Of a Note in a Cosmic Song; Part Five

by Nōnen Títi

  It was safe inside Leni’s arms.

  “I know it isn’t fair for you to have to be here. To want it so badly and never have it. There’s no need to pretend it doesn’t hurt. Better cry it all out.”

  Nini would have liked to stay there forever but after a while Leni pushed her out a little and kissed the tears on her cheeks. “Now let’s go make sure Flori got it right and it isn’t accidentally a girl.”

  “Right.”

  Nini followed Leni back into Styna’s home. For a long time nothing else existed but the four of them and the little baby.

  “If half the people are ready to kill each other we may as well have the memorial service right here,” Maike said, coming into the Hearth with Yako.

  “Never mind that it’s an awful long walk there and back,” Yako answered.

  “Back they’ll go by boat,” Maike said.

  “What about Benjamar and the children?”

  Benjamar stood up so abruptly it startled Yako. “Excuse me, but I can talk for myself and I can out-walk you.”

  Yako started laughing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

  Benjamar sat back down. He’d been sitting at the back of the Hearth when the two of them walked in. “I wish other people wouldn’t see me so now and then. I was hoping to retire. I’ve only done that at least three times before, but people keep finding me with their troubles.”

  “Like Frantag. Seems you old men still have the wisdom needed to make something work,” Yako attempted a joke.

  “Let’s not start that again, please.” Last night’s challenge seemed an eternity away. “How long will we keep telling people not to worry about the fog and how long can we possibly leave a man tied to a tree?” he asked.

  “At the very least, until Kunag comes back with his report of the damage,” Yako answered.

  “No, Tigor needs to be locked up. We need to build a prison cell. We were wrong to think we could do without,” Maike said.

  “Or we could offer him to the fog; maybe it will leave us alone.” More seriously, Yako added that he’d hoped they’d find a better method than a return to the DJar system. “I’m not naive enough to think we’d go without crime in this new place, but locking them away from society doesn’t solve anything.”

  “That’s an age-old dilemma, Yako. They’ve tried everything in the past. The most horrendous punishments were invented and nothing worked.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem. Is punishment the aim of justice? Is it to get back at the bad guy, the naughty child, the one who’s different? Or is the real goal to provide peace and safety for all?”

  “It’s both. By showing people that you punish what’s wrong, you deter others from doing it,” Maike answered him.

  “But did that work? Did it on DJar? How many times did you have Leyon locked away in town? Now we’re back where we started. Not to mention Tigor.”

  Both Yako and Maike agreed that the Land Beyond was a no, but a prison cell became a group of cells, then a building, and eventually whole island continents. Did that deter people?

  “No, because the problem remains the same. We say ‘rehabilitation’ and lock them away. In other words, you ignore their existence, which makes it an attack on the person rather than the behaviour. In that respect justice is indeed a soap bubble word. Disguised as deterrence, it’s still retaliation, revenge, pay-back – whatever you want to call it. But retaliation and revenge start wars and keep them going.”

  “So what are you saying, Yako; do you agree with Jema?” Benjamar asked.

  “I’m not sure how much she’s thought about legal justice, but what she said applies there as well. The penal system is a political institution, Benjamar. The definition of ‘wrong’ changes with those in power. Under the veil of justice it was meant to scare people into obedience and remove all those who didn’t comply. It was about how to best control large amounts of people with the least effort, in which – and I am sorry – the whole judicial system, including the guards, the government, the teachers and all others who reinforced the rules were but soldiers to the dictatorship.”

  “And Jema wants to create another one,” Maike retorted. “You heard what she asked of Benjamar.”

  “No, she doesn’t. She asked for arocracy. Dictatorships, including dictatorial otacies, force obedience through fear or guilt induction – the fear of being removed one way or the other. Obedience should come voluntarily with respect, not for the enforcer, but for the sense of justice itself.”

  “So what do you want me to do – let Tigor go free so he can start again?” Maike asked.

