“You mean the part cannot remember the name of the part?”
“Is so, yes. There is one brain for whole aggregation. Brain splits, each thing not very smart. Keeps on splitting, still only one same-sized brain as in beginning. Makes whole thing ridiculous. Eventually gets very large, becomes whole crowd of very stupid things making silly remarks. But it thinks it’s smart. Acts as though very smart.” It stopped, rubbed its head with two sets of arms, all four hands busily massaging. “NO. Said that wrong!
“I am falling into Grandma trap. Oracle acts so strange that other creatures think it must be smart! From somewhere creature got word ‘Oracle.’ Word ‘Oracle’ is miraculous. Creature says usual stupid things, but is now getting great respect for people believe it is being oracular! Self must examine history to determine where title ‘oracle’ was adopted, or given. Title ‘oracle’ allows stupidity to pass for wisdom. I think this happens often with humans. Person calls self oracle, seer, prophet, leader. People think the name means powerful, of large intelligence. Means nothing except that creature has adopted label. Ha! Does silly things like with Grandma’s children, then forgets all about it.”
Abasio thought of Arakny and shook his head. “Arakny is going to be furious! She was telling me how the Oracles casually mention something without explaining it, and how the Artemisians have to extrapolate from that to know what’s meant.”
“If Self forgets to tell her, you tell her: nothing is meant. Entirely fortuitous if something it says ends up connecting even slightly to any reality at all. Is actually only very small stupid brain making imitative noises. Could do same opening book at random, pointing at word—how you say ‘covering seeing organs’?”
“Blindfolded.”
“Ah, word not sensible. Do not understand ‘folded’ part. Eyelids, perhaps, folding? To say again, might as well look at book blindfolded, get same as from Oracle.”
“How did the Oracle travel? Surely it/they can’t have invented space travel on their/its own?”
“Original Oracle planet is being on main travel routes. Convenient location, so Galactic Traffic Office is putting galactic sector repair post there. At that time not familiar with Oracles. Transport ship needing repair, landing there. One or more Oracle dividing up, either . . . beg ride . . . REFERENCE needed! . . . hitchhike . . . or paying for transport.”
“If they pay for transport, what do they pay with?”
“Is strangeness that. Pay with yribium. Not known where Oracle gets yribium, but it is found where Oracles are. Is used to make many things. I have only seen it in shapes . . . is word . . . REFERENCE needed! . . . ingots? Cylinders so long as my shortest arm, so big around.”
It made a circle with thumb and one finger of two hands, a diameter about twice that of a broomstick. Fixit’s shortest arm was as long as Abasio’s from elbow to wrist and seemed to be used mostly for rubbing Fixit’s scalp in frustration. Abasio started to say something but Fixit was in full cry on the yribium subject.
“Until now, always, people wanting yribium have gone to Oracle planet, scraped up luggub after luggub of soil, refined substance from soil, put soil back. So to travel Oracle maybe paid yribium, maybe hitchhiked itself. Someone is picking it up on one planet and letting it off on another planet, still on main travel route. Oracles ending up on six, seven planets. Still dividing up, still pretending to be something. That is how it is getting here to Earth. This piece of it has been living here . . . for a long time, Abasio.
“The Artemisians have been giving it food for a generation or more. They are thinking space-traveling people must be intelligent, so they . . . are consulting it. Paying for consultations with some of what we found inside. Got oracular answers. Meaningless! Self feels surprise! Self would be thinking Wide Mountain Mother is smarter than that. And Grandma, too. Even smart people are believing something mysterious must have . . . wonderful-ness.
“Ah. We are here.”
They had landed on the ledge next to the Listener. The sight of the Listener still made Abasio queasy, but if he turned his back on it, or stayed in the flier, it was merely an itchiness. The galactic officer took up a position next to the strange growth-device-implement and engaged in an unintelligible and interminable conversation. Part of the negotiations seemed to involve transmitting pictures of the inventory and provisions of a great many location numbers and galactic time codes, during which Abasio dozed off.
They went back to the House of the Oracles, where the Oracle(s) were still doormatting the entrance, their (its) top surface now crisscrossed in all directions with footprints. Fixit considered the sizable pile of things outside, did one of tan’s message-sending routines, which resulted in a brief wait, just long enough for Fixit to move restlessly about the pile, poking at it while the children looked on rather worriedly. To Abasio, the pile seemed to contain every instrument known to any musician plus some things that seemed as likely to be instruments of torture as they were of sound, and the pile seemed of a volume impossible to move. The whole area was abruptly shadowed by the turtle’s soundless arrival above the pile. It emitted voluminous amounts of papery sheets that dropped onto the pile, where they hissed at one another as they slithered and folded to wrap the entire pile—pausing once to squeal peremptorily for another few sheets—binding all into one bumpy bundle the size of a small house, which was then lifted and carried away eastward. The flier made some expansion noises as Grandma and her children came aboard; then they all returned to Wide Mountain Plaza. The house-sized bundle sat at one side and a large silver disc hovered over it—an immense silver disc that had managed to shadow the entire plaza and some of the surrounding countryside. Suspended beneath it was what could be the bottom—that is, the basement floor—of a very large house. At the center of the plaza stood Wide Mountain Mother, lips compressed, steadily tapping her foot.
