Carnival of Time

by Alan MacRaffen

  The rest of the tour had been a blur of houses and shops, old-bloods and true-bloods, dinosaurs and wagons. There had been beautiful music, delicious food and warm welcomes all around. Caleb was still recovering from the dizzy excitement of the day as he surveyed the crowd gathered in the hall of the Council Tower. There were the fifty old-bloods he had traveled with, mingled with an equal number of locals. At one table, Garner, Tess, and a few others from Caleb’s group sat with the nine Council members, the official leaders of Carnival.

  The Councilors were varied in age, shape and temperament, some speaking excitedly with the newcomers, others quietly observing the festivities. The oldest, a white-haired true-blooded woman, laughed with Garner over some little joke, while a stern and towering brachiosaur-man loomed over the others. A diminutive pterodactyl-man perched on the back of the huge old-blood’s chair, clinging to the wood with his curled toes and singing a lively song from before the lights went out.

  Caleb glanced over at Tess, sitting across from Garner and looking almost iridescent in the sparkling firelight. Her flashing, golden eyes caught his, and he quickly began picking his way through the crowd to her table. Halfway there, a thin, bony hand wrapped around his arm. Caleb looked down at Krezahu’s wizened face and smiled.

  “I can’t believe we’re here,” he said happily.

  “Yes, it is a place of happiness,” Krezahu said. A note of sadness crept into his voice as he subtly guided Caleb toward the large arched door. “It will make what is to come both easier and harder.”

  “What’s wrong?” Caleb asked. “What do you mean?”

  Krezahu led him outside, onto the cobbled path that encircled the base of the tower. Just outside the door, Chuck’s massive, dozing form stirred and padded quietly after them. The cool night wind blew ripples in the quiet pool surrounding the tower. Krezahu led Caleb across the stone walkway that bridged the pool, then through the archway of the surrounding wall. Once through, they could look down the slope of the island, speckled with trees and buildings. The candles and lanterns of the city mirrored the brilliant stars overhead. More stars sparkled from the reflective surface of the dark lake stretched out around them.

  Caleb looked worriedly at Krezahu. “What is it? Tell me.”

  The Awaru stared at the trickling water spilling from the pool and flowing down the stone channel running down the slope of the hill. “It is like the water,” he said. “No matter how it may wish to stay within the pool, it must flow.”

  “What are you saying?” Caleb said, growing anxious. “Where are you going?”

  “Not I,” Krezahu answered, staring up at Caleb now. “It is you who must go. You and whoever you bring with you.”

  “But I’m not going anywhere!” Caleb exclaimed. “What are you talking about? I just got here!”

  “Do not worry, Wi’im-duzi. You will return. The water also returns. Water flows into the lake, rises as mist, falls as rain, and returns to the pool.” Krezahu turned and stared out into the dark shadows of the trees just down the slope. “Ah,” he mumbled. “She is here. She will answer your Why and How and Who. She will show you more clearly than I could.”

  Caleb stared at the trees where Krezahu was looking. At first he saw only shadows of tree trunks and saplings. Then one of the slender shadows stirred, and a tall figure strode out of the dark. Behind them, Chuck snorted in surprise, then sniffed the air curiously. Caleb recognized the figure instantly.

  “The Hininze,” he muttered.

  “Ksogiasu,” Krezahu said quietly. “She who spoke to us in the tall grass.”

  The Hininze walked up to the trio, her long legs carrying her to them in a few easy steps. She gave a brief nod to Krezahu and a quick glance at Chuck, then turned her glittering eyes on Caleb. He could only stare up at her unreadable face, his eyes caught in the gaze of a mind older than man.

  “Caleb,” she said slowly, as if taking care to pronounce it properly. “You have many questions.”

  “Y-yes, I do,” Caleb stuttered as he gradually found his voice. “That’s a definite understatement. It seems like every question leads to two more. What’s going on here? Krezahu said something about me leaving.”

