“His pattern?” Daiya murmured.
“Homesmind holds the pattern and memories of everyone who has lived on our world. We could make all those people live again, but we feel it is wrong to impose another identity on an individual now alive, even a small child, who must be allowed to acquire her own identity. But their work, their hopes, their experiences are all part of Homesmind. Reiho will live again, although he will not remember his temporary death.”
Daiya pressed against the shuttle, standing on her toes. She peered through the dome. Reiho lay on a reclining seat, stiff and still, covered by a clear carapace. She wrinkled her nose against the dome, trying to hope. She sent a tendril into Etey's mind; the woman had said part of the truth.
Her legs wobbled. She sat down abruptly, realizing how weak and tired she was. She searched through the channels of Etey's mind, then withdrew. “There is a thing you haven't said, Etey.”
The woman started to shake her head, then stopped. “Yes, you are right. Reiho will have his memories, his experience, everything. But one thing will be different. There is an emotional connection we cannot restore. He will have everything, his memory will be clear, but he will feel as though his past experiences have happened to someone else, or as if they might be a dream. He will be Reiho, he will live as he would have, entirely in character, but his life up to now will seem to him like another's life. He will feel a distance from part of himself.”
“Then his soul is gone,” Daiya murmured. “You'll give him life without his soul.” Whatever Reiho might recall in this new state, he would not think of her as a friend, would not feel that bond; that would be gone. She would only be part of a dream, a disconnected memory.
Etey said, “There is no soul.”
“I don't believe that.”
“You can believe it or not, as you will.”
“If you deny the soul, you deny God.” The words sounded formal and empty. She thought of the mountains and the machines; men and women had made them, not the Merged One. Men and women had created a home on the comet. But they had not made the earth, the sun, or space. Daiya drew up her legs, hugging them, wondering what she could believe now.
“Let me try to say it,” Daiya went on, hoping she could make her thoughts clear to Etey, and wishing she could speak to the woman directly, mind to mind. “You will restore memories to that body, and call that person Reiho, and he will believe he is Reiho. But there is a Reiho I knew, the Reiho who came here, and went under the mountains with me, and took me to your home, and that Reiho is dead. You will bring to life a second Reiho. You don't have to say his soul is gone, but I know it is.”
“He will be Reiho,” Etey said sharply. Part of her mind seemed walled off from Daiya. “Think of yourself many years ago, as a child like this little girl here, and then tell me whether or not you sometimes feel disassociated from that person you once were. That is what it will be for Reiho. He would have felt that way in time. As you know, we lead longer lives than you do.”
“It is not the same. I know I'm different now from what I was cycles ago, but a thread connects me to that person. Reiho's thread has been broken. He has died. You said you think it's wrong to impress an identity, a set of memories, on a child because it would rob the child of its own identity, but you are going to take Reiho's memory and experience and put them inside the body of the boy in there. That means you are creating a new Reiho. What is the difference?”
Etey let out a loud sigh. Her wall disappeared, and Daiya felt her assent. “Very well. My reason tells me you are right. I know that, though I hoped to console you with part of the truth. I cannot hide from one who touches minds. The boy will still be Reiho for all practical purposes. He will act like Reiho, and be treated as though he were. That is not as cruel as returning him to life with no memory would be. But all this has nothing to do with souls.”
Daiya glanced at her, wishing she could have accepted a half-truth about Reiho. But her life, after everything that had happened, would have no meaning if she accepted lies again. She said, “Then you don't believe in God. Maybe I can't either, any more.” She was silent, a part of her wondering if the Merged One would strike her down for blaspheming.
“No, I do not. None of us does, not in the way you mean. But we have found nothing to disprove the existence of such a being.”
Daiya watched the woman, thinking she was only trying to console her. But Etey seemed to mean it.
“Does it matter?” Etey went on. “We must live as best we can. Some things will always be open to question.”
Daiya climbed to her feet. “Will you go now? I don't think anyone will try to hurt you, but...”
“Reiho will be all right now, his body is safe inside the shuttle. But I cannot leave until I know you are settled here.”
“Settled!” Daiya flung out an arm. “We shall never be that way again. Everything has changed.”
“I want to be sure you will be all right.”
She searched Etey's mind and found only a calm, distant compassion, tinged with guilt. Disappointed, she drew back. For a moment, Etey's thoughts touched hers. “I am sorry,” Etey said. “It is the best I can do. My feelings do not run as strong as yours.”
“Don't stay here,” Daiya said. “My people have much to consider, and your presence may disturb them. At least leave this area.”
“Very well. I shall go to the foothills, directly east. You can find me there, at least for a little while. I do have more time, according to our agreement.”
“You did not keep your part of the agreement.”
Etey looked down at the ground, then at Daiya again. “I did what I thought I had to do, and what the cybernetic minds of Earth wanted me to do. I did not know what would happen. Perhaps if I had, I would not have come, and there would not have been so much death. But before you condemn me, you should remember the thousands your village condemned to death, the children you call solitaries and those sent into the desert. I did what I thought was right. It is no more than what you did.”
