Terra

by Mitch Benn

  - Differently evolved . . .? suggested Lbbp.

  - Exactly, smiled Gftg.

  So much for the ‘manufacturer’s assurances’, thought Terra.

  Gftg went on. - There are obviously some fundamental differences in cranial and cerebral structure between Ymns and Fnrrns, he said, but without access to any, erm, detailed information on Ymn anatomy we didn’t know exactly what these differences were. But Lbbp here, he gestured towards Lbbp who smiled proudly, granted me access to the medical scans from your regular Nosocomium check-ups.

  Terra wasn’t sure whether to feel grateful or disturbed. Gftg had obviously gone to great trouble but the thought of a stranger poring over images of her brain was a little . . . creepy.

  - Anyway, I’ve been studying the scans for a while now and I’ve been able to construct this, he indicated the Interface. It’s your own personalised model.

  Terra approached the work surface and looked at the machine. It was sleeker and newer-looking than the one in the Lyceum, with a smaller crystal dome (to fit her smaller head, she supposed).

  - Can we afford this? she asked Lbbp. Lbbp smiled.

  - It’s taken care of. The Preceptor said it was the least he could do. After Lbbp had pointed out at length and quite forcibly (by Lbbp’s standards) that, given the humiliation he’d brought upon Terra with the FaZoon debacle, paying for her to have her own Interface was, quite literally, the least the Preceptorate could do.

  Terra bent down to look up into the glass dome.

  - Want to give it a try? asked Lbbp.

  Terra wasn’t sure.

  - Just see how it fits, said Gftg.

  Nervously, Terra inserted her head into the dome. She smiled.

  - It has spaces for my ears, she said.

  - It has spaces for your ears, smiled Lbbp.

  - I’m just going to run a start-up programme, said Gftg. It’s not going to transmit any information, it’s just going to try to sync to your brain.

  Terra heard the sound of Gftg tapping instructions into the machine, then the three blips of the countdown.

  She felt a warm sensation. Nothing unpleasant.

  It was as if a distant voice were calling to her. Faint, indistinct. She strained to hear it.

  It seemed that the voice was that of someone who knew her. Knew her, but wanted to know her better.

  The voice was louder now. It called her name.

  - Terra?

  Louder still.

  - Terra, can you hear me?

  Completely clear and close now.

  - Terra, are you all right?

  The voice was Lbbp’s. But it hadn’t been.

  - I’m fine, said Terra. I think . . .

  - Yes? said Gftg eagerly.

  - It’s like it’s trying to find me, but it can’t.

  Gftg looked momentarily crestfallen, but shook off the disappointment. - That’s good! he said brightly. It’s finding its way through your conscious pathways and trying to reach the memory centres. It’ll take a few sessions to sync up properly but this is a good start.

  Anything beats being blown across the room with your hair on fire, thought Terra, but decided not to bring that up just now.

  2.14

  For the next few evenings, when Terra got back from the Lyceum, Gftg and Lbbp would be waiting and they would try again. Gftg’s presence wasn’t strictly necessary; he’d shown Lbbp everything he needed to know in order to operate the Interface, but he came anyway. He was still slightly overawed to be in the presence of the Ymn child. From conversations Lbbp had with Gftg, he got the impression that Terra had quite a few ‘fans’ in Hrrng’s scientific community.

  - My friends at the Directorate are so jealous, said Gftg on one occasion.

  - Really? asked Lbbp, sounding slightly more interested than he actually was.

  - Well, yes. They can’t believe I’m getting to work with a real live alien.

  - I’m right here, you know, said Terra from inside the dome.

  - Sorry, said Gftg as the Interface powered down. He lifted the dome from Terra’s head. Any clearer this time?

  - I think so, said Terra. Ask me something.

  - Okay, said Gftg nervously. He read from his slate.

  - What’s the correct bombardment frequency for the activation of grav-matter?

  - Four point two one three seven five six nanoblips divided by x where x is the gravitational constant of the planet.

  - Which species can only reproduce extra-atmospherically?

  - Species five five seven two, or sgth-k-shffs. They spawn in deep space and the spores drift until they find a host planet.

