by Nōnen Títi
“Would you like to go back, tomorrow, by kabin?”
Kunag shrugged.
“Think about it, okay? Don’t do anything tonight. If you want you can go tomorrow and come back with the next kabin. Go see them for a while.”
He frowned.
“I didn’t promise it would remain a secret.”
“What are you talking about?” Leyon asked.
When Kunag made no attempt to tell him, Nini did. If anybody, Leyon would be able to reason with Kunag.
“I’ll talk to Remag in the morning,” she promised, and left them together.
Outside, by the light of one moon, Nini finally found time to sit down with her letters. Irma’s was a long story about all they’d encountered; no more diseases of epidemic proportion, but plenty of work. Flori would come to the new settlement to help Nini, but it would be wise to start training up some new people. At the bottom there was a short note from Remko and Tarin; they had thought about coming but had decided to keep helping Irma.
Nini wrote all three a letter back.
Maike’s was a short note in which she mentioned coming over on the next kabin and a brief account of the latest trouble in town, most of which had to do with her and Aryan. The last letter was Jema’s. Though Marya had already informed Nini, it was still nice to get a handwritten letter. It was more personal, the effort of writing in itself a message. The letter was short. She would come and bring Laytji, who’d been in some kind of fight with Kalim.
Nini didn’t write either Jema or Maike back. She went to her mat with the nobi she had missed for so long.
In the morning, Kunag wasn’t there.
“He’s not leaving. I think he wanted to protect his animals from being seen,” Leyon said.
“Is that where he is now?”
“Yes. He left very early.”
“You are sure he hasn’t run?”
“I’m sure, Mama,” Leyon promised.
The two fishermen left for their walk back to the kabin carrying a chestful of the local tubers from the field and mosses for the women of town.
Nini talked to Remag first. “He didn’t want the news to get out. He’s worried about disturbing them, he’s angry I told you, and he’s unhappy about you being here.”
Remag was a mature man, older than Nini. He understood and promised to ask Kunag before looking for the eyecreatures. He went on a walk with Leyon to see the podplamals instead, which would keep them away overnight. Hani took Marya and Yako to the source of the stream, leaving Nini a chance to talk with Benjamar.
He didn’t say it, but the happiness was in his eyes. He agreed that the main concern was to ensure proper hygiene and to protect the wildlife; they’d have to make some rules right away. The first group of settlers would include Frimon. “Leave latrines and water supply up to him – we’ll focus on shelters,” Benjamar said.
Kunag returned looking glum, wondering where everybody was.
“They all returned on the kabin when they realized you didn’t want anybody near your animals,” Benjamar said.
Suspicious, Kunag hovered nearby until he was told to sit down and listen. The value of having Benjamar here became clear right away: He offered Kunag the job of devising rules to protect the wildlife and making sure they were heeded once people arrived.
Kunag’s attitude changed. “Really, and the others didn’t leave?”
“But if you set the rules, you’ll have to stick to them as well. You can’t make exceptions,” Benjamar warned him.
“What about the zoologist?”
“Remag will have the right to observe, to study, but not disturb, just like you.”
With Kunag visibly happier, Nini asked if he’d written back to Tini. Kunag tried to avoid her question, but once more heeded Benjamar. As Nini had feared, he hadn’t written a letter. He had no idea what to write or how to write it.
“You should have asked for help instead of letting your mom hope in vain.”
Nini felt a little angry; not just at Kunag – she should have foreseen he might use silence to make his mother change her mind.
Once the others returned, they started to seriously discuss how to prepare the area for four sets of people. There was a lot of work to be done, both physically and mentally. They’d have to get it right.
Nini observed Kunag over the next days. At first he was cautious and distant around Remag, but then they went for a walk together into the south bush. That evening, Kunag came to her and apologized for shouting.
“I do trust you, Nini. Remag knows heaps even if he’s never seen anything like it before. I’m glad he came.” He sat down close to her and blushed. “You are the best friend I have, Nini. Please don’t be angry.”
“I was never angry, Kunag.”
REASONABLE AND FAIR
The business of physically building a village out of empty space was not the only concern Benjamar had about setting up a new settlement. The failures in town had proven that it wasn’t as easy as building everybody a home and assigning them a job. The place had to be run somehow; governed. It was one thing to be appointed governor, but that was a temporary solution. For the long-term they’d need a government – “council” might be a better word, seeing the size of the settlement. The best way to start that process would be to talk to the people already here.
In the daytime hours, while working with his hands, Benjamar had time to think for himself, while mealtime became the place for discussions. “What happened?” he asked the four who’d been here all the time. “What have you done so far to get these shelters up? Who took charge?”
Nobody had; they’d reported to Nini only because she was the oldest. “We decided things together.” The initiative had been taken by each coming from their own special interest and concerns. That was obvious and they’d done a great job so far.
“Of course, that works fine if you’re only four people, but it won’t work with four sets. We need rules and guidelines. I’m not talking like on DJar.”
