The tallest smokestack in the world used to be in Tacoma. It cast a shadow long enough to influence one of the most popular sci-fi epics of all time.
In 1917, the American Smelter and Refining Company built a 571 foot tall structure. The 67-acre copper smelter provided jobs and prosperity to the region while simultaneously contaminating Point Ruston with arsenic and lead.
Frank Herbert was born in Tacoma three years later. Over-industrialization was a recurring theme in his writing and it permeates his 1965 epic science fiction novel, Dune.
Dune takes place on a desolate planet that bears the scars of exploitation. It has only one natural resource, but the rest of the universe is dying to get it. This element counteracts aging, improves mental acuity, and forms the catalyst for interstellar travel. It is also addictive and cannot be synthesized. Did I mention its guarded by giant sand worms? It’s called, “spice,” and it’s only found on the planet Arrakis, a desert orb where water is a major marker of wealth due to its scarcity. Duke Atreides is commissioned by the Emperor to rule Arrakis and oversee spice production.
Soon after arriving, the Duke’s fifteen-year-old son, Paul, proves his metal. His cool headedness and quick actions subvert an assassination attempt. Paul is schooled in the art of combat. That includes being ready to fight at all times. Early on, he has the following exchange with one of his mentors during training:
“I guess I’m not in the mood for it today,” Paul said.
“Mood?” Halleck’s voice betrayed his outrage even through the shield’s filtering. “What has mood to do with it? You fight when the necessity arises — no matter the mood! Mood’s a thing for cattle or making love or playing the baliset. It’s not for fighting.”
It is one of my favorite quotes form the book and a difficult concept to master; mood has nothing to do with practicing any discipline.
After an immense amount of world building, the Duke is betrayed and his palace is sacked. Paul and his mother, Lady Jessica, manage to escape into the wilderness. There they are aided by a tribe of Fremen, the people who called the planet home before it was overrun by spice-harvesters and turned into a desert wasteland.
After Lady Jessica overplays her hand, a member of the tribe challenges her to a duel. Paul steps in as her champion. He is a better knife fighter than the Fremen Jamis, but he has never killed before and finds it difficult. After he is victorious, he is given a secret name by the Fremen and allowed to choose his own common name. The name he chooses, Muad’Dib, which means desert mouse, fulfills an ancient prophesy about the one who would lead the Fremen to freedom and actualizes dreams Paul had previously dreamed.
At the funeral service, Paul says that he was a friend of Jamis, as tears roll down his face. The Fremen are astounding by this. Water is so valuable that they wear stillsuits to recycle all the liquid from their bodies. They proclaim, “He gives moisture to the dead,” and accept him as one of their own. Paul is shown stashes of water hidden in a series of caves, that the Fremen plan to use to terraform the planet and return it to its former glory once they overthrow the forces occupying it.
The story of Paul-Muad’Dib, the boy-man tasked with aligning two different worlds, has endeared itself to generations of readers, particularly males. I first encountered it when I stood night lookout on the bridge of the National Geographic Sea Lion. The Second Mate, shocked I had never read Dune, described it to me. His voice took on a tone of longing as he looked at the moonlight on Chatham Straight and recited a passage from the novel. It is a passage I have heard other men repeat since, while a campfire crackles in the background or cigar smoke fills the air. Each time it is spoken with reverence. During my scuba training, I recited part of it to myself.
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
These words are part of the training Paul receives. In addition to combat, he is instructed in philosophy, history, and geography. His mother, a member of a religious sect, teaches him to use the Voice, an ability to discern truth and read minds. The totality of Paul’s tutelage is akin to the code of chivalry that knights followed, detailed succinctly in C.S. Lewis’s essay, The Necessity of Chivalry. Paul, a humble hero in that vein, reminds us that the greatest warriors are strong enough to be meek.
My main critique of the novel, and this is not a thought original to me, is that Herbert wraps the whole thing up too quickly. The loose ends are tied up with such a snap it made my head spin.
The recent movies may have avoided that same rushed ending by breaking the story into two installments. Dune was a fun blockbuster to watch on the big screen in 2021. Today, after church, my girlfriend and I will watch Dune: Part Two, which came out Friday. Then we’ll go to Point Ruston and stroll along Dune Peninsula, the Superfund site that was transformed into a beautiful park. Maybe we’ll spare a thought for the Fremen who had plans to terraform their own planet. After all, we are called to be stewards first and storytellers second.
Update: I do not recommend the second movie. It was too long, three hours, and gratuitously gory.
Full circle! Asarco to Dune Peninsula. What a well-crafted piece.