Homesmind

by Pamela Sargent

  Silla leaned toward Lydee. "Is your Homesmind aware of this problem? You've mentioned Its great wisdom often enough. Why doesn't It tell you what's wrong with the Minds?"

  "It is trying to find out," Lydee replied, then paused. "Strange, isn't it? You recoil from skydwellers and their ways, and yet you came to me for help."

  "You are my sister," Silla said. "But it seems that skydwellers are as helpless in this matter as we are."

  "And that means we're useless to you, so you despise us all the more. Yet if we solve everything for you, you'd bring yourself to accept us then."

  Silla looked away.

  By early afternoon, they were rushing toward a mountain range that reached to the clouds. Anra leaned forward, peering at the white peaks on the horizon. These were not like the mountains she knew, which now seemed more like hills in comparison.

  "We'll soon be home," Harel said.

  The shuttle shot up, rising until the ground below was hidden by mist. Mountain peaks floated on a sea of clouds. Anra looked down, noting patches of green among the rocky slopes. The ground tilted; a wall of rock was before them. The craft dropped. Anra clutched her armrests, suddenly dizzy even though she could feel no movement. They fell past the cliffs rapidly. Ahead, a waterfall cascaded down a mountainside, feeding a large spring. On the steep slope facing the waterfall, small wooden houses nestled among tall evergreens.

  The craft alighted next to the spring. People began to float down the mountainside toward them; others hurried along winding paths. Hundreds of thoughts buffeted Anra; she raised her wall as the craft's door slid open and Marellon led her parents outside.

  Anra jumped out, followed by Lydee. A little girl released a woman's hand and ran to Silla, who hugged her. Two boys peered up at Anra, then giggled, pointing at her cloth garments; they, like everyone else here, were wearing hides and fur.

  Harel motioned to Anra. She went to his side, trying to smile. —This is Kani— he said, waving at the little girl. —Kani, this is Anra, your sister—

  The girl shook back her dark-brown hair and stared at Anra with her large brown eyes. —Hello— Anra thought.

  Kani made a face. "You're not my sister," she said out loud.

  —But I am—

  "No, you're not. You're different."

  —Hush— Harel scolded.

  Villagers began to crowd around them. —I see a tiny light like the skydweller woman's— one man thought.

  —Your mind is strange, girl— a woman said.

  —Greetings, child—

  —A light pulses—

  —Can you hear me?— a boy asked.

  —Of course she hears you— Harel said. Anra touched his mind cautiously, allowing herself to sense it for the first time. His thoughts were gentle. She had expected him to be harder somehow, more uncaring. —My sons are not here—

  —They're with Urran— a few people answered. Silla frowned.

  — Then we had better fetch them— Harel glanced at Anra, clearly expecting her to accompany them. She hung back.

  —Go on— Lydee said. —Marellon and I must speak to the old ones here, though we have little to tell them. You may join us later—

  A few of the villagers were wandering away. Anra raised her wall, following Silla and Harel.

  As they climbed along the winding path, Anra's legs began to ache. She was already breathing hard; the air seemed thinner here. Harel carried his small daughter on his back; Kani turned occasionally to look at her sister, but did not smile.

  Anra opened a small mental channel. This village was unlike her own; its Net seemed to bind its people more tightly. The people here were tied together by family, strong friendship, tradition, and a shared purpose. They did not see themselves as individuals, but as aspects of a unity that had been unchanged for hundreds of cycles. Her own village once must have been like this one.

  Silla stopped in front of one house. An old man lay-on a mat outside the door, drinking from a wineskin a boy was holding for him. A smaller boy sat at his feet. Anra sensed death; the old man was weak. She thought of Cerwen.

  —You kept our sons from greeting us, Urran— Harel chided the old man gently. The smaller boy jumped to his feet; he was dark-haired, like Silla. The older boy had Harel's auburn hair; he gazed steadily at Anra with brown eyes.

