Ice Giants Wake!

by Gary J. Davies

  "At first I suspected you were going crazy, Ed," she admitted. "What was I to think of your talking to ants and their strange behavior? Several times over the last year I saw dozens of huge ants line up in neat rows as you spoke to them. I had to talk with someone about my worries and suspicions, so naturally I confided in Jack. Jack knows a lot about strange things."

  "Why didn't you simply talk with me about it!" Ed protested.

  "And why didn't you talk with me?" Mary retorted.

  She had him there, Ed had to admit.

  "Your newfound talents are wasted on ant control, my boy," Jack remarked. "The Mohawk here have a tremendous interest in talents such as yours, as do I. I have plans for your talents that will knock your socks off, Ed."

  Ed had no control whatsoever over jants, but he didn't bother to explain that. "I came here to teach history, Jack. That's my profession: I'm a history teacher. Middle-school, preferably."

  "Of course you are. The Tribe reviewed your resume and they are suitably impressed. They do genuinely need teachers here on the Reservation and were glad to consider my recommendation that you be added to their teaching staff. But you shouldn't limit yourself, my boy! You should take full advantage of your talents. Besides, there are more things going on here than meet the eye. Monumental things."

  "I'm rather hoping that there is much less going on here than meets the eye," Ed remarked.

  The door of the Administration Building swung open again, and a stout, mid-sized, middle aged, smiling man emerged. "Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Rumsfeld!" he declared as he advanced towards them. His dark, reddish skin suggested that he was a Native American, but unlike the gate guards he wore standard American blue jeans and flannel shirt, and sported a full head of wavy black hair. "I am Mike Talking Bear, the Reservation T-G-O and Tribal Chief," he noted as he shook Ed's hand and then Mary's.

  "T-G-O stands for Tribal Government Officer," Jack translated.

  "Yes," added Talking Bear. "I am your federal tax dollars at work. I am elected by and work for the Tribe but I am paid by the IA. It is one means of obtaining cash for the Tribe. Additionally the USA Government was nice enough pay off all of my student loans."

  "That sounds very handy," Ed remarked. "Who is the IA?"

  "The US Department of the Interior Bureau of Indian Affairs," Jack again translated.

  "That's right," Talking Bear confirmed, as he escorted Ed and Mary towards the Administration Building entrance. "My small staff and I are US Civil Servants. Come with me inside, Ed and Mary, and we'll sit and talk. You must be exhausted from your trip. Jack, why don't you help get their belongings to your longhouse? It will be dark in less than an hour and much colder."

  "Yes sir, Chief," Jack replied, as he saluted before departing.

  Talking Bear led Ed and Mary down a short hallway past several modest offices. Except for log walls they appeared to be normal business offices, including computer terminals and shelves and cabinets crammed with books and paperwork. Sadly government bureaucracy and red tape had evidently found the Mohawk, even hidden here on their remote reservation deep in the Adirondacks.

  "My staff has gone home for the day; I'll have to introduce them to you at some other time," Talking Bear explained, as they entered a large office at the end of the hallway and were seated in front of a large wooden desk that featured a new looking computer terminal. "Welcome to my fortress of solitude," he exclaimed.

  "It's much more modern than I expected," Mary remarked.

  "By necessity," Talking Bear explained. "This is the side of our Tribe that visitors from the outside world see. Most of my staff is made up of Tribe members that have college degrees from the State University of New York, and occupy standard IA and other US Government positions. I have a staff assistant and forest, agriculture, education, and social services experts here, all conveniently paid for by the US Government. We interface with the IA in DC, with the Adirondack Park Agency, the State of New York, and other government and non-government agencies and groups, and at the same time we bring in much needed US dollars."

  "That sounds like a pretty good deal for you," Ed noted. "What about teachers?"

  "Our school principle has an office both here and at the IA Bureau of Indian Education school building located next door. If you survive your trial phase and become a teacher here you will become a BIE US Civil Servant and be paid as well as any teacher in New York. Salary, pension, the works! That's the good news part."

  "That indeed sounds good," Ed responded.

