Atoma and the Blockchain Game

by Gerard O'Neill

  And no Kai had ever led an expedition to those lands. To cross the rim with the technology available was impossible to achieve, and only the centipede race could survive the hub. What he wanted to do was to lead an expedition to the other side of Attaapa. It was only a dream. That would be another younger chief’s adventure, one to which Omatajinata would give all of his support.

  If the girls were scouts for the Marauders, it was not only the villages of the valley in trouble but the entire green band. That only compounded the risk the village was taking playing host to outsiders. If the worst-case scenario turned out to be true, and an attack on the Kai came to pass, the protectors of the spies would be made to pay for it. That was if the Kai world survived.

  For as long as most alive today could remember, the ultimate punishment remained banishment from Kai lands. Banishment was considered a death sentence. Only the cleverest and toughest of the banished survived outside of their village. There were a few who had the skills to construct dwellings in the hills. These were the few tiny and hardy communities serving as stopovers for hunting expeditions that ventured too close to the sandy edge of the polar band.

  The ultimate punishment of death had not been meted out since the last Great War. Chief Omatajinata was in no hurry to see the practice start again even if it was only applied to outsiders. If the councilors decided the girls were scouts from the Southern Hemisphere, it didn’t matter what the chief thought. They could not be allowed to live.

  Omatajinata was consoled by the news four more of the outsiders, also young girls were being held by two other villages. The girls were guests of the villages. It was a universal rule of Kai that guests be honored, and the weak protected, so long as it brought no danger to the village.

  The real problem was narrow-minded, shallow thinking, yet very vocal group who wanted nothing to do with the girls. He understood their fear and suspicion, but the council had decided already. It was up to him as chief to make the announcement.

  He got to his feet and waved for the elders to be quiet. He had heard enough discussion.

  “We must offer nourishment until they are able to leave. We should remember too that we are obliged under our own laws to protect outsiders who ask for help. If they are from the Southern Hemisphere, we learn about the marauders by observing them.”

  “Marauders must be dealt with harshly,” an old man called out. “The law allows us to defend ourselves.”

  Omatajinata gazed around the gathering below.

  “Can you show evidence they come from the other side of the rim?”

  “You only need to look at them!” A woman called out. “It stands to reason. They don’t look anything like us.”

  “They are spies!” Another called out.

  “They are definitely not from this hemisphere,” a voice cried out. “They can’t be from the islands past the Desert-of-White-Bone. The human body is not able to endure the force of Attaapa past that point.”

  “That is true,” a very old man called out. “They don’t look anything like centipede people.”

  “Sezu, when have you seen a centipede?” A woman asked turning to the shriveled old man.

  A wave of laughter swept the crowd.

  “I’ve seen images of them,” the old man replied. “The images in books I saw at the ferry stations when I was a young man. There are whole catalogs of images of all kinds of creatures stored inside those stations.”

  A hush fell on the gathering. Talk of the images rumored to be found in the ferry stations was supposed to avoid in public. The stations were ancient megalith structures housing the massive machines the ancients had used to cross the dry polar region most knew as the Desert-of-White-Bone. Only a few had lived to tell about the structures on the edge of the desert. The ferry stations connected a terrible past with the glorious present. It was for the reason they held the truth that they were forbidden.

  “Do the girls look like those images you saw in the catalogs?” Omatajinata asked.

  “No-no,” the old man said shaking his hand in front of his face. “Nothing like them at all.”

  Omatajinata glared at the old man a moment longer. Trust a senile old fool to mention an ancient book of images.

  “Sit down, Sezu!” Omatajinata bellowed.

  The old man scowled but he took his seat again as he was told to do.

  “I've seen em,” he called out.

  “You could mount an expedition to the stations, Chief,” a voice called out. “That way you take a look at the catalogs yourself.”

  He turned the counselors either side of him.

  Their thoughts were clear enough just going by their collective silence. Leave well enough alone.

  The truth was the chief regretted not having seen the images. It was well within in his power to order a special expedition for that very reason alone. An expedition to the nearest station would probably help them decide if the two girls were marauders or not.

  The croaky voice of the See-er who sitting on his right shook him from his contemplation.

  “Chief, it’s best we end this discussion of the ferry stations and the catalogs of images,” U-Sefu whispered gruffly. “These are not topics for this occasion or this audience.”

  The Chief nodded in silent agreement with the old man and stood once more to address the meeting.

  “There is another possibility,” he said. “I can take the initiative and call a meeting with chiefs of the valley.”

  “What possible good could that do?” A woman called out. “How can they know more than us?”

  “There’s no harm done consulting with others,” another called out. “It might even be helpful.”

  “We should pass the outsiders on to our neighbors,” another said. “Every village in the valley should take their turn hosting them. If we keep them here, they will bring bad luck like thousands of tiny arrows falling on our heads.”

  The Chief shook his hand in front of his face.