  Yako didn’t know. “People don’t feel sorry on command. It needs to come from inside or they’ll consider it unjust and take revenge.”

  “So what?”

  “Make them imagine themselves in that position or something, so they feel it.”

  Maike was defending the accepted view. Yako was saying it didn’t work, but couldn’t come up with a good alternative. “What does Nini’s chart say the tribal people did?” he asked Benjamar.

  “I have no idea, Yako. I haven’t studied it.”

  “Well, the myths say that AR punished. He took powers away. Bue repented.”

  “That’ll be the first thing Frimon wants from the council,” Maike snapped at Yako.

  “In which case Tigor and Leyon may be the first to pay.”

  “Not if I have something to say about it. I bet you that half the problems are caused by the presence of that fog. It makes people nervous,” Maike replied.

  Yako shook his head. “No. The fog came because of the problems, not the other way around. You should see the devastation in that area. They were digging for a while before the fog stepped in.”

  It irritated Benjamar that everyone treated the fog as if it were another person. “Tell me something, Yako. Why, if it responded to the problems, did it not start howling when they began digging where they weren’t allowed?”

  “Because the digging itself was not harming the planet or its protectors.”

  Benjamar shook his head to get rid of the irritation and left them to their discussion. He ignored Tigor calling to him when he stepped outside and headed south onto the path. It was ominously dark. Being tall now felt an encumbrance, since it appeared that the fog was, indeed, leaning on his shoulders. What if they were right – Yako, Remag, Kunag and Jema? What if there were a greater consciousness here, and what would it do if Benjamar made the wrong decision?

  He jerked his shoulders mid-walk. It was ludicrous. What was wrong with him? Or, what was wrong with the people around him? First Jema and now Yako. Here they were again – detaining a man and with no laws to guide them, no other means of confinement than this public display, no judge, no jury, not even a council yet. The council would already have Leyon to deal with and it wasn’t their job. Yako’s was a nice idea, but “or something” didn’t solve the problem.

  Then there was this challenge he had given in to, because he’d been overwhelmed by the power of her conviction – not because she was right. Any sensible person knew you couldn’t turn back the timedisk and forget progress made so far.

  Progress? In all meanings of the word they had regressed to a state of living in mud shelters without any luxuries. Was that also wrong? How long before technology would be redeveloped and return them to civilization? Was that what it had been? What would it do to Kun DJar if they did? What would Kun DJar do to them?

  He kicked at a pebble but missed. The election vessels still adorned his home. He didn’t want to know how many had voted for a man who was now stuck to a tree, accused of destroying the natural habitat. And was he accused? Not officially. What right did Benjamar, as governor, have to detain this man? But then again, would Kun DJar allow him to be set free?

  Benjamar poured a whole bowl of water over his head to wash away the questions before walking back, letting it dry in the wind. It always helped to clear his mind. It was a first impulse to believe a person who spoke as passionately as Yak
o had done, but time usually brought back some perspective. Passionate voices were a hindrance to the clear thought needed for reality, especially where it concerned justice. He admired Yako and Jema for their fresh ideas and their willingness to express them, but a society could not function on passion and ideology. Fetjar had proven that in the past.

  So what was the answer?

  A council had to exist of people motivated by an honest concern for the future of the community. Throughout history the most honest politicians had been those who had taken the task outside of their regular job: a lifelong interest. To be capable of compromise they had to be motivated by reason and goodwill. Did a majority popular vote choose those kinds of members into a council?

  On DJar, status and points had prevailed. Politicians had formed opinions only because they were paid to do so and, thus, the opinions expressed were those most likely to get them elected, after which they were often ignored. Throughout his own time in government, Benjamar had always taken the lead in a topic, and the elected members had changed their minds to follow the prevailing opinion. It had been so easy, even when he had already retired, to convince them – or he wouldn’t be here today.

