on the pistol, and studied the deserted excavation while his breathing slowed toward normal.

	There was nothing to see—only the empty, yawning, portal of the tunnel and the small, flat area of the waste dumps before it. Then, as he stood there, a wisp of a breeze stirred and brought an odor to him from the tunnel. It was, unmistakably, the odor of decaying flesh. And with it came the sensation of being watched.

	He took the camera from his pocket—the camera that would view the portal with its cold mechanical eye and record exactly what it saw. He found his hands were trembling unaccountably and his fingers had become awkward and wooden. He tried to control the trembling, fearful he would drop the camera before he could use it, and he tried at the same time to set it for the proper range.

	Suddenly the camera dropped out of his hands. He grabbed at it frantically, striking it with the side of his hand instead of catching it. It was knocked to one side by the blow, and out over the edge of the dump. It bounced once, spun outward in a wide arc and struck the rocks far below with a shattering sound.

	When he turned back toward the tunnel the lizard-thing had emerged from the shadows and was standing nine feet in front of him, watching him.

	His right hand stabbed for the pistol in his pocket while he made a split-second appraisal of the creature. It stood upright on its big, long-toed feet, towering a full two feet higher than the tunnel opening at its back. Its arms and hands were almost human in shape, though huge and scaled, and the eyes in its massive, reptilian face were regarding him with a degree of intelligence that chilled him to the core of his being.

	His fingers touched the butt of the pistol in his pocket, reached around it, and went numb and lifeless.

	He knew, then, why his hands had trembled and caused him to drop the camera and he noticed, without surprise, that the lizard had permitted his left hand to return to normal. But the right hand that gripped the pistol still remained limp and numb.

	The lizard spoke to him then, soundlessly, in his mind:

	Go to the tunnels above.

	A strange coldness seemed to be touching his brain, and he obeyed without attempting to resist. But his mind was clear and he saw something he had not noticed before—the tracks of wild burros and mountain sheep in the trail ahead of him. The tracks led only one way, toward the upper tunnels.

	He recalled with a shudder the odor of decaying flesh, and wondered if the lizards let some of the meat age, as a man might let cheese age to improve its flavor.

	There were three of them standing before the portal of one of the upper tunnels. A thought came to him from the center one as he stopped before it:

	We have been expecting you.

	He asked the question that he was sure could have but one answer:

	"Are you mutants from the atomic bomb test site?"

	Yes.

	The coldness still hovered around his mind, but he was no longer afraid, nor even nervous. For some reason they wanted him to be calm and at ease. But the coldness impinging on his brain was not enough to make him forget the importance of learning all he could about them.

	"When did it start?" he asked. "And what were you, before?"

	It began in the Spring of Nineteen fifty-two. The radiations from the bomb blast affected the eggs of an ordinary desert lizard. I and four others were the result.

	"But the two I saw crossing the highway were already grown."

	We reach the adult stage in one year.

	He wondered how they had provided themselves with food, to grow to such a size in so short a time.

	The lizard answered his unspoken question:

	The mutation created by your bomb represents evolution to the near-perfect level. We can subsist on anything organic, including all kinds of desert vegetation, even though we prefer meat.

	He wondered if there were only five of them, if they were incapable of reproduction.

	The lizard's thought came:

	We can reproduce. There are many of us in these tunnels and there will be many more when this year's eggs hatch.

	So the lizards were mutations as he had suspected from the night of his first encounter with them. The hard radiations from the bomb had altered a desert lizard's eggs, and had done something to the developing embryo that was the equivalent of a hundred million years of evolution—or perhaps a thousand million.

	True evolution was slow—a selective process of trial and error over millions of years. What had been the hit-or-miss likelihood that the lizard's eggs would be profoundly affected by the radiations? One chance occurrence out of a hundred million?

	It did not matter, because the laws of chance were blind and without memory. A tossed coin would, in the long run, come up exactly fifty percent heads and fifty percent tails. But a coin had no memory and it could come up heads for a hundred times in succession. And the laws of chance evolution, produced by the hard radiations, had no memory either. They would as calmly produce one successful mutation out of a hundred million failures in one year as in a hundred million years.

	They would—and they had.

	He asked the lizard another question: "Why is it that I saw you that night on the highway and remembered when the others—the ones who have seen you up here—can't remember?"

