by Dan Haronian
"Maybe, there are plenty of settled planets without quality food production. I have no doubt we will be competitive there."
"Still, moving products over such great distances doesn't sound simple."
"We have ways to preserve our products."
"That would be an advantage," said the Doctor.
"It's a very significant advantage."
He nodded. "Were you surprised that Daio agreed?"
"Completely. I don't think my father will believe me when I tell him."
"This will bring you closer to Naan," said the Doctor.
"Did he tell you that or does everyone think so?"
"He told me. I hope he is right, but these things sometimes have their own dynamics. They seldom go as planned. Sometimes people and circumstances vastly change outcomes."
"Yes," I said but I wondered what exactly he was getting at.
Our waitress returned with two bowls of soup. The Doctor thanked her.
"Taste it, it's something special," he said.
I tasted of the soup twice and concluded that my mother's soup was much better. I nodded at him and forced a smile.
"How is your father doing?" he asked.
"He is well," I said.
"Still working on the Books?"
"He doesn't stop. He also gives classes in the shuttle almost every evening."
"I hope he is interpreting things properly," he said and sipped his soup.
I gazed at him wondering. "I didn't know you cared," I said.
"I care for you," he said.
"Thank you but you don't really need to worry about us. His knowledge of the Books is inhuman. Sometimes I think he knows all seven Books by heart in all possible orders."
The Doctor looked at me, "And what about you?"
"What about me?"
"What do you think about the chapters?"
"The Books," I emphasized the word, "are clearly unique. It’s all unique; the old Shuttle, its crashing here after a very long voyage, everything being destroyed but this one room, our name on the wall, the Books. I'm not a man of the world but I doubt something like this has ever happened elsewhere."
"I agree it is extraordinary." He played with his spoon. "And your father’s commentaries? What do you think about them?"
I didn't really know what to say. I disagreed with many of my father's interpretations, but I’d never told even my mother. I surely was not going to tell the Doctor. "My father is a genius, I trust his judgment," I said.
He smiled. "So I take it you don't agree with everything he says."
"I didn't say that." I sipped my soup quietly, wondering where this discussion was going. "Your interest in the Books seems odd. It’s as if you're the only one here who shows any interest in them."
The Doctor shook his head, stirred his soup. "I don’t know much about the chapters, and I don't know how true they are, but I think it's dangerous to live by them."
"Books," I corrected.
He smiled and looked at me. "Books, of course."
I straightened myself on the chair as much as I could. "Are you worried he doesn't understand the Books properly?"
"What I'm saying is that I hope your faith is well placed and that the interpretation your father gives those chapters is correct. That's all."
"Books," I corrected him for the third time, and the Doctor nodded.
I took another sip of my soup. The Doctor smiled at me from time to time. I smiled back trying to form some opinion about the man and about this discussion. The salad, the cheese, and the pies arrived. They filled the table from edge to edge with a variety of colors and textures. Still the colorful feast didn't impress me much. Apparently the distance between the City of the Chosen and the City of Naan was bigger than the Naanites thought.
We continued talking about life in the Chosen and about the Books. Their interpretation came up several more times and the Doctor kept calling the Books chapters to the point that I thought he was doing it in purpose.
"I think it's time for me to head home," I said after an hour of talking, "I am excited to tell my father about everything that happened today."
"Yes, I suppose you are," he said.
We left the restaurant and as we parted the Doctor said, "Give my regards to your father and tell him he should include some lessons in ancient Naanite language."
"Ancient Naanite?" I wondered.
"Yes, I think it would be a good idea. The chapters…sorry, the Books, after all, are written in Naanite and sometimes the ancient language becomes significant."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, for example, in the old days when books were still in use, they used the word chapter to describe a book."
"Really?"
The Doctor nodded.
"And what did they call a chapter?"
"They used the same word. There was some obscure reason. Eventually, the two words became separated into those we know today."
"Interesting," I mumbled.
"Yes. It was more than one hundred years ago. The change is quite unique linguistically, but still, maybe it's better that your people know the original language. It certainly won’t hurt."
The flight home was short. I thought a lot about the Doctor. This was my first interaction with him and I found the man vain and prickly. My father had told me several times to be careful of him. He’d described him as manipulative who did nothing without a reason. I thought about the Doctor's recommendation to learn ancient Naanite. My father would either be furious or amused to hear this cheeky recommendation. If they’d used the word chapter to describe a book hundreds of years ago, why would he be using it now? He wasn’t that old.
I pushed thoughts of the Doctor from my mind and considered my pleasant discussion with Daio. Things had not gone as I’d expected. I was surprised that my father was so wrong about Daio’s reaction. Perhaps he’d thought that his relationship with his brother was much worse than the reality. He would be completely surprised by Daio’s reaction. The issue was still not closed of course. Daio still needed to convince a few people, including Naan, but he’d sounded sure that it wouldn’t be a problem.
