by Mitch Benn
- Don’t pay them any attention. You’ll be just fine. The voice of Fthfth came from above and behind Terra. Fthfth deftly manoeuvred her bubble alongside Terra’s and gave her a reassuring bounce.
- I know I will! said Terra, returning the bounce with a chuckle. Fthfth had been the Pre-Ac’s star pupil and everyone expected her to perform with equal excellence at the Lyceum. She and Terra had been fast friends since their first days at the Pre-Ac; while some of the little Fnrrns had been disturbed by the presence of an alien in their midst, Fthfth had found it fascinating and challenging. Then as now, nothing motivated Fthfth like a challenge and no one was motivated by challenges like Fthfth. She’d made a special effort to befriend Terra and they’d become inseparable.
- How was your break? asked Terra. Do anything fun?
- I’ve been practising gshkth with my father. I’m going to try for the team. What about you?
Terra wasn’t sure how to respond. She hadn’t been much of a gshkth player at the Pre-Ac, and everyone knew that the gshkth they played at the Pre-Ac was just baby gshkth. At the Lyceum they played REAL gshkth, with a hard bdkt and proper gfrgs. She was mulling over her response when Fthfth pointed down and said excitedly - Look! Tnk!
Below them stood the statue of the great scientific pioneer and benefactor, Tnk. It had been Tnk, many eras before, who had cracked the secret of gravity manipulation, paving the way for the conquest of space and making everyone’s morning commute considerably easier. Moreover, when the Mlml government and military had attempted to take control of his invention, he published all his findings on the Source, Fnrr’s planet-wide information network, so that no nation or army would ever monopolise the technology to the detriment of their rivals. Rather than enrich and empower himself, he had chosen to enrich and empower the world. Mlml, and specifically the Preceptorate of Hrrng, became famous as the birthplace of GravTech, and after Tnk’s death, a grateful populace had erected a great cobalt alloy statue of him in front of the Preceptorate’s main atrium. There it stood, many orbits later, hovering approximately one metre above the ground.
Like a cloud of wind-borne seeds, the students drifted towards the Lyceum building, a twisting spiral horn-shaped tower in the middle of the Preceptorate complex. Light poured from open portals across its surface, and the students divided according to academic orbit, steering themselves towards the appropriate level of the tower. The senior students ascended towards the upper floors, the younger pupils towards the middle floors and Terra and her fellow novices swooped down to the lowest level.
Terra and Fthfth glided through the portal into a brightly lit chamber, deactivated their gravity bubbles and stepped gently to the floor. Pktk clipped the frame of the portal, ricocheted off the ceiling, bounced to the floor, accidentally switched his bubble off and skidded to a halt in a seated position at the feet of a tall female Fnrrn dressed in the grey garment of a lector.
- Pktk, isn’t it? said Bsht.
- Yes, said Pktk quietly.
Bsht reached out a hand and helped Pktk to his feet. - I’ve heard so much about you.
2.3
Terra and Fthfth exchanged excited glances and stifled giggles of delight. Since early childhood they’d heard so much about the wonders of the Preceptorate’s council chamber that it had become something of a legend for them . . . the way the daylight filtered through the high quartz ceiling, illuminating holographic portraits of Preceptors and Postulators from eras gone by . . . the sense of calm and focus which was said to sharpen and clear your mind as soon as you passed through the doorway . . . Now they, and all their classmates, were actually seeing it all with their own eyes, and they weren’t a bit disappointed.
A few shades earlier, Bsht had checked all the new pupils’ names on her slate as they arrived, then arranged them into a single line and led them out of the Lyceum building, across the courtyard, past the hovering statue of Tnk (- Do NOT touch it, Pktk, there’s a good boy.) and towards the domed council chamber. Fthfth had been first in line, naturally, and Terra had been right behind her, their anticipation growing as they realised where they were headed.
Now the new pupils sat in the seats usually occupied by the council members, the curve of the rows directing their attention towards the centre of the chamber. As they watched, a round section of floor slid silently away, and a small circular stage rose up through the hole. On this stage stood Preceptor Shm, and three other distinguished-looking Fnrrns in ceremonial robes. The pupils burst into a chattering hiss, the Fnrrn equivalent to Ymn cheering.