  Reasonable people made reasoned opinions and the same was true for the justice system. Wise laws and judgements would come from dispassionate people with a mind for what was fair – but what was “fair”?

  Objectivity had been lost once the motives of the legal representatives were ruled by personal gain. There was no place for profit in justice, nor for a group of randomly picked people ordered away from their own life. Those became unreasonable the minute you forced them.

  So what then? Not a jury, not one judge. A group of judges? People with experience to decide together; people who wanted that position for the good of the community, like an elective council. So how did you get them? The same way you got the council. It made sense so far.

  Was that the next step for this village? Elections for a panel of judges, voted in for their reason and impartiality? Maybe it was time to have a look at those voting results after all. Harmon had agreed to come and help count them, but he’d also need a farmer and one other. Best ask Wilam and Yako. But first he’d have a rest. There was still time. He ignored Tigor’s plea to get him out of the fog and walked into his home.

  Aryan sat on the edge of the fallen plamal top, heaving, his hands firmly beside him. He watched the drops of sweat hit his pants, unable to lift a hand to wipe his head, and listened to the noise of his heart raging in his ears, worse than that caused by the fog this morning. He tried to breathe slowly and deeply like Remko had told him, but the breaths came by themselves.

  “Do you want some water?” Leyon asked.

  Aryan shook his head. The pod he had eaten – that must be what made it so bad. He had found the location without problem despite the darkness, and taken only one, like she’d told him. Then he’d heard the scream: fearful, somebody in trouble. He had walked toward the sound, forgetting his leg. After a second cry, muffled into a gurgling sound, he had even managed to run; run to the exact spot he had this morning found the farmers. Ready to fend off whoever was doing the attacking, Aryan had not been prepared for the scene he’d encountered in the semi-dark, destroyed habitat: A set or more of growling balls of vegetables assaulting Kunag, creeping over his body. Aryan shivered as his mind recalled those alien beings. He remembered standing there, immobilized… Leyon and Doret had come running, waving their cloaks around, shouting and stamping until the animals scurried away.

  Aryan now knew they were animals.

  Leyon had sent Doret to get Nini. Other people had come running; farmers mostly. The commotion had ended when Kolyag and Wilam picked up the boy’s body and carried it away. All the while Aryan’s heart had kept going where it should have given up. Apart from Remag, who had arrived just now to look at the animal on the ground, only Leyon was left.

  “It was the pod,” Aryan told the boy next to him. “It made my heart unstable.”

  “I had a fight with him over nothing,” Leyon said.

  Remag had a cloth bag. He wanted to pick the animal up and carry it home. “I need you guys to ward off the others if they come back.”

  Leyon stood up, cloak in hand. “I’ll do it.”

  Nothing attacked Remag when he put the grey ball into his bag and started downhill. Aryan’s heartbeat slowed.

  “Are you okay to walk?” Leyon asked.

  Aryan was now. Even his leg felt better. But exactly that thought worried him. The pod was supposed to be a painkiller. Should it have given him heart problems? And why had he felt better as soon as the animals were gone? But he knew why: a handful of farmers he would have easily taken on… “You go ahead,” he told Leyon.

  “I don’t think I want to.”

  Aryan read in the boy’s eyes what he feared himself, but not knowing was worse and after a while they went downhill together and in silence. Benjamar met them in front of his shelter, inside of which Remag and Nini were tending to Kunag.

  “Will he be okay?” Leyon asked.

  “We don’t know yet. What happened?”

  “We heard screaming and when we got there, the eyecreatures were all over Kunag. Sets of them,” Leyon answered.

  “Do you know why?”

  “I guess because of the dead one. They must have blamed Kunag, but he would never do that.”

  “No, of course not. They wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between people.”

  Aryan stood by while Leyon explained how they’d found Kunag and chased the creatures away. It wasn’t right for Leyon to say this, but Aryan couldn’t make himself deny it.

  “Are you okay?” Benjamar asked.

