Game preserve — Key Ideas to Explore

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In Category - Social Speculation
Emshwiller, Ed, 1925-1990 [Illustrator], Phillips, Rog, 1909-1965 Project Gutenberg 2019 Not confirmed
Science fiction; Short stories; Boys -- Fiction; Hunting -- Fiction Readers of public-domain and historical texts
Project Gutenberg digital edition en

Edition facts

Words 9,390
Reading time 41 min
Text sections 1

Game preserve — Key Ideas to Explore can be approached with a clearer sense of reading commitment from its source measurements: 9,390 words, 41 min estimated reading time, and 1 detected text section.

The text analysis averages about 16.4 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Science fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

In a post-war future, humans with no intelligence are herded in preserves. A boy named Elf, born with normal intelligence among them, observes government hunters who kill intelligent offspring. When he finds a girl like him dead, he decides to follow the hunters, hoping to join their world.
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Editorial Edition Score 4.4/5

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  • Title & short description10 pts
  • Source metadata20 pts
  • Text length15 pts
  • Chapters / structure15 pts
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Elf was different in another way, too. He could make more sounds than the others. Sometimes he would keep a little It with him until it gave him a feeling of security almost as strong as the big It, then wander off alone with It and play with making sounds. "Bz-bz. Walla-walla-walla-rue-rue-la-lo-hi. Da!" and all kinds of sounds. It excited him to be able to make different sounds and put them together so that they pleased his hearing, but such sounds made the others avoid him and look at him from a safe distance, with worried expressions, so he had learned not to make _different_ sounds within earshot of the others.

The women and Elfs were upstream a hundred yards, where they always remained. From the way they were milling around and acting alarmed it was evident to Elf they could no more remember the men having been here a few days before than the men could remember it themselves. It would be two or three days before they slowly lost their fear of one another. It would be the women and their Elfs who would cautiously approach, holding their portable Its clutched for security, until, finally losing all fear, they would join into one big group for a while.

Big One and the others carried It right to the water's edge so they could get into the water without ever being far from It. They shivered and shouted excitedly as they bathed. Fat One screamed with delight as he held a squirming fish up for the others to see. He bit into it with strong white teeth, water dripping from his heavy brown beard. Renewed hunger possessed him. He gobbled the fish and began searching for another. He always caught two fish for any other man's one, which was why he was fat.

Elf himself caught a fish. After eating it he lay on the grassy bank looking up at the white billowing clouds in the blue sky. The sun was now near the horizon, half hidden behind a cloud, sending divergent ramps of light downward. The clouds on the western horizon were slowly taking on color until red, orange, and green separated into definite areas. The soft murmur of the stream formed a lazy background to the excited voices of the men. From upstream, faintly, drifted the woman and Elf sounds.

Here, close to the ground, the rich earthy smell was stronger than that of the stream. After a time a slight breeze sprang up, bringing with it other odors, that of distant pines, the pungent eucalyptus, a musky animal scent.

Big One and the others were out of the water, finally. Half asleep, Elf watched them move It up to dry ground. As though that was what the sun had been waiting for, it sank rapidly below the horizon.

The clouds where the sun had been seemed now to blaze for a time with a smoldering redness that cooled to black. The stars came out, one by one.

A multitude of snorings erupted into the night. Elf crept among the sleeping forms until he found Big One, and settled down for the night, his head against Big One's chest, his right hand resting against the cool smooth metal of It.

Elf awoke with the bright morning sun directly in his eyes. Big One was gone, already wading in the stream after fish. Some of the others were with him. A few were still sleeping.

Elf leaped to his feet, paused to stretch elaborately, then splashed into the stream. As soon as he caught a fish he climbed out onto the bank and ate it. Then he turned to his search for a little It. There were many lying around, all exactly alike. He studied several, not touching some, touching and even nudging others. Since they all looked alike it was more a matter of _feel_ than any real difference that he looked for. One and only one seemed to be the It. Elf returned his attention to it several times.

Finally he picked it up and carried it over to the big It, and hid it underneath. Big One, with shouts of sheer exuberance, climbed up onto the bank dripping water. He grinned at Elf.

Elf looked in the direction of the women and other Elfs. Some of them were wandering in his direction, each carrying an It of some sort, many of them similar to the one he had chosen.

