from Fact and Fiction, 1961

by Bertrand Russell

The eminent theologian Dr. Thaddeus dreamt that he died and pursued his course

toward heaven. His studies had prepared him and he had no difficulty in finding the

way. He knocked at the door of heaven, and was met with a closer scrutiny than he

expected. “I ask admission,” he said, “because I was a good man and devoted my life to

the glory of God.” “Man?” said the janitor, “What is that? And how could such a funny

creature as you do anything to promote the glory of God?” Dr. Thaddeus was

astonished. “You surely cannot be ignorant of man. You must be aware that man is the

supreme work of the Creator.” “As to that,” said the janitor, “I am sorry to hurt your

feelings, but what you’re saying is news to me. I doubt if anybody up here has ever

heard of this thing you call ‘man.’ However, since you seem distressed, you shall have a

chance of consulting our librarian.”

The librarian, a globular being with a thousand eyes and one mouth, bent some of his

eyes upon Dr. Thaddeus. “What is this?” he asked the janitor. “This,” replied the janitor,

“says that it is a member of a species called ‘man,’ which lives in a place called ‘Earth.’ It

has some odd notion that the Creator takes a special interest in this place and this

species. I thought perhaps you could enlighten it.” “Well,” said the librarian kindly to the

theologian, “perhaps you can tall me where this place is that you call ‘Earth.'” “Oh,” said

the theologian, “it’s part of the Solar System.” “And what is the Solar System?” asked

the librarian. “Oh,” said the theologian, somewhat disconcerted, “my province was

Sacred Knowledge, but the question that you are asking belongs to profane knowledge.

However, I have learnt enough from my astronomical friends to be able to tell you that the

Solar System is part of the Milky Way.” “And what is the Milky Way?” asked the

librarian. “Oh, the Milky Way is one of the Galaxies, of which, I am told, there are some

hundred million.” “Well, well,” said the librarian, “you could hardly expect me to

remember one out of so many. But I do remember to have heard the word galaxy’

before. In fact, I believe that one of our sub‐librarians specializes in galaxies. Let us send

for him and see whether he can help.”

After no very long time, the galactic sub‐librarian made his appearance. In shape, he was

a dodecahedron. It was clear that at one time his surface had been bright, but the dust

of the shelves had rendered him dim and opaque. The librarian explained to him that Dr.

Thaddeus, in endeavoring to account for his origin, had mentioned galaxies, and it was

hoped that information could be obtained from the galactic section of the library.

“Well,” said the sub‐librarian, “I suppose it might become possible in time, but as there

are a hundred million galaxies, and each has a volume to itself, it takes some time to

find any particular volume. Which is it that this odd molecule desires?” “It is the one

called ‘The Milky Way,'” Dr. Thaddeus falteringly replied. “All right,” said the sub‐

librarian, “I will find it if I can.”

Some three weeks later, he returned, explaining that the extraordinarily efficient card

index in the galactic section of the library had enabled him to locate the galaxy as

number QX 321,762. “We have employed,” he said, “all the five thousand clerks in the

galactic section on this search. Perhaps you would like to see the clerk who is specially

concerned with the galaxy in question?” The clerk was sent for and turned out to be an

octahedron with an eye in each face and a mouth in one of them. He was surprised and

dazed to find himself in such a glittering region, away from the shadowy limbo of his

shelves. Pulling himself together, he asked, rather shyly, “What is it you wish to know

about my galaxy?” Dr. Thaddeus spoke up: “What I want is to know about the Solar

System, a collection of heavenly bodies revolving about one of the stars in your galaxy.

The star about which they revolve is called ‘the Sun.'” “Humph,” said the librarian of the

Milky Way, “it was hard enough to hit upon the right galaxy, but to hit upon the right

star in the galaxy is far more difficult. I know that there are about three hundred billion

stars in the galaxy, but I have no knowledge, myself, that would distinguish one of them

from another. I believe, however, that at one time a list of the whole three hundred

billion was demanded by the Administration and that it is still stored in the basement. If

you think it worth while, I will engage special labor from the Other Place to search for

this particular star.”It was agreed that, since the question had arisen and since Dr. Thaddeus was evidently

suffering some distress, this might be the wisest course.

Several years later, a very weary and dispirited tetrahedron presented himself before

the galactic sub‐librarian. “I have,” he said, “at last discovered the particular star

concerning which inquiries have been made, but I am quite at a loss to imagine why it

has aroused any special interest. It closely resembles a great many other stars in the

same galaxy. It is of average size and temperature, and is surrounded by very much

smaller bodies called ‘planets.’ After minute investigation, I discovered that some, at

least, of these planets have parasites, and I think that this thing which has been making

inquiries must be one of them.”

At this point, Dr. Thaddeus burst out in a passionate and indignant lament: “Why, oh

why, did the Creator conceal from us poor inhabitants of Earth that it was not we who

prompted Him to create the Heavens? Throughout my long life, I have served Him

diligently, believing that He would notice my service and reward me with Eternal Bliss.

And now, it seems that He was not even aware that I existed. You tell me that I am an

infinitesimal animalcule on a tiny body revolving round an insignificant member of a

collection of three hundred billion stars, which is only one of many millions of such

collections. I cannot bear it, and can no longer adore my Creator.” “Very well,” said the

janitor, “then you can go to the Other Place.”

Here the theologian awoke. “The power of Satan over our sleeping imagination is

terrifying,” he muttered.

by Bertrand Russell