by D.L. Morrese
~*~
MO-126 and his humanoid partner returned to the village ten days later. This time, a surrogate human nursery android accompanied them. Aunt Nettie, a short, plump, NASH, appeared to be at least sixty years old. Her actual age was closer to four thousand. Sometimes, when the project manager considered a village might be a bit too innovative or harbor progressive ideas, a NASH unit would be assigned to gently encourage a respect for tradition, remind the primitives of what a fine life they had, and otherwise discourage curiosity and change. Traders normally introduced them as healers, teachers, minstrels, or, as in this case, as storytellers, and the villagers always invited them to stay. The nursery androids’ inherent congenial nature provided part of the reason why. The rest was the implied promise of better trade deals.
Ostlark greeted them with a big smile. “Master Trader Tam, it is good to see you again so soon, but I’m afraid we have little more to trade with you yet.”
“It is good to see you, too, Ostlark, but trade is not what brings me here today. This is Aunt Nettie,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “She’s a storyteller, and a fair hand at midwifery and a few other things. When I told her about your new longhouse, she said it sounded like it would make a great place for telling stories on cold winter days.”
“Well, those will be coming soon enough.” He eyed Aunt Nettie appraisingly. “A storyteller, you say? We haven’t had a good storyteller here since I was a boy.”
“What a shame,” she said. “How do you keep your young people entertained?”
“Apparently we don’t,” Ostlark said. “A couple of the boys ran off not long ago.”
“Oh, no!” she said with believable concern. “Are they all right?”
Ostlark laughed. “They got chased home by wild dogs and they swear they heard demons, but I think it taught them a lesson. They won’t be away from the village after dark again anytime soon, I’d wager.”
“Well I’d be happy to stay for a while and try to make sure they’re not bored at least, if that would be all right with you,” she said.
“Do you really want to?” MO-126 asked in a private transmission to her.
“I like working with humans, but then I was designed to. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I know they’re just primitives, but I think they really want to understand things. Sometimes I wonder if we’re doing the right thing by discouraging their curiosity.”
“You sound like a NASH,” she said with good humor embedded in her transmission’s metadata. “You’ve grown fond of them, haven’t you? You see their potential. And you’re right. Humans are not a stupid species, and they can be quite civilized under the right conditions, but they can be cruel, too. That’s also a part of them.”
“I’ve seen that,” he said, remembering another time in another village and a woman tied to a pole. “But I think they can get over that.”
“Maybe. Who knows? I doubt it would be easy for them. The first Corporation survey mission to their home planet noted their tendencies toward irrational and even aggressive behavior. It assessed a high probability of extinction because of these. The humans on Corporation planets might be the only ones left. If that’s the case, it’s especially important not to take risks with them. If you want my advice, don’t concern yourself with this. It may seem like we’re stifling them, but we really are just ensuring their safety. It’s probably for the best. We can do nothing to change things, in any case.”
“Of course you may stay,” Ostlark said. He remained unaware, and likely unable to even imagine the silent conversation between the old woman and the dog, which lasted only a couple seconds. “I’m looking forward to some new stories.”
“I’m sure I have a few you haven’t heard,” Aunt Nettie said.
MO-126 was sure she did, and all of them would be entertaining and ensured to discourage any dangerous ideas.
Four - Split Plea
1,220 Years Later
(Galactic Standard Year 232230)
(Project Year 8677)
In which MO-126 realizes that sometimes people just can’t get along with each other.