And there was one crystal missing.
It could not be coincidence. The cube for the year 108,285 Cyclic, which the Rainbow had defined as being crucial to the history of the neotenites, had been removed …
Only one person could have done that. Selena.
Therefore she must have outguessed him and taken the crystal for safekeeping.
His anger changing swiftly to guilt, Brutus rushed for the exit, almost bowling over the horse-man, who had crept forward to peer over his shoulder. “Tell nobody we were here!” he growled. “Nobody at all. Do you understand?” He seized the clerk by his loose tunic and stared ferociously into his eyes.
“I understand, Brutus,” replied the clerk.
Brutus was about to re-emphasize his warning, when the bells started ringing, and in his remorse he uttered a sudden roar that caused the horse-man to scream with fright, thinking he was about to be attacked. For an instant they clung to each other, struggling and bellowing.
Then Brutus tore himself free and ran for the stairs.
*
Alice met him in the delivery room. She was talking wildly. “… you weren’t here, you see, and I couldn’t hold it — I didn’t have the strength.” She was weeping, her huge face wet and crumpled like a crushed fruit.
“What happened?” And then he saw.
One of the birth tubes was missing. The ocean cow had dragged it through the great window, and the grommet had snapped shut. Water seeped to the floor. “That’s no big problem,” he said. “Somebody can go out and guide it back through. We’ve done it before.”
“But …” She pointed speechlessly.
Outside, the tentacle waved aimlessly in the surging green of the ocean. Beyond it, through the mist of silt and plankton, Brutus could see the bulk of the cow. It was moving, turning. Slowly, it was rolling away from the caves of the baby factory. The other birth tubes were stretched taut.
Nurses were clamoring. “It’s pulling away from us!” one of them cried, seizing Brutus’s clothing. She was a delphid, but for once she was not smiling. “Do something, Brutus! We’ll lose it!”
“I don’t understand,” Brutus muttered, scratching himself wildly. “It has no reason. It can’t be hungry. And it’s in the process of giving births.” He collected his thoughts. “Unless it’s in pain.” He peered through the window.
A few meters away, close to the limits of visibility, he saw a bulge in the loose birth tube. A series of muscular spasms radiated from the bulge across the expanse of the hide, like ripples in a lake.
“That’s it,” said Brutus. “It’s a difficult birth. The baby is stuck.” The next thought was completely automatic. “I must go out there and free it.”
“Not you,” said Alice.
But Brutus was hurrying away from her, out of the delivery room, making for the waterlock and shouting for a delphid to follow him.
*
As the endless flank of the ocean cow slid past him, his mind was still on Selena and the way she’d allowed Juni to blame him for the missing child. He saw Selena in his mind’s eye, slim and elegant — which his Alice was not — and, usually, kind and fair-minded — which Alice was. Many times, Selena had shielded him from Juni’s cruel shafts. Even on that dreadful occasion when he’d been discovered in the Dome’s lower reaches floating the neotenite babies Outside in little boats, Selena had tried to be fair.
So why had she not admitted to taking that baby? After all, it had happened eighty years ago. Presumably she’d wanted it for purposes of research and it had died. That was sad, but not criminal. So why not admit it?
Brooding, cocooned in his pressure suit, Brutus swam downward. He was alone. The delphid, who could hold his breath for half an hour, needed no suit and had gone on ahead. They would try to get the end of the birth tube back through the grommet so that the baby could be born in the delivery room.
The ocean cow shifted perceptibly, narrowing the gap as Brutus swam between the creature and the cliff. Soon the window of the delivery room came into view. Faces crowded against it, mouthing soundlessly. He saw Alice looking scared and chewing her knuckles. He passed the first birth tube; it was stretched slender. Watching it go through the grommet, he saw that the nurses had gotten ropes around the tip and were pulling. Other teams hauled at other similar ropes down the length of the delivery room. It was a futile exercise. Out here, he was very much aware of the vast bulk of the cow. If it decided to roll, nothing would hold it. As he watched, he saw teams of shrugleggers being led into the room. They were quickly harnessed to the ropes, backs to the window. They leaned into their work, their muscular thighs straining.