  “We should not let issues to do with luck shape our decision.”

  “We’ve given them shelter and food, Chief,” a skinny man said. “I don’t think we need to keep them all to ourselves.”

  “What has become of you?” Chief Omatajinata bellowed at the elders. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves, suggesting such things. Is this village not famous for hospitality, the open hearts of its people, for its humanity?”

  “Calm down, Chief,” the voice of a counselor behind him called out.

  “Calm down?” Omatajinata asked, turning to stare at the startled man. “We are talking about our honor. What is left of us if we lose that?”

  He turned back to the wider audience.

  “How many of us went through the fencing school?” He gazed about at the show of hands. It was almost everyone present. “In that place, we forge strong hearts, minds, and spirit. Did we go through the training only to behave now like spiders, hiding in holes? Waiting for easy prey?”

  The audience shifted uneasily. To be compared to spiders hurt. The chief shouldn’t have said as much, but they knew in this case the comparison was apt. They were indeed behaving like spiders.

  “We have a difficult decision to make,” Omatajinata continued. “But let’s agree on one thing for now. The expert opinion of the examiners was that the two girls were human. They found them different in only the most minor ways to a Kai. We must respect them as human until we have evidence that they are not.”

  “Take it easy, Chief,” the skinny man said, still on his feet.

  “To prove they aren’t human is difficult. Proving they are Southern marauders is not so difficult. If we find the images of marauders in the stations, we will know. Looking at the catalogs with ancient images of the marauders from the other side will answer our all those questions we have about them.”

  “We could find someone who has seen the images in the catalogs and confirm their likeness,” another member of the council suggested. “Someone like that may live in the valley. We must call a me
eting of the chiefs and their wisest counselors.”

  The See-er nodded his head in agreement.

  “We know four other girls are being held in other villages in the valley,” the Chief said. “They also have concluded the strangers are human and have chosen to treat them as guests for the time being.”

  “I wish no disrespect, Chief, but their decisions are not ours,” a voice called out.

  “Alright,” Omatajinata said. “If we are in agreement, I will call for a meeting of all the valley chiefs and their counselors.”

  “But, that means pre-meetings, and even pre-pre-meetings,” the skinny man protested.

  Omatajinata gestured for the man to sit down. He turned to the counselors behind him.

  “What is the soonest we could have that meeting?” Omatajinata asked.

  “It will take several weeks,” the See-er said.

  He turned back to the elders.

  “Why not arrange a meeting between the village heads of the entire valley?” He asked the elders. “Then the whole valley can decide what to do about them.”

  A murmur swept the seated throng.

  “It isn’t a bad idea,” said one.

  “At least it means we cannot be held to blame for making a wrong decision,” said another. “It would be shared among everyone.”

  The See-er tapped the Omatajinata’s arm.

  “The outsiders will need to come too.”

  Omatjinata could see no sense in bringing the outsiders with him, but he left it at that, and simply nodded his agreement before he turned back to the elders. He was pleased the discussion of the ferry stations, and the catalog photos had been set aside. Meetings in the valley took a long time to organize and there would be a lot of work ahead of him. He was pleased to see the counselors nodding their heads in agreement. In the meantime, they would have to keep a close eye on the outsiders.

  42

  Spider

  Nako and I were alone sat alone in the bare room on our first night in the home of our new host. Scarface had disappeared without a word after we refused to eat any of the dinners she set down in front of us at the table on the platform.

  It was the same slop we had eaten the night before at the boy’s house. Neither of us wanted to reach the bottom of the bowl and find another oversized maggot. We watched her take away the untouched soup bowls and push a large ceramic dish of fluffy blobs in front of us. When we didn’t touch the blobs either, she pulled them over and ate every last one. Watching our faces as she did to make sure we noticed.

  When she brought us a bowl with three straws sticking out from the sides. We sipped we were relieved to find it was the same orange colored drink we had been given the night before at the boy’s house.

  We sat in the bedroom and chewed our way through a packet of Nako’s nourishment slabs. Scarface appeared in the doorway and waited until she saw we had finished eating. She gestured for us to follow her.

  She turned at the end of an alley and descended a flight of steps into a sunken level. The chamber was large, at least the area of the boy’s house. It was full of women and young children.

  We stood at the bottom of the stairs and gazed around as excited screams and giggles enveloped us. The walls and ceilings were glowing through clouds of steam. Through the length of the space ran a stream. Pools full of bathers ran off from the sides.

  Scarface stripped off her clothes and we set our tunics down on a bench beside those of hers. She climbed into one pool, stayed a short while, then climbed into the next. The water in the first was pleasantly warm, and we soaked there a while, but we didn’t want to lose our host in the clouds of steam. The second pool was warmer. We did not stay in long. Each pool quickly emptied the moment we stepped into the water. Sometimes a youngster lingered a little longer until their mother yanked them from the water.