Abasio was first off the flier. When the children emerged, Mother’s foot stopped and her mouth opened. Abasio was at her side, lips near her ear, before she had a chance to speak. “Those are Grandma’s children. Born one at a time except for the twins, over a period of some eight or ten years. Each one was taken by the Oracles when he or she was a toddler. They were put ‘in storage,’ which is a way of saying their lives were stopped until the Oracles had collected all six of them. Then they woke them up and played school with them for a while, then played employer with them for a while, then put them back in storage. Which is where we found them. The galactic officer has negotiated to have a house built for them.”
He looked deeply into Mother’s eyes and purposely smiled the smile Xulai called “seductive,” doing the sidelong look that invited the listener into his private thoughts, lowering his voice as though disclosing his hidden heart with all its secrets. “Grandma has expressed a wish to live in Artemisia, where she would be able to visit with you and Arakny. She has formed a great respect for you both, and it would be a good environment for children who are going to be very puzzled about life for a time. Though her philosophy is very like yours, she hesitates to suggest it, as she’s not one of your people. If you prefer her to go somewhere else, of course, that’s perfectly understandable.
“That thing hovering up there will put the house down wherever is decided. The big bundle over there is the contents that will go into the house. If you would rather Grandma and the children not be here, Fixit and I will find someplace near a town or community where they’ll be welcome. I imagine Saltgosh would welcome them with their usual beneficence . . .”
Wide Mountain Mother flushed. She had been prepared to feel outrage at Fixit, at Abasio, at persons innumerable. She was still outraged, but her target seemed to have moved. She was remembering how many times the Artemisians had provided the “Oracles” with food; how many times they had paid for “consultations,” she only wished she could tell the . . . things what she thought of them.
She said, “Well, of cou
rse they may settle here. I’ll let her pick . . . there are three or four close places . . . However . . . I was somewhat upset by the arrival of . . . what is that thing up there?”
“That’s what Fixit calls a Massive Fabricator. It’s just delivering the house, wherever you and Grandma decide to put it—and don’t hesitate to tell her if it would be more suitable elsewhere! Fixit takes a Massive Fabricator and a dozen other things I know absolutely nothing about on jobs with him, her, it, or them. Its work method is to bring a great squad of backup people and equipment along and keep them within easy reach. The people, persons, organisms who come along with the Fabricator probably lie around playing gambling games up there while waiting to be called, which, considering the efficiency with which Fixit operates, I don’t imagine is ever very long. Otherwise, it says, everything takes forever and costs escalate and mistakes are made.
“Then Fixit comes in with some kind of special committee of experts that makes a list of things that must be done and how they must be done, then that list is handed over to a scheduling expert who puts each thing in order of doing, then Fixit presses the do button, and it all happens more or less at once. Anyhow, that’s what I, as a rather amazed observer, believe has happened. The pile of things to the side includes the musical instruments the children have used, plus some other equipment. The house is all finished except for your telling Grandma to put it somewhere else or somewhere in Artemisia and whatever systems you feel it should be connected to, if any. It doesn’t have to be connected to anything: it can be fully self-contained.” He turned and waved to Fixit. “I’ll go fetch Grandma, and the two of you can tell him yes . . . or no, and we’ll take it elsewhere.”
He turned to see Needly gaping. She ran toward him. “Are they her children, Abasio? Really? What did those Oracle things DO?”
“They put her children in storage and then curled up and went to sleep for several years. How’s Willum doing?”
“Silkhands says he’s healed. The thing Fixit used on him speeds up the healing. He could probably climb a mountain right now, if he needed to, but everyone’s trying to keep him quiet for at least a day, and it’s driving him crazy. They finally gave up and carried him over to see Dawn-song so he’d calm down and sleep. Mother Griffin keeps petting him, but he just keeps saying he’s been sleeping for days and days and wants to get up. So she’s got him pinned down under her talons, telling him Griffin stories.”
“Where’s Xulai? I want to tell her we have the portable camp.”
“You do? Didn’t you have to give it back?”
“As it happened, I don’t think the Oracles are going to ask for it. The position they’re in right now, they probably won’t be asking for anything, except perhaps, ‘Please wipe your feet before entering.’ ”
Needly set off to find Xulai for him, and he sat on the bench beneath the shade trees. Across the plaza Grandma and Wide Mountain Mother were nodding and gesturing. Suddenly past them, there was a flurry of upturned soil, as though invisible shovels were digging a ditch. He watched, bemused. A minute went by, two. Five small fliers appeared and zoomed around the edges of the place he was watching, the place the two women were watching. The sky darkened. The house was descending! Soundlessly, its basement sank into the hole. Large holes appeared around it into which a dozen full-grown trees descended, several around the house and one on either side of the steps leading to the porch, which was long and wide and shady and already well equipped with rocking chairs.