Daiya thought of the ruin their supposedly right actions had caused. She leaned over and took Silla's hand as the child got up. “I must take my sister home.”
“Your sister? I did not realize.”
“I must take her home.”
They walked near one of the ditches. Daiya moved slowly so that Silla could keep up with her. They passed a small group of people sitting near one of the ditches. A man looked up as she passed. His face was filled with grief.
Daiya gazed at the ground, watching her feet tread the earth. The space around her was filled with sorrow so pervasive that she had to keep up her wall. Silla, affected by the sadness, began to cry. Daiya built a wall around her sister, then projected a mental maze into Silla's mind to keep her occupied. Silla threaded her way through the maze while Daiya wondered what she would say to her parents when she reached the hut.
The village was quiet as they approached. It looked deserted. The huts suddenly seemed fragile to her, about to crumble. The streets were strewn with thatching. She was home, after going through so much to be here. It did not feel like home any more. The paths were narrower than she remembered them to be. The village seemed shabby and mean, the roofs of the huts like the backs of beasts whose heads were buried in the ground.
She let down her wall as they drew nearer to their hut. Silla gurgled. She had conquered the maze. Daiya sensed a strand of Anra's mind. She picked up Silla quickly and ran to the doorway.
Anra was in labor. She squatted naked on a mat in the corner while Brun held her hand. Two lanterns flickered on the table; the reddish light danced eerily on the walls.
Anra exhaled sharply as Daiya thrust Silla through the doorway.—Daiya—Brun thought, without looking up. Anra sucked in some air, then exhaled again. Her body shone with sweat.
Daiya hung back in the doorway, feeling the agitation in her mother's mind. Her own muscles contracted as Anra bore down and pushed.—Isn't it early?—she thought, not knowing what else to say.<
br />
—Only a little early—Brun replied. She caught the unexpressed undercurrent in his thoughts; the events of the day had been too much for Anra.—Come and help us—he went on.
Daiya hurried to his side. Anra was breathing heavily now, using all her strength to push out the baby and suppress her own pain. Daiya drew on as much power as she could, easing things for her mother.
Anra suddenly smiled. The head of the child emerged. Brun caught the baby. Silla slapped her hands together. Daiya eased Anra to the mat. Brun lay the baby on Anra. The child was a girl. Brun got up and went to the cauldron over the low fire. He returned with a cloth and began to bathe the baby gently.
Daiya suddenly began to tremble. Her face was covered with sweat. An unreasoning panic washed over her. Brun looked at her sharply, thinking,—If you can't control yourself, get away—She rose and went to the table, collapsing onto a bench and burying her head in her arms while masking her feelings.
A hand was on her back. Her head jerked up. She realized she had dozed off. The baby was crying. Her father stood next to her.
—I've cut the cord—Brun said. His thoughts were cold, stinging her. For a moment she did not understand him.—The child is a solitary—
Daiya gasped. She jumped up and went over to where Anra lay. Her mother was crying. Silla sat in the corner, her face solemn. Daiya spun around and went to the opposite corner. She picked up an old tunic lying there and brought it back to Anra. She took the baby carefully from her mother and wrapped her in the tunic.
Brun grabbed her arm, his fingers gripping her so hard it hurt.—There is no need for that—he thought.—We must bury it in the fields—
—No—Daiya thought. The word fled from her, striking Brun. He reached for the child. Daiya stepped back.—No—she thought more firmly.
—Have you truly lost your mind? She is a solitary—
Daiya backed away, still holding the baby. The child let out a cry.—I won't let you kill her. That boy you saw today, he is a solitary, yet he lived. Most of his people are solitaries. They can reason and feel. They have made a life for themselves. We might not like it, but it suits them. I won't let you kill her—
—You know our customs. Give her to me or I'll crush her mind now—
Daiya threw up a strong wall.—No. You'll have to fight me first. Just try—
—You worthless girl—Brun thought, his words burning her.—You have brought us nothing but sorrow, and now you bring us more. Don't we have enough?—
Daiya moved toward the door, still shielding herself and the baby.—I'll take her to the people of the comet. They can give her a home—
—You cannot—
—I will. At least she can live there. Isn't that better, Brun?—
Anra sat up on the mat, staring uncomprehendingly at Daiya. Brun turned away, unwilling to fight.—I do not understand the world any more—his mind murmured.—Nothing is as it was. We are being punished for giving birth to you. The Merged One should have called us all to the next world rather than let us live to see such things—
Daiya hurried from the hut. As she ran through the street, the baby began to cry in a piercing wail.
Daiya awoke. She stretched out her hand and felt grass. She opened her eyes. It was still dark. She tried to recall where she was, what had happened. She yawned; she was still tired. She stretched a hand over her head and smacked it against something solid. She sat up, turning slightly, and saw the shuttle.
She was rubbing her arm as the shuttle's door slid open. Etey climbed out with the baby. The baby was crying. Etey had wrapped the child in a piece of silvery material. “Are you all right, Daiya?”
Daiya remembered her journey here. She nodded silently.
