A Day for Damnation twatc-2

by David Gerrold

  "I doubt it," she said. There was certainty in her voice. I turned to her.

  "How long have they been there?"

  "For an hour."

  "And you didn't wake me?"

  "As mission commander, I felt you needed your sleep. If they're here to communicate, Jim, then they'll wait. And if they're not, then it's a mistake to rush into anything. We'll follow the checklist. I'm calling condition yellow. I have to open two separate channels to Oakland, satellite and direct. I have to wake the observation team and the defense team; I have to activate the high-level monitors. You might as well have breakfast and go through your exercises with Fletcher again. It'll be at least ninety minutes before I'll go to condition green. Probably longer. Until then, my friend, you're still under my command. Got that?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "First thing, I want you to put on a medical harness. I want you to stabilize your heart and respiration before you go out there."

  "Is it that obvious how excited I am?"

  "Just do it," she said, hooking a thumb over her shoulder. "I've got work to do."

  I moved. I went and woke up Fletcher, showed her our guests and then the two of us fell into the familiar routine of preparation and clearing. The excitement was growing in me like a bomb. This was worse than Christmas.

  Fletcher took me to the back of the chopper and began talking to me low and quietly. At first, I couldn't hear a word she said. All I could think of was the bunnydogs.

  "Jim!" Her tone was urgent. "Pay attention."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "What are you here for?"

  "The bunnydogs. Um, creating a relationship with the bunnydogs so communication can occur." The words fell out like a recorded phrase.

  "Sorry, I don't get it. Where are you, James-because you're sure not here with me."

  "I'm-sorry. I-guess I'm just excited."

  "I know. All right, strip down and put on the harness. Let's see what's going on."

  The decision had been made that the contact-me-should be naked. Or as close to naked as possible. To allow the bunnydogs to experience the animalness of the individual first. The physical beingness. I'd voted in favor of shorts. We'd compromised on a loincloth.

  As soon as I'd stripped, Fletcher had me slip into the medical harness. She studied her console and frowned. "Is there any part of you that isn't elevated?" she asked.

  "Well, there is one," I said, glancing down. "But, if you want-"

  "Knock that off." She was all business. "Close your eyes, James. Good. All right. Here's the exercise. Thirty deep breaths. Like I taught you. See how long you can take."

  I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing. Breath number one. Breathe for your toes. This oxygen is for your toes. Take in as much as you can. Take care of your toes. Hold it as long as you can. Now, let it out. Breath number two. Breathe for your left foot. This oxygen is for your left foot. Take in as much as you can.

  I could hear Fletcher and Colonel Tirelli conferring softly in the front of the chopper. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I knew it was about me. I could sense the concern in their voices.

  This breath is for your right knee. Take in as much as you can. I was going to go through my whole body this way. I was going to be thoroughly oxygenated. I knew I was letting myself be distracted.

  The sounds from the front of the chopper were too negative. If I wasn't ready, they weren't going to let me go. That's what they were discussing. If I was too excited, I wouldn't be able to hold my focus.

  Breathe for your stomach. This oxygen is for your stomach. Breathe for your chest.

  They stopped talking then and the only sound in the ship was the sound of my own breath.

  Breathe for your brain. Take in as much as you can. Hold it for as long as you can.

  When I opened my eyes again, Fletcher was sitting opposite me.

  "How are you feeling now, James?"

  "Better." I added, "But I'm still not ready. I can feel it. I'm too giddy."

  "You're doing fine," she said. "It's just that you think this is important. It's not. It's only an oddball little experiment that no one is taking seriously. So there's nothing at stake here. You got that?"

  "Yes. "

  "Good. So that means you're off the hook, Jim. No matter what happens out there, you can't screw up. Whatever happens, we still learn something. The experiment is already a success. All that's left is to find out the results."

  "I wish I could believe that."

