Who am I? What am I? Why am I here?
Combine not-quite-complete mindwipe with science fiction (and just a touch of Tom Lehrer), and the possibilities are delightful. Even if I know, not very deep down, that I am an anthropologist and a failure at my job. I shall delight in the possibilities, even the ones I will never explore.
The woman’s slow voice...
was counting again
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty.
I completed university only because I’m right-handed and he’s left. It was a pass degree because honours would have kept me away from him for a full year. This is where I’m different. I heard Someone Eminent explain once that he dropped out of Medicine because of holding hands with his girlfriend. I didn’t drop out. Unlike the Eminent Person, I didn’t get a career, either. Not much of one, anyhow. For a long, long time. Like the Eminent Person, I married the person whose hand I held.
We took notes together: me with my right hand and he with his left. What our other hands were doing was…holding hands. If we did anything else, we’ll never tell.
He was marking time in those lectures, he said. He had completed everything except one simple subject, due to illness, he said, but it was probably because he’d failed something and instead of repeating, he chose a new subject. He lied all the time, about everything, did my sweet amour.
The love of my youth. My true love. My always-love. I gave up everything for him.
He finished his Law-Arts, and I finished my Arts. I kept him until he was able to earn a living. It was all very modern and just. Just as we were very modern, being each other’s right and left hand. Modern, but fairytale nonetheless.
Notes towards an
Understanding of the Problem
Today I’m going finish writing up some detailed notes about shoes. I’ve already taken notes on many other potentially shared items in the target group’s lives. Daisies were ill-advised, as were the other flowers. Salt was a curious one to study. So was hair. Hair proved to be a diversion, but a fascinating one. The note on shoes has been attached to those other notes, rather than included in this main account.
As you can see from the file heading, I discount them either as the source of the problem or as a major contributing factor. Shoes demonstrate much about the culture in which they are worn and the socio-economic status and personality of the wearer, and in one case indicates the source of back pain, but do not appear to indicate anything that could help explain the fate of Earth.
Chocolate is still the most likely common factor between the women in question. They came together in a chocolate shop and consumed chocolate at all critical meetings and most non-critical ones.
I had assumed that a physical human factor was more likely, until I examined their physical characteristics in depth. They are all women, but apart from that they display significantly different characteristics. Despite a limited age range (about fifteen years from oldest to youngest), not all share the trait of having menstrual cycles currently, and they have significantly varied levels of physical well-being. All have roughly the same level of income. Level of income is highly unlikely to be the critical factor.
Culturally, they are all female and English-speaking. Although two do not possess English as their first language, they are all native speakers of English. They are all Australian. They all have Australian accents, some broader than others. These are such obvious shared characteristics that every other researcher has focussed upon them and demonstrated clearly that, while their gender and nationality may be minor factors, they are not what caused the fruitcake.
The previously-studied items that the women shared in all their meetings include (but are not limited to) trace chemicals, beverages, air, various parts of their bodies, physical movement (divided into walking, sitting, standing, and the connections between these different states), ingredients in comestibles, content of bags, bags and other accessories, clothes and other accessories. I have not yet completed my extensive study of hormonal fluctuations in these women, as I had not realised its importance until recently. The earlier studies didn’t take account of it at all. It’s a concern that it was neglected. The fact of those cycles is not a point of data, therefore, but material arising from them might be.
I have a theory about this. Our studies are biased to reflect the cultures we are studying. Or samples of them. One country from a planet. We then either bring them together for an intense and immense overview, or we dissolve into specific studies to check out specific problems. The prevailing trend on Earth in almost all subjects is to bias towards the male. I cite (as most others do when this subject is raised) the local Earthian thalidomide controversy.
Testing a substance on males and then using it on females has distinct and occasionally very nasty ramifications, but humans still do it. And we copy what humans do, for this is how we enter into other cultures: we use their terms.
Female hormones and life cycles were not included in the earlier studies because they might impede the simplicity and elegance of our approach, because it didn’t fit our method of analysis and it certainly didn’t fit theirs. We were looking at Earth as if it were mostly male, because human studies themselves are so heavily weighted towards the male, and it’s inelegant to not use existing studies. Resting results on mathematical elegance has thus proven to be a research flaw. We still need to preference a culture’s own self-view, but we need to not fall into their native bias.
I have created this list and implemented the connecting research from my own analysis, and also from previous analyses. At this stage, none of them suggest that they are important to outcomes. This is why only an overview is included here. The details are attached to this overview, however, in case they become important later in the study. The study of hormonal fluctuations will be attached to the list if it proves of little importance, and otherwise will obviously become a subject of major discussion in its own right. I am not in a position to know which is the case as yet.