I drove to my parents' house after visiting the packaging facility. I had to stop by there to make sure my absence hadn’t messed up the daily routine too much. I was exhausted from the long day but I wanted to tell them about the meeting. My father's car wasn't there so I realized he was still at the Shuttle.
"So how was your long day?" asked my mother as she stood outside.
"Very interesting," I said walking to her.
She held my face, kissed me on my forehead, looked me in the eyes and smiled.
"You are trying to comfort me but there is nothing to comfort. The meeting was excellent."
"I am glad to hear," she said and walked inside. "How is your uncle doing?"
"I think he is doing well. He is a very strong person."
"That he is."
I washed my hands and walked to the dining table. Food was already there.
"One thing I can tell you right now," I said looking at the steam rising from soup bowl. "Your cooking is ten times better than the food served at the best restaurant there."
She laughed. "That cannot be," she said. "You are simply used to my cooking."
"No, I am not," I said decisively.
"So he invited you for lunch?"
"Not exactly," I said looking at her. "The Doctor did."
"Oh."
"He is something," I said thinking about him for a second.
She shook her head. "That is true; he is the man behind the scenes."
I sat down and she poured steaming soup into a bowl and placed it in front of me.
"So what did your uncle say?" she asked.
"First I must say he is a very interesting person."
"He is the most decent person I know," she said.
"You know him?"
"Of course I know him," she said raising her voice. "Have you forgotten?"
"I k
now you know him, but… I mean…"
"I lived in his house when I first came here, and when your father disappeared he took care of me. He took care of me when I got sick."
"Of course. I am sorry. I was thinking more in terms of the leader of Naan."
"He was Naan’s leader already then, although it wasn't official." She sighed. "Why do you ask? What does it matter?"
I blew the spoonful of soup and sipped it carefully. "I don't know, people change," I said.
"What did he tell you that makes you think he has changed?"
"He liked the idea," I said as if this answered her question.
"He did?"
I nodded. "He still needs to talk to people about it but from his point of view it is a done deal."
"Wow."
"I was shocked when I heard him. I didn't even need to convince him."
She sipped her soup and looked pensive. "So this made you think he had changed."
I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. I don't really know him. I think this is the first time that I have talked to him, at least as an adult."
I thought about the other things he had said. He hadn’t been kind to me; he simply had a different agenda. He thought my idea would change the culture of the chosen. So maybe he hadn't changed after all.
I didn't tell her the other things he had said. Not only because I didn't want to upset her, but also I knew it would not help me with my father. He was expecting Daio to do the work for him. I didn't know what his reaction would be when he found out he was alone in this battle, and I didn't want to fuel his resistance.
I arrived home exhausted by the events of the day. I rested on the bed for a while before taking a shower. My thoughts went back to the day's meetings. Daio had said he wanted to speak to Naan before making a decision. Naan would resent the idea of course, but Daio hadn’t seemed to think it would affect anything. Naan was the last person who wanted closer ties between the Chosen and the rest of the planet. I guessed he would probably think the whole thing was a conspiracy to take over. I could see the meeting in my head; Naan furious, Daio ordering him, in a calm voice, to calm down. Suddenly the memory of my discussion with the Doctor broke into my thoughts. It frightened me. I sat up in my bed far from tired. For a moment I contemplated his words and refused to accept the conclusion they led to. I stood up and went to the kitchen. I drank a glass of water, and then went back to bed. I finally fell asleep after countless failed attempts to clear the Doctor from of my mind.
My father, dressed in the robes of a king, strode majestically down Naan's main street. The diminutive Naanites lined both sides of the street and cheered. He waved to them with one hand and held a large book in the other. I was in the crowd as my father passed by and started to run along beside him. The crowd held me back and I had to jump from time to time to keep him in sight. It was odd that I needed to jump. The people around me were all Naanites. Once I managed to catch up to him and glimpse the words on the book’s cover, but I couldn't understand them. Suddenly the street ended and my father walked into a vast desert. The number of people around him decreased until finally he walked on alone. I ran behind calling out for him to stop, but he continued walking as if he had not heard me. I called to him again and felt my voice changing, becoming the voice of my father. A long white beard sprouted from my face. I looked down at my hands and found them shriveled with age. Suddenly my father stopped. I ran to him, then past him. The text on the cover of the book shone in the blazing brightness reflected from the sand. It said:
Chapter eight
I woke up in a panic. My face was covered in sweat and my heart beating just as fast as if I’d really been running after my father in the desert. I sat up and pushed my sweaty hair out of my face. It was only a dream, I told myself looking frantically around. My mouth was dry. I got up and walked to the kitchen for a drink. I shook my head refusing to accept the conclusion. It wasn’t possible. There were only seven Books.
A sentence my father revealed from a paragraph from the seventh book sprang to mind:
A Naanite rules Mampas in chapter eight.