  At the end of the long room was a deep pool of crystal clear water. The hottest pool of them all and we sat on the edge watching Scarface relax with a smile of satisfaction. With the water lapping her chin, she closed her eyes as if we were no longer there.

  The bathers returned to the pools, giggling nervously, watchful should we enter their pools and pass on whatever was our strange alien disease.

  In our sweet-smelling beds, we fell sleep falling on us within minutes of lying down. I gazed through the open window at the purple sky, and then around at the pale interior of the glowing room. We were alive at the end of our third day on an alien planet.

  My sleep was light. Even though the bed was doing what it should my body remained primed to wake at the slightest sound. When I opened my eyes. I lay there wondering what had awakened me. I glanced across at Nako and saw her raise a finger to her lips then point to the open doorway of our room.

  It stood like an upturned cap on its long spindly legs, swaying gently to and fro as if to correcting for a cross-breeze. It was the grinding sound that brought me to my senses. In the shadow of the door, it glowed a brighter blue than walls.

  I sat up at once and yelled at it.

  The creature was not easily intimidated. No more than fifteen yards away from my bed, it did not attempt to run. Instead, it began to tap the floor and began to walk closer.

  Nako stretched out an arm to the platform behind her, and dragged off my suit, sliding it across the floor to me.

  By the time I was on my feet, Nako was already in her suit.

  I didn’t take my eyes off the thing in the doorway. Once I slid my hands inside my gloves and activated the suit seals.

  I heard the sound of her helmet locking, and the gas ejecting from her suit as the seals closed.

  I activated my helmet and visor.

  Still, the thing remained in the doorway. Swaying and making the awful noise louder than before. I could see its uncertainty as it weighed us up.

  Nako was behind me now. She touched her helmet against mine.

  “Let’s spotlight it, and see what it does,” I heard her say.

  “The electrics don’t work, remember?” I asked her in a shaking voice.

  I tried the radio.

  “Do you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear,” she replied in my headset. “The electrics are going again. It must only be a problem around the desert.”

  “Ready?” I asked.

  She flicked hers on and I did the same.

  When the beams lit up the thing we both screamed. We were in a standoff with a Chelicerata that looked like a combination of spider and crab. It was a daddy-long-legs with eight legs that were too long and too thin.

  It bobbed and swayed as the tiny brain weighed up its intention against the possibilities of ours.

  It was anticipating a meal. Two red-brown fangs, long and cruelly hooked, opened and closed. They made the sounds of old scissors. Black shiny eyes sat at the end of stalks wiggled about on the head as it sized the closest food source. That was me. They twitched and waved, to and fro. More round black eyes of various sizes formed a band around the front and sides of a gray carapace with a mottled orange pattern of lines.

  But it had lost its advantage.

  I heard Nako shift behind me.

  Instantly the spider twitched and sank on its legs. It could have been a defensive move, or it was about to spring.

  “Freeze,” I told her.

  A minute passed and then another. Neither of us had moved. Neither had the spider.

  “What is it doing?” She asked.

  “Sharpening its fangs,” I told her, as I watched the mean mouth work.

  “Where’s a sword when you need one?” She asked.

  “Or a Kai to wield it,” I said.

  “Use your ion torch,” she told me.

  “Might burn the place down,” I said.

  “It might have acid in those fangs, like the tree in the forest,” she told me.

  I reached for the torch handle at my hip. When my gloved hand found it I gave the head a twist and pulled it ever so gently from the holder.

  I raised my hand
with my thumb on the trigger button.

  There was a flicker of movement behind the spider. It ducked to the floor a second before we heard the swish.

  The doorway was empty. The thing had vanished.

  I stepped forward with the ion torch held out in front of me, and Nako following behind.

  Our host appeared from behind the wall. She held up the net proudly. Long thin legs twitched in the air as she held her trophy at arm's length.

  Scarface was grinning broadly. For the first time, we heard her laugh. She sounded like a burbling brook interrupted by the gushes and gurgles of a drowning swimmer.

  The bag in her hand was making the sound of a metal bar being dragged over a stony surface.

  She took the racket outside.

  We heard several thumps against the wall of the house and the horrible sound of metal scrapping concrete ended.

  I saw Scarface tread softly to her room without another word or glance in our direction. She had returned to her bed as though nothing had happened.

  Outside the front door of the house, the street is purple and empty. I looked up and saw the net with its sodden contents dripping over the porch floor. The spider was still in the bag that swung from a peg at the doorway.

  I was still shivering when I walked back into our room to find Nako standing there breathing hard.

  “I hate spiders,” I told her as I lay down. “I’m going to go to bed in this suit with the visor closed tight every night from now on.”

  43

  Breakfast

  The sound of a fingernail tapping on my visor woke me with a start.

  Scarface straightened up when she saw my eyes open and walked straight out of the bedroom.

  “Nako wakes up,” I said over the radio.

  “I’ve barely closed my eyes all night,” she groaned.