Apart from Remag, who stayed out of the conversations, and maybe Yako, the reactions were more or less the same: People should take responsibility. They would understand the dangers by now or they’d have them explained.
“Was that how it was in town? Wasn’t everybody aware and trying to do the best for the colony?”
No, in town there had been troublemakers and too many people.
“Would it be different here?” he asked. “What if someone forgets their responsibility, just once? Not a troublemaker, just a person who wants what we all want – peace and safety. Maybe he or she had a bad day or an argument. What if that person, for just one moment, decided not to care anymore? You only need one moment to soil the drinking water and every life is in danger.”
“Nobody would do something like that,” Kunag protested.
“Wouldn’t they? What happens to you if you’re upset with someone or if something really unfair happens and you can’t do anything about it? What’s the worst thing you have ever considered doing, because you were really angry?”
Confused with the sudden change in focus, Kunag needed time to think that over. Benjamar looked at the others. Nini, Yako, Marya, and Leyon. They had all been in trouble at one point, possibly for no serious offence. They must recognize this.
Kunag remembered a day in the Geveler creature park, not too long before leaving DJar, when the nobis had just arrived. They had been delivered in crates. On opening them, one of the babies had panicked: It ran the wrong way and in an effort to control it, one of the guards had used his immobilizer and killed it. Kunag had chased the guard and threatened to throw him into the pit next door, which was occupied by big cats. “I even lifted him off the ground,” Kunag said.
Benjamar nodded. “So why didn’t you throw him into the pit? What made you stop?” he asked.
“The cats would have torn him to pieces.”
“But at that moment, weren’t you angry enough to do it anyway?”
“Yeah, but I’d have e
nded up on Breberer in no time.”
“Right, so you stopped because of the consequences – not for the guard, but for yourself.”
Kunag admitted he had. “And I’m still sorry,” he said.
“Can you all imagine a situation like that?”
They could, of course. Benjamar had dealt with people long enough to know that, no matter how much you tried to organize their lives, their education, and the social structure, you could never change their emotional make-up.
“So can you also imagine that some people may be capable of doing things that could affect everybody, if they’re angry enough?”
Yes, that was pretty easy now. Benjamar caught a grin from Leyon – the boy knew what he was talking about. Thalo too, had said something along those lines: If he was miserable, then everybody else should be as well. As had Tigor, not too long ago, and possibly Aryan…
“So having rules and consequences in place, just knowing they exist, will stop most people from an impulsive action. If you’re also willing to enforce the rules, to remind people every so often, then you’ll reach almost everybody. The odd one who goes out and repeatedly or deliberately breaks the rules should maybe not be allowed to go free.”
“But aren’t there people who simply don’t think about the consequences before it’s too late; maybe because they are more emotional?” Yako asked.
“Yes, and those are the people who lose out. They end up being treated like criminals for one mistake, for losing their temper or not thinking. But don’t forget that due to that same temper, somebody else might have been hurt, someone who had done nothing wrong.”
“So how do we prevent that?”
“That’s exactly what I want all of you to think about,” Benjamar said.
He briefly recalled for them the history of crime control on DJar. From the very early barbaric punishments that took life and limb from a person in the most literal sense of the word, to the situation they’d had not too long in the past when there was no such concept as “users”. Everybody ended up in prison, causing those who had not committed serious offences to learn how to be criminals, and those who already were to become tyrants in empires of their own, all behind walls. He stressed that making people users had been considered a positive step, even if that hadn’t worked either.
“Because the user community also became a sub-society with its own rules and social order – winners and losers,” Yako said. “What was meant as restitution to society became slave labour.”
“Did that work as a deterrent?” Benjamar asked the others.
No, but on DJar the rules had been stupid. Here they would make sensible rules everybody could agree with. “It has to be fair,” Hani said.
“Fair to whom?”
“To everybody, of course.”
“So are you going to ask every single person for their opinion on every issue and then make one rule about it?”
“Why not?” Kunag asked.
“Because there are four sets of people coming. By the time you’ve asked all of them, you’ll be an old man,” Marya replied.
“So how do we know what is sensible for everybody?” Benjamar prompted.
“Voting.”
“Again, how will you deal with all the different answers you’ll get?”
“Most people know right from wrong, so most answers will be the same,” Hani replied.
“Do you want to do a little test on that?”
Benjamar asked all seven of them to describe in one word what “fair” meant and he got as many different answers. It was “deserved” the way Leyon explained it, but Hani said “impartial”, to Nini it was “honest”, “just” for Remag, and “trustworthy” according to Marya.
Benjamar added to the confusion when he extrapolated on those answers. “What is honest, Nini? Does it mean truthful?”
“No; for me it means true to yourself, regardless of the facts.”
“What is just, Remag? Is it ethical, lawful, moral, or righteous?”
“Not lawful; that depends on the ruler.”
“What is impartial, Hani?”