The delphid tapped him on the arm, pointing. A tube hung loose, thrashing, and the bulge of the baby was halfway to the tip. Now a new worry seized Brutus. The obstruction seemed to have cleared itself, but unless they got the tube back through the grommet, the baby would be born underwater and would drown.
The tip slapped him across the side of the head and, spinning, he caught it. The delphid swam up and got an arm around the tube. Together they tried to maneuver the tip toward the grommet. Brutus shouted soundless encouragement into his helmet. The tip touched the grommet, then jerked away. The strength of the tube was fearsome. It lashed sideways and rammed Brutus against the window, squeezing the breath out of him. He shook his head, gasping, hoping the helmet’s tiny oxygenator had not been damaged.
Then the wall of the ocean cow rolled in toward him, pinning him against the window, upside down.
He got his knife against the cow’s hide and pushed, but he might as well have tried to stab Azul Dome itself. The cow was like a smooth rock, insensitive to localized discomforts. His legs trapped, Brutus yelled into his helmet.
The delphid swam below him, gesticulating in the dark tunnel formed by the ocean cow and the cliff.
Apart from its one free tentacle, the cow was comfortable again, lolling up against the window with birth tubes hanging limply inside. That free tentacle flapped past Brutus’s face and he caught it, hoping it might pull him free. But it too went limp, giving one last spasm.
And a baby floated before Brutus’s face.
The Song of Earth makes much of this moment. The minstrels sing of the trapped Brutus, symbol of compassion and one of the great heroes of all time, picturing him as some kind of dumb animal whose actions were governed by instincts of beauty and purity, picturing him as anything but what he was: a Specialist of average decency with, admittedly, a strong sense of duty and a love of children — but above all, an intelligent man.
Gorilla-man, gorilla-man, what terror holds you now?
Scream you now for someone else beside the ocean cowl
And the listeners draw near, wide-eyed and wondering, awaiting the minstrel’s next words, knowing the outcome because the song has been sung a million times, yet every time seeing it afresh in their mind’s eye: the green surging water, the mountainous ocean cow, the tunnel formed by the cow and the cliff, the simple man pinned upside down, and the baby.
*
Brutus thought of the Greataway and the places far beyond Earth and the People Planet. He thought of something the Rainbow had told him, one cool day of autumn when he was exploring the memory banks and he came upon the story of the Hate Bombs and the humans trapped on the far side of them, unable ever to return. He wondered if perhaps they thought it was Earth that was trapped, because they were still free to explore the whole Universe if they wished.
He thought of another day when he’d been unhappy and restless and he’d wandered the tiny confines of the island and found himself among Horst’s Stones. He’d heard a footstep and turned quickly, expecting a gang of playful Everlings to mob him with their small bodies, prepared to defend himself without hurting them if possible. But it had been an old woman, a stranger in a cloak that clothed her like night.
“I want to tell you about the Ifalong …” she had said.
She had spoken of the Galaxy and the Hate Bombs, and of a mighty creature
she called Starquin. She had told Brutus he was a necessary element in a great Purpose, and that he should do certain things and make certain choices. In particular, she said, he should act with great compassion when faced with certain problems.
Brutus thought of the babies in the little boats and the reprimand he had received.
“And above all,” the woman had said, “you must protect your own life, because you are essential to the Purpose. On some happentracks you will die, and it is important that those happentracks be few.”
Brutus thought of Selena and the breeding program, and of all those years since there had been a True Human born, and of the slimness of chances. He wondered what the point of it all was, striving after an ancient form when quite obviously the human race had evolved beyond that form.
And the baby’s mouth opened as it tried to take its first breath.