  "What's the bad news part?" Mary had to ask.

  "It's not so much bad news as perhaps surprising news. We have Tribe members already that can teach history, Ed. Frankly your appointment as a teacher here serves two much more important purposes. First, the BIE has been pressuring us to hire teachers from outside the Tribe. You will become our token white teacher."

  "A proud post, surely," Ed noted.

  "Second, your Uncle Jack had persuaded certain Tribe leaders that you may have special abilities urgently sought by the Tribe in these troubled times."

  "Tribe leaders Mouse and Turtle Man?" Ed conjectured.

  "Yes. They realize that the Tribe will face a growing crisis over the coming decades. Colder climate may ruin our agriculture, and we currently provide 99% of our own food. We can't move the Tribe; for religious reasons we simply can't abandon the Mountain. But state and federal funding is declining. We are becoming more dependent on outside influences exactly at a time when outside institutions may also fail us. Plus there are other deepening troubles that Mouse and Turtle Man may in time choose to discuss with you."

  "Frankly I don't see how I fit into any of that." Ed admitted.

  "Frankly neither do I, but I'm only the Tribe Chief. To the outside world I lead the Tribe but Mouse and Turtle Man are clan aligned leaders and internal to the Tribe wield most true power. Mouse has already seen something in you that interests her, or she would have already had you expelled from the Reservation by our border guards."

  "Those big buff guys with the Mohawk hair-cuts?" Mary asked.

  "Yes. Actually those are essentially Pawnee hair-cuts, by the way, meant to help frighten and deter unwanted visitors. The war-paint is similarly Hollywood inspired. Traditionally the Mohawk favor tattoos but nowadays we prefer not to permanently mar our bodies. However they are competent fighting men. Some members of our warrior guard force are ex-Army Rangers, and others are tough iron workers that in warmer weather weld steel for New York City buildings."

  "Pawnee hair-cuts?" Mary had to ask. "But everyone calls that hair style a Mohawk!"

  "A Hollywood bred misconception that we don't discourage. Our Oneida brothers claim Lacrosse and a casino as part of their fame, and we Mohawk have iron workers and a popular hair style mistakenly named after us. That seems fair enough."

  "The term 'Mohawk haircut' does have a niftier ring to it than 'Pawnee haircut' does," noted Ed. "But as interesting as all that is, Talking Bear, I'd just like to know when I will start teaching, who I should report to, and when and where."

  "All very good questions," Talking Bear admitted. "From an administrative standpoint, given Mouse's interest in you I will immediately start the wheels of Government turning. Tomorrow I will send your Virginia teaching credentials to the New York Department of Education for their certification. That should only take a few weeks. Then we will submit your Federal Government work application to the IA BIE along with my personal letter of recommendation. The whole process should take only four or five months. With any luck we'll have you officially hired and teaching by early next spring."

  "The wheels of Government don't turn very fast, do they?" Ed quipped.

  "As long as you live with us I advise that you dismiss your fast paced ways."

  "A slow pace of life suits us just fine, but how will we get by for the next four or five months? What will I do if I'm not teaching?"

  "Two things," explained Talking Bear, "for which you will receive room, board, and a very modest sala
ry. First you will need to become acclimated to Tribe life. Jack O'Brien can help with that, as he is several years along in that process. Second, you will do whatever the school board wants you to do. "

  'Whatever' sounded a bit open ended to Ed. "By the 'school board' you mean Mouse and Turtle Man?"

  "Essentially," agreed Talking Bear, "THOUGH YOU WILL FIND THAT THINGS ARE FAR MORE COMPLICATED THAN THAT."

  "SWELL," remarked Ed in kind. Were all of these people telepathic? "Sounds like a plan."

  ****

  CHAPTER IV

  Lodge Life

  "Right now those forty-foot pythons in Virginia are looking pretty damn good to me," Ed told Uncle Jack over breakfast, after spending a fitful night on a straw mattress in a cold, primitive looking, bark-covered longhouse. The good news was that there was limited indoor plumbing and limited electricity available in the lodge. A florescent lamp hung from the rafters helped to light the cavernous interior of the longhouse. The bad news was that electricity was solar-panel powered, and only present on sunny days. "What the hell have you gotten us into here?"