	That was partly due to the brain injury you once had, and partly to the fact we were only one year old and had not fully learned how to use our hypnotic powers.

	"Why do you hide?" he asked. "Why are you so afraid that humans will know of your existence?"

	The lizard's face remained expressionless but he sensed amusement in the way it regarded him.

	What would be their reaction if they knew of us? They would want to see us caged, placed on exhibit. They would want their scientists to examine us. And when they found their minds were helpless before ours, they would want to destroy us. Your species and mine are too different for them to ever exist side by side.

	"What are you going to do?" he asked. "You can't stay here always. There will be too many of you. Someday you will have to let humans know of your existence."

	That is being arranged.

	"How do you mean?"

	We are letting humans prepare the way for us.

	For a moment he was puzzled. Then suddenly, he knew what the lizard meant. The insanity of hate and fear and suspicion that filled the world—the insanity that was growing every day and could result only in war.

	There is no distance limit to our telepathic influence, the lizard said. We can concentrate upon influencing the important few among your enemies—the policy makers, the agitators, the ones in position to make war. This we are doing. With your own government, we have only to make certain that an enemy attack will find you unprepared. This, too, is being done.

	He thought of the exaggerated claims so often made of American military power and of the seldom-published truth: that the United States was vulnerable to any surprise attack, and lacked even a practical warning system.

	How much of that ignorance was due to the mumbo-jumbo of Security? Surely people would demand an adequate warning and defense system if they knew the true peril of their circumstances. But Security did not dare tell them, for in theory such a disclosure would give information to the enemy! It was better to pretend that an adquate defense system already existed, better to label such difficult problems "Top Secret" and file them away and forget them.

	The amusement was stronger in the lizard's thought:

	This mania for secrecy has been bery useful to us and we have encouraged its growth.

	"So you would have Asia destroy the United States?"

	Let us say the western hemisphere.

	"And then what? What would you do with a country made unliveable by radiation from the atomic and hydrogen bombs?"

	We are immune to hard radiations.

	The coldness and numbness around his brain seemed to be increasing and the scene was beginning to take on a quality of nightmare unreality tohim. He knew they were doing something to his brain, to make him forget as they had made all the others forget.

	He did the only thing he knew to do. He wrote a short sentence on the notebook in his pocket, quickly, before the lizard could realize what his intentions were, and awkwardly because he had to use his left hand.

	He half expected the lizard to halt the writing before it was completed. But the lizard did no more than state at him with its scaly face expressionless. He wrote only one sentence—afraid to risk discovery by writing more. He was convinced that the one sentence would be enough. It would convey the needed warning, even if the lizards did make him forget that he had ever seen them.

	"So you'll have the western hemisphere attacked?" he asked. "You'll ahve us killed with bombs and bacteria until there are none of us left to oppose you. What about Europe and Asia? What will you do with them?"

	Destruction of human life on the western hemisphere will give us time and room to expand. While doing so we will continue to excite the various nations of Europe and Asia into war and mutual destruction.

	"You have it all thought out, then?"

	We have. It is very simple. We have only to encourage the human race's own tendencies and capacities for self-destruction.

	"There are other tendencies, too."

	Yes—the ones you would term noble or humanitarian. It is necessary for our survival that we suppress the humanitarian instincts among you. And none of you will ever know what is being done to you.

	There was a moment of silence, and then the lizard's thought came swiftly again:

	Do you remember tyrannosaurus rex?

	Tyrannosaurus rex—the most formidable of all the reptiles, the mightiest engine of destruction to ever walk the face of the earth. He had been a biped, with claws capable of handling objects, and he had possessed teeth-rimmed jaws so massie that no other creature had dared oppose him. He had been the supreme species and should have survived.

	But there had been little rodent-like animals, the remote ancestors of horses and elephants, tigers and men, and they had eaten the eggs of tyrannosaurus rex. Tyrannosaurus rex had not even noticed the little animals, and had become extinct without ever knowing the reason why.

	Survival of the fittest—and how do you fight something you cannot see? How do men fight something which can control their minds and keep them ignorant of its existence?

	He had partially resisted their power before. What if he could retain his resistance and remember what he had seen, and lead other men to the tunnels and show them the lizards?

