Of a Note in a Cosmic Song; Part Five

by Nōnen Títi

  “That’s not fair.”

  No it wasn’t, but that was the way it was with people.

  “I don’t think it’s so bad if people complain. It means two things if they do,” Jema said.

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?” Maike asked, her intonation evidence of the impatience she must also feel about those endless discussions.

  “It means they care about what goes on, or else they wouldn’t bother, and it means they’re not afraid to speak out like they were on DJar.”

  Benjamar nodded into the emerging darkness. Jema had a point.

  Yako insisted that all people needed to be listened to. “Not just be allowed to speak, but be heard as well.” He suggested they take two kor prior to elections to give people a chance to come up with topics they wanted to have addressed. They all knew where to find Benjamar.

  Laytji had one right away: She wanted to know when they’d start a new Learners.

  “Probably never. Why stick children inside a hut and force them to learn to read, write, or do calculations when we don’t have pens or paper, nor prints and no need to calculate further than how many people will need to eat? Those children are looking at a future of farming or gathering,” Maike answered.

  “I don’t think so,” Nini replied. “Bas and Anoyak are stressing over the mathematics to do with all the star relations and even the cycles of the two moons. Not all of these children will become farmers.”

  Hani took her side. There was a need for new scientists, doctors, and other specialists. Now they had the chance to make new paper from the reeds, the people of the different settlements should get together and start rewriting everything they still remembered before it was too late.

  With the discussion turning away from the political, Benjamar leaned back to listen. No doubt, there was enough interest here to show that people cared and bouncing these ideas around had often led to a good solution, as it had with the lamp, which Maike now put in since the fire had gone out.

  The best lamp they’d ever had only needed to be pulled into the dark shelter to start glowing. Once it had been proposed that the luminescent substance from the plamals could be used for lighting their homes – since the lumps of reed-pulp that burned a life flame, though relatively safe, were cumbersome – people had started experimenting. Extracting it wasn’t the problem, but it glowed as soon as it came in contact with oxygen and nobody had airtight containers. Though Kunag protested their trials – and errors – it was hard to prevent people from tapping the plants, which grew on the other side of the stream in the natural area. Fiery arguments had emanated in their Hearth until Hani had come up with the obvious answer: if the substance could not be controlled outside of the plamal, then leave it inside. They glowed naturally after Kundown.

  Kunag had reluctantly agreed to test planting them in a basket and, when that didn’t harm them, to transport them to the village. Now each shelter had a plamal in a basket, which bathed itself in Kunlight in front of each entrance in the daytime and switched itself on at night. Nobody complained, neither people nor plamals, and Kunag was satisfied.

  Another problem solved, only a few more masses to go. Benjamar mentioned his failing pen. “What did the Bijari people of long ago use?”

  “Bird feathers.”

  “Kun DJar has no birds.”

  So the debates went on, some more productive than others, some more tense.

  “I never knew it could be this much fun to make rules and decide over things,” Leyon said.

  “It’s no longer fun when there’s trouble. There are always going to be some people who won’t wait for decisions or who don’t accept them once they’re made,” Maike said, to which Leyon, wisely, didn’t respond.

  Benjamar thought it all through, night after night. It had to be right this time. This settlement was made up of three main groups: farmers, Society, and everyone else. How hard could it be to get them to co-operate?

  TRUE LOVE

  1/1/5/8/1

  Nini had counted good days and bad days ever since the Kun DJar year had turned into its last station and the settlers had arrived. Sometimes she felt lost when somebody asked for her help but she couldn’t give any. On other days she relaxed when her assistance wasn’t required or when a new discovery raised her hopes, like when a man told her he’d had a small black pod in a meal once or twice and had found that his headaches went away. The next time his head hurt he’d taken a pod on its own and it had worked faster and longer.

  Nini was thankful for every bit of help, but this could also be dangerous if people started eating them for every ache and pain, and she said no to Flori’s suggestion that they cut the pods open and separate the ingredients to do tests on them. “Mektar told me that was the Geveler way. He said not to ask why this plant takes pain away. All we need to know is that it does and in what quantity. It’s the soul of the plant that heals, not its components.”

  The best indication of the amount needed came when a woman carrying a tub of water slipped near the stream and broke her arm. That was the bad part of the day. Half a squeezed pod later they could set the arm without causing her too much pain. The ‘good’ came with the amount of people assisting her; they produced a sort of cast made from pounded reed pulp mixed with resin.

  The worst day so far had started with two children eating some tiny buds from a plamal near the stream. They’d been brought to Nini, vomiting and delirious. She had totally panicked, but thanks to whatever spirit had been with her that day, they had recovered – another lucky break. How many more before somebody died and her life would fall to pieces?

  She talked to Benjamar. “I’ve been accused of killing a child before; I can’t go through that again. I don’t know these plamals. I don’t know anything.”

  Benjamar responded with a speech to all the people saying that nobody should eat anything they didn’t know, or they would be doing so at their own risk. He also stressed that coming for medical help at this stage was their responsibility. “We’re all new to this place so there are no guarantees. Any treatment that can improve a problem can also make it worse. Any medicine is just as likely to kill as not treating is. Nobody will be held accountable.” He repeated that people would die of diseases, of the wrong foods or medications, or of accidents. “We will have to live with that, because it’s the only thing we can do.”