  "It's the adventure of a lifetime, my boy!" enthused Jack, between mouth-fulls of whatever it was they were eating. "Wait until you hear about it!"

  They were sitting in the longhouse common room at a crude wooden table on crude wooden chairs. The big common room they sat in ran down the center of the entire length of the longhouse, perhaps a hundred feet or so. From the bark-lined roof twenty feet above them dozens of bundles of corn-cobs, tobacco leaves, and dozens of baskets and bags were hung, most containing drying foods that would feed the household through the coming long winter. Woven mats formed walls and covered hard-packed soil floors.

  Ed and Mary had over the years many times watched 'reality' TV 'house hunter' programs that showed snooty perspective buyers going psycho when during the course of a home inspection they discovered wallpaper on walls, or floors that weren't real hardwood, or counter tops that weren't granite, or bathrooms and kitchens that were 'outdated' or painted the wrong color. What would they think of a home that essentially lacked what modern folks considered to be actual walls, ceilings, floors, or kitchens? This lodge and its furnishings were 'outdated' by maybe a thousand years!

  To either side of the narrow common room were more than a dozen small rooms, two of which had been assigned to Ed and Mary. One was essentially a bedroom for the couple; the second was now a storage room into which all of the contents of the U-Haul truck had been moved by Tribesmen. The Tribe even thoughtfully returned the empty rental truck to a U-Haul office in the next county, relieving Ed of an arduous drive. They also moved the Ford to the Tribe parking lot and added some sort of gunk to the fuel tank to extend the life of the gasoline. After all, Ed was told, winter was due very soon and they wouldn't be able to drive anywhere at all anyway. Swell.

  Ed and Mary were grateful to have their things unloaded and with them, but what useful purpose most of their belongings could serve was quite uncertain. Ed had heard several of the Tribesmen mutter something about "firewood" as they piled crumpled boxes and damaged furniture into the storage room, completely filling it from top to bottom.

  Uncle Jack occupied two rooms opposite to theirs. One was his bedroom, while the other, much larger room was crammed with ancient artifacts and bookshelves full of books and papers. A third of the room was occupied by stacks of wooden crates that carried specimens from decades of his previous archeological efforts conducted mostly throughout North America. Most of the room had crude wood tables that were piled high with old bones, pottery, wood carvings, and other items collected in Mohawk County.

  "Most of my current collection occupies two more rooms at the far end of the lodge," Jack explained. "Excavation activates have ceased now until summer."

  A wood fire nearby the table where they sat spat flames and provided welcome heat and light. Most smoke from it rose to the center of the common room and escaped through small openings. Several wood fires ran the length of the longhouse, tended by a pair of young Mohawk girls that constantly added wood.

  An older teenage girl tended a wicker basket where breakfast was still being cooked. Occasionally she used green-wood sticks to skillfully pluck a grape-fruit-sized hot rock from one of the fires, rinse the ashes off of the rock with a splash of water, then artfully drop the stone into a big water-tight basket containing a thick porridge that Jack had identified as mush. Presumably it was the same gooey stuff that already filled the big plate in the middle of their table and smelled and tasted wonderful when combined with sweet syrup.

  "Tell us about our adventure right now, Jack," Mary demanded.

  "Can't," said Jack. "Tribal secrets are involved that I can only guess at. Mouse or Turtle Man will have to tell you most of it. I have my own twist to things but that too will also have to wait. Want more maple syrup with your mush?"

  "Figures," Ed remarked, as he indeed poured more sweet syrup over his mush and mixed it in. "Hey, exactly what is this goopy stuff we're eating anyway? I've had corn-meal mush plenty of times but this is different."

  "It's very different, Ed," said Jack. "This is mostly acorn mush, the first of the season. There is traditional white corn-meal in it also, as well as some beans, wild onions, and various herbs. The syrup is made from several tree saps that include sugar maple. Very tasty, isn't it?"

  "Acorns?" Ed exclaimed. "People don't eat acorns!"