- Well, that was a bit unnecessary, whispered Fthfth to Terra. What’s wrong with coming in through the door?
- Quiet! giggled Terra.
- Students . . . began Preceptor Shm. Today your world becomes just a little bit bigger, a little bit brighter, a little bit more exciting.
Fthfth sat up straight in her seat. Pktk sank into his.
- It also becomes a little harder and more demanding. We will ask much of you during your time here, and you must also demand much of us. Each and every one of you.
At this, Shm’s gaze swept along the rows of new pupils, as if he was trying to make eye contact with every one of them in turn. As his eyes met Terra’s, he seemed momentarily taken aback. Then his expression relaxed. - Of course, he said quietly.
At this, one of the distinguished-looking Fnrrns behind Shm – the one in the green robe – fixed his eyes on Terra. Terra did her best to pay attention to the rest of Shm’s speech – stuff about the common purpose of education, the virtues of hard work and co-operation, nothing particularly surprising – but the way this Fnrrn in the green robe stared at her made it impossible to concentrate. She was well used to being stared at – she’d been stared at all her life – but this was different.
- Who is that? she whispered to Fthfth. But Fthfth was listening intently to Preceptor Shm’s speech, her face rapt with academic fervour. Whatever Shm had been saying, it was working on Fthfth.
At last Shm drew to a conclusion, something about those values of excellence and diligence which have made this Preceptorate a beacon of something or other . . . Terra guessed (entirely correctly) that this speech had been an inspiring piece of soaring rhetoric when Shm had first written and delivered it many orbits previously, but now it was just The Speech He Gave At The Beginning Of Every Session, and his weariness at trotting it out one more time was obvious. Nonetheless, his young audience and their lectors hissed appreciatively, and Bsht began marshalling her class for the walk back to the Lyceum.
Bsht led the pupils across the centre of the chamber, past the little round stage. Shm and his fellow dignitaries had not, much to Terra’s disappointment, descended back through the floor after the speech but instead were now standing on the stage, deep in conversation with each other. As she passed the stage, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she saw the green-robed Fnrrn peering down at her with what might or might not have been a friendly smile.
- You’ve been here before, you know.
- Excuse me?
- It is Terra, isn’t it?
Odd question, thought Terra. Unless there are a few more Ymn pupils here whose presence they’re keeping a secret. Still, best be polite.
- That’s right.
- My, but you’ve grown. You must be eight orbits now?
- Er, yes, said Terra, wondering where this was going.
- I was here too, that day. The day your father brought you to us.
Terra was about to say - He’s not my father – Lbbp had been careful never to refer to himself as such – but something told her that this wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have at that moment.
- I’m sorry, said the stranger. My name is Vstj, I’m an old friend of your father.
Terra began to suspect that this ‘Vstj’ had noticed her discomfort at hearing Lbbp referred to as her father and was now doing it on purpose. She said nothing and waited for him to continue.
- Quite the scientist, your father. Always was, even when
we were students. Are you going to be a scientist? Like your father?
- I don’t know . . .
- Experiments . . .
- What?
- That’s what they do, scientists. They conduct experiments. Sometimes the experiments work and sometimes they don’t.
- I suppose . . .
- You know what scientists do when an experiment doesn’t work?
- What do they do?
- They throw it away and start again.
- Terra! Come along! Bsht and her classmates were waiting for Terra.
- Sorry, but I’ve got to . . .
- Of course. Delighted to meet you properly at last, Terra. I’m sure we’ll be seeing lots more of each other from now on. With that, Vstj turned to speak with his distinguished colleagues, and Terra, unsettled, hurried to join her classmates.
- Well, that’s nonsense for a start, Lbbp said later that evening. Typical of Vstj, he never had any grasp of the scientific method. Experiments don’t ‘work’ or ‘not work’; sometimes they yield unexpected results but that’s every bit as valid as . . .
- Lbbp, I don’t think that’s the point he was making.
- No, no, I shouldn’t think it was.
- So what was he getting at?
Lbbp sighed. - Look, the thing to remember about Vstj, is he’s . . . well, he’s . . .
- What?
- He’s a sh’znt, said Lbbp. He was a complete sh’znt when we were younger and he’s an even bigger sh’znt now.