  “Yes, I hurt my leg. I’m going to lie down.” He glanced at Leyon, wondering what the kid would tell Maike, but he had to get away from here. Ever since that punch over the caricature he’d held a special regard for the boy who was only interested in animals and drawing. Aryan knew he’d do anything to drown his thoughts. Remag’s home was safe. Remag didn’t keep wine.

  Nini squeezed the pod between her fingers to make the drops fall into Kunag’s mouth, but her hands trembled too much. He was going in and out of consciousness; she couldn’t trust him to swallow. He could be bleeding inside – she had no means of stopping that. All over his body were welts the size of fingernails, but so many. They appeared to have been made not by blows but by suction. It was a terrible sight. She tried dabbing them with a damp cloth because it was all she could think of to do. How could she help him if she had no idea what was going on inside, no idea about the creatures or the land and she couldn’t remember anything? She would lose him because she was incapable. She felt like running. She wanted Mektar. She no longer wanted to live like this.

  Behind Remag was the woman with the veil. “Help me,” Nini said to her. The veil moved back for just a fraction and Nini caught an image of the expedition members as they were having their water fight. Then the woman vanished.

  “Are you okay?” Remag asked, having looked behind him.

  Nini frowned. She’d been at Styna’s home. Elsa had come in with food for them all and had been nearly run over when Doret burst in unannounced. A moment later Nini had found herself running after the boy while Elsa went for help. As soon as she’d seen him Nini had panicked. It wasn’t fair; not Kunag, who had trusted those animals. She had sent for Remag without knowing why. Now he sat beside her, checking the little creature they’d found underneath Kunag, so as to give her any information that could help. But Nini had no idea what to do. She needed Kunag conscious first and to replenish the liquid he’d lost from his system, but she had no drip. What had the woman tried to tell her? If only Mektar were here. What would he do?

  He’d start with reducing the swelling, as it was that what was talking to him. But how? By removing the liquid from the lumps; something to suck or absorb… the mosses! That was what she’d meant. Nini had some at home.

  “I need to get something.” She ran the
short distance to her home, where she found Laytji with Kristag. “I’ll be back,” she said while taking a stack of mosses out of the shelf in the ledge, where she kept her collected pods and leaves.

  Just then an image formed in her mind of the small boy getting to that collection. “Laytji, never leave him alone in here, okay? Not with those.” She ran back.

  “I’m hoping to suck out whatever poison along with the liquid,” she told Remag, who looked on as she started tearing bits of moss to fit the injuries.

  “I don’t think they carry poison. They have no need for it in their habitat.”

  “They have no need to attack in large groups either, but they still did. How deep do you think these injuries go?”

  “From these little stumps, not very,” he answered.

  Superficial? Nini hoped so. Was it wise to remove the liquid when he couldn’t drink yet? She lifted the moss she’d first applied. Nothing much had changed. “He’s going to need a drink.”

  Remag went for the jug in Benjamar’s home and poured some water onto a piece of moss to squeeze into Kunag’s mouth. He missed and most of it landed on the boy’s face. It made Kunag open his eyes.

  “Good,” Nini said.

  Kunag moved his lips when Nini put a piece of moss against them, and then sucked on it. After a bit more, he tried to talk, confused and in pain, but conscious. Slowly the swellings started showing a change, though Nini wasn’t sure if it was for the better. Instead of swollen lumps there were now bruises, turning Kunag’s skin into a tie-dye painting of orange and blue. The slightest touch hurt him. Maybe he needed another bit of pod, but it was better to have him alert. She cautioned him to keep lying down.

  As she checked Kunag’s responses and the mosses time and again, a tiny sparkle of hope began burning inside Nini, but she didn’t say what she was hoping to Benjamar when he walked in. She could still be wrong.

  Benjamar didn’t ask. “Apparently the farmers killed the creature earlier. Kunag must have found it and was consequently attacked. If it hadn’t been for Aryan and Leyon he might not have survived.”