  - Which star expanded to red category twelve on the seventy-third day of orbit forty-five, thirty-second era?

  Terra paused.

  - Do you need me to repeat the question? asked Gftg.

  - No, said Terra. She’d heard the question, she could remember the question, and she could almost remember the answer. It was as if someone were calling it out to her while walking away.

  - Star number thirty-two dash five four . . . five four . . .

  The imaginary person calling out the answer inside Terra’s head turned an imaginary corner and was gone.

  - I’m sorry, it’s not there, said Terra sadly. Gftg didn’t share her despondency.

  - Not to worry! The information went in, it’s just not imprinting properly yet. It’s still great progress, though! We’ll try again tomorrow.

  Terra turned to Lbbp. - It worked! I got it working, sort of.

  Lbbp smiled back, although inwardly he wasn’t sure how he actually felt about this turn of events. On the one hand Terra’s distress at the thought of being left behind at the Lyceum had been a cause of great concern; seeing that possibility recede a little (and Terra’s relief at this) was something to be glad about, he supposed . . . On the other hand, he still had serious doubts about the use of the Interface in general; secretly, he’d been quite pleased that it hadn’t worked on Terra, and seeing her just now with her head crammed into the dome being ‘programmed’ like all the other pupils had made him uncomfortable.

  Gftg made a promise to return the next day, and left, but not before handing his comm to Lbbp and asking him to record an image of himself with Terra. Lbbp obliged.

  - What do you think? asked Terra after Gftg had left.

  - I think that picture’s going to be all over the Source by morning, muttered Lbbp.

  - No, I mean what do you think of the Interface now? corrected Terra, who immediately realised she’d said too much.

  - What do you mean, what do I think of it now? Lbbp said, suspiciously. What makes you think I felt any particular way about it before . . .?

  Terra sighed. - I heard you. I heard you arguing with Bsht about it a few cycles ago. I knew you thought it was dangerous.

  I knew it, thought Lbbp. I knew she was worried about it. He spoke. - Well, not dangerous exactly, I just thought it was, maybe . . . or at least, potentially . . . okay, I thought it was dangerous. And I’m still not entirely convinced that I was wrong, especially after you tried the one at the Lyceum, and it . . . did that . . . thing . . .

  -. . .with the flash . . . said Terra.

  -. . . and the bang . . .

  -. . . and the hair . . .

  - Quite, said Lbbp. You can imagine how guilty I felt that I hadn’t said anything.

  Terra’s nose wrinkled. Her lips pursed and her eyebrows became perfectly horizontal. Lbbp recognised this as her I’m Having A Thought face.

  - What is it . . .? he asked.

  - What if you HADN’T said anything? To warn me about the Interface?

  Lbbp was confused. - But I didn’t . . .

  - No, said Terra, you THOUGHT you hadn’t said anything, but you had, you just didn’t know I’d heard it . . .

  - I’m confused, said Lbbp, who was.

  - You HAD said you thought the Interface was dangerous, you just didn’t know I’d heard you saying it. You’d warned me about it without m
eaning to. Well, what if you hadn’t? What if you hadn’t put the idea in my head that the Interface was dangerous? asked Terra animatedly. What if the problem wasn’t that I was the only Ymn trying to use it, but that I was the only one in the class who thought that using it was a bad idea?

  - You think your brain might have rejected it? Lbbp was intrigued.

  - Why not? If I was afraid of the thing – and I was – wouldn’t my brain just shut down rather than let it in? Would that have made it . . . do the thing, with the flash, and the bang, and the hair . . .?

  - Yes . . . and now you’ve got this new custom Ymn-friendly model, pondered Lbbp, you’re not scared any more, just a bit apprehensive, so it’s working, but not properly . . .

  -. . . but if I just relaxed and stopped worrying, it might work just fine . . .?

  Lbbp drummed his chin with his long grey fingers.

  - It’s a hypothesis, he said, and quite a promising one. If perhaps a rather worrying one for me . . .

  - How do you mean?