  The old man smiled. —They've behaved well in your absence. I know you asked others to look after them, but Brun took it into his head that I needed tending, so they've been with me much of the time—

  Silla frowned still more, clearly made uneasy by the old man.

  —Brun— Harel waved at the older bov. —And Sel. This is Anra, your sister—

  —Greetings— Sel said.

  —The solitary child— old Urran murmured as he plucked at his thin, white beard. —The one who consorts with skydwellers in a village of solitaries. She brings us no news of the Minds, Who failed us again today—

  —We know— Silla said. —We felt it during our travels—

  "Ah," the old man suddenly sighed aloud. —You did not have to travel to that far place to know what is happening. I have told you before. This is the approaching end of a great cycle. God will let out a breath, and the world will end, and then begin again. We shall become something else, I feel it. God is ready to draw us in—

  Anra recalled Cerwen's words; he had also spoken of a cycle's end.

  —I know what you think, Urran— Silla said. —You have these thoughts only because the end of your own life is not far away—

  —No, Silla. It's more than that. Through the Minds, I sometimes sense the thoughts of others far away, and a few others have sensed what I do. A cycle is ending, and a voice, so distant that I can barely hear it, beckons to me—

  He focused on Anra. The look in his eyes was suddenly so fierce that she threw up her wall, but not before he had glimpsed her thoughts.

  —You understand, girl. Your skydweller friends have seen an approaching visitor. Perhaps it is that which calls to me. God may be working through that far star—

  —You're wrong— Anra replied. — The visitor has not spoken— But she was thinking of the faint whisper Homesmind had sensed.

  —Our Merging Selves have sensed nothing— Silla said. —You delude yourself, Urran. God is calling to you because you will soon join the Merged One yourself—

  —Perhaps— the old man thought, smiling.

  —We must go— Harel said, waving an arm at Brun.

  The boy stood up slowly, leaning against the side of the house, and Anra noticed with a shock that the limbs under his leather leggings were too thin. Brun reached for two long, forked sticks and fitted them under his arms. Anra had thought that those crutches belonged to the old man.

  The boy hobbled toward them. A wave of pity flowed out from Anra to Brun. He glared at her. —You don't have to pity me. My mind can aid me— He began to make his way up the path, Sel at his side. Anra trailed behind her parents as Kani scampered to keep up with them.

  Their own cabin was only a few paces above Urran's. Harel and the children sat down on a bench outside to enjoy the clear mountain air while Silla hastened inside, returning with some wine and goat cheese. —How much nonsense was that old man telling you?— she asked Brun.

  The boy was silent. She handed him the food, then took his crutches, setting them down near the doorway. —You mustn't listen to him— she went on. —He's no longer a Merging Self. The other old ones severed that connection with him because of his delusions, and that must show that his belief is a false one—

  —Please be seated— Harel said to Anra, who was still standing. She sat down at one end of the bench while the others ate and drank; Harel passed some cheese to her. Was it possible that Urran had sensed a call from the distant comet? And what could that mean?

  She finished her food and leaned forward, gazing at Brun. —How long have you been like this?— she asked, trying to make the question gentle.

  —Since birth. What does it matter? I have my mindp
owers, after all— She read the rest of his thoughts. He, at least, had been born with his mindpowers intact; that made his defect insignificant next to hers.

  —But the skydwellers could give you the ability to walk without crutches. I know they could help you—

  Brun raised his wall. Grabbing at his crutches, he lifted himself and went inside, followed by his brother and sister.

  "You didn't tell me about this," Anra said aloud. Harel looked down. "Neither did Lydee."

  "Lydee." Silla shook her head. "She told me the same thing you did—that the skydwellers could heal him. Such talk is bad for Brun."

  "How can it be bad to tell him he can be helped?"

  "What his legs can't do, his mind can compensate for. Your pity, and Lydee's, will only make him feel worse about himself."

  "But he can be healed. You could have sent him to us long ago."