  “That will be clear to you soon, Caleb,” she said calmly. “As you have many questions, I have many answers. Let me tell you the secrets of your history. Then you may understand.”

  She stepped forward, less than an arm’s reach away now. Caleb suddenly felt very small in her tall and willowy shadow.

  “Do not fear, Caleb,” she said softly. “You have seen the World’s Mind? The World Tree, as your friend calls it?”

  Caleb nodded silently.

  “See now as you saw then, and you will see through my eyes, and my thoughts.” She gently reached out a three-fingered hand and laid it on the side of Caleb’s head. Her claws pressed his skin gently, and her scales rubbed his hair. The touch was so strange, so alien, yet so calming. Nothing like Tess’s touch, he thought, not remotely human, but so soothing.

  He blinked, and the world changed.

  The stars overhead spun in a great wheel, and the hills and mountains flowed like a river of stone and earth. Clouds of light swirled around him, and the flickering brilliance of the World Tree shone over everything. The sun whirled above and below, dancing a spiral with the moon. With a flash and a boom that was felt more than heard, Caleb found himself standing at the bottom of the sea. He was surrounded by an endless variety of living creatures, all moving, hunting, breeding and living together. Trilobites, sea scorpions, and strange mollusks swam all around. In his mind, Caleb’s thoughts blended with those of Ksogiasu. He staggered at the weight of knowledge suddenly upon his shoulders, struggling to make sense of the flood of new information. As he stared at the strange beings swimming around and above him, he began to understand. This was the world in its youth. He had a shockingly clear sense of the world as a single, unified entity composed of all living things. The world was vibrantly alive, with each living creature like a single cell in a larger body. But there was no thought as he knew it—no awareness of self or sense of anything beyond the current moment. This was a living world before the arrival of intelligent beings.

  The ancient sea whirled, and with another boom, Caleb found himself standing on a wide, wind-swept plain. There was no grass, only a lush blanket of ferns stretching halfway to the horizon. In the distance, like a cool green shadow, stood the huge trees of an ancient forest. Behind them rose a range of mountains, sharp and new in their contours and ridges. Closer by, a vast herd of hadrosaurs roamed across the land, feeding and trumpeting. Caleb turned around and saw that he stood at the edge of another forest. Nearby, under the sprawling branches of a great tree, two creatures sat. They were Hininze. They wore ornate garments and beaded pouches, with feathers and carved bone decorating their necks and tails. They spoke animatedly to each other in their own strange language, humming and trilling contentedly. One of them held a sharp stone knife in its hand, and was carefully carving a piece of wood into a delicate shape.

  These creatures were the latest in a new line of beings. They had a keen intelligence, allowing them to understand themselves and their world as no other creatures could. And so, with the presence of intelligence among the individual species of the world, the world as a single organism gained intelligence also. The world was no longer an unthinking entity, but a conscious, self-aware being made up of all beings.

  Caleb could sense that these Hininze were not the first species with the gift of reason. Others had come before, but as was the natural way, their species eventually died out, making way for new forms. The flying Ewahi had come before the Hininze, and though they were still present in the world, their numbers were gradually fading. The Hininze were simply the most recent bearers of intelligence, taking up the torch of the Ewahi. Caleb knew that when the Hininze’s line started to fade, another species would move in to take their place.

  The world spun around Caleb once more. This time, it slowed occasionally, allo
wing him to see events unfolding over the course of eons. The Hininze grew in strength and number. Their intelligence grew also, increasing the intelligence of the world-being. The Ewahi were still in decline, but it was a slow, gentle departure, and many still dwelled in the Hininze’s world.

  As Caleb watched the ages fly past, a new species appeared. He recognized them instantly as Awaru, though they were very primitive at first. Slowly, they grew in understanding, and soon they learned to interact with the Hininze, sharing in the older race’s knowledge. The frantic rush of eons slowed again as Caleb approached a time of great upheaval.

  He could see the Hininze gathered together in great numbers with the Awaru, sharing their teachings with their heirs, happy in the knowledge that their ways would be carried on by the new race when their kind reached its end. The Awaru were eager students and held the teachings of the Hininze dearly.

