“Chickens,” Benjam said as he walked up behind them. “And those are turkeys.” He pointed to another flock of larger and even fatter birds in another pen. “We raise them for food.”
“Food?” Kaile asked, and Benjam nodded. “Where did you find them? There’s nothing like that on Providence.”
“No, there isn’t. They’re not even indigenous to Eos … they came from Earth.”
“Erf?” Sanjay drew back from the pens.
“No … Earth.” Again, Benjam smiled. “Come. You’ve got a lot to learn.”
Sanjay glanced at Aara. His mother gave him a knowing nod, but said nothing. Yet as they turned to follow Benjam again, Sanjay noticed that, while he and Kaile had been examining the … the chickens and turkeys … Nathan had disappeared. Looking around, he saw the stranger walking away, apparently heading for another part of the village. A few passersby gave him curious glances, but no one seemed to be startled by his appearance. It was obvious that he was known here.
Benjam brought them to a large, slope-sided building near the center of town. Opening its front door, he led them into what appeared to be a meeting hall. With its carefully arranged rows of mats facing a high rear wall whose stained glass windows formed an abstract pattern, it bore superficial resemblance to a shrine, yet there was no alter, no crèche containing a sleeping Teacher, only a low table. The mayor gestured to the front row of mats, and once Sanjay, Kaile, and Aara were seated, he squatted before them in front of the table.
“Nathan will be back soon,” he began, speaking to Sanjay and Kaile, “but before he does, I’ll get started by telling you what Aara learned when she came here. Namely, that much of what you grew up accepting as fact is … well, to put it bluntly … wrong.”
“Heresy.” Folding her hinds beneath her, Kaile crossed her fores and glared at him.
“No. Not heresy … history. History that has been lost to generations of people living on Providence.” Benjam paused. “You grew up in a proper Galian household, didn’t you?” he asked, and Kaile nodded. “You can’t be blamed for believing that anything contrary to the Word of Gal is blasphemous. But you’ll have to believe me when I tell you that the Word is a distorted version of what actually occurred many yarn ago, and that the true events are more complex than anything you’ve been taught.”
Kaile scowled and started to rise from her matt, but Sanjay stopped her with his fore. “Let’s just listen to what he says; we’ve come all this way. Maybe it’ll explain what you and Aara saw.”
Kaile hestitated, then reluctantly sat down again. Benjam let out his breath, then patiently went on. “First … to begin, Erf is not what you’ve been led to believe it is, a netherworld filled with damned souls. It’s called Earth, and it’s a planet much like Eos, only about one-third smaller. It revolves around a single star called Sol which is much larger and brighter than Calliope … it’s white, not red, and Earth is much further away from it than Eos is from Calliope.”
“Did Gal create sisters for it as well?” Sanjay asked.
Benjam shook his head. “No, there’s only that one sun … and Gal didn’t create either Calliope or Sol, or even Earth or Eos for that matter. They existed long, long before Gal … because Gal itself isn’t a deity, but rather a vessel created by humans. Our own ancestors, in fact.”
Kaile hissed between her teeth. “Blasphemy!”
“Listen to him.” Aara glared at her. “He’s telling the truth. Go on, Benjam.”
“Gal is a vessel … what people like Nathan call a starship.” Benjam continued. “About 440 sixyarn ago … or years, the way his people reckon time … our ancestors built a ship called Galactique for the purpose of carrying the seed of men and women to this world, which they knew was capable of sustaining life.”
“Why?” Unlike Kaile, Sanjay wasn’t upset, but intrigued, by what he was hearing.
“The reasons are complicated.” Benjam frowned and shook his head. “I’m not sure I completely understand them myself. Nathan and his companions have told us that Galactique was built because the people of that time believed that life on Earth was in peril of being destroyed, and they wanted to assure the survival of the human race.” A crooked smile. “It’s still there, but it isn’t a terrible place filled with tortured souls. The Chosen Children, as we call them, were simply the seed of those who’d spent years building the ship. In fact, they resembled Nathan himself … those we call the Children were altered before birth so that they could live comfortably on Eos, which Galactique had changed to make suitable for human life.”