- Lbbp! gasped Terra in alarm and delight. She’d never heard him use that sort of language.
- Well, he is, smiled Lbbp. Forget him. How was the rest of your day?
2.4
The rest of Terra’s day had gone as follows:
After Preceptor Shm’s address, Bsht led them out of the council chamber, across the square, past the hovering statue of Tnk (- I said DON’T touch, Pktk, you’ll . . . Oh, now look) into the Lyceum tower and back to the novice lectorium. Terra took her place in the front row of seats (she hadn’t particularly wanted to sit at the front, but Fthfth had insisted) and clipped her slate into the arm of her chair.
The first spectrum had been spent on what Bsht called ‘orientation’; basically a detailed description of the Lyceum’s layout, which bits were and weren’t off-limits, and the timetable of the coming session’s classes. Terra was doing her best to take it all in, but she noticed that not only was all the information flashing up behind Bsht on the lectorium visualiser (a semi-intelligent display screen which monitored and illustrated the topics under discussion in the room), but also that the important bits were automatically loading themselves onto her slate as Bsht spoke. It didn’t really matter if she didn’t manage to memorise all of this as long as she didn’t lose her slate, and there was no way she was going to lose her slate. NOBODY ever lost their slate. Not even Pktk lost his slate. Apart from that one time. And the other time.
After orientation came the morning interlude. The children walked (- Don’t run! There’ll be plenty of space to run when you get outside) out into a five-sided yard, where they spent a few shades playing hsk-hskt or tb-tb-tff, reading (Pktk) or organising their classmates into proper dfsh teams in order to play proper dfsh, properly (Fthfth). Terra played along; she quite enjoyed playing dfsh (it was much simpler than gshkth) but had to be careful; her denser Ymn bone and muscle structure both gave her an unfair advantage and made it more likely she’d accidentally injure someone . . . There had been an ‘incident’ in her first orbit at Pre-Ac; no lasting damage and no real hard feelings but still a nasty experience for all concerned and an unpleasant memory for Terra (and, she imagined, a boy called Dv, if she remembered his name correctly).
A steady pinging noise signalled the end of interlude and the children filed back into the lectorium. The next session was to be given over to ‘familiarisation’; Bsht called upon each pupil in turn to tell the class a bit about themselves and their family. Most of the pupils already knew each other from the Pre-Ac, but there were a few newcomers, and it was always nice to find things out about people. Some people more than others.
Fthfth had gone first; Bsht asked her because she was at the front of the class, and also because she was obviously so desperate to have her go that she wouldn’t be able to sit still until she’d spoken, so Bsht knew it would be best to get her out of the way. Bsht was getting the hang of being a lector.
- Hello, fellow students! said Fthfth. My name is Gkst-sh-Hbf-sh-Fthfth but you can call me Fthfth. I am eight orbits, three cycles and fifteen rotations old. My father’s name is Knkt-sh-Dstnk-sh-Hbf and he is EXTREMELY clever. He is Director of Applied Science at the Hrrng GravTech Research Hub. My mother is called Hskth-sh-Fnl-sh-Gskt and she is EVEN CLEVERER. She is Chief of Cellular Surgery at Hrrng Nosocomium.
- Thank you, Fthfth. Now, would . . .
- My favourite things to do are playing dfsh and gshkth and conducting experiments. When I grow up I want to be the first Fnrrn to demonstrate Thnrkl’s Final Theorem and invent time travel. Fthfth sat down.
There was a pause.
- I’ve finished, said Fthfth.
- Thank you, Fthfth. Who would like to go next?
Another pause.
- Nobody? How about you, Pktk?
Pktk had been having difficulty getting his slate into its slot. He was fiddling with it, a look of furious concentration on his face, when Bsht said his name. - What? he said, looking up suddenly and dropping his slate to the floor.
- I’m . . . he began, reaching down for the slate, and finding his arm wasn’t long enough.
- I’m . . . he continued, trying to scoop the slate towards him with his foot and succeeding only in shoving it further away.
- I’m . . . he said from beneath his chair as he reached under his neighbour’s chair and retrieved the slate.
