Sinister Intention Behind a Commonplace Object
From “With Folded Hands,” by Jack Williamson:
One morning he found that the roof of the little house had been silently lifted, while he slept, and a whole second story added beneath it. The new walls were of some strange sleek stuff, self-illuminated. The new windows were immense flawless panels, that could be turned transparent or opaque or luminous. The new doors were silent, sliding sections, operated by rhodomagnetic relays.
“I want door knobs,” Underhill protested. “I want it so I can get into the bathroom, without calling you to open the door.”
“But it is unnecessary for human beings to open doors,” the little black thing informed him suavely. “We exist to discharge the Prime Directive, and our service includes every task. We shall be able to supply a unit to attend each member of your family, as soon as your property is assigned to us.”
Steadfastly, Underhill refused to make the assignment.
A race of humanoid machines arrive at your planet “To Serve and Obey, and Guard Men From Harm.” That is their directive. And of all things, they want to remove your door knobs.
Only on the surface is Jack Williamson’s story about door knobs. The physical possessions that surround his characters have a deep connection to something much more frightening.
I thought I had prepared myself for the transition of power. I thought: Of course the aliens are going to take over the planet! It’s classic science fiction. That’s what happens.
What I didn’t see coming was how quietly Williamson shifted the balance of power in his story.
What you don’t see in my selected scene is the arrival of the humanoid machines on the planet. You don’t know that Underhill has his business threatened as a consequence of their arrival. When you read the story you will see those things, and at first you may come, like I did, to think that the takeover of humans will be large and sweeping. You think the humanoids will crush everything with force. They’re stronger and more intelligent. They know they are morally correct and entitled to guard others from harm.
What else you don’t see here is how they never get to that point. No force. They simply ask to be invited. They convince you by stating the benefits of their presence. They made it into Underhill’s home through a ‘free trial.’ Then they took his doorknobs. They took his power to open doors. They took his freedom in such a way that he didn’t know what he’d lost until it was gone.
With hardly more than a whisper, Williamson has the humanoid state the logical case for removal of an essential tool in Underhill’s life.
Underhill says, “I want door knobs.” What he projects is, “I want the power to control my own life.”
In that small taking away, the humanoid removes a wall of the ground floor in a house of cards. Quickly it falls.
Think about the last time (before reading this essay) that you considered the door knobs in your home. Did you ever regard them as an essential part of what makes your life worth living?
The smallest of things can be the most powerful. They may also be the most easily taken.
When the consequences of their removal are shown, as Williamson has done here, the effect is more than chilling. I had to set down my book and walk around my house for a minute. I had to grab a door knob and reflect on its purpose. Then I had to consider how my own stories could benefit from showing what would happen to life when an ordinary, commonplace item is altered, outlawed, or made unreachable.