  His being so blunt helped Nini feel better for a bit. She collected what she did know in her shelter, but with that came the uncertainty of whether to try a remedy at all. For a while nobody came to her. Then she worried that they didn’t trust her anymore. One night she woke up in a panic after having killed the whole colony in a dream. She sat up in the dark, clinging to Jema, who eventually pulled the cover over both of them. From then on they kept their mats together the way Marya and Yako had them.

  But now the nightmares had stopped, Nini was handed an even bigger worry: Wilam’s new comate called her on the first day of Kun DJar’s very last moon. Styna thought she was expecting a baby. Together with Flori, Nini checked as well as she remembered how and confirmed it was true. But that was the easy part.

  “Oh no, Flori. Neither of us have done this before; we need Wana or Irma.”

  Flori suggested asking the women who had children already but that wouldn’t help for the actual birth. Memories of SJilai filled Nini with fear. Memories, especially, of the girl after Pina who had screamed so loud that Irma had needed to anaesthetize her. They had nothing of the kind here.

  “Styna is different. She doesn’t get upset easily,” Flori said.

  But Wilam did and he knew that the experts were in town. Then Flori raised another concern. “Do you think she calculated this in DJar, SJilai or Kun DJar time?” she asked. “Where did you feel the head?”

  Nini had felt it at the front, low down. “What are you saying?”

  “I don’t think she’s that far off, Nini. She’s either worked it out wrong, something on Kun DJar changes the gestation period, or she’s kept it quiet on purp
ose.”

  “No!” But Flori was right and Nini wouldn’t be able to deal with this. What training did she have outside of that mealmax factory? A few years in a medical hospital. Nothing like this had ever come up, not even on Freberer and on SJilai she’d stood back and watched. “I can’t do this, Benjamar. We need to get people over from town.”

  He replied that he had no more control than she had over the coming and going of the kabins. “You may not have a choice. Sometimes the only way to learn something is by doing it.”

  “You have easy talking! What if it goes wrong?”

  He repeated what he’d said before: It was a risk they had to live with, especially with health issues. Then, when she burst into tears, he let her cry in his arms.

  Nini went back to Styna and Wilam’s home in the North Hills the next day and told them that this was totally new to her. Styna was still mobile, she might be able to get to town.

  Wilam agreed instantly but Styna did not. “Isn’t it what women have always done? Do you think DJar would have been overpopulated if women couldn’t do this on their own?”

  “But they were assisted by experienced mothers. We have none here, Styna. Everybody with children had them in some clinic without being aware.”

  “I’m willing to take my chances. I’ve assisted in enough cattle deliveries to roughly know what goes on,” Styna determined.

  Wilam begged both Nini and Flori to make her change her mind, but Styna said no. “He’s a man. He’s bound to be squeamish, Nini. I trust that I can do it and I trust you enough to help me out.”

  That was one out of three who trusted Nini. Styna admitted she’d known since town. “Wilam really wanted to come here, so I never told him.”

  “So how long, really?”

  “About two more stations – SJilai,” Styna said. “I was just going to spring it on you, but then I started to wonder, since you don’t see much of it yet.”

  Styna was a big woman. It was possible that it just didn’t show much.

  “It’s the natural way. I want it that way.”

  There was no convincing her otherwise. Flori had no more success.

  “I’m scared,” Wilam admitted. “I could lose Styna and the baby. I already did that once.”

  “I’m scared too,” Nini said before thinking that was the absolute worst answer she could have given. “But it has to be Styna’s decision, Wilam. It has to be in the end. It is her life, her baby, her belly and therefore her right. I can’t make her do anything. Not even for you.”

  That night at meals she told her family of her fear and of Flori’s idea of involving other women.

  “Not me,” Maike said immediately. “I don’t like that kind of thing.”

  “We’ll talk to Leni,” Jema suggested. “I’m pretty sure she had Emi the normal way.”

  “Normal, like on DJar?”

  “No silly. The natural way.”

  Leni welcomed Jema with a kiss and Nini with a smile. Jema was at home here, but Nini had never been. Leni was older, relaxed, and not in the least bit shocked by what Jema asked her. She told Nini that Society belief didn’t allow for giving birth in a clinic and she had been present at other women’s deliveries as well. “I will be there if you want me to, but Styna has to agree.”

  With that the light of Kun shone brighter. “Of course. It’ll put Wilam at ease to have an expert there.”

  Leni smiled softly. “This is a job for women, Nini, just like our stations are our business for which we need privacy. Men should stay away from it and do their jobs. Women and men are not equals. They shouldn’t be. Each has their own special qualities.”

  “I’m not sure if Styna shares your belief,” Nini said.

  “Delivering a baby surpasses all beliefs, Nini.”

  Nini looked around. It was warm and homely here. She noticed Leni observing her. “It reminds me of my mother’s home,” she said.

  “That can’t be bad.”

  Leni made the same quiet impression on Flori and Styna the next day.

  “Feel better?” Jema asked.

  Nini did… until Marya asked to speak to her.