With a mighty shrug, Brutus got his hands around his helmet and ripped it off. He held it right way up and it filled with air, beginning to spill bubbles from the bottom edge. He took the baby and put it into the helmet. Then he handed the baby and helmet to the delphid.
The delphid, expressionless, began the half-kilometer journey along the tunnel to the waterlock.
*
And? ask the listeners.
On many happentracks, the minstrels tell how the baby became the first True Human born for many years: a child of surpassing brilliance who singlehandedly solved the neoteny problem, analyzed and removed the Hate Bombs and freed the Almighty Starquin to roam the Greataway once more.
The minstrels tell that because that is how the legend goes. Such an act of heroism as Brutus performed must have been successful, otherwise his death would have been in vain and the whole legend would have had little point. And — such is the infinite nature of the Ifalong — on a few happentracks the minstrels were right.
But on most happentracks they were far from the truth.
THE DAY OF DESTRUCTION
Out with the old and in with the new.
There’s only so much that an artist can do.
— Cyclic Everling adage
The horse-clerk had smiled ingratiatingly. “As I understand it, Brutus discovered one of the data crystals was missing. He left only a moment ago — didn’t you hear the alarm?”
“I’m sure Brutus is capable of dealing with any emergency,” Selena had said coldly. She didn’t like the clerk; of all the Specialists, the horse-people were the one race she could say she disliked en masse. They were small-minded, unintelligent and sly. They were, however, very good at their jobs. And now, she guessed, this wretched long-faced man was implying she ought to leave him alone and go and check on the delivery room.
“Perhaps you should —”
“Which crystal was missing?”
“Brutus made it very clear that he wanted nobody to be told about this —”
“You’ve already told me, you fool. And I’m in charge of this Station, remember? Which crystal?”
“It seemed to be around the early part of the hundred and ninth millennium,” the man had said sulkily.
So, like Brutus a short while before, Selena had found her investigations into neotenite history blocked at the crucial year. She’d played with the Rainbow for a while but, lacking Brutus’s skill and unwilling to ask the clerk for help, she had been unable to establish the significance of the year 108,285 — or even to call up the events of the preceding years.
Frustrated, she had decided to take Mentor’s advice. She would ask the Everlings if they remembered anything about that period.
*
It was a bad time to visit the Everlings.
As Selena dismounted from her shruglegger, she could already hear the yells of satisfaction as the immortal children rampaged through their village, indulging in one of their insensate periods of destruction. As she hesitated, a small deerlike creature appeared from behind a corrugated-iron shed. It was beautiful and graceful, and there was fear in its wide eyes as it stepped along quietly, obviously hoping to reach the safety of the hills. It glanced at Selena in passing, a long-lashed timid look that tore at her heart. Then a sudden yell of discovery made it bound forward.
“Come here, you bugger!”
A child ran round the corner of the shed, grinning ferociously and brandishing a club. “Got you, hah!” he shouted, chasing after the deer and leaping nimbly over the heaps of accumulated garbage, the wrecked statues, half-finished vehicles and mysterious, incomprehensible inventions that littered the landscape of the Everlings’ territory.
The tiny deer bounded into Selena’s arms and huddled there, trembling.
“Give me that!” The Everling’s face crumpled in frustration. “It’s mine!”
“Do you have to destroy it? It’s such a beautiful thing.”
“Well, I made it.”
In reasonable tones, Selena said, “But it has freewill. It doesn’t want to be killed. Can’t you see that? I don’t want you to kill it, either. It’s one of the nicest things you Everlings have ever made.”
“All the more reason to destroy it!” So saying, the child reached up and dragged the little creature from Selena’s grasp. Throwing it to the ground, he swung his club in a powerful arc, catching the deer on the shoulder and splitting it open. Delicate electronic components spilled out. The next blow tore into the mechanical parts — the wires and cogs, spindles and chains. Screaming wordlessly, the child jumped up and down on the remains, kicking and stamping, reducing the deer to unrecognizable wreckage, scuffing the brown pelt into the mud.
