Barsk

by Lawrence M. Schoen

  “But where did they get it from?”

  “Exactly, it had to start somewhere, right? That’s where the cognitive scientists and biologists stepped in. They went looking for evidence of that wiring. They started by comparing the human genetic strings of information with other sentient species. And they found it! An insanely long chain of genetic instructions that unwound to a package of rules about the rules of language. It was all meta-rules and language universals, encoded guidelines that allowed every human infant to reinvent his or her community’s language.”

  Castleman paused. Her arm stopped in mid arc and fell to her side. The exuberance of her explanation fell away. She stared at Jorl for a long moment, and then continued in a softer voice.

  “It answered the question of why humans had language and other species did not. Not simply elaborate communication systems, but full blown linguistic productivity, to talk about abstract concepts and share insights that had no referents in the real world. Other species had intelligence, and even the leisure for communication, but only human beings possessed this meta-linguistic genetic sequence. That’s when we let the genie out of the bottle. It was a simple research question at first. If we could give that bit of genetic engineering to other species, would they develop language? Maybe not language as we understood it, but language just the same.”

  Shivers ran down Jorl’s spine. “You’re saying that’s how these ‘raised mammals’ were created? You humans grafted language learning onto my ancestors and we’re the result?”

  The human shook her head violently. “No. No, no, no, no. We did something even more perverse. Once the language sequence was known, psycholinguists realized it could be used to understand adult language representation. Research in the field of artificial intelligence had stagnated, but now it exploded! Entire nations joined together to combine their computational processing power with the goal of taking a language—as it was known and used by a living person, not as a system or grammar or a lexicon, but a dynamic knowledge structure—taking this thing and reverse engineering it to a genetic sequence. And because knowing a single language was much more specific, it turned out to be a much smaller structure than our predisposition to learn a language. Synthesizing that new sequence meant they could give it to almost any mammalian species, wiring in a particular language in the same way that other instinctive knowledge was already in place.”

  “And that’s why we can understand each other?”

  “Your language is the same English that was in the mind of a researcher somewhere. It was deconstructed and then encoded into your forebears’ genetic structure where it would breed true. I had to learn to speak my language, but you’d have been born with yours. And every generation does it the same way, so there’s no language change; any linguistic flux gets reset with the next generation of offspring.

  “It changed everything. We began producing language-using species, an artificial evolution. It was the first step to an anthropomorphic movement. Once nonhuman species became active symbol users, our genetic engineers began changing the rest of their physiology to allow them to take full advantage of it. They reshaped them, giving them the entire vocal mechanism, bipedal movement, opposable thumbs, all the things which together with language had given humans mastery of our environment.”

  Castleman stopped again. She looked down at her hands, bringing the fingertips of one into contact with their opposites on the other.

  “That was the state of things in my time. Raised mammals. Engineered to be intelligent and functional, with the best traits of their genetic origins. We’d only raised a few species yet, some dogs and cats, animals that were already domesticated and familiar. We felt a bit like gods, creating new life which would look upon us and know that we had brought them into existence.”

  “Dogs and Cats,” said Jorl. “You made them?”

  “We did. Their creation changed my world. All the old issues of social equality that we were getting close to finally laying to rest burst out once again. People divided over the role raised mammals should have in the world. Were they just smarter pets, or were they people? That became the new dividing line and old issues of discrimination fell away. Countries went to war over the question. Some governments banned RMs from within their borders. Others decided to use them to supplement humans for work on our lunar bases and in space. My own nation had grand plans to expand the research and send raised mammals off in generation ships to other solar systems. My work got its start as a result, cataloging and preserving our cultural histories. The Archetype of Man was just one of several self-curating repositories that were intended to preserve who we were and give guidance to raised mammals. And it must have worked, because here you are!” She sighed, flushed with satisfaction from knowledge she could never have attained in life.

  Jorl had never seen anyone looking more content, and he paused a long moment before saying, “I don’t think it happened quite that way.”

  Castleman’s elation slipped away again. “What do you mean?”

  “There are many different kinds of sapient beings in the galaxy, and maybe they’re descended from the things your people created, but I’m not so sure. That doesn’t seem like the kind of thing we’d forget. Nor the people who created us. But there’s no record of you, not in any of our histories. But I could be wrong. Maybe we just forgot because it’s been so long.”

  “How long?”

  “Our history tells us that we started on the world we call Dawn, but the actual record only begins with our Expansion and the formation of the first Alliance of Worlds, a ring of eight planets that were colonized just over sixty-two thousand years ago.”

  “Sixty-two thousand? You have a recorded history going back sixty-two thousand years? And there’s no mention of humans?”

  Jorl nodded slowly, hearing the anguish in Dr. Chieko Castleman’s voice. “Nothing. And believe me, you’d stand out. Our records begin with the founding of those eight worlds. Anything prior to that is just the Before, and it’s all unsupported myth. We don’t know where we came from. It’s not really the subject of much speculation. And even historians like myself don’t tend to ask questions about anywhere near that far back. Maybe as a civilization we’re just focused more on going forward than looking back.”