	The thought of the lizard came:

	They would see nothing and would have you confined as an insane person.

	Did the statement imply that the lizards could not completely destroy his resistance to their hypnotic powers?

	You will forget. It was necessary to engage you in conversation for a while, to distract your attention while we broke down the resistance the brain injury had given you. And it has entertained us to some extent to observe your reactions.

	"You can't hope to have all of us killed," he said. "There will be some of us who will live through the germ warfare, some of us who won't get enough of the radioactive dust to die. Those who survive may someday learn what you did to them."

	Our plans include making use of the survivors. They will be a useful source of labor and food.

	He was sharply aware again of the carrion odor that emanated from the lizards and of the burro and sheep tracks he had seen.

	"You will—eat us?"

	Of course. Now, you will go.

	The muscles of his legs obeyed the command, without violition on his part. He did not even try to resist. His right hand still remained limp and helpless on the pistol and there was only the one hope left—to reach his car and the safety of a greater distance before they learned what he had written in the notebook. If he could only retain just a little of his memory, together with the warning he had written to himself, he would find a way to destroy the lizard nest.

	He began the steep descent, not looking back. He passed the first lizard he had seen. It was standing in the same place, watching him with the same cold intelligence in its eys and the same carrion odor emanating from it.

	He hurried on, down to the warped and empty shells that had been houses and past them. Life suddenly returned to his right hand and he stopped a moment to look back the way he had come. But the tunnel portals were not visible from where he stood—only the lower sides of the high waste dumps.

	He went on in a fast walk, gripping the notebook in his pocket as thought the feel of it might help him remember and help him hold off the encroachment of the cold numbness around his mind.

	But the numbness increased as he walked and he broke into a run as the fear of forgetting what he had seen intensified. It became greater, an apprehension that was close to terror. He was still running when he reached the final and steepest half of the trail.

	He did not pause for breath, not even when he fell once and almost slid over the edge of the trail and down into the rocky bottom of the canyon far below. There was something far more important than his individual survival involved and if only he could reach his car with the warning he had written to himself ...

	He was bruised and staggering with exhaustion when he came at last to his car. But he could still remember and he still held the notebook firmly clasped in his hand. He started the engine the moment he was behind the wheel and tore the top sheet from the notebook, to put it in his billfold where he would be certain to see it again. The writing on it was clumsy and scrawling but it was legible:

	Mutants — tunnels — hypnotic powers — invisible — DANGER.

	He folde the note carefully, thinking of the world as it would be when the bombs and bacteria had played their roles	—thinking of the dead, shattered cities and the lifeless fields, and the long, slow process of evolution that had begun as a speck of protoplasm in an Archeozoic sea two billion years before.

	It had been a long way up from the mindless speck of protoplasm, up and up through the fishes and the lung-fishes, and the amphibians, and then higher still through the Age of Reptiles and the Age of Mammals, to Man. Man, naked and defenceless, with neither fangs nor claws, who had arisen to dominate the world.

	And now a new species had appeared, created by chance, to destroy Man as thoroughly as Man's remote mammalian ancestors had destroyed tyrannosaures rex. If he ever forgot what he had seen, it the lizards were not checked, there would be a quick end to the long, long climb toward the stars. It would be violence and death and radioactive dust swirling across a lifeless land ...

	From high on the mountain behind him came a thought, cold and taunting with amusement:

	Remember! You, yourselves, created us.

	Then the full force of the numbness swept through his mind, and memore and consciousness fled.

	He shook his head, wondering what had caused the fleeting vertigo, and unfolded the paper in his hand curiously. He read: Mutants — tunnels — hypnotic powers — invisible — DANGER.

	It seemed to him he could remember it as a memorandum he had written before leaving San Francisco, something to remind him to look at the tunnels. He tore the paper into bits and threw them out the window of the car, where the Death Valley wind set them to spinning and dancing.

	Death Valley ... For a moment, as he drove through the swirling scraps of paper, it seemed to him the anme should have some grim significance. And, for a moment, it seemed to him he could sense something far behind him on the mountain regarding him with sardonic amusement.

	Then the feeling passed as he remembered he had found nothing but empty tunnels there and he drove on, thinking, for some strange reason, of the mighty tyrannosaurus rex dying out because some little animals he did not notice were eating his eggs.

The End