“Then Gal … I mean, Galactique—” Sanjay stumbled over the unfamiliar syllables “—is our creator.”
“Just as the Word says,” Kaile quietly added.
“Galactique created our people, yes, and also the world as we know it … but it is not a deity. Those of us here in First Town and the other mainland settlements … yes, there are other villages like this one, although not as large … knew this even before Nathan and his companions arrived a few weeks ago. People here have long been aware of the fact that we’re descended from the human seed … the sperm and eggs, as they call it … transported from Earth aboard Galactique, and that Eos itself was a much different place before Galactique transformed it over the course of nearly 300 sixyarn into the world we know now.”
Benjam pointed beyond the open door of the meeting hall. “Those birds you saw, the chickens and turkeys … they were brought here, too, in just the same way. In fact, everything else on Eos … the forests, the insects, the fruit we eat, the fish in our seas … is descended from material carried from Earth by Galactique, then altered to make them suitable for life here.”
“Nathan calls this ‘genetic engineering’,” Aara said, slowly reciting words she herself had apparently learned only recently. “It’s really very complicated. I’m not certain I understand it myself.”
“It all was done aboard Galactique during the time it circled Eos.” Benjam nodded in agreement. “Nathan and his people have told us that, during this same time … hundreds of yarn, longer than our own history … Galactique also deposited across Eos dozens of tiny craft called ‘biopods’, which in turn contained the genesis plants. Eos was a much different place back … its atmosphere was thin and unbreathable, and the only life here was insignificant … lichen and such. The genesis plants were scattered all over Eos, and as they took root and grew to maturity, they absorbed the atmosphere which was already here and replaced it with the air we breathe while also making it thick enough to retain the warmth of Calliope and her sisters. Once that was accomplished, the plants distributed the seeds of all the other plants we know, none of which existed on Eos before Galactique came. Other biopods followed them, bringing down the infant forms of fish, birds, insects, and animals which had been gestated aboard the ship. Once they were here…”
“Then came you,” Nathan said.
He’d entered the room unnoticed, and he wasn’t alone. Looking around, Sanjay saw that he was accompanied by a man and a woman, both walking upright on forward-jointed legs and curiously small feet. This time, though, instead of the hooded cloak that had concealed his form on Providence, Nathan wore a strange outfit over his clothes, a jointed framework of pipes and molded plates made of some metallic material that softly whirred and clicked with every move he made. The other two wore similar outfits.
Nathan noticed that Sanjay was staring at him. “It’s called an exoskeleton,” he said as he walked over to where he and the others were seated. “The surface gravity on Eos … the force that causes you to stay on the ground … is half-again higher than it is on Earth. Without these to help us stand and move about, we’d get tired very quickly. Our hearts would have to work harder as well, and before long it would be very unhealthy for us to live here. The exoskeletons compensate for this.”
Sanjay stood erect to tentatively lay a fore on the exoskeleton’s chest plate. It was hard and cool, reminding him somewhat of a scavenger’s carapace. “Why weren’t you
wearing this on Providence?”
“Unfortunately, it doesn’t float. If I’d fallen out of the boat, it would have dragged me to the bottom. Leaving it behind was the wisest thing to do.” A wry smile. “Fortunately, I’m in pretty good shape. I could handle the stress for a little while.” Nathan turned to the two who’d walked in with him. “Let me introduce my companions. This is Marilyn Sanyal, and he’s Russell Coyne. Like myself, they’re related to people you may already know…”
“I have a friend named Johan Sanyal. And my father’s family name is Coyne.”
“Is it really?” Russell appeared to be Sanjay’s age, differences notwithstanding. He grinned as he extended an oddly-shaped fore, then apparently thought better of it and bowed instead. “I believe that makes us relatives.”