  “I don’t understand how that could be, not if we created you, gave you language and life and sent you to the stars.”

  “I agree, but there are no creatures that look like you anywhere in the galaxy. No human beings.”

  “Then tell me, Jorl, what became of us?”

  The Fant offered his hand to Castleman, and the human took it in both of hers.

  “I don’t know. But it might explain some things. The only reason I know about your Archetype is because I was there when we stumbled upon it and destroyed it. There’s no more mention of it in the official record than there is of your people.”

  “Oh my god! Why would you destroy it?”

  Jorl said nothing. He held Castleman’s hands in his, noting how similar they were to his own, reflecting on the many ways in which he more closely resembled the human than he did any of the furred races that included every other person in the galaxy outside of the people on Barsk. Why were there no records of human beings? Had the Patrol destroyed them all?

  “I’ve been asking myself that question since it happened. But now I’m thinking it’s just a part of something much bigger. I think maybe there are forces in play that have been keeping any knowledge of you a secret. I had it wrong, and even Arlo had it wrong. And Margda didn’t see it clearly or couldn’t grasp it all.”

  “I don’t understand, who are those people? What are you talking about?”

  “All of this, all the missing stories, the lack of any mention of humans. That … gap … in our understanding of everything. It’s the Silence!”

  THIRTY-SIX

  LETHE

  JORL sat at the desk in his cabin on the station, picking at the last clusters of food on the tray. The implications of
his conversation with Chieko Castleman threatened to overwhelm him, despite their simplicity. They answered questions of the origins of the peoples of the Alliance, questions that he hadn’t known even to ask. And why should he? The races of the Alliance had existed for tens of thousands of years; from the perspective of its citizens it had always been. Castleman had shattered that unexamined assumption. All the sapient life left in the galaxy had been manufactured from dumb animals. Despite his training as a historian, he doubted he truly grasped the destructive potential such a revelation would have on society.

  Surely that was what the Matriarch had seen. Not the specifics, just that a weapon existed that could put an end to ignorance that had endured for millennia. And it fell to him, a simple Speaker, to tell the truth and end the long Silence.

  With no more effort than breathing, he summoned himself again. An instant after closing his eyes he was regarding a nefshon construct scant moments younger than the one which represented himself. His double knew his intention and together they each summoned him again. The four repeated the process, as did the resulting eight, continuing several more times until his numbers were sufficient for the work Jorl had in mind.

  He dismissed his replicas from his attention and concentrated on his next task, confident each of the others were doing likewise. After the challenge of summoning Dr. Chieko Castleman, reaching out to Senator Bish held no more challenge than flexing the nubs of his trunk. The Yak’s nefshons resisted for just a moment, but with a mental tug a stream began flowing toward him, a golden tether between where the living Bos was in the real world and the imaginary space Jorl had created, where he now gave shape to his conversant.

  For this final interview Jorl had envisioned a vast and featureless room, lit with the diffused and filtered sunlight of Barsk. Bish, the senior senator from the Committee of Information stood in front of him in a pale blue robe and dark slippers, presumably what he was wearing in his room on his nearby ship. He paused in mid-gesture, as though he had just been in conversation with someone else. And of course, he was, only now he was also here, and his awareness had been pulled to this place and time.

  “Greetings, Senator. Welcome.” Jorl spoke softly, just enough to focus the Yak’s attention upon him.

  “You! How did you get out of the cabin? After your fiasco in my lab, I left orders for the Ailuros to keep you locked in until Druz completed her review of your work.” He paused, looked around the summoning venue. “Where are we? And where did that boy get to?”

  Jorl paused. Boy? Had he meant Pizlo? But no, he could not allow himself a distraction now, or everything would fall apart. “Here is not where you think it is, Senator. I’m still very much a prisoner on the station, right where you left me, just as you are still wherever you were a moment ago. But we’re both also in this place that I’ve created for the occasion. I promise to explain it all shortly, but we need to wait for the others to arrive.”

  Before Bish could respond, Jorl felt a nudge on his awareness, followed by another, and then several more. Most of the other versions of him had completed their tasks and now clamored for admittance to his attention. He opened his perception to them all, and one by one they returned the favor, bringing themselves and their respective conversants into the venue of his making.

  Jorl allowed himself an ironic smile. Even with Arlo’s drug, few other Speakers could have done this; summoning required knowledge of the conversant, names and words and details. He’d been an academician before his first Speaking, and in the publish-or-perish world of the university it had made sense to research the names and preferences of the senators who oversaw funding for all academic journals. He’d never imagined he might meet them.

  Another Jorl appeared standing alongside a gray-furred Cynomy, Welv, second only to Bish in seniority on the committee. Two more of his doppelgangers arrived, escorting a Feln and a Lep, and these were followed by a pair of Marmo senators, and then a Geom. The arrivals continued until two dozen duplicate Jorls had silently faded in, each in the company of a different sapient being gathered from throughout the galaxy, the other twenty-four senators who comprised the Committee of Information. The other Jorls positioned their conversants into a semi-circle facing the first Jorl, with Senator Bish at its middle. Together these men and women controlled the flow of knowledge and discovery throughout all the worlds of the Alliance. They represented both the larger races and the smaller ones, and they were all furred.

