Land Beyond the Map

Then they were standing on the white road with the wreck of a truck in the ditch and an Austin slewed around backwards into the opposite ditch. Around them now lay the boglands of dear ould Ireland — and it was raining.

“Y’know” said Crane as they started the damp walk into Omagh, “I feel sad about the Loti. Such a decent lot of folks. They had super-science at their fingertips. Yet they lost out. They’d have lost out even if McArdle — or Trangor — had been pure as a saint.”

“But he wasn’t,” said Gould. “And we nearly had our old Earth taken over by these alien beasties…”

“But, still and all—” Crane felt the mystery of the reasons why races were not the same. “If the Loti had been Earthmen with all that knowledge they wouldn’t have given up. We’d have conquered and tamed the Map Country.”

“The Loti weren’t as tough as we are. Only Trangor — and he reflected the worst side of human nature.” Polly waved a hand. “But it’s still there. It may be in another dimension unseen by us. But it’s indubitably there. The Map Country exists. Maybe some day we’ll go back and this time we’ll know how to tame it — and will.”

Crane tucked her hand firmly under his arm. “Or perhaps our children will be the ones to go back.” They strode out along the road in the soft Irish rain. “Maybe some fine day they’ll turn the Unmapped Country into the Mapped Country.”

And they would.

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