Only the head remained. “Now,” gloated the Everling. He raised his club, paused for an anticipatory second, then brought it down with such force that his feet left the ground.
The head split open and Selena uttered a little scream of dismay. Blood and pale organic matter splattered her cloak. “It’s … it’s got a brain! How could you do this?”
“We’re very clever people,” said the child, suddenly still. He seemed abashed, ashamed of what he had done, as he stirred the remains with his toe. “Oh, what the hell,” he muttered. Then he brightened up. “Jacko’s got a Crystal Palace to pull down,” he confided. “He says he’ll let me help him.”
“You’re Tom, aren’t you? How long has this destruction been going on?”
“We started this morning. It’s taken me all this time to catch my deer. I’m through with organic stuff for a few cycles, I can tell you, Selena.”
“I’m very pleased to hear it.”
“Jenny’s been breeding electronic guinea pigs. You should see the little buggers go! We’ve been mostly into livestock, this last cycle. It makes a change from pure art. Nature is Art, anyway — so Georg said a few hundred years back.”
“Breeding electronic guinea pigs?”
“You want to see? I don’t think she’s smashed them yet. “Come with me!” He took her hand and led her into the village.
The Everlings’ village consisted of a single street of tumbledown buildings that looked as though they had been dumped there by the last hurricane. All manner of construction materials were used, but the principal ingredient seemed to be flattened works of art. Selena saw a crushed copper shield used as a door it had been inlaid with a ceramic design and some remnants of its beauty could still be discerned. A window was framed with a picture frame, wonderfully carved and decorated with peeling gold leaf. Selena couldn’t help but wonder about the painting that once sat in that frame, and to lament its destruction.
“Better wait,” said Tom suddenly.
A large statue stood at the end of the street. It was in heroic Greek style, a perfectly proportioned nude male in full color, with a victor’s crown of leaves, holding a bow, a quiver slung across his back. It was in the act of reaching for an arrow, frozen in a timeless moment of grace. Selena felt tears prick her eyes as she looked at it. This was the True Human form. This was what the Cuidador’s duty was all about. Just for a moment, the clouds parted and the sun shone, and the statue appeared
to be bathed in glory, glowing against the backdrop of the angry sea.
“Ned spent fifteen years on that,” said Tom reverently.
“It’s beautiful.”
“And that’s not all.”
There was a sound of trumpets. By now all the Everlings had gathered in the street, watching the statue. This was clearly a big event. Unhappily, Selena waited for the beautiful creation to explode, or melt, or whatever childish fate the Everlings had in mind. The trumpets called again.
The statue’s arm moved. Slowly, gracefully, it reached behind its back and grasped an arrow. The crowd hushed. The arrow was drawn out smoothly and, with precision, fitted to the bow. Muscles tensed, perfectly proportioned, perfectly realistic. The string was drawn back. For an instant the statue was motionless, sighting along the arrow at some distant, unknown target. Selena held her breath. The suspense in the onlookers was almost palpable.
The strong fingers released the string; the sudden twang was shocking.
The arrow shot backward. It struck the hero in the groin. For the first time, Selena saw that the genitals were oversize, out of proportion. The arrow lodged there, quivering.
There was a single yelp of laughter from an onlooker, quickly hushed.
The statue swung its body, tilted its head, looking down at itself. Its lips moved.
“Oh, bugger it,” said the statue.
*
Meanwhile, a group of Everlings scattered, leaving behind a richly detailed bronze cannon from which a wisp of smoke trailed. While the crowd was still rocking with laughter, the cannon roared, and Selena caught a glimpse of a large ball catching the statue squarely in the buttocks and propelling it off the plinth. Yelling realistically, it lurched forward, clutching itself front and rear, staggered to the edge of the cliff and fell out of sight.
By now many of the crowd were rolling in the mud in agonies of laughter. “That’s the best ever!” cried Tom, tears flowing down his cheeks.
Losing control for quite a different reason, Selena snapped, “It’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen!”
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