  "Why should we send him to you? So that skydwellers can work their arts on him and plant their devices inside him? The people here still distrust such things. It was hard enough for them to allow Lydee as a guest—they would never allow one so altered to live here. Brun could not have come back."

  "You left me."

  "He can have a life here. You can't and never could have. To give up one child is hard enough." Silla rose. "Your ways are not ours. I thought once that your village would tire of being apart from the rest of Earth, and would come to see that Earth's ways should be your own as well. I believed that you might grow more like us and would be reunited with the world. Now I know I deceived myself."

  "But we need the skydwellers."

  "Not any more. You need only one thing—the tools that gave you that glowing light inside you. Take those tools from them, learn how to use them, and then send the skydwellers away." Silla folded her arms. "You think they have such wisdom. Why don't they teach us how to prevent the birth of solitaries? They know what their own children will be like before they are born—so Lydee has told me."

  "It's more complcated than that," Anra muttered, knowing she could never explain the skydwellers' genetic sciences to Silla; she had only a rudimentary understanding of them herself. "You would have to screen every unborn child, or have yourself analyzed even before that. And to do that, you would need to study their science and use many of their tools. Maybe that's what we must do eventually. But to do that, we'd have to change, and knowing those things would lead to others, and Earth would no longer be what you want. The skydwellers know that—it's why they try not to interfere too much. They're afraid that if we change too quickly, before we can absorb what they have to teach, we'll—"

  "I know what they think. It's an excuse. They'll tire of this world soon enough, and then what will you do? You're dependent on them, but we're not. This village has never even accepted the few gifts Lydee's tried to give us. When the skydwellers leave, what do you think will happen to your village?" Silla spun around and walked inside her house, not waiting for an answer.

  "I'm sorry," Harel said. "Silla and I have had our arguments about these matters. She still wishes everything could be as it was before the skydwellers came."

  "She spoke some truth," Anra said. "We do depend on the skydwellers. We use many of their tools, and it would be hard to give them up. But there must be ways for Earth to learn from the skydwellers without becoming entirely like them."

  Harel sighed. "I don't know." He paused. "Come into our house, child. I'll show you where you can sleep tonight."

  "I'll sleep in the shuttle."

  "But you're welcome here."

  "I know you don't want me here. I don't think Silla really wants me to stay and there's no more to say to one another." She got up, turning away from his sad eyes. "Good-bye, Harel."

  Anra sat inside the shuttle, gazing absently at the village as the sky grew darker. A few young people were leading a herd of goats down the slope; men and women tilled their jugs at the spring, then hastened to their homes for their evening meal. Some soared through the air; others, more cautious, made their way up along the paths on foot.

  A small, shadowy form with sticks for arms was floating toward her; it landed and the sticks dropped against its sides. She pressed the door; it slid open as the light inside the craft shone on Brun.

  —Do you want to come inside?— she asked.

  He shook his head, then adjusted his crutches under his arms. His upper body was sturdy and muscular, but that only made his legs look even thinner. She jumped out and sat down next to the runners as he lowered himself to the ground awkwardly, ignoring the outstretched hand she offered.

  —Why did you come here?—

  —To see you. I'm curious. My mother says that I'm too curious—

  —I know she's not happy I'm here—

  —Silla told me once that she gave you up easily, because she couldn't touch your mind and form a bond with you. Only when she came here and became pregnant with me did she weep. She didn't want to give me up, too. It's true, isn't it?—

  —That the cometdwellers can heal you?— she said, catching his thoughts. —Of course. It would be a simple task for them—

  —The skydweller Lydee told me that when she first saw me. I didn't believe her at first. Have you seen such a thing happen?—

  —No— she admitted. —But the cometdwellers do harder things than that. Lydee can live for a hundred cycles and still look as she does now. And I was born a solitary, and now I touch thoughts—

  The boy smiled. —I felt sorry for you when Silla and Harel first told me about you. Now I don't know what to think. Your mind is much like mine—

  —Would you want strong legs, Brun?—

  —Of course— His thoughts were forceful.