- I’m P . . . he began, before sitting up too quickly, banging his head on the arm of his chair and dropping his slate again.
He sighed. - I’m Pktk, said Pktk quietly, sitting on the floor.
Bsht smiled. - Yes, yes you are, she said, helping Pktk to his feet.
A few more pupils took their turns to speak. The class listened politely to tales of mid-orbit breaks spent constructively in practising this or that game, visiting one or another site of natural or archaeological interest, reading some improving text . . . For all their patient attention, there was a restlessness in the room. This wasn’t what they wanted to hear.
At last, the moment they’d been waiting for.
- Terra, said Bsht. Perhaps you’d like to tell the class a bit about yourself.
An excited hush. Even those pupils who’d been with Terra at the Pre-Ac had never quizzed Terra directly about her background. They’d been far too polite, and those who hadn’t been too polite had known to pretend to be too polite.
Terra stood up.
- Well . . .
The room, already silent, became somehow more silent.
- My name is Terra, and . . .
Silenter still.
- . . . I’m not from around here.
The class burst into a hiss of appreciative laughter. Terra smiled.
Terra gave them the short version – the stuff most of them knew already – Lbbp’s discovery of her abandoned infant self, his brave decision to raise her as his own, the Preceptorate’s sage benevolence in allowing him to do so . . . The class listened appreciatively, and thus emboldened, Terra asked - So, any questions?
- Do you eat animals?
The mood of the room changed abruptly. The voice was that of Shnst, who, while at the Pre-Ac, had always sat at the back of the room next to her twin sister Thnst. They’d immediately staked their claim at the back row of this new lectorium and resumed their customary habit of muttering private jokes to each other. It was quite unusual for either of them to speak to anyone else; this and the indelicate nature of the question caused the atmosphere to thicken.
- No, said Terra after a moment’s hesitation
. No, I eat the same things as every . . .
- Because that’s what Ymns do, isn’t it? I read about it on the Source. They kill animals and eat their insides while they’re still warm.
- No, no, interrupted her sister. They kill animals and then set FIRE to them, and eat the burnt bits.
Uneasy glances passed between the pupils as quite a few stomachs turned over at the thought of this. Bsht decided to intervene.
- Now, now, it was only a few eras ago that we Fnrrns ate animals as well; then we invented protein manipulators and we didn’t have to any more.
- The G’grk still eat animals! said Thnst, clearly warming to the topic.
- The G’grk don’t count as Fnrrns. They’re barely better than animals themselves, muttered Shnst.
This was greeted by murmurs of consensus, but not a consensus which made Bsht especially happy. - Shnst, she began, that’s hardly . . .
- The G’grk could use protein manipulators if they wanted to, they just like killing things too much, continued Shnst regardless. They’d rather keep on living like savages.
- They wouldn’t know how to use a protein manipulator even if they had one, giggled Thnst. They’d just grunt and stare at it then stab it and try to eat it.
Everyone laughed now, except Terra and Bsht. Terra kept an intimidated silence. Bsht didn’t.
- The G’grk aren’t dumb beasts, Thnst, and there may yet come a day when we would all do well to remember that.
The lectorium fell quiet once more. Not a hush of anticipation this time but a queasy, fearful silence. Bsht went on.
- Over the eras the G’grk have shown great ingenuity and organisation. It’s just a shame that their culture still prizes war and conquest above other, nobler things.
As Bsht spoke, the lectorium visualiser, registering the topic of conversation, began flashing up images and text illustrating the history of Fnrr’s most bellicose civilisation.
While the other nations of Fnrr had long ago embraced reason and science as the foundations of society, the G’grk still clung to ancient codes of honour and bravery. They worshipped invisible overlords they called ‘The Occluded Ones’ and believed that domination of Fnrr – and elsewhere – had been promised to them as their inevitable destiny. The G’grk’s homeland occupied the whole of the vast Central Plain of Chsk-Tshff, the continent from which Mlml was separated by a thin strip of ocean. They had conquered many surrounding nations over the eras, but their more recent attempts at expansion had been contained thanks to the superior technology of other nations’ defences; the G’grk’s rejection of science meant that such ‘tech’ as they possessed had been plundered from other countries, and as such they tended to use it rather inexpertly.