The first lines of “The Last Castle” by the late Jack Vance for which he won the Nebula award in 1966 and the Hugo award in 1967; maybe he already knew back then that he had written a perfect metaphor for what he saw as a possible future and that is now our presence:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Toward the end of a stormy summer afternoon, with the sun finally breaking out under ragged black rain clouds, Castle Janeil was overwhelmed and its population destroyed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Until almost the last moment the factions among the castle clans were squabbling as to how Destiny properly should be met. The gentlemen of most prestige and account elected to ignore the entire undignified circumstances and went about their normal pursuits, with neither more nor less punctilio than usual. A few cadets, desperate to the point of hysteria, took up weapons and prepared to resist the final assault. Other still, perhaps a quarter of the population, waited passively, ready, almost happy, to expiate the sins of the human race.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the end death came uniformly to all; and all extracted as much satisfaction in their dying as this essentially graceless process could afford.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The proud sat turning the pages of their beautiful books, or discussing the qualities of a century-old essence, or fondling a favorite Phane. They died without deigning to heed the fact.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The hot-heads raced up the muddy slope which, outraging all normal rationality, loomed above the parapets of Janeil. Most were buried under sliding rubble, but a few gained the ridge to gun, hack, stab, until they themselves were shot, crushed by the half-alive power-wagons, hacked or stabbed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The contrite waited in the classic posture of expiation, on their knees, heads bowed, and perished, so they believed, by a process in which the Meks were symbols and human sin the reality. In the end all were dead: gentlemen, ladies, Phanes in the pavilions; Peasants in the stables.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Of all those who had inhabited Janeil, only the Birds survived, creatures awkward, gauche and raucous, oblivious to pride and faith, more concerned with the wholeness of their hides than the dignity of their castle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As the Meks swarmed over the parapets, the Birds departed their cotes. They screamed strident insults as they flapped east toward Hagedorn, now the last castle of the Earth.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n The first lines of “The Last Castle” by the late Jack Vance for which he won the Nebula award in 1966 and the Hugo award in 1967; maybe he already knew back then that he had written a perfect metaphor for what he saw as a possible future and that is now our presence: “Toward … <\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.wmaus.net\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/125621.jpeg\")
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