  —You could come back with us—

  —But then I couldn't live here— He sighed. —Once, I told myself that God had a reason for crippling me. I'm treated like everyone else here. It's my mind that matters, not my body. But when Lydee told me I could walk without crutches, I began to doubt. Sometimes I wish she hadn't told me. She felt sorry for me. Even when she tried to share her thoughts, the pity was always there and it made me feel sorry for myself. Now some of the people here have started to pity me, too—

  Brun suddenly lifted himself with his mind. Carefully, he set his feet on the ground and took a few steps, arms out to balance himself. —You see, I can walk without crutches if I concentrate. My mind can move me for a while— The strain was showing on his face; he sat down quickly.

  Anra restrained herself, determined not to show the pity Brun despised. —I began to wonder why I was born like this— the boy continued. —Now I wonder about other things. Silla thinks I wonder too much. That's why I stayed with Urran when my parents were gone, because Urran is asking questions, too—

  —What kinds of questions?— Anra asked.

  —You heard him. About whether our world is ending. About the call he hears—

  —When you touch his mind, do you hear it, too?—

  Brun glanced at her. —No. I only know that he hears it, or thinks he does. The other Merging Selves say it's only part of his own mind he hears. That's why he's separate from them now. They can't have his delusions affecting them and our village's Net. But Urran claims that those who open their minds fully will hear the voice of God—

  —If it were really the voice of God, wouldn't the Minds hear it too?—

  — The Ones called Minds drift. Our powers wax and wane— Brun was silent for a moment. —But if it were a real voice, then others would hear it, too—

  —The old man did claim that others far away have—

  —Other old ones. Others who are close to death—

  She thought of Cerwen —Brun, I must ask you this. Will you come back with us?—

  —I cannot—

  —It isn't just so that you can be healed. I've touched your mind now and see that you question the world. The skydwellers can teach you a lot. Here, they'll only tell you to accept everything without staining your mind with doubt—

  �
�I must go now— He stood up slowly. —Silla and Hard are calling to me—

  —Brun, listen. If you change your mind, reach out to me through the Minds' Net, and we'll come back for you—

  —I can't leave my home— Brun adjusted his crutches. —-Good-bye, Anra. I don't think we'll see each other again— He hobbled toward the mountainside.

  It was night by the time Lydee and Marellon returned to the shuttle. Anra could see that they were discouraged, even without touching their minds; Marellon was scowling, while Lydee looked weary.

  "You're here," Lydee said as she settled into her seat. "I thought you might still be with your parents."

  Anra shook her head, unwilling to speak of that.

  "It's just as well," Marellon said. "We've been asked to leave. We were also told by the Merging Selves that if they sense another faltering of the Minds, they will send us no more separate selves and will refuse to have any contact with us. They think it's a warning. Fools."

  "A warning of what?" Anra asked.

  "That they've been wrong to deal with us. That they'll all become separate selves unless they live as Earthfolk always have. They think that God may take the Minds from us otherwise."

  "We were making a little progress, just a little," Lydee murmured. "But now they sense the disturbance in the Minds, and the old ones are there to remind them that when old ways were followed, all was well. And the Minds say nothing to contradict them." She leaned back as the craft began to lift.

  The three sat inside the lighted vessel, seats turned toward one another, eating a late meal. Outside the dome, the starry sky was hidden by the thick branches of trees. Lydee, not wanting to return to the village right away, had set the shuttle down in a small grove northeast of the mountain range.

  Anra finished her protein cakes, following them with fruit, while Marellon drank wine; the beverage was beginning to dull his thoughts, which seemed to be the effect he wanted. Lydee was barely eating at all. She lifted her head and stared at Anra for a few moments. "I'm sorry things didn't go well with you and your parents," she said at last.