“You came flying in here after sunset. You handed me this child and then collapsed. I checked you and you seemed to be well, just tired, so I let you sleep.” Etey turned the child against her shoulder and soothed her, rubbing her back. “I fed the baby a little while ago.”
“With what?” Daiya asked, looking dubiously at the small breasts under the lifesuit.
“The synthesizer made something up for her.” Etey perched in the doorway, then sat, letting her legs dangle. “Why did you come here as you did, with this child?”
Daiya was silent. Now that she had rested, she was sure she had been mad to come here. She wondered how she had ever thought Etey might help her. “This baby,” she said, trying to find the words, “this baby is my sister. My mother gave birth to her yesterday.”
“But why did you bring her here?”
Daiya sighed. “She's a solitary. You must know what that means. If she stays here, she'll be killed, that's what we do to isolates.” She realized Etey knew that, but was surprised at the violent grimace which distorted the woman's face. “I couldn't let it happen. Only a short while ago I would have said it was right. I would have followed my father to the fields and dug the grave. And if you had not been on our world, maybe I would have buried her anyway, even knowing what I do now, because there would have been no alternative. But I thought...” She twisted her hands together, rubbing at the streaks of dirt revealed by the soft light shining out of the shuttle. “There is no life for her here.”
A bird began to sing in one of the nearby trees. The sky above the foothills and mountains was beginning to grow lighter. The child was quiet, nestling against Etey's chest.
Etey said, “You want me to take her with me.”
Daiya folded her arms. “You must.” She narrowed her eyes, seeing Etey through slits. “She is someone from my world you can save instead of destroy,” she said bitterly, knowing that it was she, and not Etey, who had wielded the weapons.
Etey looked down. “She should be able to adapt to our world. Most of the physical changes in us are produced after birth, and are modifications of what we already have. But she is unlike us in many ways. Homesmind has altered our genetic structure, eliminating the worst conditions. It has modified our endocrine system so that our emotions do not so easily war with our reason, and we have more conscious control over our autonomic system. We all have several parents, not just two. We are very carefully planned.” She adjusted the silvery fabric around the child. “This girl will be something new in our world. She may in time come to feel like an outsider.”
“But you asked me to come with you,” Daiya replied. “She has more of a chance to be happy there than I do, she won't have known anything else. You have more reason to take her to your home.”
Etey sighed. “You are right. You too may still come with us, you know. I asked you before because I was sure you would die here if you did not, that is all. Life is better than death. Now you could come with your sister. You could watch her grow up. You could have a good life there.”
“I could not.”
“Better than here.”
“You're so sure of that, aren't you, Etey?”
The woman lowered her eyelids.
“I can catch your feelings. On the surface you think of bridging the distance between your people and mine, but what you really want is for us to become like you. You hold scorn for us inside, whether you admit it to yourself or not, and think us primitive. But we can dream the world as well as see it, we can ripen the wheat and fruit, shape the water, see through what is only visible with the eyes, and touch minds, while you must live blind and twist the substance of the world into strange shapes. Now we shall have knowledge too, and we may become something you can never be. We must find our own path.”
Etey was silent.
“I still have much to find out. You talk of a bridge between us. Isn't it already present? Your Homesmind has spoken to our minds here. Perhaps It will continue to speak to them, as you say It has to other such minds, so in a way our world will always speak to yours. Once you told me that Homesmind was the best part of your world.”
The woman leaned toward her. “Will you go back to your village?”
“I must. Things will change now. I must be honest, I don't know if they
will be better or worse. The minds under the mountains spoke to me of growing conscious, something which seems only to make the world sharp and hard, soiled and empty. If they do not help us find new dreams, we shall die.”
“Perhaps nothing will happen,” Etey said harshly. “Maybe things will return to what they were. I shall tell you something, it may not matter very much. Sometimes I believe that the world, the universe, will one day be the province of Homesmind and all the other minds we built so long ago. I believe that may be why we have not located biological beings more advanced than we are. I sometimes even think that Homesmind has already sensed the presence of superior cybernetic minds, but has not communicated to us about them.”
Daiya tried to imagine that. No human being could hold as much as those minds did; it wasn't possible. She wondered if the day would come when all people lived on only in those minds, as the world had, she believed once, lived in God's mind. Perhaps this was what their myths had foretold.
“You're saying there is no purpose to human life,” Daiya said sadly.
“I am saying that might be our purpose, our end. We built the machines. They are a part of us.”
Daiya was silent. Birds whistled and chirped in the dawn. She put her hand to the ground, touching the grass.
“I shall have to leave very soon now,” Etey said at last. “I must get your sister settled. I shall help care for her. I do not think we shall ever come back.”
Daiya thought of Reiho.
Etey lifted an eyebrow, as if sensing her thoughts. “It is not as though we shall be gone. Through your cybernetic intelligences here, and through Homesmind you can speak to us, even if we are far from your world.” Etey paused. “Eventually, we will disappear from your sky. But I am going to try to persuade the others to keep us in this system, at least for a while. If they wish to go elsewhere, perhaps some of us will build a new world, though I think most of us will agree to stay at least for your lifetime.”
Watchstar Page 22