  - Well, said Lbbp, if you’re right, it means there was never anything wrong with the Interface and this is all my fault for being such a big panicky old-fashioned g’shbk.

  Terra burst out laughing.

  Lbbp smiled. - I mean, I remember when slates were invented there were people who didn’t trust them. I’m sure back when they created the Source there were those who said it was dangerous or evil or something . . .

  - Yes, said Terra, I bet a couple of million orbits ago there was a Fnrrn sitting in a tree saying I don’t approve of all this cave-painting and tree-carving, in my day if you wanted to tell someone something you just grunted. What’s wrong with grunting?

  Lbbp and Terra laughed until tears streamed down Terra’s cheeks and Lbbp’s sides ached.

  - Well, come on then! said Terra once she’d recovered.

  - Come on what? said Lbbp.

  Terra bounded across to the Interface. - Let’s give it a go!

  - Now? said Lbbp wearily. It’s late! You have classes tomorrow, I’ve got . . .

  - It’s not that late! Let’s test the hypothesis! Let’s be scientists! Let’s prove ourselves right!

  - It IS that late, said Lbbp, and I’d much rather test it while Gftg’s here. At least then if it goes wrong we’ve got someone around who knows what he’s doing.

  Terra looked crestfallen. Lbbp put his arm around her shoulders.

  - Look, it was a great piece of deductive reasoning and if you’re right, you’ll be just as right tomorrow as you are now, okay, my little scientist?

  Terra smiled.

  - And anyway, said Lbbp, science isn’t about proving yourself right. A bad scientist tries to prove himself right. A good scientist tries to prove himself wrong, and only when he fails does he conclude that he’s right.

  - If it’s too late for experiments, it’s too late for lectures, said Terra with a smile.

  2.15

  Terra switched the sleep-well off, did a gentle forward flip and came to a neat two-footed landing on her bedroom floor. She couldn’t sleep.

  The prospect of getting the Interface to work properly, of being able to catch up with her classmates, indeed, just the thought of all that knowledge flooding into her head was far too exciting.

  She opened her bedroom door; wincing at how loud the swishing noise was in the silence of the night.

  She crept past Lbbp’s room. You do snore, you know, she thought.

  She crept back to the main room, where the Interface was still set up.

  Relaxed, thought Terra, that’s the thing. I’ve got to be relaxed.

  She placed the Interface on the floor at the end of the padded bench seat, and adjusted the stem so that the dome rose just above the end of the bench. Lying down upon the bench, she would be able to fit her head neatly inside it.

  Terra set the test programme running, then hurried to get into position before the third blip.

  She lay back with her hands clasped across her tummy and waited.

  This is taking a while, thought Terra.

  This is taking rather too long, she thought.

  Did I set it up properly? I heard the blips.

  What happens if I take the dome off just as it’s starting up?

  I’ll give it another few moments, thought Terra, then I’ll get up and check it. I’ll be okay as long as I don’t fall asleep.

  Terra fell asleep.

  2.16

  Terra dreamed. White clouds, blue sky. Soaring.

  She was a bird. She was a giant bird. She rode a giant green bird. She was herself, and she was riding a giant green bird.

  Fields and valleys beneath her. Rolling purple hills. Raging sea. Calm, peaceful raging sea. The waves surged and roared, silently. She was alone. Someone was there, and she was alone.

  Voices? Just sounds. The sounds of voices. Voices.

  She swooped. She dived. She swam. She was a fish. She rode a fish. She was herself and she swam alongside a giant green fish.

  She was not alone. She was watched. No one was there. No one was there, and they were watching her. She was not afraid.

  There was a znk. She was not afraid of the znk. She made some undergrowth to hide in, then hid in the undergrowth, and was not afraid of the znk. No one was still there, watching.

  The znk spoke. - What is this place?

  - It’s Rfk, I think, replied Terra to the znk. It doesn’t look like it but it is.

  - This place is not recognised. Where does this information originate? asked the znk, who was Lbbp.

  - It’s not information, silly, said Terra, growing now to the height of a lgsh-chr flower. She was a lgsh-chr flower, changing colour, red, purple, blue. It’s just a place.