It is also possible that all of the women ingest certain substances in a way that does not manifest in an obvious way when they socialise together, and that this substance is mind-altering and has affected outcomes from that direction. No previous studies have been able to ascertain if this is the case, and it was the first possible factor to be examined. It has, in fact, been examined more times than any other single potential factor, for if the Judge was affected by mind-altering chemicals, then the Judgement was flawed.
Discovering a flawed Judgement doesn’t change what happened, but it means we understand how to avoid it next time. This has many ramifications, some of them extraordinarily broad in impact. I have not, however, been able to determine if anything other than the usual food ingested and drink were taken. I see no evidence of this.
I am checking various analyses and assessments of chocolate and coffee, for they are the most likely means of mind-altering chemical ingestion, and members of the group themselves discuss how these substances make them feel. And because I’ve painted myself into a corner with the damned chocolate thing. However, they are not specific to this situation and thus ought to have been identified by earlier anthropological studies. Due to the importance of the subject, I cannot leave this unchecked.
I do not, however, believe that it is the case. The chief addiction I’ve determined so far is not chemical, it’s cultural: the tendency to create situations that favour human males.
The Observer’s Notes
“I am a lawyer. I buy my son so many books.” Said to a mother who was taking her son to visit the library.
—overheard in a library
Why am I here?
I’m here under cover. Under more cover than usual. I’m moonlighting for someone from my purported workplace, in the Parliamentary Triangle. Work sent them
to a dull day of lectures and they wimped out and so it’s me here instead. The irony doesn’t escape me. Irony seldom does. Some days I can’t remember my name for more than an hour, but I always know irony. Today is such a day. Fortunately, I have a name tag.
I’m in the Main Committee Room in Parliament House, listening to speakers talk about the Magna Carta. I’m writing so that I can reread, and not forget. My husband gave me a note to remind myself of this, over breakfast. He looked worried. That, at least, I remember, though I’d rather forget it. It hurt both of us, him looking so concerned.
“I’m working on it,” I told him. “It’s not as bad as it was.”
“I know,” he said, softly. “And one day I’ll stop worrying. Until then, keep the note where you can see it, and let me pick you up afterwards.”
Today I’m observing (for my alternate self, which appears more of the time than it used to—I feel less bereft of identity than I was even a few weeks ago) how modern specialists react to the Magna Carta. What values do they attribute to it? How far are their emotions engaged? What does this say about humanity, past and present? For my paid work self, I’m merely appearing because we needed a representative and I didn’t flee quickly enough.
These people presenting to this public assume so much about their own importance to the culture and to the rule of law. One of my big questions (which I really need to address before things get too far out of hand) is: “Are they right?” Or are they minor eruptions of whatever-they-think on the face of humanity? Sparkles or boils? Boils or sparkles?
These people, who are mostly lawyers in various categories of public service, may be irrelevant. These people may be precisely what I’m here for. I don’t know yet.
I won’t find out today. Today is about gleaning information to be pulled together later. It’s also about sitting (by mistake, if anyone asks, lest I be accused of irony) on a modern calligraphy copy of a later original of a copy of the Magna Carta. Sic transit gloria mundi. My briefing in human cultures stuck, but it didn’t bring respect. I can type Latin without respecting humans. This is what advanced minds do.
Some thoughts. They are not coherent. This is probably a good thing.
Not so good is my mind, which wants to use a different kind of narrative to the human one. I feel it creeping through when I don’t monitor my thoughts closely enough. Today is more difficult than most.
#1 The Attorney-General (whose name is Brandis and lends itself to bad jokes—this is not ironic) did not feel that it was necessary to be here. Thus this major event reflecting a major moment in human history isn’t major in any way that counts. It isn’t critical to the government to understand modern Australians and their reaction to past documents. Officially, he sent a senator in his stead: someone not too old and not too male. Someone not too important. Possibly reflecting the Government’s view of the Magna Carta, and maybe of the rule of law. In fact, probably reflecting the Government’s view of the rule of law.
This latter view is me thinking as humanly as possible. Also sarcastically. It should not be mistaken for truth. Or maybe it should not be mistaken for fact, but is indeed true. I love it that I can hold contradictory thoughts in my mind like this. It’s like… I can’t think of an analogy that doesn’t involve things I can’t remember.
I need to accumulate data if I want to prove that the government’s view of the rule of law is what I say it is. I don’t know if I want to prove this. Let me note to myself, then, that we need more data on the level of respect this Government has for the rule of law. Let me leave this matter with the techs, so that they can programme someone else to obtain the data. Let the techs think it’s something they thought up, in their cleverness. As long as I’m self-aware before I enter, I can access the machinery and make this happen. I probably won’t. Won’t be self-aware. Won’t make this happen. But I enjoy imagining it.