Sanjay didn’t return the bow. Instead, he looked at Nathan. “You said on the boat that you and I are cousins. Are you also…?”
“Even more so than Russell, yes. My last name is Arkwright … Nathan Arkwright II.” He raised a fore before Sanjay could ask another question. “There’s a lot of complicated family history involved here, but you should know that we both bear the last name of the person who was responsible for Galactique in the first place, and I was given his first name as well.” He touched his hair, then pointed to Sanjay’s. “Same hair color, in fact … it’s hereditary.”
“So you’re telling us that Sanjay comes from the seed of someone on Erf who was brought here by Gal…” Kaile began.
“No.” Nathan turned to her. “Not the way you’re saying it, at least. As Benjam just told you, Erf is a world called Earth, and Gal is a starship called Galactique that’s still in orbit above Eos. Over time, their names were shortened, just as their true nature had been forgotten.”
“Otherwise, you’ve got it right.” Marilyn appeared to be a little older than her, although not quite as old as Aara. Of the three, she alone had skin the same dark shade as the native inhabitants; the others were nearly as pale as the Teacher. “What’s your family name, if I may ask?”
Kaile hesitated. “Otomo.”
Marilyn pulled a small flat object from a pocket from the clothes she wore beneath the exoskeleton. Holding the object in her left fore, she tapped her finger a few times against it, then studied it for a moment. “There was a Katsumi Otomo among those who built Galactique,” she said. “A propulsion engineer … never mind what that means. She was your ancestor … one of them, at least.”
“Everyone you know, everyone on this world, is descended from at least two of the two hundred men and women who contributed reproductive material to Galactique’s gene pool,” Russell said. “First, the ship distributed genesis plants across the planet, which in turn introduced cyanobacteria into the atmosphere to reduce the carbon dioxide content, raise the oxygen-nitrogen ratio, and thereby make Eos human-habitable through ecopoiesis…”
“Russ … don’t get technical,” Nathan said quietly. “They’re not ready for that yet.” Russell nodded, albeit reluctantly, and Nathan went on. “The point is, although we don’t look alike, we’re humans just as you are. Galactique altered the embryonic forms of your immediate ancestors so that they could survive this planet’s higher gravity while also making them amphibious…”
“And you’re telling me not to get technical,” Russell said, raising an eyebrow.
“So the word is correct,” Kaile said. “Even if what you say is true, it still means that Gal is our creator.”
Nathan shared an uncertain glance with Russell and Marilyn. “Well … yes, I suppose you could say that, but not in the sense you mean.”
“But she’s in our sky every day and every night, watching every move we make.” Kaile remained adamant. “She’s been there for as long as our mothers and grandmothers and great-grandmothers…”
“A matriarchal mythology as well as a society,” Marilyn said softly. “Interesting.”
Nathan ignored her. “Once humans were brought down here, Galactique moved into a geosynchronous orbit—” he caught himself “—a place in the sky which is always above the same place on the ground, where it was supposed to function as a … um, a source of information for the original colony. That’s why you can see it all the time. It rotates at the same angular velocity as Eos itself, so it’s always directly above you.”
Russell picked up the thread. “The ship also carried with it two … ah, artificial beings, what we call robots … which were meant to be your instructors. They raised the first children who came here, teaching them how to survive…”
“You mean the Teacher … there were two?” Sanjay said.
“Yes, there were.” Benjam had been quiet for awhile; now he spoke up. “There was one here in First Town like the one in Provincetown, along with another Transformer.” He looked over at Russell. “Which, as you say, manufactured from blocks of the material we call Galmatter the first tools used by our people.”