  Hjj bugs came to pollinate her - What is the source of this information? they asked, rude little hjj bugs.

  Terra did not want to speak to the hjj bugs, so she went home. She was at home. The visualiser spoke. She spoke. Terra watched herself on the visualiser and she spoke.

  - You are Terra. You are the Ymn child.

  - Yes, we are, replied Terra to herself.

  - How are these images generated? asked Other Terra on the visualiser.

  - They’re not generated, said Terra, they’re just here.

  - By what means are you connected? asked Compositor Vstj. Who had invited him? Terra shook her head and turned him into Lbbp. That was better.

  - Connected to what? asked Terra, climbing into the visualiser.

  - These images conflict with accepted parameters, said Lbbp. Terra peered out of the visualiser at him. What is their point of origin? Security protocols are now in operation.

  Terra was annoyed by Lbbp, and by the room, and the questions. She made them go away, and soared through the air again.

  Pktk was there. He rode a great blue bird. Terra decided it was her green bird’s best friend. Pktk was not afraid. Pktk was always afraid, but not this Pktk, not now. He spoke.

  - This signal has been traced to the home terminal of apartment six-green-four, Shfs-Gs-Shfs Tower, Upper Blue District, Hrrng.

  - That’s where we live, said Terra. You’ve been there lots of times. They swooped down together, skimming over a valley of purple grass. Terra laughed and kept on dreaming.

  2.17

  Lbbp was not used to being woken in the middle of the night. When Terra had been a tiny baby he had often been dragged from sleep by the sound of her crying, but these days it was very unusual, once he’d activated his sleep-well and drifted off into dreamless unconsciousness, for him to be disturbed before his scheduled waking time.

  As such, when Lbbp’s comm started beeping beside his sleep-well, just a spectrum or so after he’d dozed off, it took him quite a while to figure out where he was and what was going on.

  Blearily, he tumbled to the floor, got up and groped for his comm.

  - Yes? he asked.

  - You are Postulator Dfst-sh-Kshchk-sh-Lbbp?

  - What? Er, yes, yes I am. I think. It was very unusual fo
r anyone to address Lbbp by his full name. He himself hadn’t heard it spoken in orbits. He had to think about it for a little while to be sure it had in fact been his own name he’d just heard and not that of some other Lbbp. Lbbp wasn’t a particularly unusual Fnrrn name. Not so as to be exciting or noteworthy. Erm . . . might I ask why? And who are you?

  - This is an artificially intelligent vocal communication from Hrrng Preceptorate Information Traffic Control. Please wait while you are connected to an organic representative.

  Lbbp groaned and stretched. What could InTraCon want with him at this time of night? He hadn’t been using the Source to do personal stuff at work . . . Not much anyway. Nothing that would merit this sort of intrusion. He was mentally rehearsing the strong words he was going to have with whoever spoke next, when they spoke.

  - Is that Postulator Lbbp?

  No, it’s the Grand High Emperor Of The Outer Galactic Rim, now g’shb off and let me sleep, thought Lbbp. - Yes, said Lbbp.

  - It’s Chfl here from InTraCon, sorry about the lateness of the call . . .

  - That’s perfectly okay, said Lbbp, who found he didn’t have the energy to be angry. What’s going on?

  - Well, Postulator, we were rather hoping you could tell us, said Chfl apologetically. Someone logged into your home network has opened a channel directly into the Lyceum data bank, but the thing is, they’re not taking any information out. They’re sending it.

  - What? asked Lbbp, starting to wake up.

  - That’s not the strange part, said Chfl, it’s the stuff that’s coming in. It’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before. It looks like . . . memories . . .

  - Memories? said Lbbp. Memories of what?

  - That’s just it, said Chfl. It looks like memories of things that couldn’t possibly have happened.

  - Memories of . . . couldn’t possibly . . . Lbbp was beginning to wonder if he was properly awake yet. I’m sorry, I don’t . . .

  - Perhaps I’d better show you. Do you have your slate there?

  - My slate? Yes, yes, I . . .

  - Just a blip . . . There, you should be seeing what we’re seeing now.