  She shrugged. "It doesn't matter if you believe it or not. It's still true. Listen-" she added, "that circle that we cleared out there is an invitation to a party. It's the same invitation that they offered you and Duke and Colonel Tirelli three weeks ago, only you couldn't recognize it for what it was. Now that we know what it is, we can return the invitation. And they want to accept it. They're waiting for us. The hard part is over." She studied me intensely. "So, now what's the next move?"

  "I go out there."

  "And ... ?"

  "And-" I stopped. "Uh-I know the answer, Fletch-but knowing the answer doesn't change anything. I'm still running the monkey program. I'm excited-and I'm scared." I looked at her, frustrated, "How do I let go?"

  "Right. That's why you can't go out there, James. Not yet. You're still not ready to just be with them and play with them. You're still too busy being with your own feelings." Without missing a beat, she said, "Tell me a dirty joke."

  "Huh?"

  "Tell me a dirty joke. Any joke. Make one up."

  "Why?"

  "No reason at all. Tell me a joke!"

  "Um-okay. What do you call a Chtorran who farts in the bathtub and bites the bubbles?"

  "Well adjusted. Tell me one I haven't heard."

  "What do you say to a Chtorran who's eating a Revelationist?"

  "I give up, what?"

  "Bon appetit!"

  She smiled. "Okay, my turn. What's the Chtorran word for midget?"

  "What?"

  "Hors d'oeuvre. What does a Chtorran call a jogger?"

  "Fast food. I've heard that one."

  "All right. One more. What do you get when you cross a Chtorran with a grizzly bear?"

  "What?"

  "A very cross grizzly bear." She glanced at her console.

  "How'm I doing?" I asked.

  "Better." She grinned at me. "We may make it after all."

  I felt myself surging with excitement. And immediately tried to suppress it.

  "No, it's all right," she said. "You're excited. Let yourself be excited. If you try to stop being excited, it'll just keep building. Just let it run itself out." She pushed the console aside and turned to me. "Okay, here's what I want you to do:

  "I want you to go up front, sit in the copilot's seat and study the bunnies. Just watch them. Watch them until you are tired of watching them. Until you are bored silly with watching them. Watch them until there is nothing left to do but watch them. Remember your herd experience. There's a point at which you will feel a shift in your experience of the bunnydogs. I can't explain what it will feel like, but you'll know it when it happens.

  "I don't want you to move until you know that you're absolutely ready. When you are, get up quietly, take off the medical harness, and go out and do whatever is appropriate. You'll know what that is too. Have you got all that?"

  I nodded.

  "Good." She pointed me toward the front of the chopper.

  I slipped into the copilot's seat and stared out at the bunnydogs. There were still only three of them. Papa, Mama, and baby? Maybe.

  I remembered what Tanjy had said. Listen with your whole soul.

  The bunnydogs were sitting patiently on the far side of the circle. Occasionally one or the other would scratch itself behind one ear. The littlest one had curled up and gone to sleep. It looked like a little pink pillow. That was interesting. The bunnydogs were naturally pink, even without the dust.

  I remembered what Fletcher had taught me. Look beyond what you're seeing
. Look at the surface. Look beyond the surface. And look inside yourself to see how you're seeing.

  I was beginning to get a sense of the bunnydogs' patience. It wasn't their circle. It was ours. They were waiting to see what kind of a game we were inviting them to play.

  And ... we were too scared to play.

  We couldn't even offer an invitation without hiding guns behind it.

  The invitation lay empty.

  The game hadn't been created yet.

  Once you step into the circle, the game begins. So, the question is-what kind of a game did I want to create with the bunnies? No.

  The question was-what kind of a game could all of us create together?

  I looked across at the rabbity little puppies and wonderedcould these creatures play the game of sentience?

  It was time to find out. I levered myself out of my seat.

  There was no one else in the chopper. They had left me alone. They were probably sitting in Colonel Anderson's command ship, watching the monitors.

  The door was open. I stopped and removed the medical harness. I was wearing only a loincloth and a neck chain with a small transceiver hanging on it.