In sudden alarm at the thought that someone might steal his new It, Elf rescued it from its hiding place. He tried to hide it behind him when any of the men looked his way. They scorned an individual It and, as men, preferred an It too heavy for one person.

Rog Phillips's 1957 story opens with a clinical explanation of a future where 'morons'—humans born without intelligence after a war—are placed in isolated preserves. The narrative quickly shifts to the perspective of Elf, a boy who is 'the only one like her' among the herd, hinting at his exceptional intelligence. The catalog subjects list 'Boys -- Fiction' and 'Hunting -- Fiction,' but the excerpts reveal a more complex dynamic: the hunters are government agents culling intelligent offspring, and the hunted are not animals but humans. The story's voice oscillates between detached exposition and Elf's sensory, limited point of view, creating a tension between the official rationale and the lived experience of the preserve.

The Preserve as a Social Laboratory

The catalog subject 'Social Speculation' aptly frames this story, but the excerpts show a specific kind of speculation: one that uses a biological catastrophe to explore eugenics and state control. The opening paragraphs detail a sterilization program and the creation of preserves as a 'logical solution' to the 'moron' problem. The language is coldly bureaucratic: 'Parents and offspring were sterilized and the offspring placed in state institutions.' Yet the narrative undercuts this official story by showing the preserve from inside—the herd's simple chants ('Hi-hi-hi!'), their physical labor carrying 'It,' and Elf's hidden intelligence. The story does not endorse the government's view; instead, it lets Elf's observations quietly contradict the premise that the 'morons' are 'totally lacking in intelligence.'

Elf's Limited, Sensory World

Elf's narration is restricted to what he can see, hear, and feel. He notices the 'lush grass,' the 'ear shattering sound' of a gun, and the 'cold' of a new 'It' (a metal object, possibly a gun). His understanding is partial: he thinks the hunters are 'creatures' and their weapons are 'Its.' The story conveys his intelligence not through abstract reasoning but through his actions—hiding, following, planning. When he finds the girl Elf dead, he observes the wound 'curiously' and shakes her, but he does not fully grasp death. This limited viewpoint forces the reader to infer the larger context, creating a gap between what Elf experiences and what the reader knows. The excerpts do not reveal whether Elf ever reaches the hunters' world, but his decision to follow them suggests a desire for belonging.

The Hunters' Ambiguous Role

The catalog subject 'Hunting -- Fiction' is literal but misleading: the hunters are government agents tasked with killing intelligent offspring to prevent 'recontaminating the race.' Their dialogue is matter-of-fact: 'Right through the head. She never knew what happened.' They discuss the survey results—'twenty-two colonies,' 'only one colony so contaminated we had to wipe it out altogether'—in the same tone as a business report. Yet the story does not condemn them outright; it presents their actions as routine. The ambiguity lies in Elf's reaction: he wants to join them, believing 'they were his kind.' The excerpts do not show the hunters' response to Elf, leaving the outcome open. This tension between the hunters' clinical violence and Elf's naive admiration complicates any simple moral reading.

Voice and Structure: Exposition vs. Experience

The story alternates between two modes: an omniscient, historical exposition and a close third-person limited to Elf. The exposition uses precise dates and scientific language ('electron microscope,' 'contaminated gene'), while Elf's sections rely on sensory details and simple syntax. This structural contrast mirrors the thematic conflict between the state's rationalized control and the individual's lived reality. The excerpts show the exposition fading as Elf's perspective takes over, suggesting that the story's true focus is not the sociological problem but one boy's attempt to navigate a world that labels him a threat. The catalog's 'Short stories' subject is accurate, but the story's scope is larger than its word count suggests, packing a speculative premise and a character study into a compact narrative.

Readers should attend to the way Phillips uses Elf's limited understanding to create dramatic irony. The story withholds key information—the nature of 'It,' the fate of the girl, the hunters' final decision—leaving gaps that invite interpretation. The catalog subjects emphasize 'Boys' and 'Hunting,' but the excerpts suggest a darker meditation on what it means to be human when intelligence becomes a liability. Approach this story as a puzzle box: the clues are in the details Elf notices but does not comprehend.

There’s something about Elf’s quiet decision to follow the hunters that stays with me—that ache of wanting to belong to a world that doesn’t want you. It reminds me of another old favorite, Ecology on Rollins Island — Inside the Classic, where the island’s creatures face their own strange rules. I still think about both.

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