  Suddenly, the flow of time slowed to a near stop, and Caleb found himself observing a particular moment in great detail.

  It was a bright, moonlit night. The silver light illuminated the shapes of a great city of carved wood and polished stone. While all the other citizens of that ancient place slept soundly in their beds, two figures stood alone, whispering, atop a wind-swept roof. Although Caleb couldn’t make out exactly what was said, he still understood what was occurring. The taller, older Hininze was speaking passionately to its younger kin, whispering of revolution.

  Why should the Hininze yield to the upstart Awaru, it asked? Why should one race always give way to another? Wouldn’t the World-Mind lose something invaluable, by losing the Hininze? Wouldn’t it gain even greater and greater intelligence and awareness by allowing one race to continue indefinitely? Would it be so wrong for the Hininze to follow natural instincts of self-preservation, and destroy the Awaru before being destroyed by them?

  The speaker did not mention that all of the Hininze’s culture and knowledge were already being passed on to the Awaru. He did not mention the loss of insight that would result from the death of the Awaru. He neglected to point out that it was not the Awaru that would end the Hininze, but the inescapable forces of time and change. Even then, the Hininze were beginning to show the first signs of decline. The speaker did not mention this, nor the fact that with the Awaru dead, the Hininze would fade away with no heir to carry their knowledge. There was no reason to the speaker’s arguments, but he cared nothing for reason. He was consumed by fear and anger brought on by change. That night, as the fear and anger spread from one individual to another, the World-Mind splintered. A tiny, fragmentary element broke away from the greater mind, and spun off into the darkness, blinded and maddened by fear.

  The wheel of ages turned again, and Caleb watched as the city of the Hininze was overcome by chaos. The followers of the fearful Hininze grew, and entered into open conflict with the Awaru and the other Hininze. The traditional Hininze renounced their kinship with their mad brothers, and branded them Ne Shaazi; “The Unnatural Ones.”

  The Ne Shaazi tapped into the energies of the growing Shard-Mind, just as the Hininze channeled the energy of the World-Mind. Using the twisted energies, the Ne Shaazi wreaked havoc on their estranged brethren, who had no choice but to defend themselves. Battles raged across the ancient world. Caleb only watched in awe as forces beyond his understanding were brought to bear, threatening the very land itself. Rather than let itself be destroyed, the World-Mind took drastic action.

  Caleb watched in rapt fascination as the rush of time once more slowed to a single moment. The city of the Hininze lay in smoking ruins, with vicious fighting raging through the blackened streets. As the servants of the Shard-Mind continued their frenzied attacks, a group of Hininze elders gathered to focus the will of the World-Mind.

  Together, they reached down into the bones of the world itself, focusing and reshaping the earth’s magnetic field until it reached deep into space. They used this great magnetic arm to grasp a titanic chunk of solid metal and rock, pulling it toward the earth.

  With heartbreaking clarity, Caleb watched through the Hininze elders’ eyes. In terrible silence, the radiant, wheeling ball of fire and stone plunged through the sky. A soundless blaze of white light lit the world like a dozen noonday suns, and a great plume spread up and out across the sky. Moments later, the sound washed across the ruined city. The sound wasn’t like the growling grumble of thunder that Caleb expected, instead it sounded as if the entire world were roaring its pain and rage to the heavens. A wall of crimson flame and black dust swept out from the blazing plume, and in moments, it was upon the city. The Hininze themselves blew away like brittle leaves in a vicious gale, followed by larger trees and animals, until finally the great stone city itself was torn up from the earth and scattered like so much dry sand.

  Caleb felt then as if he were floating in a void, with no sense of time or space or direction. As his senses began to recover from the shock of the great extinction, he slowly became aware of the passage of time again. It was a muted sense, as though he was trapped in a thick, numbing fog, but he could definitely feel the continuing march of ages.