“It’s fair,” Hani answered.
“What is deserved?”
“Equal,” Leyon said.
“So which word do we use to make a new rule? All of them or only those the majority agrees on?”
“That wouldn’t be fair to the others,” Hani said and then started giggling as she realized she had used the word once again.
“Okay, so if we want to make a community in which everybody can be happy, then what’s the most important rule we need?”
“That you’re not allowed to hurt people,” Leyon said.
“Right, and how do you define hurt?”
“Something painful,” Kunag said.
“And when is something painful – when you hurt somebody’s body or his mind, or his emotions?”
“That depends on the person,” Nini said.
Benjamar repeated the process with other words. What is “right”? What does “respect” mean? Give another word for “decent”. What is “equal”, “real” “good”, or “honourable”?
Like Roilan, nobody could come up with answers to satisfy them all.
“And that’s with only eight people. We need a dictionary,” Marya said.
Yako almost laughed at her, but then quickly mentioned that a dictionary would get them no further than they were now. “Dictionaries explain words according to the accepted moral standards. The Bijari Civil Rights Act was littered with those soap-bubble words. Each government was free to interpret them the way they wanted and still do their own thing. That’s why the right to an education was something parents organized themselves on Freberer, but meant forced military training on Depeter, and equally forced Learners indoctrination on Geveler, while the Veleder people had the right, but not the obligation.”
“So why did they write it?” Leyon asked.
“Because the people writing it thought that everybody would understand the words the same way they did. They didn’t see their own bias, just like judges believed that everybody would interpret their law books the same way.”
Yako always caught on fast and his hint to the judge in Benjamar was valid enough, so Benjamar acknowledged that with a smile. “So, once again, how are we going to go about making reasonable rules?” he asked.
“What is reasonable?” Leyon said to that, causing them all to stop and think.
And that was precisely the problem. Words were just that – not an exact science and subject to interpretation. Yet with words Benjamar would have to work as governor. For now people would go by his decisions; he’d have to make the right ones – which was a contradiction in terms – to make this place work; the decision on how decisions were to be made.
Over the next kor he talked to all of them separately. Yako was by far the most radical. “What about those maniacs who derive pleasure from an innate drive to overpower or hurt others?” he asked when discussing the rights and wrongs of a concept like the Land Beyond.
Yako agreed with Benjamar that a Land Beyond should not exist as a rule, but didn’t every rule have exceptions? He did, however, believe that those kind of sociopaths were largely a product of a sick society; if people grew up with fewer put-downs, they’d be less inclined to become pathogenic criminals. “If you use people as a means to teach a lesson by casting them out, you remove their sense of identity, and, thus, their reason to care for others. I’m not excusing sociopaths, mind, but I can see how they’re created.”
“Every social system is designed to remove those who don’t fit in, Yako, if not through the judicial system then through the mental health system.”
“I know that, but even a person who’s taken out of the society for a short period, like as a user, loses his livelihood in more than one way – not just the chance to procreate, but he loses his income, his job, and the chance of ever getting another one. You are, in effect, especially with publicity, punishing those people close to the wrongdo
er; children are put in homes, comates are shunned; so one mistake ruins many lives for good.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“Don’t remove them; let the victims decide or something. At least that is less insulting than somebody who only cares because he gets paid for it.”
“That would hardly make for an impartial ruling,” Benjamar replied.
“True, but an impartial ruling becomes a partial repercussion. Besides, since when are crimes committed impartially? The innate drive to overpower and hurt does not only create criminals, Benjamar. From the point in history that punishment became a social institution, it has been used as an excuse for torture and incapacitation, and always morally justified with reference to the stability of the group and impartiality. But before impartiality, simple tribal vengeance was direct and honest, and accepted as fair by everybody, which is why you never heard people talk about unfairness; it was part of their ethic.
“…I know what we can do with the sociopaths,” he added, only half-joking. “We’ll let the planet deal with those. Offer them to the fog or the tumbleweeds.”
Benjamar had already heard from Maike about the plamals that had set about speaking their own justice. He used Yako’s words to assess the views of the others. “Do you believe it was the put-downs that caused people like Thalo and Tigor to turn on others?” he asked Marya.
“Possibly. Not every person is born to serve the greater good; you need outstanding people to ensure progress. On DJar, being a conformist was made into a prescription for the correct person, and under the label civil right it promoted mediocrity. They prided themselves on equality of gender and the art of thinking, only to turn around and discriminate against people who were able to use that thinking skill for anything more than the accepted sophistry.”
“Are people born with a natural inclination to be social animals?” Benjamar asked Remag.
“Even social animals aren’t all identical creatures, Benjamar. Every social group has a need for leaders – those who instinctively know where to go as opposed to those who instinctively follow. It was a mistake on DJar to believe that we evolved from animals only to become clones of each other. Evolution is not possible in any species if all the specimens are identical; we’d be micro-organisms.”