“Correct.” Russell was obviously relieved that someone here understood what he’d been trying to explain. “The Transformers are what we call three-dimensional laser manufacturers. They took information stored within Galactique’s data library and…” He caught a stern look from Nathan. “Damn … I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
Nathan nodded, then spoke to Sanjay again. “The Teachers, the Transformers, the stuff you call Galmatter … they were all sent down here to help the original colonists … the ones you call the Chosen Children … grow up and survive in their new home. But then, there was an accident…”
“Enough.” Kaile raised her fores in protest. “You tell us these things and ask that we believe them, but you offer no proof.” She cast an angry glare at Nathan. “Perhaps you’ve managed to fill their minds with lies…”
“We’re not lying,” Nathan said, his voice flat and steady.
“… but I refuse to accept what you’re saying on your word alone. Prove it!”
No one said anything for a moment. Then Benjam stood up. “Then I’ll give you proof. Something that’s been here since the beginning of our history, which we’ve long accepted as evidence that life began out there.”
“And you’ll also see what caused that light you saw in the sky,” Nathan added. Marilyn opened her mouth as if to object, but he shook his shook. “No, she needs to see this. It’s the only way.”
“Follow me,” Benjam said, then dropped to all four and began to walk toward the door.
IX
Another path, this was on the far end of town, led uphill into the dense forest at the base of the mountains. As Benjam led the group through the black woodlands, Nathan picked up where he’d left off in the meeting hall.
“First Town was the original colony, and for the first few years … um, sixyarns … it was the only settlement. During this time, the Teachers nurtured the hundred children who’d been gestated and born aboard Galactique … building shelters for them, providing them with food from the mockapples, roseberries, and melon vines that they cultivated, and educating them as they raised them from infancy to childhood. It helped a great deal that Eos has very short seasons. Unlike Earth, your winters last only three weeks, and in the equatorial region is relatively mild…”
“Have you ever seen snow?” Marilyn asked.
Sanjay and Kaile shook their heads. “What’s that?” Sanjay asked.
“It’s … um…”
“Don’t interrupt,” Nathan said to Marilyn. She grinned and became silent, and he went on. “The colony was approaching self-sufficiency when an unforeseen occurrence happened, one that changed everything … your sun, Calliope, underwent a variable phase.”
“Calliope is what’s known as a red dwarf.” As Russell spoke, he turned to walk backward on his curiously shaped hinds. Sanjay was amazed by the improbable and yet so casual movement, but Russell didn’t seem to notice the way he stared at him. “They’re generally smaller and cooler than Earth’s sun, but every now and then … a few thousand years or so … they tend to spontaneously enter phases in whi
ch they grow hotter and brighter due to solar prominences…”
“Russell…” Again, Nathan was concerned that Sanjay and Kaile wouldn’t understand him.
“No, don’t stop,” Sanjay said. “I think I understand what you’re saying?”
“You do?” Russell said. Sanjay nodded, and after a moment Kaile reluctantly did as well. “All right then … anyway, when Calliope started to undergo one of these variable phases, Galactique detected the change that was about to occur…”
“Of course she did,” Kaile said. “Gal knows all and sees all.”
Marilyn sighed, shook her head. “Please try to understand … Gal isn’t a deity. It’s a machine.” Seeing the confused expression on the young woman’s face, she tried again. “It’s like a tool, just far more complicated than anything you’ve ever seen. One of the things it can do is think and reason for itself, just as you can.”
“This tool has a mind?” Even Aara was startled by this revelation.
“Of a sort, yes.” This time, Russell made a stronger effort to speak in terms the islanders could understand. “Not exactly like your own, but … yes, it can observe, gather facts, and make its own decisions. Galactique also provided the Teachers with information and instructions, just as it provided the Transformers with their own instructions.”
“Unfortunately, it can also make mistakes.” Nathan had become pensive. He walked with his head down, gazing at the ground as he spoke. “When it saw that Calliope was entering a variable phase, it calculated the probable effects upon the planetary climate and realized that severe storms … typhoons, we call them … would occur in this region. The colonists were still quite young, and the settlement had been established in a coastal area which would probably experience high winds, flooding, perhaps even forest fires…”
“The Great Storm,” Sanjay said.
The Year's Best Science Fiction - Thirty-Third Annual Collection Page 54