  "Of course they do, Ed!" Jack informed them. "They have to compete with squirrels and bears to get them, of course, not to mention little worms and so-forth."

  "I can assure you that they are safe and highly nutritious, young man!" proclaimed a new voice. "Once the dried nuts are pounded into flour and the bitter tannin is leached out of them they become a near-perfect food. We're lucky to have acorn mush so early in the season, but I suppose that early cold weather isn't altogether good news. The growing season gets shorter by the decade, I'm afraid. At some point soon the acorns won't have long enough of a growing season to mature and a key sector of the ecosystem will collapse."

  Jack followed by Ed and Mary rose from the table to greet the newcomer, a short rotund white man of past middle age, with receding grey hairline, bushy grey beard and mustache, and thick bifocals. "This is my very good friend and colleague Dr. Richard Tuttle," Jack announced. "Call him Doc."

  "And these are of course Mary and Ed," Doc Tuttle noted, as he quickly shook their hands before occupying an open seat at the table and reaching for the food. "Jack has been telling me a lot about you two, much of it positive."

  "He has told us absolutely nothing about you, Doc," Mary noted, "except that we could expect another person for breakfast."

  "I'm the token white-man medical doctor," Doc explained, as he helped himself to several big scoops of acorn mush and poured syrup over it. "I run a little health clinic near the Administration Building."

  "Five years ago the Doc helped me come aboard here as the token white-man archeologist," Jack explained. "We've been working together ever since."

  "The Tribe strictly regulates outsiders and the IA would only pay for the two of us," Doc added. "I could have used an entire science team here but I've had to settle for Jack. There are many things here that I needed help with in understanding."

  "Things that I suppose you can't tell us about because they are Tribe secrets," Ed guessed.

  "Yes I suppose that's pretty much true for now," Doc agreed. "Some things should be eased into. But we can certainly start to give you background information that will help you better understand the general situation here."

  "That's our marching orders from the Tribe anyway," said Jack.

  "OK," Said Mary. "How many people live on the Reservation?"

  "About ten thousand or so," Doc replied, "most of them are centered here near the Mountain."

  "With you extending their lives with modern medical care, why are there only ten thousand of them?" Mary asked.

  "Good question," said Doc. "Electricity is limited, which lea
ves a lot of free time in the evenings for couples to procreate."

  "Worldwide, electricity normally provides an enormous amount of birth control," noted Jack.

  "Nowadays I provide modern birth control," said Doc. "Traditionally women would chew on pine needles to abort an unwanted fetus."

  "Yuk!" Ed had to say. "Do many non-Mohawk people live on the Reservation?"

  "Nope; everyone in the County is full-blood Mohawk except for the four of us," said Jack. "This club is very exclusive with its membership. Not even the Indians of other tribes are very welcome here, not even the Mohawk of other tribes."

  "So these folks are isolationists," Ed noted.

  "Rabid isolationists, historically," agreed Doc. "Over the last couple of decades however, they have by necessity begun to open up to the outside world. They have introduced selected technologies into their society, including some water and sewer technology, thank the gods! They use an off-Reservation post-office box and a growing number of them even have TVs and the internet via satellite. They send some of their best and brightest to visit the outside world for education and earnings. They farm most of their own food, but have introduced several new crop varieties to augment traditional foods and to adapt to the shortening growing season."

  "Traditional corn, beans, and squash remain the primary foods," Doc noted, "and they also grow traditional artichokes, pumpkins, sunflowers, tobacco, and herbs. Additionally they harvest wild nuts, onions, and berries. They practice techniques that sustain soil resources, things that other organic farmers of the world would envy. They have practiced agriculture here for over ten thousand years. That's a very long time to practice agriculture without wearing out the soil."

  "I suspect that they may have originated agriculture in this part of the world," added Jack. "They had a necessity to stay here and the only way they could do it was to develop agriculture that was sustainable."

  "Historically many ancient civilizations have risen and fallen based on their agricultural practices," Ed noted. "It is a lesson that many modern societies still need to learn. What else do they eat here?"