  “I’ve considered every alternative, Nini. I didn’t want to believe it at first. You sometimes hear of phantoms for wanting it so bad.”

  Like it was the most natural thing to do, Nini had Marya lie down so she could check and then had to agree that Marya was also pregnant. “How come you didn’t watch out?” she demanded. She just couldn’t handle another one.

  “I was a user, Nini, same as you. This wasn’t supposed to be possible.”

  Nini sank down on the mat. Maybe she was wrong. What if she wasn’t? What if DJar had made a mistake? What if it wasn’t a mistake? Maybe the whole thing had been a scare tactic. What if there was still a chance…?

  But no, that was wishful thinking. All of Habitat Three would have been pregnant. It was a fluke, if anything, a one in a set of masses chance.

  “If it was you who had this lucky accident, I wouldn’t resent you for it,” Marya said into the silence.

  “No, no, Marya. I’m sorry. I don’t resent you.”

  Marya didn’t feel hurt for long. “You’re really sure then? I was so afraid to be happy.”

  Well no, Nini wasn’t totally sure. She’d have Flori check. “But if your body tells you so, you should listen to it.”

  Flori confirmed Marya’s hope and Nini’s fear: Marya shared her shelter; there was no way Nini could cope with a baby that close, but she didn’t say it.

  The news caused an emotional discussion around the Hearth that night. Leyon suggested that Marya had wished hard enough and Kun DJar had granted her wish, saying out loud what he had previously only joked about. This divided the family into two groups – those who thought it impossible for any consciousness to exist beyond people, and those who agreed with Leyon that there was more to this planet and all life here was sentient in one way or another. Remag went as far as to say that even if people weren’t part of it, the rest of Kun DJar’s inhabitants seemed to communicate with each other and with the planet by means of the red fog. He couldn’t explain it and admitted it was absurd from the viewpoint of science, but that didn’t change his perceptions.

  “Just imagine the evolutionary power of that,” Jema said. “If everything we need is, indeed, provided, then it’s impossible for anybody to be hungry or needy and the resources can’t be monopolized, which would mean no more competition and no more wars.”

  “And no more progress,” Yako added.

  “Why not?”

  “Because people don’t have to think if they have no challenges. The evolution of the brain came with the need to think. Without it we’d return to being mere animals, killing for instinct.”

  “In that case, you don’t have to worry,” Jema replied. “Your ego has outgrown your brain. What did you think we’re doing now? Did you think today’s wars are fought for some higher purpose? Morality, by any chance?”

  “But our intellect has evolved so we can use reason to motivate our moral choices rather than letting simple feelings guide them,” Marya said.

  “What are you saying? No need to love your child since you can teach it rationality? No need for simple arms since we have evolved legs to walk upright?”

  From there they went into a discussion about whether people were really so advanced and whether that was needed for survival. Intellect and technology were by no means proof of a higher evolution. Remag said that in every species there were specialists for certain skills; a worker ant would be considered dumb if the intellect of ants was measured by their ability to lay eggs; it was the same for people – a view Nini agreed with, as it was similar to how she explained OT and SJari – each personality was an expression of a specific evolutionary strength. Some were born to remain with the herd, so they had strong social skills. “Not me,” Remag said. “I have more of the wanderer-instinct, which was needed by those who left the social group in order to prevent inbreeding. They had to survive alo
ne, so they had to be selfish.” He stressed that intellect had nothing to do with the brain, but with survival, and that the most highly evolved species would waste no gametes, which would make every plant on DJar more advanced than people. He got support from Yako and Jema. Others, like Benjamar, Hani, and Maike, were reluctant to accept something that radical.

  Both Benjamar and Maike were more concerned about the rising tensions in the village. Some farmers had complained that the special public ceremonies of the Society involved physical activities much like those that had been a problem in town. After a few confrontations Benjamar had told the farmers to stay away from that area since they had no business there, while Maike forbade the young non-Society people going to these meetings.

  For a reason not totally clear to Nini, this sent Laytji into a tantrum that was audible in all the hearths around theirs. She cried and yelled about Maike not being her mother. Hani took Maike’s side, which caused a fight between the two girls. Laytji went anyway, only to be in even bigger trouble when she returned. As she’d not tolerated Sinti’s tears, so Maike didn’t accept Laytji’s. Jema offered to keep an eye on Laytji, but Maike had appointed herself guardian of the young people, saying they needed rules, and Laytji shared her shelter.

  “I have no idea what crazy thoughts Frimon puts into the minds of those children,” she said. “Their bodies rule their lives and they’re changing partners as fast as the moons turn.”

  Other incidents also had Maike and Benjamar on alert. One farmer single-handedly decided to start digging in a restricted area. Kunag found and attacked the man, for which he got a scolding from Benjamar. “If I say you can watch out for people breaking the rules, that does not mean you can physically remove them.”

  If he wanted to keep his job Kunag had to apologize to the farmer for the swollen eye, which he did. The farmer was given the choice to abide by the rules or leave the settlement for good. Nini liked that. Benjamar had every intention of making sure no wildlife would be destroyed. “We are guests on this planet and so we shall behave,” he said.