  I stepped down out of the gunship.

  I crossed to the wall of the camouflage dome and stepped through the netting.

  FIFTY-SIX

  THE BUNNYDOGS sat up straighter as I approached.

  I stepped to the edge of the circle opposite the bunnies and sat down cross-legged. They needed the chance to study a human. The two larger bunnies began to chirp and gobble at each other. The littlest bunny sat up, yawned, stretched and scratched himself. He looked around and saw me-and jumped nearly a meter in the air in startlement. His eyes went impossibly round. He was probably only a child. He edged sideways until he was hidden behind the largest bunnydog. Then he peered around curiously and blinked at me.

  I waved at him.

  He pulled his head back quickly, disappearing again behind his-what, his papa? No, that was a human assumption. Maybe the females of this species were the larger.

  The two adult bunnies ceased gobbling and reduced their conversation to a series of coos and chirps.

  They reminded me of something I'd seen in the herd. There were two young women who liked to sit opposite each other, cooing and gobbling nonsense syllables. If you didn't know the language-or the lack of it-you could almost think that they were really talking. It looked like they were totally engaged in some happy casual chatter-and in one sense, they were. But there were no agreed-upon symbols, and there was no transmission of any experience at all beyond the shared one of sitting and gobbling.

  If an alien didn't know human language, would it assume that they were communicating?

  And then, having made that assumption, if it had turned and looked to the observers of the herd, Dr. Fletcher and myself, and studied our quiet sidewise exchanges, could that same alien have perceived a difference? If anything, the two gobbling women would have looked more in communication than Fletcher and myself. At least it was obvious that they were acting in relationship.

  This was the real question.

  If two creatures are sitting and gobbling at each other, how do you tell if they are talking-or just gobbling? Were these bunnydogs actually using a language? Or were they simply making noises at each other?

  It sounded like a language. But then, so did the herd noises. Two more bunnydogs were hopping down the slope to join the three sitting opposite me. They bumped noses with Mama, Papa and baby bunnydog. They patted each other's fur. A greeting ritual? The two newcomers looked older and more cautious than Mama, Papa and baby. But they took up their places at the edge of the circle and waited also.

  I felt a little like a guru. Naked. Patient. Mysterious. A sixth bunnydog joined the vigil.

  There were other bunnydogs hopping and waddling toward the circle.

  There were more up on the hill. Some were just sitting and watching. A few were advancing.

  I waited until the gathering was complete-they gobbled and greeted each new arrival; there was much exchanging of nuzzlings and nose bumps, even a few pats and hugs before settling downand then I stood up.

  The bunnydogs sat up alert.

  I stepped to the exact center of the circle.

  I could feel their eyes. This was the center of the world. Every bunnydog was watching me; so was every human. Everything I did was being monitored from the choppers hidden in the domes. Recorded. Photographed. Analyzed.

  I stopped and waited. I allowed myself to feel the wind on my body. I let myself smell the grass and the scent of pine in the cool afternoon air. There was another scent on top of the pine. A sweet peppermint smell. The scent of the bunnies? It would be appropriate.

  The bunnies were watching me attentively, but none of them had entered the circle yet.

  They were waiting for me to do something.

  I remembered what the bunnies had done before. They had danced.

  I touched the transceiver at my neck and said, very softly, "I have a problem. I don't know how to dance."

  Fletcher's voice, just as softly, replied, "They don't know that. They've never seen a monkey dance before. Whatever you do is the right way."

  "Oh, yeah. Thanks for reminding me." I took a breath.

  I started dancing.

  I capered, I bounced, I shouted. I made Indian whooping noises with my hand over my mouth. I did a jig, a Charleston, a freddy, and a break. I jumped and hollered and shook.

  The bunnydogs looked at each other curiously.

  "Well, come on-!" I shouted. "Don't you want to dance?" Several of the bunnies took a hop backward. Oh, shit. I was going to lose them.