I thought about the Doctor's mention of the old meaning of the word chapter. I didn't understand how chapter eight in this book had anything to do with a Naanite ruling Mampas, so could it be possible that this sentence referred to a missing eighth book? I chuckled to myself. Even though the thought was crazy it was consistent with many other things. The paragraphs from the seventh book talked about a female Naanite that forced Mampas to kneel at her feet and my father’s interpretation referred to chapter eight for more information, but there was nothing in chapter eight that revealed who this outstanding Naanite scrambler was. Nor were there any clues to identify the Naanite who would rule Mampas in the sentence my father had revealed. Daio fighting information scrambling and the fake ideals of Mampas was about as reasonable as the Doctor’s big head joined to his shrunken body. Maybe there really was more. Maybe there was an eighth book that explained these mysteries. Eventually I lay back down on my bed and tried to force myself to sleep hoping things would resolve themselves in the morning.
The dawn brought no answers and I found myself stuck in the same place only more tired. I thought back to the odd dream. I was appalled by the fact that I tended to accept such a heresy. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Later that day I explained to my colleagues at the packaging center that Daio had accepted my idea, but we still needed my father’s blessing. Then a whole new heresy popped into my head. I began to wonder why my father never allowed me into the room without his supervision. I’d never understood why. The reasons he gave me were ridiculous.
With these thoughts bouncing around in my head I knocked on the door of my parents' house for dinner. My father was already sitting at the table stirring a hot cup of tea and pulling at his beard.
"Hello," I said as I walked in.
"Hello, how are you?" He said.
"Excellent," I said in a tired voice.
"You got back yesterday," he said.
"Yes, last night," I said and smiled softly.
"So why are your eyes so red? You weren't in the Shuttle."
"No, of course not."
My mother came out of the kitchen, a large dish in her hands, and looked at me.
"I didn't sleep well, that's all," I said.
My father raised his eyebrows. "I would think that after such a wonderful meeting you would sleep like a baby," he said in a critical tone.
"I suppose a good meeting could have the opposite effect as well," said my mother, setting a big steaming pot on the table. "When new possibilities suddenly open up the ideas that emerge can keep you up."
"Yes," I said looking at her. It was quite accurate.
"So how did things go?" asked my father.
"I’m guessing mom told you already. He liked the idea very much and said he would be happy to see everything work out."
He nodded and twisted his lips, "He probably has a good reason."
I looked at him suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
"I hope you are not that naïve."
"I am naïve but I don't think it is a weakness," I said, but I didn't really mean it.
"He wants a way in," said my father and sat up straighter in his chair. "As soon as our people start mixing with the Naanites he knows they’ll be tempted. Their way of life has a lot of things to offer."
"What people are you talking about?" asked my mother.
"Those shuttles will need to go through major adaptations. You know his freezing methods. If these shuttles are to be renovated in Naan we’ll need to send hundreds of people there."
"We’re only talking about one shuttle in the beginning," I said. "It was even Daio's idea. If he’d wanted to tempt hundreds of people from the Chosen would he have made such an offer? In any case the idea is for us to grow the operation gradually. Even if the first shuttles are renovated in Naan, eventually we’ll have a proper airport of our own and we'll do everything ourselves."
"Well, that would take some time," said my mother and sat down.
"If we are afraid our people will be tempted by what Naan has to offer them, we have problem," I said, trying to calm myself.
"Not everyone is as strong as you are," said my father.
"I'm not as strong as you think."
My father didn't answer. My mother stood up and lifted the cover from the dish. A wave of steam rose above the table. She sliced the pie and placed pieces on each of our plates.
"We are like plants in the greenhouse," I said. "We have everything we need here and we are protected from any harm, but even plants must eventually leave the greenhouse."
"And you think it's time to leave the greenhouse," asked my father doubtfully.
I wondered what I should answer. Even though my description was accurate, I sensed the trap. Who was I to say when it was time to leave? And besides, who makes such a decision the plant or the gardener?
I decided not to answer at all. My father sighed and my mother looked back and forth between us. "It sounds like you thought of everything," she said, "yet I'm not sure you understand how it will affect our lives."
"I guess there is a risk involved, but it's a calculated risk," I said. "In any case you asked me to speak to him, so I spoke to him, and he agreed. I only hope you're not reopening this discussion."
"I'm not opening anything, but that doesn't mean I'm in favor of this move."
"You were hoping Daio would do the work for you," I said angrily.
"Raban," scolded my mother.
"He is right. That is exactly what I hoped would happened," said my father.
"Daio has approved the plan. We cannot stop it now," I said.
I’d known this discussion was going to be uncomfortable, but it was much worse than I’d anticipated. The combination of the tension in the air, my thoughts, and the dream of the previous night made me feel sick.
"Don’t worry, I'll take care of Naan," I said shifting my gaze between them. "All of the interaction with them will be through me. I will take a few bachelors that I trust with me and make sure they don't deal with anything but their technical work."
"How will you do that?" asked my father, "how will you get all your technology installed in the shuttle?"