#2 Inherited history can prevail over common sense. It can also be worshipped with undue fervour. By “can”, I mean to imply that it prevailed today and was worshipped today. They told the story over and over, gradually shaping it into something holy through their attitude and through their stylised language. This is Australia’s numinous. If we (the hidden “we”, not the Australian women “we”) did academic studies, there’d be a study in it. Since we don’t, there is merely a note about this society. That note becomes part of a mathematical argument when the collection is written up, for we tell everything mathematically, from the collection of data to its final presentation. Mathematics lies at the heart of my real people.
I’m pretty sure the maths is how we tell story, even though I’ve only this moment remembered. We think we don’t tell stories, that our maths makes us different from humans. But our maths is not bereft of tales, because we write the story into it, through notes and through structure. We think we don’t, because the entertainment element isn’t there. We entertain with the material that then gets processed. Raw stuff.
I don’t know if we’re stranger than humans, or if humans are stranger than we are. I wish I could remember other species to compare. I wish I could remember everything I once knew.
Today is all about irony. When I forget again, that will also be ironic. There is at least as much forgetting in the history discussed today as there is remembering.
#3 my first two points appear to contradict each other, but they do not.
#4 Things that make sense: high-minded tosh isn’t the same thing as low-minded tosh. One speaker used one, and another used the other, and the first was very entertaining in all the right ways and the second was entertaining in all the wrong ways and required much use of my sarcasm-coloured pen. For the purposes of this seminar, my sarcasm-coloured pen is puce.
Also, lawyers manufacture the truth. Or truths. If I had to trust lawyers with the future of mankind, I would have to consider this more thoroughly. Fortunately, I’m an observer and I only have to consider lawyers when they force themselves upon me. Like today.
That reminds me, I need to uplift my material immediately after this event is finished. Sounds so noble but is so demeaning—I always need to take time for shopping or coffee-shopping afterwards, just to return my self-respect to its proper place.
I should uplift in an hour, according to my rule book (which is not a book in the human sense and whose rules I only remember sometimes, but which nonetheless exists), but alien mind stuff might not quite be acceptable in a parliamentary committee room. It’s fine on the streets at night, on the rare occasions when I do it remotely (doing it remotely sucks and produces bad results—it’s only useful in between the three-monthly major sessions, when life demands. Download may be painful, but it produces better results, I think—not that I know for certain).
Last time I uplifted in a public place, the police ignored me. They arrested someone a few metres away, however, for drunk and disorderly behaviour.
Today I’ll do it in the proper room, with the techs monitoring. Technically, this is closer to Download than Uplift, but…really, it falls somewhere between the two. I need to see if cutting down how much I try to fit into a day will help diminish the pain. If it doesn’t, I need to see a doctor, even though we’re discouraged from doing this. Still, my human body is authentic enough unless they test my DNA. If this human suit is damaged, I trust a doctor more than techs. I trust lawyers more than I trust techs. This is because I only remember the techs on good days, I think, and I never forget lawyers.
Writing my notes now will save energy (hence the notes “in class”), and getting Download/Uplift straight afterwards will then give me an early night. That will help keep the human suit from breaking down, perhaps. One can only hope. Whoever designed my human suit did a bad job.
Also, going tonight will explain the time lapse between my memory returning and me uplifting, since I can’t be there until after work finishes. At that point, I’ll probably lose my puce pen. I should enjoy being sarcastic with
it while I can. All my most interesting pens are stolen by techs. Only they don’t call it stealing. Techs have no sense of what belongs to me.
It’s bad enough that they copy some of my memories. They’re supposed to copy memories, but it’s still intrusive. I always feel that they know me too well—that they pry when they copy. This they’re not supposed to do. But the things they say…
They don’t just copy my physical possessions; they say: “This is nice”, and when they say that, I don’t get the original back. There’s a black market in these things. It’s more active when a planet is submitted for Judgement, of course. Normally I’d leave something as interesting as a puce pen at home, or I’d uplift in private, but I didn’t have a choice today. I’ll take the fake Magna Carta I sat on, and see what happens. Maybe they’ll acquire that instead of my pen. Or as well as. One time they acquired my shoes and undergarments and bus card. Getting home was uncomfortable and very slow. I hope they got lots of credit for them on the black market.
From the way they talk, I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to remember what they say. I learn a lot by pretending I don’t.
Right now, the learning is important. This is personal. I hate the stranded feeling I carry with me everywhere and want to understand for myself why I have it. And this is something I’ve written down so that I won’t uplift it. Self, hold yourself to it. And hold yourself to that nice supper your husband promised you when you lied about going back to the office after this seminar.
#5 There’s a lot of history bandied around today. Historical examples of all the kings of England and none of the queens make James I sound remarkably educated. If the speaker had only added in the education of the queens, James I would have appeared less impossibly brilliant. Queens and their education, however, don’t count for this group. It’s full of privilege, this group is.
The Year of the Fruit Cake Page 6