  I dropped forward in a somersault, came up on my knees, hooked my fingers in my mouth, crossed my eyes, stuck out my tongue, and said, "Boola-boola-boola! Labber-labber-labber-"

  Two of the bunnies started giggling. The littlest bunny came charging into the circle then. He stopped in front of me and shook his head rapidly back and forth. He let his floppy lips and tongue shake like an ape. "Lubber-lubber-lubber-" he said in a high squeaky voice.

  In seconds, I was surrounded by bunnies, all of them making incomprehensible gobbling sounds. They were bouncing and hopping all around me, somersaulting and turning upside down, shrieking, bubbling and shouting. They danced and jerked like little spastic puppets. I looked up the hill and it was covered with fluffy pink bodies bouncing down toward the circle. They were coming to join the party too. We had won!

  A bright red worm came over the crest of the slope. Two more followed after it. And then two more. And another-I didn't care.

  The bunnies saw and began cheering and shouting. It was beginning to sound more and more like a language.

  "I think we've done it!" I laughed. "We've done it! I don't know what we've done, but we've done it!"

  The bunnies were all around me now, patting me and touching me affectionately. Their fingers were soft and furry. And they tickled.

  I dropped to my knees. The bunnies came up close to inspect my face. Their tiny hands touched my cheeks, my nose, my hair. They were fascinated by the hairlessness of my body. They stroked me curiously. Their eyes were huge and round. They looked like little toy animals, pink and cuddly. But when they yipped, I could see that they had sharp white teeth. But then-so did puppies.

  One of the bunnies took my hand and began licking my fingers. He put my middle finger in his mouth and sucked on it thoughtfully. Then he let go and looked at me and ... giggled. I reached over and tugged his ear gently and we both knew it was all right.

  The new arrivals plunged into the circle and joined the curious crowd. All of them wanted to get as close as possible. I reached out and touched as many of them as I could reach. I began to tickle them and poke them affectionately. I patted their heads and skritched their ears-they really loved that. I even picked up the baby bunnydogs and gave them little hugs and kisses. They shrieked and giggled with delight.

  My transceiver started beeping. T
he bunnydogs cocked their heads at it curiously. I held it up for them to see-a tiny little button on a chain around my neck. I said, "See, it's nothing. It just makes noises. Make a noise, button."

  The button said, "Oh, great and powerful god of small pink things, look around you now."

  The bunnies were fascinated. One of the babies sniffed the button. Another tried to put it into his mouth. I had to take it away from him.

  I looked up, beyond the small pink bodies. There were worms here.

  I was surrounded by worms.

  Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-three worms.

  All sizes. From the smallest I'd ever seen-about the size of a St. Bernard-to three huge monsters the size of Greyhound buses. "Well, hi guys..." I said. I stood up and looked at the worms.

  The last worm was just being herded into place by three energetic little bunnies. Again I thought of a jumbo jet being directed to dock by the ground crew.

  All right-assume that the bunnies control the worms. The question was why? What did the bunnies use the worms for? We were about to find out.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  SOME OF the worms swiveled their eyes to study me. Some of them closed their eyes and looked like they were dozing.

  And that was it.

  They stayed outside the circle. Why? Did that mean something? Or not-?

  Most of the bunnydogs were ignoring the worms. They were here to party. The worms were just... wallpaper. Or protection. Or ... what? I couldn't even guess.

  Several of the bunnies were tugging at me. I allowed myself to be turned away from the worms. They wanted to play some more. I let myself be pulled into a cluster of them. I grinned. I giggled. I laughed out loud.

  The bunnies laughed with me. They bounced and hugged and fell all over me, screaming and giggling like children. They seemed to be asking for something. They tugged at me and made little begging noises. I had the weirdest sense that they were wondering where the rest of my ... family was.

  I touched the button at my throat and laughed. "I think there's room in this circle for a few more monkeys."

  The button didn't respond.

  I repeated my request. "I think we need some more monkeys out here."