  “Senators, please excuse the manner in which I have brought you here. My name is Jorl ben Tral, and as I am sure you can guess, I am from Barsk. The twenty-five of you comprise the Committee of Information. I realize you’re not currently in formal session, but I have brought you together because I have valuable information for you and your committee head, Senator Bish.”

  He paused, allowing the conversants to glance around and recognize one another as they tried to make sense of the situation. That wasn’t a likely outcome, so he pressed on.

  “I know you are all aware of the Compact that defines Barsk’s relationship with the rest of the Alliance. For eight hundred years this one-sided document has permitted you to take from us, giving back little other than indifference and, at times, even contempt. Yet despite this extreme bias, members of your committee feel the arrangement is insufficient. These men and women would prefer to take outright what Barsk has agreed to provide. Indeed, one among you would trump up economic arguments as a motivation for hatred, and racial differences as a justification for extermination. I refer to Senator Bish. He organized a project to acquire the knowledge of the manufacture and refinement of the drug we call koph. He has authorized and personally committed theft, kidnapping, and murder in pursuit of his goal. Even now, I am imprisoned at his command in the vain hope that I will provide information to further his desire. I doubt he planned to keep me much longer, and he certainly now knows he will need to kill me outright. But like some petulant child desperate to get his way, he has threatened to destroy not just me, not just my people, but our entire world. Those of you who are parents know better than to give in to such a demand. Nor will I. I will not allow Senator Bish to continue.”

  “You malformed little maggot!” The Yak shouted at him. The wise and grandfatherly demeanor, the perfect diction and poise, these had all vanished. Jorl took a step back, not at the blistering outburst; he realized he’d stumbled upon the man’s weakness. In the many decades Bish had enjoyed power, had anyone dared to refuse him, to deny him anything, in the presence of others? Jorl’s outrageous presumption had shattered the senator’s façade. The resulting, long-buried rage echoed through the room. The Fant’s many incarnations all flinched.

  Bish faced the Jorl that had spoken, barely allowing his gaze to flicker to the other versions of the Fant and utterly ignoring his fellow senators.

  “You are an insignificant bead of piss on a single blade of prairie grass! I don’t know how you managed this trick, but it changes nothing. Do you think you can end this by making an announcement to my committee? That they’ll recommend legislation to the larger senate body? Idiot! There are no Fant in the senate, not a one. Some few races may hold your world harmless, your people neutral, but even these would benefit from shattering your Compact and opening your world’s resources for the good of the Alliance. Once we’ve raped your planet and taken everything it has, no one will care if we burn it all to ashes, every tree and plant and Fant.”

  Still staring at Jorl, he swung his head in an arc, the massive horns taking in the other committee members in a wide sweep. “You have no allies here. Few of them would publicly support me in this, but none will actively oppose my actions, not openly and not privately.” The Bos turned his attention to his fellow senators, slowly capturing each with his gaze. More than half turned away.

  “So you say.” Jorl’s words brought Bish’s glare back. He ignored the senator for a moment as he gave an infrasonic signal to his other selves. One by one they passed the tethers of their respective conversants over t
o him and then caused their own nefshons to disperse. They vanished, leaving only Jorl and the members of the Committee of Information. He fanned his left ear, feeling uncomfortably warm. He waved his trunk in a broad arc to bring their attention to him.

  “I am a Speaker. As you must have realized by now, you are all conversants in a summoning I have performed.”

  The senators murmured among themselves. Naming the strangeness of the experience ironically made it more real. The many Lox they had seen, all looking alike, might have been dismissed due to their inexperience with Fant. But as each senator’s escort had vanished and the one who’d identified himself as Jorl spoke, he saw realization dawning. They knew something was very wrong. There had only ever been one Fant there.

  Jorl continued, “You know about Speakers. We can converse with images of the dead, one at a time. And yet, here there are many of you. And no, none of you are dead. But I am not like other Speakers.” He paused and gestured at the tattoo on his forehead. “I am only the second Speaker to ever bear this mark. The first was our Matriarch, who was both the very first Speaker and the first Aleph. In assembling you all here, I have achieved what has never even been attempted. I have sought you out from your respective, far flung worlds throughout the Alliance and brought you here, not to threaten but to show you I can do this thing. All I want to do is talk with you. You are the Committee of Information, and I want nothing more than to share knowledge. Because in addition to bringing you here, I can do another thing beyond the ability of any other Speaker. I can reach back, unimaginably far, and summon someone from Before.”

  As he finished, Jorl opened his awareness to the collection of recently summoned nefshons and pulled them together again, summoning Dr. Chieko Castleman to stand alongside him.

  Half of the senators began to scream.

  “Impossible!” Bish roared. He glared at Jorl and at Castleman. “This is impossible!”