Xulai came around the corner with Needly, both of them stopping in astonishment. It was a very large house and it had not been there when Needly left to look for Xulai, perhaps five minutes ago. Needly went toward it, touched the porch rail, stood staring at it in disbelief. Xulai saw Abasio waiting and came toward him, shaking her head.
“I don’t believe it,” she said to him. “I mean, I do believe it, but gracious. Do you suppose it’s furnished inside? Beds? Sheets? Pillowcases? Pots and pans?”
“Knowing Fixit, I would say definitely yes. And some gadget that will let Grandma or any of the children return any items they don’t like and receive others they do. Only I’m betting they won’t because Fixit has probably used some personality analysis machine to determine what each one of them prefers. I mean, that’s just being efficient, isn’t it?”
She giggled. “He’s—I mean, it’s quite a wonderful . . . being.”
He/it was indeed. Abasio had the germ of an idea, but there was one thing still left undone. “Wait for me. I want to speak to Fixit for just a moment.”
Fixit was standing next to its flier, helping Mavin, Silkhands, and Jinian get on board along with a seemingly endless clutter of small gifts they had been given by the Artemisian women. When he saw Abasio coming, it came to meet him.
“Is trouble?” Fixit asked.
“Just a niggle. A promise I made to a man. I get the itch that it may fit into something else, maybe.” He explained what it was.
“How very strange a request! In a few moments we will depart, but I will arrange to obtain what you need. I have small, very fast messenger that will return it to you here.”
Raised voices drew their attention to the far side of the plaza, where Grandma and children were gathered around the new house, evidently arguing as to who ought to be first inside. The children won and lined up behind Grandma, who led the way as they all disappeared inside. Meantime, the three women from Lom had managed to get themselves and their paraphernalia aboard; Fixit waved good-bye and headed for his ship, leaving Abasio to murmur “pollen, pollen, pollen” over and over to himself. He had almost forgotten the pollen.
Needly and Grandma and her other children were inside their new house. Willum was being told Griffin stories while he was held firmly under Sun-wings’s foot. Wide Mountain Mother was in her house, possibly having a nap. Fixit was, at least momentarily, gone.
“Where are the babies?” Abasio whispered, afraid to break the quiet.
“Precious Wind is babysitting in her wagon.”
“Ahhh,” he said, allowing himself to leer. “Then we have our wagon all to ourselves?”
Chapter 17
Willum Gets His Ride
WITH THE DEPARTURE OF FIXIT AND ITS SHIP, everything had fallen into an almost miraculous calm. Early evening came. Light muted. Sound softened. Footsteps slowed. Abasio sat with Xulai, Needly, and Wide Mountain Mother on a long, comfortable bench beneath a shade tree in the plaza, all four of them enjoying the fact that absolutely nothing was happening.
Needly murmured, “Grandma and her children are getting acquainted. The house is really nice. We each have our own room. It’s just about perfect.”
“Yes,” said Abasio. “It looks very . . . residential. I saw the Fabricator had already provided shade trees. Very large ones.”
Needly nodded her unequivocal approval. “The thing in the sky looked around and saw how things were done, then it did one to match. It got the trees from the mountains, and it planted small ones in their place.”
“How many rooms does it have?” asked Xulai, with a touch of envy.
“Grandma has a bedroom and bathroom all to herself. And there’s a girls’ wing, with three bedrooms, one for each one of us, and a boy’s wing, too, and each bedroom has its own toilet and basin! Then there’s one big huge shower room for girls and one for the boys. It’s wormhole plumbing! They run the water near a star to heat it! It has huge kitchen with everything to cook with, but the best thing is the music room. They do make wonderful music, Abasio. They’re going to teach me. Serena says I have a nice voice. I can sing, sort of sing, but I didn’t know I could do it at all because that’s the last thing any female would want to do in Hench Valley. Evidently my mother couldn’t sing, but Grandma can, and she says it skipped a generation. And the house has a separate living room and the hugest dining room. The table has chairs enough for twice as many of us.”
Needly giggled. “We did, didn’t we.” She looked up. “Oh, there’s Bear and Coyote!”
“They went to sleep at my house,” said Wide Mountain Mother. “Poor things were worn out.”
The two animals ambled over. Stretching out on the ground, Bear said, “We was so tired we didn’t wake up until just a little while ago. Didn’t nobody care ’bout where those Edgers went? Them as was buildin’ fish bodies?”
Abasio started, flushing. “Oh, Coyote, Bear, there’s been so much going on we’re losing track of what we’re trying to do! We do need to know about that.”
Coyote lay down at Abasio’s feet and recited what he and Bear had seen, describing the containers that had been filled from the truck, and concluding, “He took some stuff out of the truck the spray came from, you know, the one we saw? N’ then him and the driver got in a fight. Or t’other way round. Driver was yellin’ at him how long was it gonna go on, all this killing people t’make fish, and who’s gonna wanta be in the fish two hunnert years from now. Anyhow, Old Purple, he knocked the driver down and he took off in that wagon, Abasio. Eight horses. Maybe twelve riders and a whole bunch of other trucks and things.” He turned to Bear. “Isn’t that what happened?”
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