  A vision flickered before him briefly, of some sort of apelike creatures, standing on the fringe of a forest. They were gone almost as soon as he saw them, but they were replaced by other scenes. Other apelike beings walking through the grass. Still others, taller and more upright, throwing stones and sticks at a large animal hidden in the trees. The visions grew in clarity, as though Caleb was waking from a long slumber, slowly regaining consciousness and clear thinking. Caleb realized that he was watching the rebirth of intelligence in the world, and the evolution of his own species.

  As men became more like men, they began to fashion tools, clothing, language, culture. At first it was crude, and Caleb could sense that the turmoil caused by the Shard-Mind had left scars on the world, making it difficult for intelligence to reawaken. But still it did, and soon, Caleb could see large numbers of people gathering together to build the first houses, farms, and villages.

  One scene stood out momentarily, of a small village full of people gathered together, swarming after a single individual and hurling stones and spears, overcome by anger and fear for some unknown reason. A chill went through Caleb as he recognized the workings of the Shard-Mind. It had not died with the Ne Shaazi after all. Just like the greater World-Mind, it left its mark on the world, ensuring its return.

  The minds of the new humans were shaped by the echoes of the last World-Mind, but many were also touched by the shadow of the Shard-Mind. As human civilization grew, so too did both the World-Mind and Shard-Mind, but this time, the presence of the Shard clouded the clarity of the World. The humans were unaware of their place as part of a greater whole. Unlike the races that came before, they were almost completely unable to touch the World-Mind, and they built a civilization based upon the fear and loneliness of that isolation.

  Cities spread like wildfires. Populations soared even as huge legions of humans slaughtered their kin and neighbors. Psychic isolation fed the need to fill the world with more of their kind even as it drove them to kill one another. Without the unity of the World-Mind, the natural world became an alien and terrifying force, a thing to be fought and tamed. And fight it they did, though they could never truly tame it. Soon the world was filled with a seething crowd of humanity, panicked and lost. Still, some did hear the voice of the World-Mind, even in those insane times, but it was a distant and clouded voice. Most people couldn’t hear more than a faint whisper, and for every individual who could hear it clearly, there were countless others who could only hear the frantic screams of the Shard, crying out for the preservation of the self above all other things.

  In one fleeting image, Caleb saw a group of people pointing at an ornate drawing and gesturing dramatically. He recognized them as ancient Mayans, and realized that they were pointing at their calendar and speaking of the day when the world would end. Before the vision faded, Caleb somehow realized that this was the same place where the asteroid ha
d been pulled into the earth so many millions of years before. Somehow, the people of that place could sense the echoes of ancient events, even as they predicted the patterns of the future. Almost as soon as it appeared, the vision blended back into the blurred whirl of passing centuries.

  Caleb watched intently as the spinning of years slowed once more, revealing another view of a single moment. A man, driven by the harrying voice of the Shard, stood in a brightly lit laboratory. As with many others, the Shard’s fear drove him to try to control nature, to make it bend to his will and whims. He and many others in the laboratory were trying to find a way to reverse the death of species. They claimed that they wanted to repair some of the damage humanity had done, but what they truly wanted was to retrieve and exploit that which was lost to them.

  The man was watching the growth of a single cell, a cloned organism grown from the preserved genes of an ancient being. Time flickered briefly, and Caleb watched the cell grow and divide, slowly taking on a recognizable form. Soon the man was looking down on a tiny squealing creature, newly hatched from its synthetic egg. For the first time in tens of millions of years, a tiny Ne Shaazi infant drew its first breath.

  It was an imperfect creature; its body was stunted and poorly formed, its mind weak and dull. Still, the memory of the Shard-Mind was written in its blood, and with the hatchling’s birth, the Shard-Mind emerged from slumber and flooded into the world with a furious intensity. It found the malformed infant’s brain insufficient to house its consciousness, and so it settled in the next best place, in the mind of the one who had awakened it.

  Dr. Reeve. The name echoed through Caleb’s thoughts, and he shuddered, knowing that it was the new name of the Shard-Mind.